She loops her arm through mine again and smiles up at me. “That’s something else we can practice.”
I don’t know where she gets her optimism, but I hope she never runs out.
We throw away our trash and stroll the last of the trail around the park. Even though nobody’s around to see us together, she keeps hold of my arm. I could stay like this all day.
Actually, no. I’d want more.
“How did you come to own the coffee shop? Troy said he worked there before it changed hands. But it didn’t sound like you bought it so much as…had it given to you?”
“That’s about it.” I leave out the rest of what Harry gave me. I don’t want to lie to Rose but telling her about his money can only complicate things. My family doesn’t even know how much he left me. I get heartburn when I think about it. “For reasons I can’tfathom, my friend bought it not long before he passed away. And for even more mysterious reasons, he left it to me.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Me, too. We were fishing buddies. He was seventy-six. Never married, no family of his own. He must have put my name on the line as a last resort.”
We had good times together on the river, and I valued his friendship. But leaving everything he had to me? I can’t make it make sense. Probably why it’s sitting in my account, mostly untouched after two years.
She runs a soothing hand over my biceps. “You were the only one he cared about enough to leave that kind of a gift to.”
A gift. I haven’t much thought of what Harry left me as a gift. Not with“Do better”tacked onto it. It’s an admonition. Just don’t know how to live up to it.
“What brought you to the coffee shop?” I ask. “I saw your resumé. You’ve had a lot tougher jobs than serving drinks.”
“Those jobs never really fit me. My last corporate job made me sick. My manager and his manager yelled at each other all the time. Everyone accepted it like it was a normal thing. But the more responsibility I got, the more stressed out I became that they’d turn those outbursts on me. I started getting migraines. Eventually, I had to quit.”
“You don’t get stressed at the coffee shop? It never gives you headaches?” Because it can for me. Trying and failing to live up to my friend’s edict, all while surrounded by a critical audience keeps me up some nights.
“Nope. I love it. Sometimes we get rude customers, but it’s rare enough it doesn’t get to me. There’s enough routine in what we do that I can feel confident I know what I’m doing, but there’s variety to keep me happy. And I love our regulars. I feel like I’m part of something positive in the community. It’s the first time I’ve ever been this happy in a job.”
Kind of hate the envy that curdles up inside me. I haven’t felt that way since I got the deed to the place.
Rose leads us to where she parked her car on a quiet residential street. I hand over her bag with the jars of honey in it, and she tucks it in the passenger seat.
“Just confirming again you said six for dinner,” she says, spinning back to face me. “I don’t want to be late for your family.”
“I’ll pick you up. If that’s fine.”
The thread of worry in her expression relaxes. “That’d be great. Thank you.”
“No problem.” I should say goodbye and leave, but it’s getting harder and harder to walk away from her. We could stay on this tree-lined street a little longer. All day would work for me.
She steps closer, toe-to-toe with me now. “We still need to practice.”
Her voice is gentle, as if I’m her grouchy cat and one wrong word will scare me away. She really has no idea.
“Practice what?” I consider the many definitions of public displays of affection, and my stomach bottoms out.
“I think…” Her gaze dips to my mouth. “I think we should kiss. Just to be on the safe side for tonight.”
I would tell her my family isn’t going to force us together like Barbie dolls, but I don’t have complete certainty over that. And my brain’s short-circuiting too fast for me to voice that complex of a thought. All my neurons are firing over this new information.
Rose wants to kiss me.
“Only if you want to.” She licks her lips, then presses them together. I couldn’t look away from her mouth even if one of our dormant volcanoes erupted. “We don’t have to if you don’t.”
“I want to.” Self-preservation should at least make me hesitate, but I can’t. I’m running into a burning building, ready to embrace the flames.
Her gaze pops back up to mine. “Okay.”
