Sweet Tea & Second Chances: A Second Chance Small Town Romantic Comedy (Lovebird Café Book 1)

by Dylann Crush

  I pushed my hands into the back pockets of my khaki shorts. “Dad paid Old Man Morris to keep an eye on things for us. He came out a couple of times a month to make sure everything was okay. Your dad said you were at practice.”

  “Yeah, I coach baseball over at the high school. Still working on getting a field with lights so we can keep practicing after dark.”

  “Really? Weren’t they working on that back when you were playing?”

  Robbie tilted his head and studied me, his green eyes looking beyond my messy topknot, tugging at feelings best left undisturbed. “Some things around here change too quick. Other things don’t seem to change at all.”

  My breath hitched. Was he still talking about stadium lights? Based on the way my blood heated under the intensity of his gaze, I didn’t think so. “Well thanks for stopping by.”

  Robbie nodded, shifted his attention to his feet and put his cap back on. “So I hear Schmitty passed on the job.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “Word travels fast around here.”

  “One of the perks of such a tight knit community.” He cracked a grin.

  Something behind him caught my eye. A cloud of black smoke wafted through the doorway of the kitchen. Oh, hell. I made a move toward Robbie and he grabbed my arm.

  “Look, Cass, I know you’re not excited about working with me—”

  “Not now, Robbie!” I tried to wrench my arm away but he didn’t let go so I ended up dragging him into the kitchen behind me.

  Puffs of angry black smoke floated out of Big Bertha’s dark belly.

  Robbie dropped my arm. “What the hell?” He turned the lever, opened the hatch and stooped down to peer inside. “You trying to burn wet wood?”

  I grabbed a dish towel and fanned at the smoke. “No, I just took some off the pile out back. It looked dry.”

  He adjusted a few handles and poked at the stack of wood I’d shoved inside. “It’s still eighty degrees out. You’re not cold, are you?”

  “No. I’m trying to make dinner.” I gestured around the kitchen. “Grandma never wanted a real stove. Can you believe she was still cooking on this thing?”

  Robbie emptied some ashes out of a panel near the ground. “Your grandma always knew her own mind.”

  I laughed. “She sure did. Remember the time my grandpa tried to put in a shower?”

  “Yeah.” Robbie let out a chuckle. “She wouldn’t start cooking for him again until he brought her claw foot tub back.”

  I ran my hand over the back of her chair. “She loved that tub. Almost as much as she loved Big Bertha.”

  Robbie stood up and closed the hatch. His face hovered about six inches away from mine. “I loved that tub too, Cass.”

  Heat rose up my neck to burn across my face. I knew he was thinking about the one weekend my grandparents had left me alone at the house. They’d gone to a funeral about five hours away for a friend of theirs and figured at seventeen I was old enough to spend one night on my own. They hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes before Robbie and I were butt-naked in the tub. Before they’d come back we’d explored every angle, dip, and curve of each other’s bodies.

  Chills ran up my arms, and I pushed past him to the sink to wash the soot off my hands. “So how long until I have a fire I can cook on?”

  Robbie was silent for a moment then shrugged. “Maybe an hour? What are you making?”

  “I’ve been craving chicken-fried steak. I picked up some cube steak this morning and was going to fry some up.”

  “You’re killing me, Cass.” He rubbed a hand over his stomach. “I haven’t had your grandma’s gravy in forever.”

  “Are you angling for an invite?” I wiped my hands on the towel before hanging it back on the hook.

  Robbie leaned against the counter and crossed his muscular arms over his chest.

  “How about we work out a trade?” he asked.

  I scowled, then remembered I was supposed to be in nice mode. “A trade, huh? What exactly do you have in mind?”

  “I’ll help you fix up this place, and you cook up some of your grandma’s old recipes for me.”

  “So you’re going to work for food?”

  “Hell, no.” He grinned, his mouth quirking up in that familiar grin. “You still need to pay me. You do have money to pay for the job, right?”

