The Coffee Girl

by Shanna Hatfield

  “Hi, Brenna. You look lovely.” He kissed her cheek and placed a warm hand at the small of her back. “Are you ready to go?”

  “I sure am.” Brenna picked up her purse from the bench just inside the front door and called to her parents. “I’m leaving. You two enjoy your evening.”

  Brock heard an answering call of “have a great time” as he ushered Brenna out the door and down the steps to his pickup.

  “Wow, shiny clean truck. Lookin’ good, construction man,” Brenna teased as he held the door and helped her in. He was really going to have to install running boards one of these days, but for now, he’d rather have the pleasure of helping Brenna in and out of the pickup.

  “Glad my efforts were noticed,” Brock said as he ran around to the driver’s side and climbed behind the wheel.

  “Absolutely.” Brenna offered him a jaunty grin and stretched across the cab to place a hand on his cheek. “All your efforts are noticed and appreciated.”

  Brock turned to her with heat filling his hazel eyes. She watched them turn more gold than green or blue. Unsettled by the intense emotions she read in them, she leaned back in her seat. She fussed with the skirt of her dress and dug in her purse for some imaginary item until she could calm her fluttering stomach.

  Although she teased Brock, the minute she opened the door to his charming smile, she felt her knees weaken while her pulse seemed to pick up speed with every beat. He wore a polo shirt and newer jeans with hiking boots. Time spent in the sun added highlights to his hair and turned his skin an appealing shade of bronze. Clearly defined muscles rippled beneath the light fabric of his blue shirt and his unique musky scent invaded her nose.

  Grateful that Brock drove, Brenna wasn’t sure she could have gotten a mile down the road without wrecking the car as distracted as she was by him. Not sure how it happened, but he seemed to get better looking every time she saw him.

  As they drove out of Silverton and headed toward Salem, Brenna wondered what Brock had planned for the evening. He was dressed casually, so she hoped hiking hadn’t been on the agenda because even though the heels she wore were low, they weren’t meant for long walks.

  “So, what exotic locale are you whisking me off to this evening?” Brenna asked, trying not to stare at the muscles in Brock’s arms as he held the steering wheel.

  “I’ll have you know I’m not that kind of boy, coffee girl. Who said anything about an erotic locale? Have you been browsing in the naughty book section of the bookstore?” The wicked grin on his face matched the devilish look in his eyes.

  “Exotic! Exotic, you idiot!” Exasperated, or at least pretended to be, Brenna smacked her forehead with her hand.

  “Pardon me. I guess I misunderstood,” Brock teased as he captured Brenna’s hand in his and brought it to his lips.

  “You most certainly did.” Brenna huffed, jerking her hand back from him. She let him wonder just for a minute if she was really upset before she gave him a saucy grin and put her hand back in his.

  “What’s on the agenda for the evening? Or is it a big secret?”

  “A surprise,” Brock said, keeping his eye on the road.

  “What kind of surprise?”

  “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise and would defeat the entire purpose of the evening.” Brock waggled an eyebrow at her. “No more questions.”

  “Well, fine, then. Just be that way.” Brenna turned up the radio as they drove west.

  Unable to stay quiet for long, she asked Brock about his family. He told her about the dog with the jar on his head then they discussed events coming up in the town. Brock asked if she wanted to come by the house the next day to see the progress he made on the new master suite. In turn, she asked if he and the guys would like to do some taste testing the following week.

  When Brock pulled up at diner known for its 1950s food and atmosphere, Brenna barely curtailed the urge to bounce on her seat.

  “No way,” she said, as Brock found a parking space and turned off the truck.

  “Way.” He ran around and helped her out. “Have you eaten here before?”

  “No, but I’ve heard about it. This is great, Brock.” She squeezed his hand as they walked inside.

  Quickly locating an empty booth, they placed orders for burgers, breaded fries and super-thick milkshakes.

  The fun atmosphere and good food gave them a great start to the evening. They sat and watched a few couples dancing to fifties music before paying their bill and leaving.

