by M. E. Carter
This is why I don’t like big chain stores. I can’t seem to run into people who actually like their jobs. Mom and Pop shops are more my style, but this is all we have in the way of bookstores around here. Besides, it’s always possible I attract the wrong kind of customer service personnel.
Speaking of attracting people, after flipping through the book quickly, I turn around only to see the woman who has been starring in all my latest fantasies across the aisle. Greer is dressed in blue jeans and a plain white shirt, hair pulled up on top of her head and sunglasses holding the rest of her hair off her face. She’s got her nose in a book, and her effortless beauty takes my breath away.
Before I can stop myself, I’m walking her direction, my focus squarely on her.
“Scoping out the competition?” I jest as I approach. I know the second she recognizes me because her face lights up.
“Ace. What are you doing here? I’d expect you to be on the farm right now.”
Holding up the book to show her I respond with, “Just grabbing some research material.”
Her eyebrows rise, making her forehead wrinkle slightly. “Temple Grandin, huh? I’m impressed.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “I like to hear what she has to say. She has good insight into how best to work with our Bessies.”
“She knows a lot about how to work with the kids too.”
I chuckle. “That she does. I always take away a few nuggets of wisdom when I read her books. What about you? I see you’re in the”—I glance up at the sign over the shelves—“romance section. I guess I was right about why you’re here.”
Reshelving the book she was holding, she smiles at me. Little lines around her eyes form. I like the way they look on her. They don’t age her, even though most women would probably call them crow’s feet. On Greer, though, they show how much she’s lived.
“Just market research, I suppose. I like coming here and seeing my clients’ books on the shelves and what other things are being picked up by publishers. Keeps in me the know with my clients. Plus, it gives me an excuse to have someone else make me a cup of coffee,” she says, referring to the small coffee shop on the other side of the DIY books.
I don’t know if she dropped a hint about wanting to share a table with me, but I jump on that idea quicker than a bull jumps on a heifer in heat.
“Well, I was just about to pick up a cup. Would you like to join me?”
This time, a grin crosses her face slowly. It almost feels seductive, even though I don’t think that is her intention.
Down boy, I chastise myself internally. It’s coffee. Not a roll in the hay. Although that would be fun, too…
“I’d love to.”
Snapping out of my wayward thoughts, I reach my hand out and gesture. “Lead the way.”
The line is short, so we get our drinks quickly and snag a table overlooking the rest of the store. I like that the little café is up a few steps. It makes it feel like you have a view, even though we’re inside. But I guess that’s the effect they’re going for.
“How long have you been running the farm?” she asks, her lips pursing as she blows away the steam curling up from the hot liquid.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I have to practically force myself to stop thinking of what those lips must feel like. Either it has been way too long since I’ve been with a woman, or she and I have a very strong connection. Considering we haven’t set a day for our date yet, I don’t know which it is.
Concentrating on the conversation at hand, I rub the scruff on my chin. “Gosh, I guess it’s pushing twenty years now.”
The muscles in her smooth neck move when she swallows, another physical attribute I shouldn’t be noticing. “That’s a long time. It’s a family-owned business, right?”
I bob my head back and forth as I think about how to respond. “It used to be, but since it’s just me now, I’m not sure we can call it family-owned anymore.”
“Oh? Where’s everyone else?”
Oh boy. She opened a very depressing can of worms. None of it’s a secret; it’s just a lot at once. Still, even if I didn’t like her in a romantic sort of way, her child spends a whole lot of time on my land, and the story is going to come out eventually anyway.
“About six months before I was supposed to graduate from college, my dad dropped dead in one of the fields.”
She throws her hands over her mouth. “Ohmygod, that’s terrible!”
“Yeah. Massive heart attack. Doctor said he never knew it happened. One second he was working in the field and the next second he was singing with the angels.”
“At least it was quick.”
“Yep. And honestly, it wasn’t that surprising. Don’t get me wrong, we were all crushed. But the doctor had been telling him for years he had high cholesterol. Stubborn as he was, he refused to change his diet. And my mother would never force him to. She always said life was about quality, not quantity, and she’d rather we live full, happy lives than live longer in misery.”
“Hmm.” Greer responds. “I never thought about it that way. There’s some wisdom in that.”
“I suppose. I feel like she missed out on a middle ground, though. Especially since her own enjoyment of life ended up killing her about five years after my daddy.”
She leans in, eyes wide in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. The woman loved her cigarettes. Refused to quit, until lung cancer took her. I’m glad I came back after my daddy passed to run things again. It meant I could take care of her and my brother, John.”
“I didn’t know you have a brother.” Her smile is so genuine, I feel bad about continuing on with the unfortunate truth.
“Had.”
Her face immediately drops. “Oh my gosh. I don’t know if I can take any more past tense in your life.”
I chuckle at her reaction. When you tell the story, it all seems to happen back to back. Reality is, there were years between their deaths. It was a struggle, sure. But I had time between. For that, I’m grateful.
