Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances

by Nicole Morgan

  “I’m here every Monday and Thursday,” I blurted. What the hell is wrong with me? That was stupid. Why would I tell him that? Dammit.

  “My PT just started again,” he said, coyly. “And I believe most of my appointments are on Mondays and Thursdays, too.” He smiled. “And if they’re not, I can definitely do something about that to make sure they are.”

  “I’d like that.” I stood from my chair and sat my mug on table. “Until next time then.” I reached down to pick up my check.

  “No please,” he said. He reached down and our hands touched. My breath hitched. We both stood up and our eyes locked for a moment. “Let me get that. It’s the least I can do for crashing your post PT party.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “That’s very sweet of you.” I moved around Austin. He stared at me, watching my movements as I passed him by. I felt heat rising up my neck to my ears. While I usually didn’t like people staring at me, having his eyes on me was invigorating. It was nice to have an attractive man notice me again – especially him. I smiled and combed my hand through the side of my hair, pushing it off my face, behind my ear.

  I glanced down at my phone as I walked away, checking the message that ended our encounter. It was from Jesi.

  I know I said take your time, but one of the girl’s called off. I need you. A pregnant woman running the place short staffed. That was not a good situation.

  I’m coming, Jesi. I looked at the time on my phone. Two hours! We’ve been here for two hours?

  Approaching the door, I turned back to wave goodbye. Austin was at the counter, but his eyes were still on me. He waved back, and I left the coffee shop full of energy and hope. My smile grew bigger the closer I got to my car. Putting the key in the ignition, I thought about him, his smile, his laugh, his eyes, and a small giggle escaped my lips. I sounded like one of the girls that had been following him around earlier.

  Dammit. I smacked the steering wheel. I will not become a swoon girl!

  Chapter Six

  “You’re humming,” Jesi said. She stood next to me and nudged her shoulder into mine.

  “What?” I heard her words but wasn’t sure why she was saying them. I looked up from the dough to see her smiling at me.

  “You’re humming. What has you so happy that you’re humming?”

  “I’m humming?” I said, returning her smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” I turned my eyes back to the dough, pressing the heel of my hand, pushing it away from me on the floured surface. “I’m not happy. I mean, I guess I’m happy, but I’m not overly happy. It’s not a happy that would make me hum, but if you say I was humming then I guess it is a happy that has me humming. But it’s not an extreme happy.” I heard myself rambling but couldn’t stop. With each phrase, I was kneading the dough a little more, and a little harder. “I guess I’m just regular happy.”

  Jesi reached over and grabbed my wrists, stopping my hands and silencing my voice. “Stop,” she said softly. “You’re going to make this baby come out just to get away from the noise.”

  We stood quietly for a minute, staring at each other. Then Jesi let go of a little grin, the ends of her mouth just slightly tipping upward. I watched as her smile grew, and gave in, smiling back at her. It didn’t take long before we were laughing hard enough that that my cheeks hurt.

  “What the hell, Peyton?” She wiped the tears from her eyes and moved to a stool in the corner. I picked up a dough cutter and began cutting and weighing the dough. Must be 4.5 ounces exactly. Once I had the exact perfect weight, I picked up the dough and kneaded it with my fingertips before placing it onto a sheet tray. Keep the lines straight.

  “You’re never going to believe who I met at physical therapy yesterday.” My eyes squinted from the size of my smile.

  Jesi arched her back and rotated her neck from side to side. “Are you going to tell me or make me guess?”

  “Austin Mathey.” I beamed with pride, placing another perfectly measured ball of dough in the row on the sheet tray.

  “The football player?” She sat up straight and tall on the stool.

  “Yes,” I replied, placing more dough on the scale. No. Too much. I cut off the corner of the dough and re-measured it. 4.5 ounces. “The football player.”

  “The really hot one with the blonde hair and the arms?” Jesi flexed her bicep, and smirked.

  “Yes.” Dammit. It’s not straight. I adjusted the dough on the sheet tray. Perfect. “That one.”

