by Amy Sparling
Copyright © 2017 Amy Sparling
All rights reserved.
First Edition September 2017
Cover design by Amy Sparling
Cover image from BigStockPhoto
Typography from Font Squirrel
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems -except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from the author at [email protected].
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
While the other one hundred and three students who go to my high school are no doubt sleeping in late on their first day of summer break, I am awake at five in the morning. There are only a handful of stores here in Spockle, Texas, my tiny little hill country home town, and my parents own three of them.
Well, technically they own the building. Cross General Store is our business, and my parents rent out the adjoining space to Dr. Clark’s family practice, and then to Uncle Ben, who runs a fishing shop on the opposite side.
Our store also has the only two gas pumps in town, so pretty much everyone comes here for everything. We are located right off of County Road 16, which is the only road that comes or goes from Spockle. You might think you know small towns, but you don’t. Not until you’ve been here.
Normally I love the small town life. I mean, sure, I hate that we only venture to the mall a few times a year because it’s three hours away, but we do get mail delivery so I can buy pretty much everything I want online. That is, of course, when our very slow dial up internet service actually works.
But the people are nice, and I know all of them since I’ve lived here my whole life, and my parents run the only general store in town. We have a beautiful lake, and rolling hills, and miles and miles of state park land to get lost inside while you’re reconnecting with nature. The only downside to living here is that there are exactly fifty-three guys in my high school. Half of those are freshman or sophomores, so ew, and the other half are all like brothers to me. I mean, I’ve gone to school with them all since we were five years old. A few of them live on my street, so I’ve known them even longer.
Mom says I should just chill out about boys and wait until I go to college because then I’ll meet tons of them. But it’s still annoying. I’ve dated a few guys over the last two years, but it never lasted long.
With Blake, we just felt like friends who couldn’t seem to move into lovers territory. It was hard when you know each other’s entire lives, like how I puked on him in third grade, or how he peed his pants at a birthday party when we were six.
Then Brandon asked me to homecoming last year, which was fun because my best friend Risha and I made a trip to the mall for dresses, and the Spockle High School rented out a building an hour away for our dance, and pretty much every kid in school went, so it was packed. But when he kissed me, it just didn’t feel—well, romantic. There was no spark. And I’ve heard there always needs to be a spark.
And then there was Jake.
But Jake doesn’t count. He was Risha’s boyfriend, even if it wasn’t officially official. They’d been attached at the hip since junior high and everyone knew they were in love and would marry and have kids and raise them here in this small town.
That is until he kissed me.
It was four freaking months ago and Risha still hates me. I didn’t kiss him back. I pushed him away, and Risha still hates me.
I didn’t even like Jake, and Risha still hates me.
So I guess it’s no big deal that I have to wake up at five in the morning and go help my dad at the store. It’s not like I have parties or sleepovers or fun things to do. It’s not like I have a best friend anymore.
Cross General Store is set up kind of like a hybrid of a gas station, a small grocery store, and a diner. On the far right, there’s the long countertop bar in front of the grill and coffee makers and our milkshake machine. Behind it, are eight tables that are pretty much always filled with the same people. The older retired guys are the first to arrive, getting coffee and pancakes and eggs and talking about boring stuff until they leave. Then families and younger people show up for breakfast.
In the middle of the store are the grocery aisles, where we sell normal and basic foods. Not the fancy stuff like at big grocery stores, although we do carry gluten free foods now that Mrs. Hamilton has been diagnosed with Celiac disease.
Then on the left is the regular gas station stuff. We even sell some Spockle, TX T-shirts and souvenirs that my parents ordered as a joke, but people actually buy them. We get a lot of people just passing through our town onto somewhere better, and they stop here for gas and food. They think it’s hilarious when they see our souvenir section, and they often buy something to remind them of our tiny little town.
My favorite job here is restocking. Once a week we get a load of boxes that need to be unpacked on the shelves. It’s quiet, and easy, and I don’t have to deal with anyone.
But today is Tuesday, so I’m stuck working the diner.
By noon, I’ve already made twelve pots of coffee. And this is an industrial sized coffee maker that holds twenty cups at once, so I think the people of this town should maybe chill with their caffeine intake.
Luckily, my mom’s best friend Betty is here waitressing today, so I get to chill behind the bar and refill drinks and make milkshakes. I don’t mind waitressing, but it’s awkward now anytime one of my friends from school comes in. They always ask about Risha. They ask about why we’re no longer hanging out every day like we did for our entire lives. They ask if she’s still mad. Or worse—they lean in and whisper secretively, asking if I’m secretly dating Jake.
Our door opens with a little jingle around two in the afternoon. I glance lazily over there, not really caring who’s coming inside as long as it’s not Risha, but then a shock of wavy dark brown hair gets my attention.
