I cover my cheeks with my hands and shake my head. “Wow. Can’t take me anywhere.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate for me.” Oliver grins, causing adorable crinkles to frame his eyes. “I was going to ask if maybe you’d take a walk with me and show me around town.”
My stomach does flip-flops, and I cast a nervous glance down at my watch. This coffee meetup is creeping into what feels like date territory. Part of me is eager to say yes. To see where this afternoon takes me. Because something about hanging out with Oliver makes me feel lighter than I have in years.
But the scar above his lip reminds me of the literal fires he’s putting out to save babies and golden retrievers and people on balconies. While noble and brave, it’s also extremely dangerous.Relationshipsare dangerous. Too many things can happen, even when you’renotsprinting into burning buildings.
I must take too long to answer because he follows his proposal with, “But I understand if you’re busy.”
“I should really get back home and check on June Bug,” I say. “You know how puppies are. Tiny bladders and all.” A hint of disappointment shadows his face, and before I can stop myself, I add, “But I suppose a quick tour on the way to my car wouldn’t hurt.”
“Perfect,” he says. He grabs his cup, and I loop my bags over my arm as we head for the door.
“Is there anywhere special you remember from when you stayed here with your grandfather?” I ask, starting down the sidewalk.
He falls into step beside me. “He didn’t go to a lot of places besides Chappell's Supermarket and the hardware store.”
“The Tool Box? It’s still there. Just up here on the right,” I say as we stroll down Main Street. “Mr. Isbel’s son took it over after his dad retired. You want to stop in and say hi?”
“That’s okay,” he says. “I’ll drop by some other time.”
We continue down Main Street, passing by the old movie theater that’s been converted into a bookstore, The Magnolia Antique Shop, Lovebird Brews, The Donut Den, and a day spa.
“And that’s Bluebells,” I say as we approach the flower shop. There’s a small table set up outside filled with poinsettias and Christmas cacti. “Loving High School Band Fundraiser” is scrawled on the chalkboard sign beside it.
“Hi,” a perky redheaded girl with a spray of freckles across her nose chirps as we approach. “Would you like to support the band today? Your contribution will help us get new uniforms next year.”
“We’d love to,” Oliver says, turning to me. “I know poinsettias are poisonous to animals, so can I interest you in a cactus?”
I laugh. “A cactus is probably the only plant I could keep alive.”
“Sold.” He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and hands the girl a twenty, telling her to keep the change.
“Here you go,” she says, giving him the tiny potted succulent.
“For you.” He hands it to me with a smile as we walk the last few feet to the corner.
My stomach does a cartwheel. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Hey, it’s for the kids, right?” He pushes his fingers through his hair, which makes his forearm flex again, and yep—it’s definitely time for me to go before I start daydreaming about those arms. Because this can’t be more than coffee with a handsome stranger. It just can’t.
I clear my throat. “Well, my car’s just behind that shop,” I say, pointing to the boutique across the street. “But hey, this was fun. Thanks for the coffee, and you know, the company.”
“Yeah, I had a good time too,” he replies, pushing his hand through his hair again. “Can I walk you the rest of the way?”
“Oh, that’s okay. It’s not far.”
He opens his mouth, and oh my God, he’s about to ask for my number, isn’t he? I have to get out of here. All rational thinking has gone out the window, and I’m in fight-or-flight mode. On today’s menu: flight. So I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.
“I think I left my iron plugged in.”
I turn away so I don’t have to witness the disenchanted look I’m certain has taken over Oliver’s face and practically sprint the rest of the way to my car.
Never mind that I don’t even own an iron.
“When you saidthis dog was wild, I thought you were just being dramatic.” Ben, the middle Haggerty child, sits on the sofa while June Bug tugs on the leg of his pants as though they’d wronged her in a past life.
“Thanks again for coming.” I’m buried in the oversized armchair in the living room of my cozy bungalow later that evening. The electrodes of my TENS unit are attached to my back, sending soothing pulses swimming through my body in an attempt to calm the ache creeping into my muscles. A fresh mug of coffee rests in my hands, and I’m surrounded by my siblings, their significant others, and my two favorite people in this world—my niece and nephew. They came over to play with June Bug and help her expend some energy so that maybe she’d allow me to sleep tonight.