  “Yeah, I have enough to get started. I can get you the rest when I get the money from the sale. How much do you think it will be?”

  “I can come back when it’s light out and go over the whole place. I’m sure you’ve got some ideas of your own?”

  I had ideas all right. Ideas about me and Robbie and the giant claw foot tub in the bathroom and…

  “You all right, Cassafrass? You’re looking a little flushed.” He raised an eyebrow at me and crossed one foot over the other.

  “It’s just the smoke. Help me air it out in here, okay?” I grabbed the towel to swipe at the air again. The smoke had already dissipated, but Robbie didn’t need to know it hadn’t been the heavy air causing my blush.

  He took off his hat and waved it through the kitchen, helping to air out the non-existent smoke. “So whadda ya say? Dinner? Five nights a week?”

  “Get over yourself. I’ll give you two dinners a week with plenty of leftovers.”

  Robbie stuck out his hand to shake on it. “Make it three and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Fine.” I thrust my hand toward him to seal the agreement. My heart stalled the moment his rough, callused fingers wrapped around mine.

  “All right.” Robbie let my hand drop and rubbed his together. “Let’s get started. Chicken-fried steak? Biscuits and gravy?”

  “What, now?” I paused. “It’s almost nine. If it takes an hour just for the stove to heat up, I wouldn’t even have it ready until after ten.”

  “Got somewhere to be?” Robbie matched my stance, putting his hands on his hips and daring me to say no.

  “Well, no, I guess not. It’s just, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and eased his body down onto the red vinyl seat, making me think of all the times we’d shared a meal together at this same table. “Not tonight.”

  Nowhere to be on a Friday night? Did that mean he wasn’t seeing anyone? A glimmer of anticipation bubbled up from the center of my chest. I coughed and slammed my fist into it to break it up and send it on its way. Obviously I needed him to help me fix the place up. But that was all. Besides, I wasn’t available. Parker and I had big plans – plans that didn’t include any part of Robbie, no matter how well he filled out his jeans. I’d figure out a way to make this work. What choice did I have? After all, he did have a truck full of tools.

  Shoulders slumped, I shuffled out to the fridge on the back porch and grabbed the cube steaks. Yeah, he had the hammer and I needed to get nailed. Oh for crying out loud. Not even going to go there about the screwdriver.

  What was wrong with me? I chalked it up to just being in proximity to my first love. Actually, he was my first at quite a few things…first kiss, first date, first lover. I coughed to clear my throat and my rattled brain. After the initial shock to my system, surely the symptoms would start to fade in a day or two. With renewed hope, I set about making my first dinner for Robbie.

  He sat at the table, watching me move about the kitchen. At one point he went out to his truck and came back with a six-pack of long necks.

  “No more PBR?” I smiled at the thought of hot summer afternoons spent on the beach of Stockton Lake. Robbie and his posse would con some upperclassman into buying them a case of cheap beer, and we’d make it last all afternoon.

  “My taste has become more sophisticated.”

  I laughed out loud. “Ha! Sophisticated isn’t a word I’d ever associate with you.”

  Parker was sophisticated. Parker wore tailored suits, sent his shirts to the dry cleaners and shined his Allen Edmond tasseled loafers once a week.

  He twisted the cap off and hande
d me a beer. “Oh yeah? What word would you use to describe me?”

  Hot. Freakin’, blazin’, hose-me-down hot. I still couldn’t get over how much he’d grown up and filled out. Yep, hot. But I didn’t say that.

  “Um, smug. Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

  “Smug? What kind of word is that?” He took a sip from his beer. “What about strong? Confident? Maybe even sexy?”

  I sputtered and tried not to spit out my mouthful of beer. “Anyone who refers to himself as sexy definitely deserves the word ‘smug’.”

  He shook his head, obviously disappointed in my choice of vocabulary. “And to think I had such a good word to describe you.”

  “Really?” I set my bottle down on the counter and grabbed the bag of flour from the cupboard. “Spring it on me. I can’t wait.”

