Page 32 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls

I glanced in his direction and there was a far-off look in his eye I’d seen many times before.

‘You had one of the glazed donuts, didn’t you?’

His brows bunched together. ‘How did you know?’

‘People only get that desperate look of want when they’ve had one of Susan’s donuts.’

He chuckled. ‘Yeah, I have to admit that damn thing practically melted on my tongue.’

The way he said tongue in that deep Southern drawl set off heat in several parts of my body.

A few kids raced past us on their scooters, calling ‘Hi, Miss Piper’ as they zoomed by.

‘You’re a favorite around here,’ he said.

‘They’re kids from the theater.’

‘You mentioned that the other day. The bookstore, the café and the theater. Three jobs?’

‘The theater is a volunteer position.’

‘Still, that’s a lot of work.’ He slowed his strides to stay beside me. ‘What made you want to do that? It looks like you’re already pretty busy.’

‘There you go again,’ I said.

‘Go again?’

‘Assuming things about me you don’t know.’

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. ‘Right. You don’t owe me an explanation.’

The contrite tone to his voice had me saying, ‘I lived in New York a while back. Made an attempt to be an actress.’

‘That’s fascinating. I’ve never met an actress before.’

‘Don’t get too excited. I was never cast in anything.’

We walked past the Dairy Dip and the P&P. Tessa’s colorful array of summertime cookbooks was the perfect display for the front window.

‘To put yourself out there, face rejection, that takes guts.’

I was caught off guard by his response. Usually when I told people I was an actress, I could see them mentally rolling their eyes.

‘Is that what you studied in college?’ he asked.

‘No, I only went for a year before I dropped out.’

I waited for the uncomfortable pause. The weighted look of pity and disappointment when I spoke about not completing a degree, but like before, his stare remained firmly on me, his lips twitching like he was eager to ask more questions.

Ahead of us, a crowd formed a line outside Sugar Rush.

‘I meant what I said before. It’d be great if we could be friends. I’m only going to be here a short time, so we can at least be cordial.’

‘You don’t have to stay away from the café or the bookstore,’ I said. ‘You have just as much right to be there as anyone else, but don’t expect any more than a “hello” from me.’

‘What about a slight wave too? Would that be acceptable?’ he joked.

Even when I was pushing him away, this guy was nice. How was that possible? Most of my life when a man I was dating was met with any kind of rejection, or pushback, he became either defensive or angry. Sometimes both.

The line doubled in size as more tourists filled the square. ‘Barb and Susan need me inside. I’ll see you around, Dr Foster.’

That megawatt grin lit up his face. ‘See ya, Bird.’

He took off in the direction of the fountain, giving me an all-too-good view of his backside.

Friends? Yeah, that was not going to be easy.