Looks like two people passing through have decided to come in for some food. It’s a guy, around my age, and an older lady who looks like his mom because she has the same nose and eyes.
I exhale slowly and tell myself to play it cool. Just because this guy is totally gorgeous in every way, from his messy but sexy hair, to his sharp jawline and thick shoulders, and that little vein running down his forearm that’s totally hot—wait, what was I saying?
Oh yeah. No need to drool over some guy who will be gone soon.
But I do wish the guys at my school were that hot. Maybe then I’d get over the fact that I’ve known them my whole life.
Betty greets them and offers to take them to a table, but the woman asks if they can sit at the bar instead. I stand a little straighter. Looks like I’ll get to serve some stranger eye candy.
I smile warmly as the woman walks up, her son trailing behind her.
“Good afternoon,” I say in my cheery waitress voice. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I know it’s late, but do you have any coffee?” the woman asks.
I snort. She would fit in well here. “Yes, ma’am, we have a fresh pot.”
When I shift my attention to her son, he turns away, scratching his forehead while he looks down at the floor. “Coke,” he says quickly, then he takes a seat on a barstool and looks off to the right.
Weird. If he wasn’t a total stranger, I’d think maybe he was avoiding me.
I bring them drinks and the woman orders the famous BLT after I tell her it’s totally amazing, and then the guy once again looks away from me as he orders a cheeseburger. It’s like he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone. Like he’s ashamed or something, which is weird, because he’s totally freaking hot. It’s not like he has a huge hairy mole on his chin and that makes him avoid people. He is like a picture perfect example of a hot teenage guy.
I bring them their food and then leave them alone. The lady seems nice enough, but her son is weird.
When they’re finished eating, I bring the check to the lady and I don’t bother looking at the guy. The way he avoids eye contact now has me wondering if there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I should check my chin for the sudden appearance of an ugly mole.
“How was it?” I ask her.
Her eyes go wide. “Oh my God, dear. It was delicious! The best BLT ever.”
“I know, right?” I gush. “It’s our cook, Julian. I don’t know what magic he does to the bacon but it’s amazing. I can never cook it like that at home.”
“I’ll definitely have another one tomorrow,” she says.
My eyebrows shoot up. “Tomorrow?”
She nods. “I love this town. It’s so cute, and the woods stretch on for miles. It’s isolated, you know?”
“Yeah…” I say. “We’re pretty isolated.”
“I saw that motel over there,” she says, pointing toward the door where Mr. Parson’s five room motel sits on the other side of the road. That place is ancient and mainly a home for exhausted truckers passing by or old men whose wives get mad and kick them out for the weekend.
The lady leans in. “Is there anything nicer nearby?”
I laugh. “Not really,” I say. “But my parents have a house they rent out on Airbnb. Sometimes hikers will come stay for a weekend.”
“That sounds perfect,” she says. “I mean, we’re trying to get a home, a more permanent place to live, but we need something right now.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Mary.”
“I’m Shelby,” I say. “Nice to meet you. But I don’t understand… you want to live here?”
She chuckles. “Yes, we do! We’re tired of the big city life.” She glances toward her son, who is giving her an annoyed expression like he wishes she’d shut up. Maybe he’s just a jerk, I realize.
Then Mary says, “This is my son, J—um, Clay.”
“Hi,” I say, smiling warmly even though he’s now glaring at his mom. I hate when guys treat their parents like shit.
Clay’s gaze slowly slides to mine and he nods slightly. “Hello.”
Now that he’s being kind of a jerk, his hotness isn’t really that remarkable anymore.
“My mom is in the other room,” I say, turning back to Mary. “I can have her come talk to you about the room?”
“Perfect,” she says. “I can already tell we’re going to love living here.”
I glance at Clay, who is watching me with a weird fascinated look now. “You’re really going stay?” I ask.
Clay’s mom nods eagerly. “I love it here. Best BLT in the world. Why, is there something wrong with Spockle?”
I shake my head quickly. “No, ma’am, it’s just weird. People pass through town all the time, but no one ever comes to stay.”
Mary chuckles. “Guess we’ll be the first.”
Chapter 2
My mom is overly excited when I tell her there’s a lady here who wants to rent a room for the night.
She takes off the gloves she’d been using to package her homemade brownies into individual bags for sale, and then she claps them together. “This is wonderful! We really need the money. Maybe she’ll stay a few days.”
“That’s the weird thing,” I say. “She said they are moving here. Like, to Spockle.”
Mom’s green eyes light up like I’ve just told her the best news. She puts a hand to her chest. “How many people is it?”
“I think just her and her son.”
She nods. “Okay. Let’s see what I can do.”
Then she walks into the diner and introduces herself to Mary. I pretend to be busy behind the counter, refilling the sugar and napkin holders, but really, I’m listening to their conversation.
“So are you planning on staying a while?” Mom says.
