But, now, he was back and saying things like, “You. Destiny. The reason I want to live here now is you.” And, “Don’t I get a welcome-home kiss?”
Then he’d had the nerve to point out that he knew that I’d been spelling in my mind exactly what he could kiss, and it wasn’t my grits like Flo from Alice was so fond of instructing people to do.
Setting the plates I was carrying down, I forced myself to smile. “Here you go. Can I get you boys anything else?”
The ‘boys’ were three grown men who worked over at the lumberyard and came to the Spoon for lunch at least three days a week.
“Nah, we’re all good here, hon.” Harry, the foreman, smiled back at me as he dug into his pulled pork sandwich.
“Hey, did you hear that JJ bought the old Mason place?” Ray asked the table at large as he picked up a fry from his plate.
That was my cue to exit stage left. I put an extra hus in my hustle as I rushed behind the counter. The last thing I wanted to do was discuss JJ or the old Mason place. That farm was an eyesore, but I’d always had dreams of buying it and fixing it up—right after I’d successfully started Sugar Rush, of course.
JJ hadn’t bought it for that reason—unless he really could read my mind. I’d never told anyone about my dreams to buy and restore it to its former glory. Not Harmony. Not Cara. Not even Gram. So, as much as it felt personal that, out of all the properties, all the houses he could have bought with the millions I was sure he had, he’d chosen that one—I knew that it really wasn’t.
The chime over the door sounded as Brady Calhoun walked in with his signature toothpick and smug expression both firmly in place. “I heard your boyfriend’s back in town.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I responded, attempting to sound as unaffected by his comment as possible.
Since tying my apron behind my back two hours ago for my lunch shift, I’d been playing conversation dodge ball, the ball being JJ and his “move” back home. It’s all anyone had wanted to talk about.
“Take a seat where ya like, Brady.” Tami Lynn slid behind me so that she could ring up Mr. Rogers.
“How’s that lovely grandmother of yours doing?” Mr. Rogers asked as he handed a ten-dollar bill to Tami Lynn.
“She’s doin’ good. I’m going over for dinner tomorrow night.”
When Gram had texted to remind me about our weekly Tuesday-night dinner date, which included watching our new favorite program Fixer Upper, my first instinct had been to say that I wasn’t feeling well and ask for a raincheck. Not because I was actually sick—well, unless you counted emotional distress. Which I did.
I’d had a headache all month. I’d felt tired. And I’d been slightly sick to my stomach. This morning’s run-in with JJ had done nothing to ease any of those symptoms. If anything, it had intensified them.
Now that he was in town, I just wanted to hide for, oh, indefinitely.
But, if I tried that with Gram, it would fly about as high as a penguin with his flippers tied behind his back. So, instead of avoiding the inevitable, I’d texted back that I would be there at seven—her preferred dinner time.
“Well, you tell her I said hello.” Mr. Rogers tipped his head before putting on his ball cap and walking out the door.
“I will,” I said, even though I probably wouldn’t. It wasn’t that I’d intentionally not pass along his message. It was just that he sent that particular message every time I saw him, and after working there every summer and winter break since I had been sixteen and now full time…
Well, let’s just say I saw him a lot.
Brady was sitting in my section, and it was all I could do not to sigh and roll my eyes as I walked over to the booth.
“What can I get you today?” I asked, looking down at my order pad.
“How about a, ‘Hi Brady. How are you doin’ today?’”
Oh for the love of…
Deep breath.
My tone was cheery as I repeated verbatim, “Hi, Brady. How are you doin’ today?”
“That’s better.” He grinned and winked obnoxiously.
The small yet extremely condescending gesture made me want to dump his ice water in his lap.
“I’d be doin’ a whole lot better if a certain redhead would go to the cookout with me on Saturday.”
During the summer, the town had cookouts on Saturday evenings followed by an outdoor movie. They called it Movies in the Park. This Saturday, they were showing Dirty Dancing, which was one of my favorite movies. And I would be enjoying it. Alone.
“Brady. I don’t know how to make this any clearer: I’m not going to date you. Not this weekend. Not next weekend. Not next month. Not next year. It’s never going to happen.”
I was talking to a brick wall, but at least I’d said my piece—the same piece I’d been saying since he’d decided I was “the one” at the Christmas festival last year. Letting out a sigh, I shifted my feet. “Can I get you your usual?”
After winking again, which apparently was his move, he rolled the toothpick hanging from his lips to the right side. “Never say never, sweetheart. And yes, my usual sounds good. Real good.”
A shiver ran down my spine as his eyes roamed my body. Not a good shiver. No, the kind of shiver that runs through you when you see a big nasty spider, or you walk through a web, or a rat skitters across the floor.
“Comin’ right up.”
An arrogant smile appeared on his egotistical face, and I was sure I was not going to like what came out of his mouth next.
“Somethin’s comin’ up—that’s for sure.”
Oh, dear lord in heaven, give me strength.
It took every ounce of self-control and professionalism I possessed not to make a gagging face as I spun around and headed towards the kitchen to put Brady’s order in.