  He moved close to where I stood and pressed his front into my back. His breath tickled my ear and on an exhale, so quiet that I wasn’t even sure he’d spoken, I swore I heard him say “Unforgettable.”

  Robbie

  Cassie flinched as my lips brushed her ear then moved away. Damn. What had gotten into me tonight?

  “Grab me the buttermilk from the fridge?” she asked, pointing a floured hand toward the back porch.

  I cleared my throat, gathering my bruised ego around me. “Yeah, no problem.” I found the carton in the ancient old ice box and took it back to her in the kitchen.

  “So fill me in. I heard you took the baseball scholarship to Southeast Missouri State.”

  She floured, salted, peppered and floured some more as I filled her on in the last nine years. I’d spent two years at SEMO on a full-ride but withdrew from college when a line drive struck me upside the head.

  “Wow. That sucks.” Cassie faced me and took another swig of her beer. “I didn’t know. I figured you’d go all the way to the majors.”

  “No use signing a pitcher who can’t see out of the corner of his eye.” I swallowed the bitterness rising up in my gut with my last sip of beer and stood up to grab another bottle out of the fridge. “I’m surprised your grandparents didn’t tell you about it.”

  She dipped her hand into the bag of flour and sprinkled some on the counter. “Yeah, they stopped filling me in on what was going on with you.”

  Hmm. She’d probably asked them to. That damn note made it pretty apparent she hadn’t wanted to keep in touch.

  “So tell me something.” She grabbed the rolling pin from its hook and began to roll out the dough for biscuits.

  I twisted the bottle cap off my beer and leaned against the counter next to her. “Ask me anything, Cassafrass.”

  “How is it that you’re back at your dad’s place?” Her eyes filled with concern and she glanced over at me, still working the rolling pin over the counter.

  I watched her forearms flex as she rolled it back and forth. “I’ll make a long, sad story very short. Ma left the day after I took off for college. I guess she’d finally had enough.”

  Cassie nodded. She knew all about my Dad’s drinking and anger management issues. There hadn’t been any secrets between us growing up.

  I continued, “I got hurt, dropped out of college and headed out to California to be by my mom for a bit. Finished up my undergrad degree online while I worked construction. Couple of years ago I came back here to take care of my old man. He’s drinking himself into an early grave. He’s got cirrhosis and just found out it’s moved on to liver cancer. Doc gives him maybe six months.”

  The rolling pin clattered to the counter and Cassie grabbed onto my arm with her floured hand. “Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry, Robbie.”

  “Don’t be. You get what you give. The day that man dies I might dance on his grave. That is, after I’m done pissing on it.”

  “Robbie! He may be an ass, but he’s still your father.”

  “More like my sperm donor. You have a father.” I moved back to my spot at the counter and leaned hard up against it. Living under the smothering blanket of my dad’s disappointment all my life had caught up to me. I’d always been able to be up front with Cassie about my feelings. Letting my frustration out instead of keeping everything locked up inside felt damn good for a change.

  “Just because my dad didn’t knock me around doesn’t mean he should be up for father of the year.” She turned back to focus on the dough. “He dropped me off here every summer so he didn’t have to be bothered with me.”

  “You’re right, Cass. Neither one of our dads would have won any awards.” I reached a hand up and pushed a stray hunk of hair back behind her ear. “But I’m glad he brought you here. We had some good times together, didn’t we?”

  She met my gaze and the years faded away in an instant. Out of habit, my hand reached around the back of her neck to pull her closer. She leaned in, tilting her head toward mine. I was seventeen again, the most beautiful girl in the world in my arms, and a lifetime of promise stretching the few inches between us.

  My heart pounded in my chest, sending a rush of blood whooshing through my ears. I nuzzled my nose into her hair. God she smelled good. Just like I remembered. Like flowers and piña coladas. My body’s response to her was familiar and surprising. How could she still affect me this way? I was freaking hard already and we hadn’t even kissed. I planned to rectify that next.

