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Yeah. Wow. I’m in trouble already.
I wonder how Nate will feel when I tell him I’m not only not going to cancel on Mariam, but I’m already falling for her?
ChapterFour
Mariam
Business is strangely slow for a Saturday morning. Although Saturdays don’t usually see the rush of people coming in for donuts and coffee to bring to work, I typically see several regulars who linger over hot cocoa and pastries.
Today, everything I had prepped for Saturday breakfast might go to waste. As I think about my options—setting up a day-old display at the local supermarket or driving unsold items to the homeless shelter in the city—the door chimes.
In walks a tall, lean cowboy with a smile that reaches his eyes, his hands buried in the pockets of his canvas jacket. Jesse. A tingle runs down my spine at the sight of him. How does he consistently look so good, day after day?
When he sees me, he automatically removes his hat and dips his chin low in greeting. “Morning.”
Cowboys are not my thing, or so I thought, just a few days ago. Yet his deep voice and manners make me shiver. The gremlin in my brain is drooling, about to jump over the counter and sail at him like a flying squirrel.
“Hi,” I say. I have a tight leash on the gremlin this morning, but I can’t control how my cheeks heat when Jesse so much smiles at me.
“Rowdy scene last night,” Jesse says, breaking an awkward silence.
I laugh. “Yeah. That was my first time. First auction, I mean. I didn’t know what to expect. It was fun! Did you have fun?”
What am I saying? He volunteered. He wasn’t there to socialize.
Jesse’s eyebrows knit together. “It was a boring night until someone started a bidding war for me. Then my night got very interesting.”
“I didn’t start the bidding war!” I say in mock offense. “I just…exacerbated it. A little.”
“A lot,” he laughs.
“A little too much, if I’m honest.”
Jesse seems to want to say something in response but is holding back. I hope he doesn’t bring up the dollar amount I spent. I’ll look at my savings account on Monday, then cry about it. It’s fine.
“Oh gosh. Do you want some coffee? A donut?” Where are my manners?
He nods. “Coffee, black. Thanks. And do you got anything with bacon?”
“Of course,” I say. “I have these new breakfast protein muffins I’m working on for the low-carb crowd. It has eggs, bacon, cheese, sun-dried tomato, and garlic-sauteed spinach. I haven’t perfected the spinach yet, and I don’t know how to keep the whole thing from getting soggy. But I feel like this muffin is such a heavy, fatty thing, so it should have something green, you know? And I’m rambling. Sorry. Have a seat; I’ll bring it to you.”
I hear the chair legs scrape in the dining area as I prep Jesse’s coffee and a plate of food, tossing in some orange slices and grapes.
“Don’t be sorry. Maybe I like listening to you ramble,” he says, his voice echoing in the ghost town that is my shop.
Such a charmer. I wonder if he’d be saying this so loud in front of other customers.
Weirdly, the door hasn’t chimed at all, other than when Jesse walked in. Is everyone hungover or what? Huh. Darling Creek sure knows how to party.
Jesse laughs when I bring a platter of egg muffins, fruit, pastry, and coffee to the table. “This is better than the protein bar I ate this morning.”
I grin, sliding into the chair across the table from him. “I don’t know much, but I’ve learned that cowboys know how to eat.”
“That we do. It’s been a while since I looked after cattle all day, so I could stand fewer calories. But everything here looks far too tempting.”
He says this while rubbing his belly as if there’s even an inch of fat on those bones. And now I’m picturing him without a shirt on, and I’m blushing again.
I smile at him like a dope because I’m self-conscious and don’t want to say something silly. And because he said the word “tempting” while I was staring at his mouth, which is a new level of enticement. Forget pie.
