Happy Pants Cafe

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Once in his car, he found himself heading north over the Golden Gate, thinking it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get a little fresh air for the day. That’s when he’d remembered his interview with Christina and the café she’d mentioned up in St. Helena. Austin made a snap decision to head that way and take a couple of photos. Maybe get a few quotes from the owner who might’ve seen or met Christina when she’d come in. But then he’d bumped into Harper, and now, there he was.

  You really should drop her off and let her have the story. That would be the honorable thing to do. But that’s not what he wanted. Austin wanted to spend a little more time with her. Because let’s face it, Harper is pretty damned hot. And, frankly, he enjoyed the competition. Yeah, he was such a guy.

  Don’t be a dick, and maybe you can see her again when you’re ready. Just drop her off. Go home. There was still time to meet up with the guys for some Saturday hoops and beer. Maybe he’d even see what Bianca was up to tonight.

  He quickly backpedaled on that thought. Bianca was a very, very good-looking woman, but she was the exact type he needed to steer clear of: superficial.

  “So, where are you going to stay?” Harper asked nonchalantly.

  See, that decides it. I don’t have a hotel room, and I’m not going to get one at such short notice. He’d heard from one of the police that there was some music festival going on that evening through Sunday, so when Harper had mentioned she’d snagged the last room in town, that was probably right.

  “I, uh.” He paused. “I just forgot. I have a couple articles I need to review for Monday.”

  “Wait a second.” Harper turned toward him. “Are you…taking off?”

  “I wish I could stay and crack open this controversial cookie caper, but I’m afraid I have real news to report on.” He’d been lobbying for months to move over to the political commentary department and out of the local events section, which had been a nice place to start and learn the ropes at this newspaper, but he’d only taken it as a stepping stone. Reporting on weddings, fundraisers and other “fluff” events wasn’t really his thing.

  He glanced at Harper, who now silently chewed her lip. Why the hell did she have to do that? She needed to stop trying to seduce him. Not that she was, but it felt like it.

  “I think I understand; you’re giving me a pity story,” she said.

  Austin flashed a quick glance her way as he slowed the convertible and approached the city limits. “No. I really have a lot of work to do, and…” Crap. He was giving her a pity story. “I have what I need already; I wasn’t planning on doing a full page or anything. It was a little fluff piece for the back page.”

  Harper glanced away. Now she looked like the cork of a champagne bottle that had been shaken, the pressure slowly building, pushing the projectile to ignition.

  Run away! Run away, he screamed in his head.

  They passed the café’s arch, and he signaled to turn toward the B and B where Harper was staying.

  “You can let me out right here,” she said coldly. She pointed to a spot just around the corner, close to where he’d spent the night in his car.

  “Why?”

  “I lost my hotel key when Officer Short-Fuse threw me to the ground.”

  That still boiled Austin’s blood. He’d have to look into filing a complaint or something. Or you could just leave things be. They let her go and didn’t press charges.

  Austin did as she asked, and Harper slid from the car, closing the door with a bit more force than he preferred. This car was a classic, an object to be coddled. Of course, Harper probably didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  He looked at her, and she shoved his glasses at him. Her green eyes instantly grabbed his attention. And then her boobs.

  Dick! Stop staring at her boobs.

  She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Great, she noticed.

  “Well,” she said, “I guess this is good-bye, then.”

  “It was nice bumping into you. Maybe we can hook up for coffee?” But as he said those words, he somehow sensed he might never see her again. It just wouldn’t happen. Did he care? He wasn’t sure, really, but he knew he just wasn’t ready to think about opening himself up to another woman.

  “Sure. I’ll call you,” she said with a complete lack of sincerity.

  He reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the stunning vision standing before him on the sidewalk and put his blinker on to pull out onto the street, but the sound of Harper mumbling something under her breath caused him to hit pause.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  Harper lifted her brows, but didn’t respond.

  “You just called me a big douche, didn’t you?” Austin seethed.