  “Thank you so much. That was just awesome,” Brenna said as Brock helped her into the truck.

  “You’re welcome. If you aren’t ready to call it a night, I’ve got another surprise.” Brock didn’t wait for her answer as he ran around the pickup and slid behind the wheel.

  “Then by all means, please continue with the adventure.” Brenna waved her hand regally making Brock laugh.

  He drove further west out of Salem. She was surprised they headed toward the small town of Dallas.

  “Are we going where I think we’re going?” Brenna was certain she had figured out their next destination.

  “Where do you think I’m taking you?” Brock hid a grin, completely amused by Brenna’s obvious excitement.

  “Somewhere that involves parked cars, buckets of popcorn, and a big movie screen.” Her anticipation grew when she could see by the look on Brock’s face that she guessed correctly.

  “Ding, ding, ding. Give the lady a prize.” Brock pointed at her with a big smile. “How’d you guess?”

  “Well, a fifties diner for dinner and we’re headed toward Dallas. Unless they’ve had a major population boom and added a variety of interesting things to see I haven’t heard about, the only reason I could surmise we’d be going there is for a drive-in movie. Isn’t that what you do on a fifties date?”

  “So it is,” Brock agreed as they turned off the road and joined the line of cars waiting to enter the drive in. “Have you been to the drive-in before?”

  “Dad took us a few times when we were younger and I went once when I was in high school to the one near Newberg,” Brenna said, reading the sign board. It was a double feature. She felt like clapping her hands in exhilaration. “I’m so glad you thought of this Brock.”

  “Me, too.” He couldn’t take his gaze from Brenna. Her cheeks glowed pink, her big eyes sparkled like twin sapphires, and she appeared absolutely radiant.

  Brock could care less about the movie, but he liked the idea of being locked in the pickup with his arm around her for a few hours under the cover of darkness. Vaguely recalling the lecture he’d given himself about behaving like a gentleman, he knew it was going to be a long evening of maintaining control and keeping his wits about him.

  After he pulled into a space with a great view of the screen, Brock told Brenna to sit tight and disappeared in the direction of the concession stand. The movie previews were starting to play when he returned with a big bucket of buttery popcorn, a large soda pop, and a bottle of water.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked, as she sat buckled into her seat on the far side of his truck.

  “Absolutely.” Brenna kept her eyes glued to the screen.

  Brock shook his head. “I don’t think you are.” Brock ignored her look of confusion. He released her seatbelt, stuck one hand beneath her legs and the other behind her back, and drew her across the seat to sit next to him.

  “Now you’re ready.” He draped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.

  Nestled against Brock’s side, Brenna suddenly lost interest in the movie as she inhaled his wonderful scent and immersed herself in the golden depths of his eyes.

  “Brenna?” Brock spoke softly, not allowing himself the pleasure of falling into her magnetic gaze.

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you going to watch the movie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you’re going to have to look at the screen, sweetheart.” Brock gently turned her face from his toward the fron
t of the pickup.

  Brenna blushed and laid her head on Brock’s chest, releasing a sigh. He rubbed her arm and kissed the top of her head before they both turned their attention to the movie.

  A few hours later, the last credits for the second movie rolled across the screen. Brenna couldn’t remember ever feeling so contented and lighthearted. If she were a cat, she would definitely have purred.

  “What did you think, coffee girl?” Brock swallowed hard when Brenna looked up at him with half-closed eyes making his blood shoot through him in hot bursts.

  “I think we need to do this again sometime. It was wonderful, Brock. Thank you.” She placed a soft hand on his chest and leaned forward to give him a kiss on his chin. Brock tipped his head down at the last second and captured her lips in a sizzling, deep kiss.

  Brenna brought her other hand up and settled it behind his neck while he ran his hands up and down her back, branding her skin through her dress.

  Frustrated with the gearshift in their way, Brock started to scoot to the other side of the pickup when he realized if he did things would likely go too far. Slowly pulling Brenna’s hands from around his neck, he kissed the backs of each one before setting her away from him.

