Pop The Clutch: A Second Gear Romance

by Kristin Harte

  “Precisely. It would be the perfect job if I didn’t have to deal with him.” She held up two mugs, nodding toward the family room. “Come. Let’s have some tea.”

  We ended up sitting across from each other, both trying not to make too much noise as Grandma slept on. Dahlia set the mugs on the table along with a full teapot and settled into the cushions. I didn’t really like to drink most teas, but I had to admit the cup felt good in my hands. Warm and solid, reassuring in a way. A reminder of my past. Dahlia had always made a pot of tea and given me a cup when we talked, ever since we were children. That had been her thing. When she’d admitted her first kiss had been with Wyatt Bearn, it had been over a cup of white tea. When I’d told her Jace and I were dating, there’d been green tea. And when I’d admitted to her what had happened with the video, I’d cried into a cup of Lady Grey. Tea and Dahlia went together. Always.

  “How is she?” Dahlia leaned forward, teacup in hand and bright eyes locked on mine. Completely focused on me.

  “Good. She’s—” I cut myself off. That automatic response wasn’t what I needed to say. Dahlia deserved more truth. “Well, as good as we could hope. She sleeps a lot and can’t do too much right now because of the nausea, but Mary’s gotten her out to a few events, and we go for daily walks together. It could be so much worse.”

  Dahlia nodded and took a sip of her tea before sighing, giving me a serious look that had my back stiffening. “And how is it being home?”

  I really hated that word. “This isn’t home to me anymore.”

  “Sure it is. This place is home to both of us, and you know it. You can run as far as you want, but the family roots grow deep in this area.” She pointed a finger my way. “Your roots.”

  “My roots must have been severed in a storm or something.” I sat back, clutching my teacup. “I never feel comfortable here.”

  “That’s because you refuse to claim your place and demand people accept you.”

  “No one’s going to accept me. Not after what I did.”

  Dahlia sighed. “Why don’t you go see Jace already? I’ll even help you beat his ass so you can get some closure on that whole debacle.”

  As if that was an option. “What’s done is done. There’s no sense digging up something that’s buried in the past.”

  “Is it buried, though? Because that particular zombie seems to keep running amok in your life. Maybe it’s time to break out a shovel and cut its head off once and for all.”

  “Like you’re such an expert at ending things and moving on, right? Who’s Wyatt playing hockey for now?”

  Dahlia flinched and turned away. Obviously hurt, which hadn’t been my intention. Her history with Wyatt Bearn—and his twin Colton, by proxy—was long and complicated, something not easy to move on from. Something impossible to forget. Considering my own past, I had no right to throw even the hint of that in her face.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “It’s been really stressful here, and I’m on edge. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, I get it. And you’re right, I’m not the poster child for perfect relationships. I’ve also never done what you have, so I can’t speak to how I’d handle it all. But that doesn’t mean I’m not right about you needing closure. God knows I keep searching for it.”

  I swallowed back the sick feeling her words brought out of me. This was where Dahlia and I always differed. She’d never done the things I’d done, never would. I was the perpetrator, and she was the victim, which set us up for clashes on too many things. But ten years of arguing hadn’t given us any answers, and neither would one more round.

  “Maybe someday we’ll both find it.”

  “If we’re lucky, I guess.” She stood, looking exhausted all of a sudden. “Traveling today wore me out. I think I’m going to unpack. Maybe take a nap while Grandma’s sleeping.”

  “I need to run to the pharmacy to pick up a few things. You’ll listen for her?”

  “Yeah, of course. Two’s better than one, right?” She hugged me, clinging tight. “It really is good to see you, cuz. I’ll never stop fighting for you to come home because I miss you so much when you’re gone.”

  “I know. And I’ve missed you too.” I squeezed my eyes shut tight and held on to her, wishing there was some other way for us. Wishing for a rewind button or a chance at a do-over.

  Wishing for things I could never have.

  “I am sorry for everything,” I whispered. “I never doubted for a second that what I did to Jace was wrong.”

  Dahlia held me tighter. “I know, and you need to stop beating yourself up about it. We all make mistakes.”

  Not her, though. Wyatt had, Colton definitely had, but Dahlia had stayed strong and true. Had never faltered. And had gotten nothing but heartbreak for her loyalty. I slumped against the counter as she walked away, my head hanging and my chest tight. We all made mistakes…but the cost of mine seemed so much steeper than others around me.

  My phone dinged with another text. One that didn’t make me run this time. One that didn’t make my heart flip even when I saw it was from Easton.

  Well, not flip nearly as hard as before, at least.

  My sister says that text sounded like a blow-off. That’s not the case at all, okay? My workload is insane right now. Otherwise, I’d be there. I’m looking forward to the next time you assault me with non-organic produce.

  My smile was unstoppable, the way my heart sped up unavoidable.

  You’re on—just don’t wait too long.

  Is this like that Cinderella story? You have a midnight curfew?

  Not tonight, I don’t.

  It took a minute for him to respond, but the wait was worth it.