  She shrugged. “If the bag fits.”

  That was his line.

  “Actually,” she said, “I called you a big pussy. But if you heard ‘douche’, that could be because you’re subconsciously feeling like one.”

  Were Harper and Ms. Luci ganging up on him? And the nerve of this woman. He was giving her the story. He was walking away and trying to be nice. And, honestly, with the way he felt about women right now, she should be grateful he wasn’t sticking around. Last night could very well happen again, because she was attractive and he was a man. But he was not going to jump into a relationship right now. Uh-uh. That meant she’d end up feeling used and angry.

  You mean, like she feels now?

  Shit. He didn’t want to leave things like this.

  He stopped the engine, got out of the car, and walked over to the sidewalk where Harper stood. “Look, Harper, about last night. I think we both know it wouldn’t have worked out.”

  “Agreed. I couldn’t be more grateful that nothing happened.”

  Huh?

  “Don’t get me wrong. Dinner was fun. And I think you’re attractive, but you’re not relationship material. Not for me, anyway.”

  What was with this woman? “And you know this how?”

  “You’re in love with your work. You’re arrogant and think you’re God’s gift to women. And…frankly, you smell of ‘play-ya’. I’m guessing you have five different girlfriends and you’re stringing them all along.”

  Sonofabitch. Why was this woman so, so…bitter?

  “All right, Harper. You figured me out. I am a complete womanizer.” Austin stepped forward and leaned down to whisper in Harper’s ear. “But I have eight girlfriends, not five. And they can’t get enough.”

  He pulled away and stared into her mesmerizing green eyes. They truly were gorgeous, but more than that, they made his heart race every time he looked into them.

  Dammit. I’m the one who can’t get enough.

  “And,” he added, “if you want to get that story, you’ll have to take it from me.”

  “As if you could.” She smiled brightly, perhaps feeling victorious because her little move had successfully persuaded him to stay.

  He shrugged his brows and returned the smile. What was it about her that made him so…damn, he just couldn’t articulate it.

  He then noticed Harper’s eyes flicker away as if thinking something devious.

  “I’m really hungry. Want to grab some lunch?” she asked.

  What was she up to?

  “I already ate.” That cookie.

  “Oh.” She made an awkward, guilty little face.

  “You’re about to make a run for the café, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Before he knew it, Harper was laughing and sprinting toward the street corner.

  “Hey!” He chased after her, unable to stop himself from laughing, too. Just as she rounded the corner, he caught up. And just as he caught up, they crashed into someone.

  All three tumbled into a pile of legs and arms.

  He looked down at the body beneath him. “Ms. Luci?”

  “Get off me!” Ms. Luci wailed.

  Oh shit. Not good.

  ~~

  At first, Harper wasn’t sure what they ran into, but the sound of Ms
. Luci grunting was a sure giveaway.

  Belly down on the sidewalk, Harper glanced over toward the sound and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Ms. Luci was sprawled on her back, with Austin laying over her in a quasi-missionary position.

  “Get off of me!” Ms. Luci barked at Austin, who surely was having a moment of complete and utter horror served with a side dish of rancid shame.

  Austin was off her faster than a cat on a hotplate, spewing apologies and helping the old woman to her feet.

  “Are you all right?” Harper asked, pushing herself off the ground quickly and aiding Luci. By now, several afternoon shoppers and tourists had also stopped to assist the poor woman who’d been assaulted by two crazy reporters.

  Ms. Luci dusted off her yellow dress and apron. “I’m fine, thankfully.” She looked down at the large, broken Mason jar on the sidewalk sitting in a puddle of brown liquid. “But my sauce won’t be! Dios! What were you two thinking?”

  “We are so, so sorry, Ms. Luci,” Harper said. Oh, this was so embarrassing.

  Ms. Luci yelled at them both in Spanish, and Harper knew they were not nice words.

  Just then Officer Coffee (wearing a clean new shirt) walked up. Though he sported mirrored sunglasses, Harper had the sudden urge to run before lasers shot out of his head and dropped her right where she stood.