  “Baby, if you keep kissing me like that, I can’t promise to get you home tonight.” He ran a hand over his face and released a long breath. “I think we better hit the road.” Brock straightened in his seat and buckled his seatbelt.

  Brenna blinked at him as reality sank in. He could see her embarrassment, even in the darkness. Without saying a word, she slid back to her side of the pickup, fastened her seatbelt, and folded her hands primly on her lap.

  Tension hung thick between them on the quiet ride home.

  Brock wished Brenna would say something, anything, but was afraid to shatter the silence. When he glanced over at her, she appeared to be asleep with her head resting against the back of the seat. Her slightly parted lips offered an invitation he found hard to resist so he turned his attention back to the road.

  When he stopped the truck in front of her house, he stared at her for a long moment before unfastening his seatbelt.

  “Brenna, we’re home.” He rubbed the back of hand, hating to wake her up even if he knew he needed to. He really wanted to take her home with him, but that was a thought he derailed before it gathered any more steam. “Hey, coffee girl, rise and shine.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and focused on him. Brenna gave him a sleepy smile that turned his already hot insides molten.

  “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Brenna sat up and released the seatbelt.

  “No problem, although I did miss your non-stop chatter in my ear on the way home,” Brock teased, trying to keep the moment light.

  “Chatter, huh? I’ll remember that for future reference.” Brenna gathered her sweater and purse before leaning across the seat toward Brock. “Thank you for another amazing evening, Brock. I really enjoyed it.”

  “I’m glad. I did, too.” He bracketed her face with his hands and gave her one last kiss that he intended to be brief and chaste. Despite his good intentions, it quickly turned into a heated exchange full of longing.

  Breathless, he raised his head from hers. Before he changed his mind, he jumped out of the truck and ran around to open her door then helped her down. Walking her to the front door, he kissed her cheek and gave her a tight hug. “Thank you, Brenna, for going with me.”

  “Anytime, Brock.” She took out her keys and opened the door. She blew him a kiss and whispered, “Thanks for the sweet dreams.”

  Brock caught her kiss in his hand and pressed it to his cheek, making her giggle as she shut the door. He was still grinning as he drove off toward his dark, empty house.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Look, there he is.” Brock pointed to the stray dog he’d saved by removing the jar on its head. He and Brenna sat on the back porch drinking coffee when Brock noticed the dog watching them from the edge of the backyard.

  “Oh, Brock, he looks so pathetic. Can we feed him?” Brenna slowly sat forward in her chair, trying to get a better look at the dog.

  “I’ve got some lunch meat we can put out, but I’m not sure he’ll let us get close to him.” Brock eased out of his chair and went into the house. He came back with a package of sliced ham and made a trail from the porch out toward the dog.

  When he got about three feet away from the canine, it backed up and hunkered down by the creek bank, trying to hide. Brock returned to the kitchen, getting the dog a bowl of water and filling another with milk. He quietly set them at the base of the porch steps.

  He and Brenna went inside the house, watching the dog from the kitchen window.

  It only took a few minutes before the canine inched his way to the meat and devoured the pieces close to him. Eagerly following the trail, he ate every bite then discovered the bowl of milk. Greedily, he lapped every drop, slurped from the water bowl then looked around for more food.

  “The poor thing,” Brenna whispered, clenching Brock’s hand. When she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, his heart felt like warm syrup. He was already prepared to champion the dog, but seeing tears glisten in Brenna’s eyes made him want to slay dragons for her.

  “I’ll run to the store and get some dog food.” Brock kissed her temple. “You want to keep an eye on our dirty little friend?”

  Barely aware Brock had left her side, Brenna started at the scrawny mutt.

  The dog flopped down by the empty bowls and looked around warily before settling his chin on his front paws.