“John had Down Syndrome and, while he was really smart, he was also really babyfied in some ways. He was so close to my mother. When she died, and I became his guardian, we did well together, but it wasn’t the same for him. He cried, wanting his mommy every night, saying I didn’t sing the same way she did. Finally, his heart gave out. He had a congenital heart defect, but really, I think he died of a broken heart.”
“Literally and figuratively,” Greer interjects, mirroring what I’ve always thought. She pats my arm. “I’m sorry Ace, that’s… wow.”
“It’s really okay, Greer. It’s been over a decade. I’ve gotten used to being on my own. The nice thing is at first, we put together the co-op to give my brother and kids like him a place to learn skills. Now I keep it going in his honor. I like to think all three of them are looking down watching, and are really proud of us and what we’ve accomplished.”
“Well if they aren’t, I certainly am,” she says.
Peering up at her again, I smile. She’s beautiful, inside and out. But now I feel like I’m being a Debbie Downer.
“Anyway, enough of the depressing talk,” I announce, slapping my hand on the table. “How is Oli adjusting to the new school. And Julie, that’s your daughter, right?” She nods. “How is she settling in? I know transition can be rough.”
Her face practically glows as she tells me all about how Oli is handling all the changes much better than originally anticipated. It makes me feel good, knowing I’m a part of that. Julie, on the other hand, is still struggling with fitting in. I suppose that’s not unusual. The teenage years seem to be the worst for everyone.
Before I know it, we’ve run out of coffee and out of time.
“I’m sorry,” she says kindly, “but I have to run if I’m going to make it home for Oli’s bus.”
Looking at my watch, I realize we’ve been sitting here for over an hour. “Oh wow. I didn’t realize how late it was. Yes, definitely.”
&nbs
p; As she begins to stand, she stops and turns to me. “Thank you for the coffee, Ace. I really enjoyed visiting with you.”
And just like that, my focus is back on those lips.
“Good. Are we still on for a real date?” I raise one eyebrow in question and get a flirty smirk in response. I take that as a good sign.
“Absolutely. You have my number. Text me and we’ll coordinate our schedules.” I stand when she does, because I’m a gentleman like that, and watch as she walks away after patting my arm.
My hand immediately covers where she touched, like somehow, it’ll make the electric feeling I had when she touched me stick around longer.
When I finally pull myself together, I toss my coffee cup in the trash on the way out, leaving the book I spent so much time tracking down sitting on the table.
Turns out, coordinating schedules with a farmer isn’t that easy. Especially if he’s the head honcho of the whole operation. Apparently, not only does he run the business side of things, with help from his office manager, he also does a good chunk of the physical labor as well. I’m not sure why that surprises me. You can tell by his physique and tan he works hard. But it’s not as easy as deciding to go on a date. He has to make sure all his duties are covered.
The animals won’t feed themselves. Actually, they will. But not if no one gives them the food.
The nice part about constantly trading our schedules back and forth is it leads to other conversations. Ace and I now text or talk on a near daily basis. I’ve learned all about how close he and Pedro are. He’s learned all about my parents’ unfortunate car accident that took them together. I’ve learned more about how a farm runs than I ever realized there was to know. He’s learned that the only thing I hate worse than a scary movie is an X-Men movie. That lady in blue freaks me out.
I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other a lot the last couple of weeks, which makes me more excited when the stars finally align the right way.
And my babysitter is available. There’s only one person I trust with Oli. My brother, Jack.
“You’re late,” I complain as I open the door and let him in the house, still in my fluffy white robe with my hair wrapped in a towel.
“Got stuck in a meeting with Hank,” Jack grumbles. “Got any leftovers?”
I follow him into my new kitchen where he starts raiding my fridge. “There should be some pot roast in here.” He grunts his approval and grabs the right Tupperware, placing it on the counter while he gathers everything he needs. “Why’d your meeting run late? Did you get in trouble with teacher again?”
He snorts. “Hardly. Hank was being… Hank.”
“Meaning…?”
“We went over our normal stuff—line up, plays, all the stuff. And then he got sidetracked. Went on a rant for twenty minutes about why curling shouldn’t be an Olympic sport.”
I blink a couple of times at the randomness. “Um, it’s October. And not an Olympic year.”
“Yep.” He licks a drop of gravy off his thumb. “That’s Hank for you.”
“How did he get on that subject?”
“Who the hell knows? Probably because Renee wanted him to take her ice skating or something at the new rink that just opened on Park Place. I guess he tricked her into going curling instead.”
“That is very odd.” I cock my head as I’m suddenly trying to figure out why curling was added as an Olympic sport when wrestling was removed. Same thing with archery. Would the original participants consider these sports? Or are they considered skills? And why am I spending precious time thinking about sports instead of getting ready for my date?
Shaking my head like I’m clearing my brain, I glance up at the clock. I’m running out of time. I better get a move on.
“Okay, enjoy your pot roast.” The microwave door slams shut right on cue and beeps as he sets the time. “I need to finish getting ready.”
Jack turns and leans against the counter, crossing his arms and legs. “Where are the kids, anyway?”
“Julie is in her room reading”—he gestures like he’s not surprised—“and Oli is in his room playing on his tablet.”
