Page 5 of Cakewalk

“Thank you!” she said.

“Sure,” he replied, taking his order and finding a seat at the counter by the window, trying to avoid whatever-her-name-was that always sat on the peach-colored couch. Her conversations sometimes got a little loud, and this morning he just needed to eat his muffin and finish his coffee so he could get out of here. Forget catching up on the news, he could do that at home. And forget trying to be creative and writing today. He was too worked up by what just happened. Why the fuck did he say yes?

The run home did little to soothe his agitation. More than anything, he couldn’t stop thinking about that sad look in Gigi’s gray eyes. He knew that pain. He felt that pain. For a moment, he had wanted to hop over the counter and pull her into his arms and tell her it would be alright, even though he wasn’t sure it would. It still wasn’t alright for him, so who the hell was he to say anything?

When Gigi showed up later that afternoon, she looked like she had just stepped out of the mall in her skinny jeans, designer sweater, and matching shoes. She had been cute this morning at the coffee shop, but now as he watched her try and pull an oversized suitcase out of the back of a Jeep, she looked downright beautiful. With her gorgeous figure no longer hidden behind the apron from the café, Holden couldn’t help but notice that this woman was curvy in all the right places. Her sweater was fitted just enough to leave him wondering if her breasts were as perfect as they seemed hidden under that soft fabric, and those jeans stretched across a pair of hips that led to an ass he couldn’t help but want to take a bite of. After a moment of watching her, he ran over to help, worried that she might topple over from the weight of the luggage.

“Let me get that,” he said, grabbing the handle of the bag. The smile she flashed him made his stomach do something weird as he drank her in. Her makeup was done simply, letting her natural beauty shine through. Holden couldn't help but wonder what her story was. Looking at her, he wouldn’t have taken her for someone who was shy, yet she was decidedly guarded.

“Thanks. Kirk didn’t really introduce us, huh? I’m GeorgiaGrace Hawthorne, but everyone just calls me Gigi.”

“Holden St. James,” he said, nodding at her.

He helped her carry her stuff up the stairs and into the small studio apartment above the garage. Standing in the kitchenette when they finally had everything upstairs, he handed her the key. The area was small, forcing them to stand closer than he normally would to a stranger, but he didn’t mind being this close to her. She, however, still seemed a little uneasy.

“This used to be a carriage house when the place was first built in 1853. They converted it into a garage around World War II and created this space for staff,” he told her, trying to make the moment less awkward.

“Wow. We don’t have a whole lot of stuff that’s this old in Atlanta. The yankees kinda burned most of it down,” she said, her southern accent in full swing.

“So that’s where you’re from? Atlanta?” he asked, letting his curiosity get the better of him. He knew he should just walk away, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Yup, born and raised. Other than a few years in Tuscaloosa for college, I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Tuscaloosa, huh?”

“Yup, Roll Tide!” she responded with a little giggle.

“We’re gonna have to disagree there, Miss Hawthorne,” he said, feeling the wry smile start to creep up his face. “It’s Geaux Tigers!”

She rocked back a half step, looking almost affronted by his response. A ladylike hand flew to cover her chest as she mockingly gasped.

“OMG, you’re not kiddin’, are you?”

“I have family from down there. They made sure my allegiances were formed young.”

She let out a little giggle, and the sound sent a feeling through Holden that he didn’t recognize. Something he hadn’t felt since Hannah. Was that…lust? He had no idea, but what he did know was that if he wasn’t careful, he was going to try and make her make that sound again. He needed to get out of here. Needed to go retreat back into his space and be alone.

“Well, Miss Hawthorne…”

“Gigi, please,” she corrected him.

“Gigi,” he said. “I should leave you be to get settled. If something doesn’t work, my number is on a sticky note on the fridge. You should have enough service to text me. If not, just knock on the door.”

“Thanks again.”

Holden nodded once more and stepped to the side to head to the door. In doing so his arm brushed up against hers, and Holden watched as Gigi flinched, crashing into the counter behind her as she tried to move out of his way. It struck him as an odd reaction to such a light touch, but he reminded himself that she’d been through a lot recently. He probably did weird things right after losing Hannah. Hell, he was still doing weird things if you asked his friends and family.

He had no idea what her story was. But there was something about Gigi Hawthorne that had him intrigued. He just hoped she wasn’t going to be trouble.

3

Gigi

Without a doubt, this had been the most interesting week of Gigi’s life. Which was saying something, because her very privileged life up until now had allowed her to go a lot of places and see a lot of things. Included in that list of things, however, had not been espresso machines, industrial kitchens, cash registers, or studio apartments. To say the learning curve was steep would be an understatement.

Not that she wasn’t grateful—she was more than just grateful. She'd thought about leaving Bradley for years but never actually had the guts to do it. Every time she’d started to think about it, or even tried to think of a plan, she’d always come back to the same thing—how on earth would she support herself? But that question had seemingly been answered thanks to a random nail in her tire. It was still a little surreal to her how it all came together so quickly, but if she’d learned anything in her thirty-four years on this earth, it was that you did not question God’s timing. His sense of humor, however, was something she was starting to wonder about. Sticking her in the middle of rural Vermont and having her work at a café had to be keeping Him all kinds of entertained.

Just like that first day at the café, her new landlord—who was sexy as all get-out with his tattoos and beard—came in every morning for coffee. She didn’t fully understand why he didn’t just have it at home, but Kirk told her it was the only time he knew of that Holden left the house. Who was she to question someone else’s routine? Besides, she enjoyed seeing him. And not just because his was the only coffee order she had gotten correct that morning. There was something about Holden that made her feel like she was thirteen again and crushing on some boy in math class. And she really, really liked that feeling.