  If I had more than five minutes to myself, I’d make sure you used that time well. Sadly, I don’t. In fact, I need to get back to it. Text me later?

  I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, silly grin firmly in place.

  Absolutely.

  CHAPTER TEN

  VIOLET

  One text led to twelve, twelve led to fifty, and the next thing I knew, we’d chatted all day every day, back and forth for three solid days. Normal chats about our days and what was happening. Deeper chats about our feelings on politics and world events. Books and movies were covered the second day, while music took center stage the evening of the first. Our texting was get-to-know-you time in the form of written words instead of spoken ones. And it was amazing.

  All those texts led me to an understanding of how busy Easton was at the shop, how determined he was to make his mark as a businessman. Admirable traits for sure, if only he weren’t working so hard for it all. I had a feeling the way his dad had left the family without a safety net had a lot to do with his ambition, but that would be just a guess. One I wouldn’t want to pry and ask about.

  Still, the conversation was good, the pings and vibrations distracting me from the worries and stress of Grandma’s care. And when Easton sent a note asking if we could finally have our dinner date, I was more than happy to say yes.

  Time for some in-person communicating once more.

  I spent the afternoon running errands for Grandma. Ones that certainly didn’t seem necessary but that she asked me to do. All the while, I questioned her motives. It was if she was purposely trying to force me back into the neighborhood. Butcher shop, produce stand, dry cleaner—I saw more people I knew in two hours than I had in the two weeks I’d been back. Plus, I had to run to the mall to buy a pair of sandals for my date. All the peopling exhausted me and made me want to become a hermit once more.

  By the time Easton knocked on the front door to pick me up, I was feeling particularly antisocial. The running around town had taken its toll, and I’d reverted to my introvert self. If I were back in Chicago, I’d have canceled my date and holed up in my living room wearing yoga pants and eating ice cream. No good could come from unassing a couch when you felt the way I did. But this wasn’t Chicago, and my date wasn’t with some random guy. This was Easton Cole, wh
o’d once picked me up and taken me for pizza as my world had crashed down around me. Who had a smile and a sense of humor that made me feel truly happy for the first time in years. Who I didn’t want to disappoint. So, I donned a sundress with bright flowers, painted my lips red, and made sure my dark hair hung in shiny waves.

  But I missed the hell out of my yoga pants.

  When I opened the front door, my jaw almost dropped. All thoughts of yoga pants and ice cream flew right out the window. Easton stood on the front porch in dark dress pants and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt. His hair was brushed back, his dark waves contained in a way I’d never seen. And he smelled so darn good. The man on the porch was decidedly not my friend. Not even close. He wasn’t even trying to tone down his hotness. The bastard.

  “Hi,” he said, eyeing me with a small smile. “You look amazing.”

  I fingered the hem of my sundress, my heart practically fluttering. The look on his face was worth unassing my couch for. “I don’t look nearly as good as you.”

  “I’ll argue that to my last breath.”

  “Smooth talker.” I grinned. This man and his charm were going to be the death of me. “C’mon in. I need to say goodnight to Grandma, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.” He stepped inside, bending to kiss my cheek as he passed. The moment his lips touched my skin, I swear my heart swooned. He was such a contradiction. So strong but sweet, so masculine and yet so soft when he handled me. An attractive mix for sure.

  I led him into the family room, excitement making me want to skip or jump or…do naughty things to the man behind me. But all that would have to wait. “I’m going, Grandma.”

  “Okay, baby,” she said, looking up from her crossword. “You two have fun now.”

  “I’ll have my phone if you need me, and Mary said she’d stop by after bingo to check on you. Dahlia should be home by ten from the gym.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you believe this, Easton? My granddaughter thinks she can’t leave me alone for a few hours.”

  “We’re just worried about you, Ms. Foster,” Easton said, smiling and being just as charming as I’d learned he could be.

  Grandma snorted, not buying his brand of attention for a second. “A real Romeo, this one. Go on now, kids. Get out of here and leave this old woman in peace.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Easton grabbed my hand but didn’t pull. Waiting for me to make the move to leave.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “Oh, Ms. Foster?” he called before we made it to the living room. “Colton’s going to come by to check on the car tonight.”

  “Why? Is something wrong with my Betsy again?” Because every car she’d ever driven had been named Betsy.

  Easton met my eyes, a knowing look in his. “No, ma’am. He just wants to check on the radiator we installed. Make sure none of the hoses have come loose with any driving you’ve been doing. He’ll probably come to the door when he gets here, just to let you know he’ll be outside. Smack him upside the head if he’s not as polite as he should be.”

  “Well, that’s something to look forward to.”

  Easton winked at me then led me back through the house and out the door. As soon as we were outside, I stopped him with a hand to his chest. I rose onto the balls of my feet, peering up at him, stretching to press my lips to the corner of his mouth.

  “Thank you.”

  Easton squeezed my hip, brushing his lips against mine before pulling away. “I figured you’d be worried.”

  “I would have been.” I grabbed his hand, letting him lead me down the driveway once more. “You’re very thoughtful.”