  “Mother, what is going on?” asked the sheriff in a gruff voice.

  Ms. Luci looked at him and let out a long sigh. “These two payasos knocked me over! And look what they did!” She pointed to the stuff on the ground.

  “We are so very sorry,” Austin said. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay to replace it.”

  Luci huffed. “Your money is no good, young man. This is my concentrated spice mixture for my cookies. It takes six months to grow the ingredients in my garden. Then I age the vanilla and cinnamon in rum and—dammit! My entire season is ruined.”

  “All right.” Mr. Coffee reached for his handcuffs. “I’m taking them in and then making sure they leave town after they post bail.”

  “What? Come on!” Harper protested. “It was an accident.”

  Ms. Luci reached out and lowered her son’s hands. “No, Alberto. Jail is not what these two troublemakers need. They are going to work this off.”

  Harper blinked. “Work?”

  “That is right, my dear. I have a farm just out of town, and we are short-handed.”

  Officer Alberto hitched up his heavy belt. “Or you can spend the week in jail, if you prefer.”

  Austin and Harper glanced at each other and blew out unhappy breaths.

  “Fine,” said Harper. “We’ll do it. Won’t we, Austin?” She looked at him and widened her eyes, urging him to say yes.

  Austin threw up his hands. “Are you sure I can’t just pay to replace the jar and the ingredients?”

  “No,” Ms. Luci replied. “Alberto, take him—”

  “Fine. Okay. We’ll work it off,” Austin responded.

  Ms. Luci smiled. “Good. You’ll both work the week doing chores, and then you’ll help with the party on Saturday.” She snapped her fingers. “Now you two get this mess cleaned up. I’ll let Don Sebastian and Margarita know you are coming.”

  Don Sebastian? Margarita? I hope those are drinks.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Harper pulled up in her black Mini Cooper behind Austin’s red convertible, which was parked in front of the big white two-story farmhouse. Situated smack in the center of several acres of green fields, the updated house had a large stable, a luxury chicken coop (space to play and a lot of little hidey holes to nest in), and a picturesque red barn to the left. The estate’s immaculate, modern appearance gave Harper the impression that Luci came from, or had made, a lot of money.

  Wow. Maybe I should sell cookies. The home was truly gorgeous. Every hedge circling the large, updated home was neatly trimmed, every rose bush lining the long gravel driveway bloomed with giant red flowers, and the paint was fresh and perfect on everything. The place was more like a country palace.

  Except, what the heck is that? To the right of the home was a section of land completely overgrown with wild-looking vegetation enclosed by a tall white fence.

  Harper hopped out of her car and walked over to Austin, who was on his cell, yelling at someone. “No, Libby. I’m not fucking around. You need to stop this bullshit.”

  Libby?

  “I’m a nice guy,” he said, “but if you keep this up, I will have you arrested.”

  He ended the call and grumbled something that sounded like “psycho.”

  “One of the super-eight?” Harper said jokingly, referring to his “eight girlfriends.”

  He shot her a look.

  “Whoa. Sorry.” He’d barely said one word to Harper since they’d run over Ms. Luci. Of course, they’d ridden in separate cars.

  Probably for the best, because we’d just start bickering again. Although she kind of enjoyed it. Simply because she couldn’t stay mad at him, and he had a way of bringing out the silly side of her.

  “Hello there!”

  A man, standing on the porch of the home with a pig on a leash, caught Harper’s attention. “Dear baby Jesus, what is that?” she whispered.

  Austin looked at the man. “You mean the pig or the guy in the aqua blue cowboy hat?”

  The older man—medium build and height, with leathery, sun-beaten skin and an enormous mustache—stood on the wide porch, arms crossed, staring with a set of eyes that could only be described as asymmetrical, being that one eye was significantly larger than the other and protruded. And yes, he wore a bright turquoise-blue cowboy hat and red boots.