  Jesi shook her head and leaned back against the wall. “And you met him at physical therapy?”

  “Yep.” I continued cutting and measuring the dough as Jesi and I talked. “He was there doing PT. I guess he lives around here now or something. I don’t know.” I paused and remembered how he looked as he walked by me. How he gave me a little wave and I felt my stomach flutter. “That’s not even the best part,” I said. I felt my face getting warm.

  “There’s more?” She leaned against the wall and stretched her legs out in front of her, grimacing as she did.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her. She looks really uncomfortable.

  “I’m fine,” she said. An awkward smile came over her face. “Just uncomfortable from being 30 months pregnant.”

  I chuckled, watched her adjust herself on the stool to make sure she was okay, and weighed another dough ball. “You know that little coffee shop I go to after my therapy?” Jesi nodded. “Well, Austin stopped in. We had coffee together. And talked. And he said he wanted to do it again.”

  “Well, shit,” Jesi sat up on the stool. “Now I see why you were humming.”

  I weighed the last of the dough and placed it in the final open space on the tray. “I still don’t think I was humming,” I said.

  “Well, aren’t we a pair?” Jesi climbed down from the stool, or rather slide off, and thumped to the floor. “I have a glow I can’t see, and you hum a song you can’t hear.”

  One of the sous chefs took the tray of dough and Jesi and I walked toward the other end of the kitchen. “You go sit down in the office for a while,” I said. “Get off your feet. I have some scones to finish.” Jesi kissed me on the cheek and waddled down the hallway.

  I hummed as I walked toward the ovens, and then quickly spun around to see Jesi looking at me. “Yeah, okay,” I said. “That time I heard it.”

  Chapter Seven

  I walked out of the kitchen with a fresh tray of chocolate chip scones and placed them in the display case. Glancing up, I noticed my favorite preteen sitting in her regular spot next to the window. I decided to go say hello.

  “Samantha, I’m taking a break.” Samantha nodded in acknowledgement. I grabbed two fresh scones, a cup of tea, and walked over to the table where Angela sat jotting frantically in her notebook. She looked anxious, or angry. I couldn’t quite tell.

  “Hello, Angela,” I said as I approached. “How are you doing?” Her hand stopped moving and she turned her eyes to meet mine.

  “Not, very, good,” she said. Her voice was bitter and sharp.

  “Oh, okay.” I stood my ground and held perfectly still for a moment. “Is it okay if I sit down or should I come back later?”

  Angela tossed her pen on the table with a clink. She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and let out a long dramatic sigh. “I’m sorry. You can sit down. Please sit down.”

  I approached cautiously and took a seat. “So, what’s wrong?” I positioned the plate in the middle of the table and motioned or her to take one of the fresh pastries. She shook her head. I broke off a piece of my scone, tossed it in my mouth, and prepared to listen.

  “My uncle still treats me like a little girl.” I could see the pain on her face as she talked. The more Angela spoke, the more animated she became. Her hands and arms moved up and down, or left and right with each word and syllable. “He thinks I’m too young to wear make-up. He won’t let me go on a boy-girl date, not even a group date. And he –”

  “Can I stop you right there?” I set my t
ea down and leaned forward on the table.

  “Why? I wasn’t done telling you why I was mad at him.”

  “Well, I know you don’t want to hear this, but he’s just doing all this because he cares.” I let the words sink in and waited to see her reaction. “He doesn’t want you to grow up too fast.”

  “Yeah but –” Angela leaned forward and propped her arms on the table.

  “Trust me sweetie,” I took a sip of my tea. “You have someone who loves you so much that he is willing to let you be mad at him in order to protect you and do what he thinks is right by you.”

  “But it’s not fair.” She leaned in further. “He won’t even listen to me.”

  “I didn’t have my parents around either, sweetie, so I know how you feel.”

  “You didn’t?” her face showed an expression of concern and interest. I hoped that making that connection with her would give my words more credibility.

