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“Yeah? I guess that’s why you came back and sat at the same table with your dog around the same time last week,” she says and picks up my menu. I was worried she’d forgotten me already, but she’s treating me like we’re long lost friends.
Brianna walks away, and I glance down at Shark. He’s looking up at me like he knows exactly what the situation is. Is my dog judging me? Probably.
“Drink your water,” I say to him.
I can’t help but feel strange about the whole thing. Just this past week I was here for the first time, and I thought it would be the last, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. What the hell was I thinking? I look down at Shark and try to think about how I ended up here. I’d even showered and dressed nicely too. Sure, I’ve met handfuls of beautiful girls in the past, but they all escaped my mind quickly. There’s something about Brianna, something that draws me to her.
Back in Chicago, my parents encouraged me to date beautiful women, daughters of those who were in their social circle. Their families owned corporations or were involved in politics, but I never found them very interesting. They were like robots in expensive dresses.
When I finally escaped Chicago, I couldn’t believe how wonderful the silence was.
“More coffee?” Brianna asks, interrupting me from my thoughts.
I look up at her, our eyes meeting, and I nod.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” she says as she fills my cup to the top.
“Me too,” I reply, shocking myself.
She looks me up and down, and I see her focusing on my hands that are rough fr
om working around my property. “So, what do you do for a living?” she bluntly asks.
This is going to take some explaining, and I’m not sure what to say.
“Every day is different,” I answer politely over my cup of coffee. She looks at me intently, like she’s waiting for me to continue.
“I’m a hobbyist,” I finally say. Great, now she’s going to think I’m some unemployed bum. But what am I supposed to say? I have enough money that I don’t need to work a day of my life? That sounds even worse, in my opinion.
“Hobby of what?” she asks.
Somehow I knew I wouldn’t get out of explaining myself so quickly, not considering she’s as feisty as they come.
“Working my land mostly. I have a cabin and a few acres on the mountainside. Maintaining it and getting it ready for the winter months pretty much takes all of my time.” I answer truthfully, leaving out just enough details where I don’t have to discuss my past.
Just from the few conversations we’ve had, I know she works hard for everything she has and part of me feels guilty for being born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but it’s the reason why I moved to Montana in the first place.
“I also do carpentry work too,” I add, breaking the awkward silence. I leave out the part where I don’t get paid for it.
“Oh, like tables and bookshelves?” she asks.
“Well, yeah. That, and also building houses and stuff.”
“You build houses?” I can tell that she’s impressed by the way her face brightens with a smile.
“I built my house and shed where I keep all my tools.” I can’t stop watching the way she looks at me, and I don’t want this conversation to end any time soon.
“That’s amazing. I’ve always wanted to have a cool talent like that. You know, building something with your own two hands instead of just serving people eggs and coffee.”
“Serving people is pretty important,” I say. “Who else would do it?”
She grins, but I see the smile on her face slightly fade. “I wish I would’ve gone back to college and done something more with my life.”
“There’s still time left. You don’t have to give up on it.”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem realistic anymore,” she admits. I want to ask her to sit down and have breakfast with me so we can talk about everything, so I can get to know her better.
Brianna looks sad for a moment, and I don’t like it.