As I ripped the paper that held his order off my pad and placed it on the wheel, I tried to remember that Brady was my friend and had been since kindergarten. Whatever was going on would pass. He’d find some new, shiny toy to focus his attention on and we could finally go back to just being friends. I simply had to wait it out.
I had naïvely believed that, after the punching incident with JJ, he would’ve backed off. But, instead, he’d doubled down on his efforts after he apologized, blaming his behavior on being drunk. He’d also been showing the video of JJ punching him—which had gone viral—to anyone and everyone who would watch it and re-watch it. It was like he was proud of having gotten knocked on his backside.
I just didn’t understand some people.
The bell dinged again. Delilah, who owned The Flower Pot, came through the glass door with a huge bouquet of wild flowers.
“Whoa, those are beautiful.”
I’d always loved wild flowers. Roses were never my thing, but give me a field filled with wild flowers and I was a happy girl. People always thought that I would like roses because of my middle name, but I could never get past the thorns.
“I’m glad you think so. They’re for you.” Delilah’s big, brown eyes shimmered with excitement as she set them on the counter.
My gaze immediately flew to Brady, and if looks could kill, he’d be a dead man. Not that he noticed. He was showing the boys from the lumberyard the video of him getting knocked out.
This had to stop. Flowers were too much.
I was headed over to give Brady Calhoun a piece of my mind when Delilah, with a hint of humor, said quietly, “Nope. Guess again.”
Well, at least someone was getting some enjoyment from my misery.
“Then who would…” I shook my head until a cold chill ran through me.
No. It couldn’t be… There was no way JJ would do this. That would be like announcing to the entire town that we were…whatever we were.
As I grabbed the card held by the small plastic pitchfork at the top of the arrangement, my heart started beating so hard that I was sure the entire diner could hear it.
My hands shook slightly as I opened the envelope.
Hey Pip,
Hope these flowers brighten your day like your smile brightens mine.
Yours Always,
JJ
P.S. I would LOVE to kiss what you were spelling in your head this morning.
Even though I tried to fight it, a smile pulled at my lips as a shiver ran down my spine. And it was the good kind.
Chapter 17
JJ
“He’s studyin’ to be a half-wit, and I’m afraid he ain’t gonna make it.”
~ Grandma Dixie
“So, no more baseball. You’re done and you’ve decided to move home.” My mom casually sipped her tea. Her feet pushed off the wood planks as she gently swayed on the porch swing that overlooked the pond on the west side of my parents’ land.
“What?!” All I’d told her was that I’d bought the old Mason place. How in the hell she’d connected the dots on this one, I really had no idea.
“Baseball. You’re done. You’re retiring and moving home,” she stated confidently.
I confirmed her assumption with a single nod.
“And how long has this all been in the works?”
As I straightened my shoulders, tension built in my neck. “Since I was here over the Fourth.”
This was crazy. I’d spoken to my dad and my brothers about moving home and they hadn’t had a clue about my plans. My dad had teared up, slapped me on the shoulder, and told me that it was good to have me home, where I belonged. As much as he’d always supported my career, his true desire was to have his family close. He might have been the quintessential cowboy, but he was a softie when it came to his family.
My brothers had grilled me about my injury, and they hadn’t believed that I was really moving home. They’d given me a hard time, of course. But they’d also offered to help me with the renovations, and I was sure as hell was going to take them up on it. That place was like a diamond in the rough, and the rough was really rough.
My mother, on the other hand, had actually guessed what was going on. And the biggest surprise of all was that her reaction was less than enthusiastic. Her response transported me back to my twelve-year-old self, when the front picture window had been broken and no one had come forward to claim responsibility. Just like then, I’d known I hadn’t done anything wrong—I had been at baseball practice when it’d happened—but I’d still had a sick feeling in my stomach when she’d questioned me about it. I knew why I’d felt that way sixteen years ago. Although I hadn’t been the guilty party, I had known which of my seven brothers had been to blame, but I hadn’t been about to snitch. I’d kept that vital information from my mom, which had made me guilty by association.
Today, I had no idea why I felt so…unsettled. I wasn’t doing anything wrong…
Taking a deep breath, I let the evening breeze wash over me in an attempt to put my nerves at ease. When I leaned against the porch railing, the wood creaked the way it had every time I’d leaned against it since I could remember. A comforting warmth spread through my chest. I was home. This was where I was supposed to be. I belonged there.
My mom was still swinging, sipping her tea, staring out over the land, not saying a word. It was driving me crazy, and she knew it. The Dolly Briggs version of interrogation had broken men much stronger than myself.
It’s what had caused Trace, the youngest of the Briggs boys, to confess that he’d been the one who had sent the ball flying through the pane of glass that overlooked their property. The Dolly Briggs silent torture had brought Sawyer—the oldest and by far most stubborn of the Briggs boys—to admit that he’d had a girl in his room when he was fifteen, which was a big-time no-no.