  “Nope. My mom left me when I was seven and I never knew my dad.” I tried to talk without allowing the sadness to creep in. The sadness, anger, and feelings of abandonment that overwhelmed me whenever I thought about her. “I ended up living with my grandfather. He died when I was 19.” I miss him so much. “I haven’t had any family since then – well, except Jesi. I turned my head and watched as Jesi waddled back from yet another trip to the bathroom. “She’s my best friend and she takes care of me.”

  Angela slumped down in her chair and hung her head. I didn’t want to make her feel bad. I only wanted her to realize how lucky she truly was, even if she was pissed at her uncle.

  “I’m going to get us some more tea and snag one of the chocolate brownies that Jesi just made.” I waited for a response. She remained quiet. “They’re delicious. If eating one of those doesn’t make you smile, nothing can.” Angela looked up and gave me a half grin as one side of her mouth curled up. I stood from the table and put my hand on her shoulder, just as Jesi had done to me so many times before. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walked back to the kitchen and grabbed two small plates. Jesi moved and stood beside me. “What’s up with her?” she asked.

  “Her uncle.” I glanced out to the dining room to see her jotting in her notebook again. “Something about how he won’t let her wear makeup or go out with boys or – there was something else, too.”

  “You mean,” she chuckled. “He’s trying to be a good parent.”

  “Yeah, something like that I guess.” I scoffed. “I’m going to take her one of your brownies. Try to win her over with chocolate.”

  “They’re still in the kitchen,” Jesi said, motioning over her shoulder. She rubbed her rounded belly as she stood and looked out into the dining room. I paused. It may be a cliché, but she really is glowing. I kissed her cheek, grabbed the plates, and moved past her to the kitchen. I could smell the fresh brownies before I could see them. They smelled delicious. One of those will make her feel better.

  I plated two brownies, and after licking the chocolate from my fingers, I walked back to the dining room with one plate in each hand. “These are delicious,” I said as I sidled past Jesi.

  “Um, Peyton, wait,” she said. “Peyton!” I glanced back at Jesi to see a look of panic. “Hold on a minute. Please.” I was confused. Turning back to continue my way to the table, I was stopped cold in my tracks. My mind became frantic and I felt the muscles in my legs weaken. There, standing beside Angela was Austin. What the hell is he doing here? Our eyes met. I felt as if someone had stolen all the air in the room.

  “Peyton,” Angela stood from the table. “Peyton this is my uncle, Austin.” I could sense the excitement in her voice. Her uncle? Austin is her uncle? What the hell?

  “Peyton?” Austin smiled, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “What are you ... how do you –”

  “What are you doing here, Austin?” I asked. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs were locked. A warmth began to rise from the pit of my stomach, a stirring in my chest, an ache in my body that I hadn’t felt in a long, long while. This is not good. My hands trembled. This is not good at all.

  “Let me take those.” Jesi walked up behind me and took the plates from my hands. “Let’s not add anymore to the mess at hand.”

  “Angela is my niece.” Austin said, taking a slow step toward me. “So, you’re the woman she’s been talking about.” He smiled. “She speaks so fondly of you. How you’ve been so nice to her, giving her a place to sit and write. It means a lot to her.”

  “I own this place,” I said. “Me and Jesi.” I took a step back, moving away. “We own it. It’s ours.”

  “Hey,” Angela chirped. “My uncle owns a restaurant, too!” Angela blurted out the words, moving to stand in front of Austin. I felt Jesi’s hands on my shoulders. “He owns Steak in the Heart. It’s right down the street.”

  “You?” The one word rolled off my tongue, a declaration of betrayal. “You own that place?”

  “Yeah,” Austin answered reluctantly. “I invested with a restauranteur and he’s helping me run it.” Austin moved his gaze from me, to Jesi, to Angela and back again. I felt my anxiety rising quickly. “I’ve always wanted to own a restaurant, even before I played football.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I don’t know anything about him. How can I like him so much and not know anything about him? Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I let myself like him too fast. Maybe I should have just stayed away.

