Page 52 of Silver Brewer

“Yes and no. I’m happy you’re here. More than happy. My home is my home, but I can’t shake this feeling…”

“Have you had many women here before?”

“Never.”

I’m shocked and honored to be the first, but it also explains his hesitation. “You don’t have to replace her.” His heart was full of her once. I know I can’t compare.

Giant sighs. “That’s just the thing. You have. It’s hard to explain. I…I need you. You’re good for me.”

My insides warm further. “You’re good for me, too.” I tip up to kiss him, and our mouths slowly move, drawing out each other’s lips—sucking, sipping, savoring. We stand under the aura of stars, within the candlelight and near the fire pit, and breathe in each other with only our mouths. It’s the most romantic moment of my life.

+ + +

We don’t make love that night, and I don’t complain. We kiss and kiss and kiss some more, and then we climb into his bed like an old married couple. Only he tugs me close to him, breathing in my hair and smelling my neck as if taking his time to get used to me in this bed with him.

He wakes early to help his brother, promising me he’ll return soon, but by ten o’clock, I’m restless. He hasn’t returned my call, and he doesn’t have a second car. A quick GPS check confirms I’m eight miles from town. Feeling brave and overzealous, I decide I can walk to Blue Ridge. I haven’t really spent time in the small town, other than my one-stop shopping at Duncan’s for camping clothes.

By the time I reach a diner in the city’s center, I’m drenched in sweat and irritated with myself. I collapse into a booth.

“Hi honey, need some coffee?” A very pregnant woman with a Southern drawl, blond hair, and the bluest of eyes asks of me.

“That’d be great.”

“You passing through?” she asks, eyeing my sweat-stained shirt and workout leggings.

“Not exactly. I’m staying with a friend and took it upon myself to be ambitious. I walked into town from his place, but it was harder than I thought. The dips and climbs of the road made it seem a lot longer than eight miles.”

She lightly chuckles as she fills my cup. “Where you staying at?”

“George Harrington’s.”

Coffee dribbles over the edge of my cup, and she quickly pulls a rag from her old-fashioned diner uniform and swipes at the spill.

“Giant?” She gasps.

“Yes,” I say confidently, but my smile falters as she stares down at me.

“I can’t believe…I mean…that’s wonderful.” Her voice rises an octave. Another woman passes behind the enthusiastic waitress, and Blondie stops her. “Dolores, this here woman is staying with Giant.” Blondie turns back to me, and I read her name tag. Hollilyn. “What’s your name, honey?”

I should stop myself from offering too much information, but I can’t seem to help it. “Olivet Pierson. Letty.” I lift a hand to shake hers. Hollilyn shakes mine, and the other woman with piercing eyes stares at me.

“Welcome to Blue Ridge, Letty,” the brunette with sad blue eyes says. “I’m Dolores Chance.” Dolores of Dolores’s Diner. I surmise she is the owner.

“You have a nice place here,” I say, taking in the worn-paneling and roughened tile. It’s quaint, if tired looking.

“Where you from?” Dolores asks.

“Chicago.”

Her brow rises. “And you know Giant…?” Her voice drifts, suggesting I provide an answer.

“It’s complicated,” I say, waving a hand to dismiss the subject.

“Those Harringtons are.” She chuckles lightly and pats my forearm. “You let Hollilyn know what you need. Enjoy your stay.”

I order a breakfast of eggs and bacon and check my phone again. No response from Giant. I’ve also noticed my service goes in and out.

I randomly scroll through social media and my emails until Hollilyn returns with my food. A few minutes later, a man enters the diner and greets Hollilyn. While I eat, I have the strangest sense of them watching me. Finally, I look up and Hollilyn approaches.