She had even broken her own husband, my father, the great Walker Briggs. He’d revealed that he’d planned a surprise party for their thirtieth anniversary on the morning of the party, and he’d been planning it for a good six months. But he’d been acting so strange for so long at that point that she’d finally turned her silent powers on to flush the truth out.
My mom could get anyone to crack, even when nothing nefarious was happening. Like now.
Not being able to take her nonverbal, accusatory questioning, I snapped. “What, Mom? What’s is it?”
Slowly shaking her head, she inhaled before shrugging. “I was just wondering where Miss Destiny Rose fits into this whole plan.”
Ahh, yes. Of course. Destiny.
Not wanting to come completely clean, I hedged my bets that I could get away with a partial explanation. “I care about Destiny. I have for a long time.”
There. That was the truth. Done. Moving on. Next subject.
“You don’t say?” The amusement in her voice combined with the all-too-knowing half smile that appeared on my mom’s lips told me that we would not be moving on from this subject any time soon.
My uneasiness was expanding like a waistband at an all-you-can-eat buffet with every second that passed.
“She’s…” I needed to get this conversation over, but I was stuck. I felt trapped, exposed. Like she could see right through me.
She probably can, my inner voice piped up.
It was true. In the Briggs house, the matriarch had been teasingly nicknamed the all-knowing one because, somehow, someway, Dolly Briggs always knew everything that was going on with her nine children. How she managed to do that, I had no idea.
“Special,” I finally said. That one word didn’t even come close to summing up what Destiny was, but it was all I could come up with.
My mom nodded and made an indiscernible sound, a glimmer sparking in her brown eyes. “That she is. And what does she think about all of this?”
Good question. “Um…she…she was a little shocked I moved back. But she’ll get used to it, especially after she finds out I’m retiring.” I hoped.
My mom’s left eyebrow rose a good half inch at my confident statement.
Uh oh. That was not a good sign. Not at all. That eyebrow was the last thing you wanted to see go up when having a conversation with Dolly Briggs.
When Destiny had sprinted away from me at the wishing well this morning, there had been no doubt in my mind that she’d come around. Now that the eyebrow had gone up, I wasn’t feeling quite so sure of myself.
“Shocked?” Mom repeated. “Does that mean that you didn’t tell her that you were moving home?”
“I told her.” I was beginning to feel a little—no, scratch that, a lot—defensive.
“When did you tell her?” Her coffee colored gaze narrowed slightly.
Clearing my throat, I shifted my weight from my right foot to my left. “This morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell her that’s what you were planning when you were here over the Fourth?” Her tone was pleasant. Curious, even.
But that didn’t fool me, these questions were headed somewhere. I’d seen enough procedurals to know that, if I were in court, my lawyer would be standing up and yelling, “Objection! Leading the witness!”
Unfortunately, we were not in a courtroom and I had no representation to save me from my own mother’s cross-examination.
“I didn’t decide until right before I left to go back to Illinois.” When I’d woken up beside Destiny, I’d known that that was the only place I wanted to wake up for the rest of my life.
“Oh, okay. So, why didn’t you tell her then?”
Again, to anyone outside the inner circle of the Briggs family, my mom’s question would’ve been perceived as purely inquisitive. Innocent, even. But, to those with firsthand experience of the Dolly Briggs method of information excavation, it was a different story. Like any good lawyer she only asked questions that she already knew the answer to, which meant she was about to close her air-tight case.
“I wanted to surprise her,” I lied.
Normally, it was not a good idea to perjure yourself, but I wasn’t a criminal. I hadn’t done anything wrong. This was my life. My personal life.
“Is that why you turned your brothers into her own personal stalkers? So that, instead of speaking to her
like a grown-up, you could surprise her?”
And there it was. I had just gotten pinned by Dolly Briggs with no way to tap out.
“You saw what happened with Brady. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”
It’s not like I’d discussed the unfortunate and very public altercation with my mom, but everyone had seen what had gone down with Brady. It had gone viral, much to Jessie’s dismay. She might be the only PR person in history who didn’t subscribe to the “any publicity is good publicity” philosophy.
“Does she know that your ‘plan’ was the reason that, every time she turned around, another one of my sons was hovering around her?”
I shrugged.
“That’s what I thought.” She tilted her head to the side, and I knew the beat-around-the-bush portion of this conversation had drawn to a close. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Crossing my arms in front of me, I straightened to my full height. My new stance wouldn’t intimidate my mom, but it made me feel slightly better. “I think I’m moving home. And I would think my mother, of all people, would be happy about that.”
“If you’re happy, then I’m happy. But that’s not what I was asking about, Jefferson James, and you know it.”
Oh shit. Full names were an even worse sign of things to come than the eyebrow raise was.
Not missing a beat, she continued, “If you want to play dumb, then fine. I’ll spell it out. What exactly do you think you’re doing with Destiny?”
I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. I wish I knew what to tell her. I wish I could answer all of her questions. But honestly, I had no idea what I was doing with her. All I knew is that I loved her and I didn’t want to spend another day without her.
Teasing Destiny (Wishing Well, Texas #1) Page 10