  “Why would I tell you?” Austin chuckled and took another step toward me. I mirrored him and stepped back. Don’t do that. I can’t think straight as it is. If you do that, I won’t be able to think at all. “Why didn’t you tell me you owned this place?”

  “You didn’t ask.” I felt like my skin was vibrating. I looked around. I was trapped. I needed to do something, anything.

  Holding my breath, I tapped the fingertips of my thumb and little finger together. One. Then my thumb and ring finger. Two. Middle finger. Three. Index finger. Four. It was working. I started over. One, two, three, four. And again. One, two, three, four.

  “You wouldn’t even tell me your favorite football team,” Austin said. He stepped closer. I could have reached out and touched him. This time I didn’t move away. One, two, three, four. “What would make me think you’d tell me about your job, or what you do for a living?”

  “You’re right,” I said. I hung my head slightly. He’s right. I didn’t tell him much of anything. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m just worried about your restaurant putting us out of business. It’s been worrying me since I first noticed your sign going up.” One, two, three, four.

  “I won’t let that happen,” Austin said sweetly. “We’re not in competition. I promise.” We stood silently for a moment before he turned to Angela. “Besides, my niece loves this place. She’d give me the silent treatment for a year.” Angela smiled and bopped up and down a few times.

  “She’s a great girl.” I felt the tension building in my body. I continued touching my fingertips in a pattern, one after the other. One, two, three, four. It wasn’t working anymore. I felt the tump-tump of my heart in my throat. My shoulders felt like they were blocking my ears. I can’t do this. “You’ve done a wonderful job raising her.”

  “Thank you,” he said and stepped toward me again. I can’t do this.

  “It’s so great to see you.” I put my hand out. The shock of the situation was too much for me. I couldn’t handle it. I needed to regain some sense of control. I can’t do this. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.” I turned and quickly rushed out of the dining room.

  Darting to the pantry, I closed the door behind me and took a few deep breaths. Before I knew it, my hands were filled with cans, as I began sorting, stacking, and rearranging in order to find my sense of calm and control. If only everything in my life was this easy to arrange and control. I stacked the cans, and felt of the stress wash away, leaving my body with each perfect label alignment.

  Chapter
Eight

  I heard the door open but didn’t turn around. I knew who it was. It was her. It was always her.

  “Peyton,” Jesi said. I usually loved the sound of her voice, but this time, it was simply irritating. “Peyton please stop and talk to me.”

  “About what?” I snapped. I kept sorting. I decided that the baking items should be on the top shelf because baking starts with the letter B. And fruits should be on the shelf above the vegetables because the letter F comes before the letter V. “What do you want to talk about, Jes?”

  “First of all, why are you pissed at me?” I didn’t turn around. “You have to know that I had nothing to do with any of this. I didn’t know anything about Austin owning the steak place, or being her uncle, or coming here. I promise.”

  “You let me walk out into that room.” Applesauce comes before fruit cocktail. “You let me walk out into the dining room knowing he was standing right there” I held a can in each hand and just stared at them. “I told you that I’d met him. I told you and you listened to me go on and on about him. But you still let me walk out into that room and look like an idiot.” People were watching me. Staring at me. Looking at me like I’m some stupid crazy bitch.

  “Honey, please.” From her voice, I knew Jesi was only a few steps behind me. “I tried to stop you. I told you to wait. I called out to you.” Did she? The scene ran through my mind again, a mini movie of my own making. She did. She did call out to me. She did try to stop me. “I would never put you in that type of situation. I love you Pey –” Her words were interrupted by a low painful grunt. “Ah, shit!”

  Hearing Jesi in pain, I quickly spun around. She was doubled over, hanging on a nearby shelf with one hand and grasping her belly with the other. The cans in my hands made a muted thunk as they hit the floor. The whurling sound filled the room for a total of three heartbeats as I took in the reality of what I had done.