Jack crinkles his brow. “What happened to limiting his electronics?”
I shrug. “You were late, and I had to shower.”
Groaning, he runs a hand down his face. “I’m gonna have to find a way to get him off it, aren’t I?”
“No. It’s set for the Internet to go off at eight anyway, so you don’t have to do anything except listen to him complain when he’s knocked off his game.”
Jack sighs but forgets what he was worried about when the timer dings. That man and his love of food. I shake my head in amusement on my way to my room. Before I get very far, I turn around and glare at him. “I should be ready before Ace gets here but if I’m not, I need you to let him in.”
Jack freezes and my hackles raise. I know that look.
“Jack,” I warn.
“Greer,” he counters.
“Don’t you dare give him the third degree.” We’re a little more than five years apart so Jack wasn’t around a lot when I started dating. But when he was home, well, let’s just say I didn’t get many second dates after Jack was through with the inquisition.
Jack raises his hands defensively. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Nope, not good enough.” I cross my arms. “You better be on my best behavior.”
He scoffs. “What’s the difference?”
“The difference is I can show Joie the pictures of your 80s rock star hair.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Those pictures were destroyed.”
I narrow my eyes back. “You think I didn’t make copies first? I don’t care what your prom date said. You looked nothing like Jon Bon Jovi.”
He purses his lips while he thinks, but finally nods once. Good enough for me. I don’t believe for a second he’ll be good, but at least it won’t be as bad as normal.
Before I can get to my closet to decide on an outfit, I notice the flashing light on my phone.
Picking it up, the text is from Adeline Snow.
Adeline: Quit freaking out. You’re going to have fun. You deserve this.
I chuckle lightly. I wasn’t going to tell her I had a date tonight, but when she called to give me an update on her writing progress, it sort of came up.
I really should be getting ready, but I stop to shoot off a quick response.
Me: Shouldn’t you be writing?
Adeline: Pffftt. I’m waiting for you to come home with a fantastic story I can swipe for my book.
Me: So you’re saying you don’t ever plan on publishing?
Adeline: Don’t ruin this for me! Go! Have fun! Have drinks! Have sex! You only live once. Do it for the both of us!
Me: Lol. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. You better have some words written!
Adeline: **runs to hide**
Dropping my phone on my bed, I realize I spent more time conversing than I should have. Now it’s a mad scramble to get ready on time.
I go through all the motions as quickly as I can, still taking care to present my best self.
Makeup.
Hair.
Lotion from head to toe.
The only thing that takes more time than normal is clothes. Normally, I’m in yoga pants and a T-shirt. Going out is a treat I don’t usually have, so I want to spruce myself up a bit.
I groan when the doorbell rings. I thought I had more time. Oh well. I guess I have to trust Jack believes me about those pictures. I know I have one somewhere, but I really don’t want to have to dig it up to make good on my threat.
Grabbing my blue jeans, I finally decide on a flowy white top with a matching camisole. It makes me feel sexy and alluring. Or at least, not frumpy.
A few minutes and I can’t primp any longer. If nothing else, I may need to save my date from my brother’s harassment.
The door swings open and before I can react with the excitement I feel, I realize this is not who I
was expecting.
“Uh, hi,” I say to the scowling man standing in front of me. “I’m here to pick up Greer. Am I in the right place?” Leaning back to inspect the number on the outside of the house, I could have sworn this is where she said she lived.
The man widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly trying to show who’s in charge. But I’m too busy trying to figure out where my GPS went wrong to feel intimidated.
“Yeah,” the man finally says.
“Yeah, I’m in the right place?” I try to clarify.
“Yeah.”
I tilt my head waiting for more information when a female voice comes up behind him. “Ohmygod, Jack, quit it.” Greer shoves him out of the way and then turns to me, apology written all over her face. “I’m sorry, Ace. Please come in. This is my brother, Jack, and he seems to think it’s funny to try and play the role of bad cop when I go on dates.”
Jack shrugs and sticks his hand out, his demeanor doing a complete one-eighty. “It’s my job as big brother. Jack Pride.”
“Ace Whitman, nice to meet you.” Turning to Greer, I half joke, “You go on dates often?”
“No, I haven’t since high school, which is why I wasn’t expecting him to play this little game again, or I would have warned you. Clearly, I underestimated how much time he has on his hands and how much he really needs to get a hobby.”
Greer is glaring at him, but Jack flashes a grin at me. He’s having too much fun with this.
“Now can you make nice for a few minutes, Jack, while I go finish getting ready?”
He gapes at Greer’s words, but I can already tell it’s sarcastic. “I’m always nice.”
“Mm-hmm,” she responds and turns to me. “I’ll be right back.”
She crosses the room and turns the corner, I assume to her room to finish getting ready. I follow Jack into the living room where there’s a random football game on.
“You a big football fan, Ace?” he asks as he plops himself down on a giant chair with a matching ottoman. I sit next to him on the couch and make a mental note that it is way more comfortable than it looks. I need to go furniture shopping. I bet it’d be great for a Sunday afternoon nap.