  After ransacking Brock’s cupboards, Brenna found a pouch of tuna fish and opened it. She stood at the screen door and spoke softly to the dog. He lifted an ear but didn’t raise his head. She took that as a good sign and continued her quiet dialogue. Cautiously, she opened the screen door and slid outside onto one of the wicker chairs Brock had placed on the back porch.

  When the dog lifted his head and looked at her, Brenna was afraid he would run, but he settled back down when she continued talking, not making any move to get closer to him. With slow, easy movements, she pulled the tuna from behind her and fished out a few chunks, gently tossing it toward the dog. He jumped at the movement then sniffed to find the pieces.

  Guarded, the dog took a step toward her with his head down and tail tucked between his legs.

  Brenna continued talking to him as she tossed out a few more chunks of the tuna, placing it closer to her. The dog took a tentative step forward and lapped up the fish. They played this game until Brenna dropped the last chunks near her feet and the dog stared at her with fear in his eyes.

  Hunkering down, he stretched as far as he could and snagged the tuna then jumped down the steps, resuming his place by the water bowl. She heard Brock’s truck return and went back inside the house. Brock walked into the kitchen with a huge bag of dog food on one shoulder and two grocery bags in his hand.

  “What all did you buy?” Brenna asked, pleased that Brock genuinely seemed interested in helping the poor dog.

  “Just a few things for the mutt.” Brock carried the dog food outside to the porch. He opened the bag and filled the bowl that had held the milk then set it back by the empty water dish before stepping onto the porch next to Brenna.

  “I fed him some tuna,” she said quietly, watching to see what the dog would do next. “He came all the way up here to get the last bite. I don’t think he’s mean, just hungry.”

  “I agree.” Brock held her hand as the dog nosed the bowl of food and began crunching his way through it. “But we should still be careful.”

  They talked quietly while the dog ate, wondering where he came from and how hard it would be to tame him. When the mutt finished eating every last crumb in the bowl, he flopped down with a sigh and appeared to go to sleep in the warm morning sunshine.

  “I guess you’ll have to take that as a thank you.” Brenna grinned as the dog grunted in his sleep. His belly looked bloated with food as he stretched on his side
.

  “Someone needs to teach him some manners,” Brock teased, pulling Brenna to her feet. “Let’s leave him in peace to get some beauty rest while I show you what I accomplished this week.”

  Brock moved the dog food inside the kitchen door to keep the mutt from getting into it then showed Brenna the progress he was making on the master suite.

  While they stood in the room, envisioning what the finished product would look like, Brenna wished she could share the house, the master suite, with Brock.

  “You’ve made a lot of progress in the last week.” Brenna admired the sheet-rocked walls and newly installed windows.

  “Uncle Andy’s been coming over most evenings to help.” Brock watched Brenna explore the room. He needed to finish the project quickly because any time he was in the room, he envisioned Brenna sharing it with him. “Not only does he work circles around me, he provides entertaining conversation.”

  Brenna smiled. “If he’s anything like his nephew, I’m sure there’s never a dull moment.”

  “You know it.” Brock placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, pleased she appeared to approve of the work he’d completed.

  “It’s going to be wonderful, construction man, but I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

  The look she sent him made his already pounding heart go into double time. He had to get out of the bedroom before his wayward thoughts got the best of him. He took her hand and led her to the main entry then opened the front door. “Thanks, coffee girl.” Brock kissed her cheek as they wandered out to the front yard.

  Down on their hands and knees, pulling weeds and planting shrubs as they tamed the flowerbeds, they soon got in a fight tossing pieces of bark at each other. When Brock came at Brenna with a handful of weeds, threatening to dump them down her shirt, she ducked her head and shrieked.

  A blur of mottled fur raced around the corner of the house, teeth bared, forcing itself between Brock and Brenna. Snarling, the dog glowered at Brock until he dropped the weeds and took a step back.

  “So much for not biting the hand that feeds you, mutt.” Caught off guard by the dog’s protective instincts toward Brenna, Brock studied the animal. “Don’t make any sudden moves, Brenna, until we see what he’s going to do.”