“We’re hoping to stay for good. Are there any houses for sale here?”
“I don’t believe so,” Mom says. “But there are a few places where you could buy land and build your own house.”
“That’s a good idea,” Mary says. “I’d love to do that. We could customize everything, right, Clay?”
“Sure,” he says, but he doesn’t seem very enthused.
“So, Jane,” Mary says to my mom. “I know you have a rental house for Airbnb, but is there any chance you could rent it to us for a few months?”
Mom practically explodes with excitement. “Yes, yes, of course! Now, it’s a three bedroom, sixteen hundred square feet. Would that be okay?”
“It’s perfect,” Mary says.
Mom bites her bottom lip. “Would…five hundred a month be okay?”
Mary looks at her son and they both laugh. “Are you serious?” Mary says. “That’s, like, nothing. We can pay more.”
Mom shakes her head. “No, no, I couldn’t ask more than that. It’s the going rate around here.”
“Wow,” Mary says. “Back in—” Clay widens his eyes and she catches herself. “In the city, the rent was much higher than that.”
“Isn’t that crazy?” Mom says, seemingly unaffected by how weird our new visitors are. “But here everything is cheap. That’s because the jobs don’t pay much, either. I tell you what,” Mom says. “If you’re finished eating, I could show you the house now?”
“That’d be wonderful,” Mary says, beaming. She drops a twenty dollar bill on the counter and then they leave. I watch them walk outside, talking to my mom the whole time, and then I stare at the enormous tip she left me. Twenty bucks? That’s never happened in all the years I’ve been working here.
I slide it into my pocket and think about running outside to ask her if she made a mistake and didn’t mean to leave so much. But that would be just as awkward as accepting the tip, so I decide to find a way to bring it up later.
I’m still in a weird daze as I get back to work, my eyes flitting toward the barstool where Clay was sitting. People don’t just move from a big city to our little nothing town. That just doesn’t happen, like ever.
The last time it did happen was to Jonathan Fray, who got in trouble with drugs in Chicago, so his parents made him spend a year with his grandparents here in town. He was a total ass and everyone hated him and he left after a few months.
It’s just so weird that a guy and his mom would move here like that. I wonder if they’re hiding something. Clay did seem extra weird. And now he’s going to be living in my parent’s rental house.
The one right next door to me.
#
It’s just after seven in the evening when I finally get home after work. Normally I leave much earlier, but Betty’s kid got sick so I decided to take over for her. As I pull my old Jeep into our driveway, I see the moving truck next door, and I can’t believe I actually forgot about our new neighbors for a few hours.
It’s a small moving truck, one that doesn’t seem big enough for two people’s stuff. Clay carries a big box down the loading ramp, the box blocking his face from my view. I sit in my Jeep and watch him take it inside. Then his mom comes out and takes a few lumpy bags out of the back of the truck. She grins at me as she walks by and I wave at her.
Clay looks over at me, then goes back into the truck to get another box. What is his deal? Like seriously? I’ve been nothing but nice to him and all he does is act like I’m some loser he hates. I may not be some gorgeous model like he is, but I’m not exactly a leper. I’m normal. I have nice hair
, and a good tan from spending so much time outside. People usually think Risha is prettier than I am, but she’s not here right now.
He has no reason to judge me or act like I’m a loser.
I decide to make him believe that. While my parents are watching TV in the living room, gushing over how excited they are that Mary signed a six month lease, I head into the kitchen and use Mom’s famous brownie recipe to make a batch of brownies.
When they are cooled, I cut them into squares and wrap them up on a plate.
“I made brownies for our new neighbors,” I tell my parents.
“What a great idea!” Mom says. “You are such a sweetheart.”
Now I just need to make Clay believe that, too. I’m suddenly nervous as I walk next door. This house used to belong to my aunt and uncle who lived here until they had their baby and then they decided to move to Houston and live the city life. My parents bought their house from them and now it just kind of sits here until someone rents it out for a weekend. The gross part of owning a weekend rental is when couples want some romantic getaway in the woods and they rent it and spend all their time inside, no doubt having sex in every room.
I knock on the side of the door because the front door is open. “Hello?” I call out.
Clay appears from the hallway. He watches me through the screen door for a second, and then I guess he realizes he can’t just ignore me, so he walks up and opens the door.
“I made you and your mom some brownies,” I say, putting on a smile, which isn’t hard because he’s so hot it makes me want to giggle like an idiot.
“Um, thanks,” Clay says, reaching for the plate I hand him. He eyes me the whole time, as if he thinks I’m about to stab him or something. I decide I don’t want to just turn around and leave. I want to make him realize I’m a fun, nice person. Not someone needs to stare at like a weirdo.
“Are you going to school here next year?” I say. He lifts an eyebrow. “Or are you in college, or something?” I laugh this awkward laugh. “I don’t know how old you are.”
