Duke takes me on a lunch date to a little café on the main street of Whisper Valley. It’s a low-pressure environment—since we all know lunch dates don’t end the same way dinner dates sometimes do—where I can eat fries and ask questions instead of rattling on about my interests again.
“Where did you grow up?” I ask, swirling a fry in a pot of ketchup while I slurp on my caramel milkshake.
Duke watches me and smiles, whilst eating his Reuben sandwich. “A tiny town called Cedarwood Valley.”
“How tiny?”
“Tiny because there aren’t too many people, but it’s big in size. Lots of farmland. Mostly cattle.”
“Are you a farm boy, Duke?” I ask, smiling as I imagine him riding a horse with one of those cowboy hats on or hauling hay in the summer with his shirt off. I could be way of out line with my imaginings since my only experience with farming comes from what I’ve seen on TV, but I like it nonetheless.
“I was. But then my parents sold their land to a nearby rancher, and we moved to the suburbs just outside Sugar City.”
“Is that where you learned how to be a mechanic?”
“Sure is. Wasn’t one for academics, so I left school when I was sixteen and got an apprenticeship. Then I worked for the same chain of garages up until a couple of years ago when they merged with their competition and a bunch of us got laid off.”
I gasp, my hand going straight to my chest. “That’s horrible. How many years did you work for them?”
“Now, that’d be giving away my age,” he says, giving me a half grin and a wink.
“Your age isn’t going to change how much I like you, Duke,” I say, my tone turning serious as I watch for his response. His eyes meet mine and he presses his lips together in a wary smile, making the laughter lines around his eyes deeper. I think they make him look sexy as hell.
“Thirty years,” he says finally, averting his gaze to the mug of coffee he’s still working on. He picks it up and takes a sip, and it doesn’t escape me that he’s been working as a mechanic for longer than I’ve even been alive. Our age difference doesn’t bother me as much as it seems to bother him, so I’m careful to respond in a way that doesn’t shine a light on the fact I’m only twenty-nine when he’s in his late forties by my calculations.
“That must have been quite painful,” I say, reaching across the table and placing my hand on top of his. He looks back up at me again, his eyes less wary this time.
“It didn’t tickle,” he says with a grin. “But, the payout meant I could come out to Whisper Valley and open up my own shop next to my sister’s.”
“Your sister is a mechanic too?”
“She’s a tattoo artist, and she’s also a burgeoning vineyard operator. She bought a rundown estate a while back, and we’ve been slowly restoring it to its former glory.”
“Really? How fascinating. You and your sister must be close.”
“Yes, and no. There’s nine years between us, so we kind of grew up in the same house, but had different upbringings, you know? She barely remembers the farm, so I think this is her way of bringing all those old stories to life.”
“I hope it works out for her—well, for both of you. It sounds like a great project.”
“It is. But it’s definitely all hers, and she has some big plans for the place. I’m just the grunt doing the heavy lifting while living there rent free.”
“I’m sure she appreciates it.”
“She does,” he says, taking another sip of his coffee while watching me continue to pick through my food.
“Do you think I ordered too much?” I ask, popping another fry in my mouth. I’m already quite full from the double bacon burger and half a caramel milkshake with extra ice cream, but I love my fries, and there’s no way I’m stopping until I’ve eaten every lastdeliciousbite.
“Not at all,” he says, a slow grin taking over his face as he shakes his head. “I’m enjoying the show. I happen to like a woman who loves her food.”
“Food’s always there for you, even when people aren’t.” He nods slowly, and I push my plate a little closer to him. “You can have some if you want.”
“I wouldn’t dream of taking a bite away from that precious mouth of yours.” His voice turns raspy and his gaze darkens as he leans in a little closer, all of his attention honed in on me. I eat another fry, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks and loving this new interaction with him. It’s how I hoped last night would have gone had I not let my nerves run away with my mouth.
“Tell me more about your life,” I say, riveted by the tall and broody man sitting across from me. I want to know everything, and since I’m only here for a few more days, I want to know it now.
“There really isn’t a lot to tell. I fix cars. I renovate the farmhouse. And I watch TV or read in my free time. Many would call me boring.”
“I don’t think that’s boring at all. Too many people today think we should all be go, go, go, all of the time. And I have to tell you that the hustle is exhausting. For a while there, I got caught up in it. I was working eight hours at my desk job, then going home and working on my Etsy store while trying to make time for the mandatory self-care that they all say you need to do, and I just gotburnt out.I don’t think humans are supposed to be that busy all the time, so I think you have the right idea—pick a couple of things you enjoy doing and spend the remainder of the time resting.”