  She pressed her hips against mine and a shiver jolted through my shorts. Holy shit. The contact was electrifying. Wait, no. She put her hands flat on my chest and pushed me away. Reaching into the front pocket of her shorts, she pulled out her cell phone. It vibrated in her hand.

  She looked up and me and back at her phone. “I’ve…I’ve gotta take this.”

  I released my arms from around her and raised my hands in the air in defeat. “Yeah, fine. Go take your call.”

  She looked at me for a long moment then moved to the front room, raising her phone to her ear. “Hey, you.”

  I adjusted the front of my shorts. Jesus. What was I thinking? The last thing I needed was to get involved with Cassie Belmont again. Just look what happened last time. It took me years to get over her. Besides, even though Caroline and I were taking a break this summer to figure things out, she deserved better than a guy who would make a move on the first girl he saw.

  Then again, who was I kidding? Cassie wasn’t just anyone. I moved closer to the doorway. Who was she talking to anyway?

  Her voice floated from the bedroom. “Yeah, the first guy didn’t work out. I think I’ve got someone lined up to do the work though. I’ll know more tomorrow.”

  Pause.

  “Yeah, I think I can trust him. We used to know each other when I was little.”

  Pause.

  “Sure. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Pause.

  “Yeah, miss you, too.”

  Her footsteps padded on the worn wooden floors, and I jumped back to a chair at the table as she re-entered the kitchen. Used to know each other? I’d known her in every way known to mankind. I knew the contours of her body better than my own. We’d spent so much time together I knew what she was going to say before she even thought about talking. Yeah, we used to know each other. Inside. Outside. Upside Down. Used to.

  7

  Cassie

  Saturday morning found me following Robbie around the house like an eager puppy dog, pen and notebook in hand. Whatever weird moment we’d shared the night before was long gone. Thank God. I don’t know what had gotten into me, maybe slight carbon monoxide poisoning from Big Bertha’s belching belly. Whatever it was, I’d regained my focus: repair the house and retreat back to Texas. Robbie had too; he was all business as he poked and prodded at every inch of the house, calling out a long list of updates and repairs for me to jot down.

  He crawled out from under the porch, flashlight in hand, and pointed to my spiral notebook. “Add termite inspection to your list.”

  “Termites? Are you sure?”

  He wiped a hand across his brow. “No, I’m not sure. That’s why we need an inspector.”
/>   I scrawled “Termite Check” at the bottom of the list. Seeing him in his element, so capable, so in charge, gave me a new appreciation for grown-up Robbie. An appreciation I intended to limit to his construction skills. “So how much is all this going to cost me?”

  “Dunno yet.” He walked over to his truck and put the flashlight back in the toolbox. “It won’t be cheap though. You sure you’re up for this?”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t have a choice.”

  He squinted over at me and took a long drink from his water bottle. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, making me a little weak in the knees. “There’s always a choice, Cass.”

  I cradled the notebook in my arms. “Not this time.”

  Robbie cocked his head. “Why the rush to sell? What’s up?”

  I shrugged. “I just need the cash.” He didn’t need to know the ins and outs of my current life. He’d written himself out of being “in the know” years ago.

  “You in trouble?”

  “No.” I rocked back and forth on my heels, ready for him to just drop it already.

  He leaned up against the truck and crossed his arms across his chest, mimicking my stance. “Well, I’m just not sure I’m interested in the job unless I know the whole story.”

  “What’s that got to do with the job? It’s none of your business.”

  Robbie smirked and made a point of examining his nails. “I’ve got all day.”

  He could be stubborn as a mule sometimes. Once he dug in his heels about something, it was almost impossible to get him to budge. Easier to give in than fight him—I knew that from experience.

  “Fine. I’ve got to sell this place and raise enough money to buy in on a new restaurant concept. Are you happy?”

  “What kind of restaurant?”

  “It’s a new place in Dallas. I’m going into business with a, um, a partner, and we need to raise enough cash.”

  “How much do you need?”

  “What is this, twenty questions?” I stopped rocking on my heels and frowned at him.