Page 25 of Big Dill

“Asshole dug a pothole, put up a concrete barrier, and slapped a detour sign right in front of them.”

“Yeah.” Her voice is half exasperated, half amused. “Wait.” She blinks up at me, and she grins. “How did you know his name?”

“They’re all named asshole,” I admit with a grin.

A bell jingles over the small café door as we enter, the warm scent of cinnamon and fresh coffee swirling around us.

“We’re not going to Verna’s?” she asks, a little surprised.

“You’ve already seen Verna’s. I want to show you somewhere else.” I wave toward the cozy interior, all soft wood and warm light. Heads turn, curious, as we step in. “Welcome to the Cozy Cup.”

“It’s… nice,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around herself as the warmth hits, though I can tell some of it is nerves at being the center of attention, and not wanting to be left alone.

I slide my arm around her and guide her to a small table by the window, letting her settle into the space between the warm café and the cold world outside. “I’ll get the coffee, and be right back,” I promise.

She peels off her mitts and lifts her hat, setting them neatly on the table. Her shoulder length, dark hair fluffs slightly from the static, and she brushes a strand behind her ear, finally settling into the chair. I wait an extra beat before hurrying to the counter where Trish, my sister’s best friend, is waiting.

“That’s Jami?” she asks, nodding in my direction with a knowing smile.

“Hello to you too, Trish and yes, that’s Jami,” I confirm, trying to sound neutral.

“She’s a pretty little thing,” Trish adds, her eyes sparkling with gossip-fueled delight.

Obviously, she’s been talking to Sadie or Verna. Around here, gossip spreads faster than frost on a window. Which means I should have known this was coming.

“Didn’t notice,” I mumble. Okay, maybe I could have shot back with something a little more convincing, because now she’s grinning at me like she knows I’m lying.

I pull my wallet out and force myself to focus. “Can I get two drip coffees, one black, one with milk…” I pause, eyes scanning the display of pastries. “…and one of those.”

“Just one?”

“Just one,” I repeat, a little defensively.

“Sharing.” Her eyebrow lifts, a mischievous spark in her gaze. “Adorable.”

Why the hell is she suddenly grinning at me?

“No. Not sharing. Not adorable.”

She tsks as she fills two mugs, the coffee gurgling and hissing like it too has an opinion on my love life, or lack thereof.

“You’re awfully grumpy this morning, Brody. Didn’t get enough sleep last night? Something keeping you up?”

“Jesus.”

She slides the mugs across the counter and I arch a brow. “Since when does coffee come with a side of sarcasm?”

“Since you walked in here grinning like the village idiot,” she counters without missing a beat, and I suspect she’s right.

I scrub a hand over my face, the rough scrape of my palm doing nothing to sand down the edge I woke up with. I toss some bills onto the counter. “Keep the change.”

She waves the bills. “Oh, that was the plan all along.”

What the hell is going on with everyone? Is there something in the water? Sure, they can sense my attraction to Jami. She’s a beautiful woman and any man with a pulse would notice her. But they also know I’ve been burned, scorched right down to the bone, and I’m not looking to relive that particular lesson. Not now. Maybe not ever. And definitely not with a city girl who wants out of this town faster than she got herself into it.

She’s hurting. That much is obvious. Trying to stitch together a future from loose threads and half-plans, trying to figure out where she fits when the ground under her keeps shifting. The last thing she needs is me muddying the water with…sex.

Ah, but the sex was so good.