  “Yeah,” Harper said, “the guy in the hat.” With one really, really large eye.

  “Come on. Let’s go say hi.” Austin got out of his car and grabbed a few plastic shopping bags from the trunk.

  “Is that your luggage?” Harper asked.

  “Yes. Don’t ask.”

  Harper immediately wondered why he hadn’t brought clothes from home. Had his trip up this way been unplanned?

  Harper followed Austin, taking in the charming, peaceful surroundings.

  “Well, buenos dias, and welcome to Rancho Leon-Parker! I am Don Sebastian,” the man said as if he were Mr. Roark welcoming them to Fantasy Island, or the concierge at a five-star resort.

  “Hi, I’m Harper, and this is Austin.”

  The man’s one buggy eye bulged out a bit farther out as he looked them over. “Yes. I am told you made a cow shit of everything,” he said with a slight accent.

  Austin and Harper exchanged looks.

  “Well,” he said, “make no worries of such stinky things. Ms. Luci is very forgiving. Unless you ruin her cookies. Then she will poison your food and turn you into a tiny animal.”

  Harper didn’t move. “Uhhh…”

  “I am kidding! Ms. Luci cannot turn people into animals. That would be silly.” He chuckled to himself, lifting up his large, aqua-blue hat to expose a half-smoked, unlit cigar resting on top of his bald head. He popped it into his mouth. “Come, let me show you around.”

  “Is he on drugs?” she whispered, ever so grateful that she was not going to be sleeping at the farm. Ms. Luci had insisted she stay, but the B and B was already paid for. Austin, however, had accepted the offer, given there were no rooms available in town. Harper would be expecting to find bodies in the morning. The Don was creepy. Even the way he walked, with an overly confident swagger and a limp, was disturbing.

  Kind of reminds me of the innkeeper from Motel Hell. That was a 1980s B-movie she’d seen on TMC, where they planted people in the ground and made sausage out of them.

  “You may leave your things on the porch, and I will take them inside shortly,” he said to Austin, who deposited his bags on the porch swing.

  “All right. Let us begin the grand tour! This way, my little sausages!” Sebastian waved them over to the enormous red barn.

  What? Sausages? Oh, no! Harper shuddered.

  She peeked
inside the barn’s open doors to find multiple stalls with pigs, horses, and children.

  Children?

  “Um.” Harper pointed to two girls and a boy, all about ten or so, standing inside a stall, looking very unhappy. “Excuse me, but—”

  “Ah, yes. Those are Ms. Luci’s three grandchildren. I caught them playing in the living room.”

  Harper was afraid to ask. Austin was not.

  “What’s in the living room?”

  Don Sebastian stared for a moment. “Furniture. Why do you ask?”

  “Are you going to let them out?” Harper asked. Or are you going to make people sausages out of them? In all honesty, she could see her niece and nephew deserving such a fate; they were evil-to-the-core, demonic munchkins who embraced all things criminal and had superglued her entire collection of MAC lipsticks shut. All thirty shades. But these little kids with their pudgy cheeks, caramel brown hair, and wide dark eyes looked like little angels.

  “Eventually,” said Don Sebastian.

  She sincerely hoped the man was joking, but just in case, she’d be coming by in a little while to ensure they were released.

  “Sebastian?” Harper asked, trailing behind Austin, who looked tickled as a moldy peach to be there. “How long have you worked for Ms. Luci?”

  “Please, my friends call me Sebas. You may call me Don Sebastian.”

  Huh?

  He sighed merrily, still holding on to his leashed pig. “I have been in Ms. Luci’s glorious employ for over seventy years.”

  He’s worked for her for over seventy years? Honestly, he looked to be in his sixties.

  “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Harper questioned.

  “Seventy. I began working here the day I was born.” He turned and started laughing. “Just kidding. Babies cannot work. At least, not on a farm.”

  Harper looked at Austin, who clearly had his reporter game-face on because he held a polite, subtle smile.