  “Nah, I just want your undivided attention for the night,” he said with a smile. The charmer back again, totally making me fall for him. Easton helped me up and into his beast of a truck, then hurried around to the other side. “I’m sorry I brought the truck. I grabbed the wrong keys and didn’t think about it until I was already on the road over.”

  I ran a finger along the dash. The old-style bench seat seemed massive, and the open floorboard with nothing between us left a lot of options should the time ever come. I used to dream about this truck, about Easton kneeling on that floorboard and pressing his upper body against mine. About being on my knees in front of him and teasing him with my tongue. The basics of the interior design of the old beast had led to a ton of teenage fantasies.

  “I love this truck,” I murmured, stretching a hand across the edge of the bench seat.

  Easton seemed surprised. “You do?”

  “Yeah. It fits you. Way more than some fast car.” I looked him over, from the top of his head to where his shoes rested on the pedals. “You don’t seem like a sports car kind of guy.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “I am, but for daily driving, I prefer this old thing.”

  “So do I.”

  “Noted.” He started the engine with ease and backed out of the driveway, heading north once he reached the main road. Time to go on our not-so-much-friends-anymore date.

  EASTON

  “And there were strawberries and chocolate everywhere. It took me hours to get it all out of my hair.”

  I held my hand up, trying my damnedest not to roll out of my chair from laughing. Violet’s stories from the different restaurants she’d worked at were hilarious, and she’d been telling me a doozy about a broken food processor and an angry pastry chef for the past ten minutes. Eyes bright, hands flying, she was animated and alive and present. Completely with me in the moment. It was an amazing sight.

  “Sounds like you love what you do even when things go wrong.”

  She smiled, a sweet, pure expression I wanted to see more of. “I do. I’m comfortable in a restaurant or bakery. It feels right. I assume you feel the same way in your shop.”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s where I belong.” I grabbed my wine and took a sip, trying to ignore the way my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. A distraction I refused to give in to.

  “I think it’s awesome that you built a business with your friends. That has to be such a benefit, knowing those two have your back.”

  I stared into my glass, swirling the dark liquid slowly. “I never really thought of it like that, but yeah. They’d never let me down.”

  “You’re lucky.”

  “I am.” Another buzz. There was no ignoring the darn thing any longer. Not with Colton scheduled to meet Violet’s grandmother and with Brogan dealing with a few things at the shop for me. Either one could need me.

  Before I could say more, the waiter approached. “Anything else I can get for you?”

  Violet sat back, smiling up at the man. “Not for me. But that custard tart was amazing, and the texture was absolutely perfect. Please give my compliments to your pastry chef.”

  The waiter smiled in a way I’d seen before when people interacted with Violet—true and vibrant. He saw how genuine she was, how kind. And he liked it. As did I. “I certainly will, miss. Thank you for the warm compliment.”

  He handed me a black folio and walked away, leaving Violet and me alone once more. Alone with my phone going off over and over again.

  Violet glanced at the folio. “I can—”

  “Don’t,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “I invited you out tonight, so I’ve got this.”

  “Friends can split checks.”

  “Friends can treat each other to dinner now and again, too.”

  She sat back and smiled. “Seems like you’re always buying me food.”

  “You can make me those cereal bars, and we’ll call it even.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but her lips were caught trying to rise into a smile. Finally, she huffed as if it was such a hardship. “We’ll see.”

  “I’m actually surprised you haven’t made them yet. I figured you’d be baking up a storm with all the time on your hands.”

  Her smile dimmed, and she tangled her fingers in her napkin. “I haven’t really felt much like baking lately. But I will…soon.”

  “I’m
sure you will.” I leaned across the table and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, unable to resist a moment more. “Thank you for coming out with me.”

  “Thank you for asking me.”

  There were so many things I wanted to say, but the incessant vibration of my phone in my pocket distracted me from just about everything. I needed to check it. Otherwise, I’d never be able to relax.

  “While he swipes this, I’m going to run to the restroom.” I slid my card into the slot and motioned to the waiter when he caught my eye. Two minutes, and I’d know if we needed to go back.

  As soon as I was out of sight, I pulled my phone from my pocket.

  Ten text messages, all Colton.

  The Eagle has landed.

  * * *

  The Owl is well, no signs of mice in the nest.

  * * *

  She’s making me lemonade!

  * * *

  Damn, man, this stuff is out of this world. I may never leave.

  * * *

  The Owl wants to play something called Rummikub. I see myself being here awhile.

  * * *

  She smoked my ass at the game.

  * * *

  I refuse to admit how badly I lost the second game.

  * * *

  Shit shit shit…Dahlia just pulled up. This is about to get interesting.

  * * *

  Pretty sure that girl has my balls tucked inside her purse. Think you can get Violet to convince her to give them back?

  * * *

  The Owl is safe and warm in her nest with her owlet, and my balls are still missing. This Eagle is out.

  I chuckled and hit the call button. Colton answered on the first ring, already in smartass mode. “If you’re phoning me from your night with Violet, you’re doing dating wrong.”