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I’d known Ford Grimes for nearly four years now, and the impact of seeing him never lessened. Why was it that the more unattainable the man, the harder you crushed on him? It was like Fate’s cruel joke or something.
There’d been a time, when he first came to town, I’d stupidly thought something might happen between us. I’d hoped and wished for it to the point that, had I been a middle school girl, I would have written about him exclusively in my diary every single night and doodled Mrs. Hardin Grimes and Ford hearts Hardin all over my school binders and book covers.
Hazel had been three at the time, and I’d been in the middle of suffering through a dry spell that had started the day I showed Keith the positive pregnancy test, and he’d bailed after informing me he was too young and talented to be tied down by a family.
I’d spent those years taking care of my daughter, making her my entire world. If I wasn’t with her, I was working. Hell, there were times when I’d be working, and she’d show up with my mom in tow to keep me company for the rest of my shift. I wanted her to be a part of our family’s legacy. I wanted her to love our restaurant as much as I did and want the reins passed down to her when I was ready to step down. So I made sure she spent plenty of time at Junior’s. It wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five, Monday through Friday, so if I couldn’t find a sitter or the daycare was closed, she’d come and help me. She had a knack for toppings and wanted to learn how to toss the dough up in the air and catch it in a perfect spin.
At that point in my life, a man had been the furthest thing from my mind.
I’d been burned when it came to love, big time, and it had taken me a while to summon up the self-confidence to try again. Not to mention, being a single mother from day one made it a little hard to hit the gym after my little nugget was born to get my pre-pregnancy body back. I hadn’t exactly bounced back to a hundred percent, not that there was a damn thing wrong with that. Rationally, I knew what my body had gone through to bring life into the world was nothing short of a miracle. As far as I was concerned, pregnancy was a woman’s motherfucking magic power, thank you very much. But there were days when I looked in the mirror and couldn’t help but wish that my boobs were still in the same place they’d been before breastfeeding, or that my ass had gone back down to its previous size.
My once-smooth stomach was now covered in stretch marks, and the elasticity of my skin was never going to be the same. Once I’d gotten used to the new me, I was able to look at myself and see the truth: my body was a beautiful roadmap of femininity and motherhood and all things beautiful and wondrous, but it had taken a little time for me to accept that.
I’d still been a work in progress when I first met Ford. He’d walked through the door of Junior’s, and my heart instantly kicked up its pace, banging against my ribs like a hammer pounding a nail.
The combination of his dark, slightly unruly hair and the crisp ocean blue of his eyes was downright striking. His features were hard and masculine, cut cheekbones and a square jaw led to a thick, corded neck. Solid, defined shoulders tapered into a wide chest with pecs that were so cut I could make them out beneath the cotton tee he’d been wearing. A trim waist led down into muscular thighs incased in faded denim, all of which ended with a pair of broken-in, kickass cowboy boots.
I’d been frozen in place, my jaw hanging open slightly as I stared. When those blue eyes landed on me, the fringe of his lashes enviably dark, and his full, lush lips quirked up into a smirk that had my lady parts quivering, I knew I was caught.
Then he smiled at me, and the gasp I’d sucked in at that first sight of him froze solid in my lungs. He walked—no, hesauntered—in my direction, utter sex on mile long legs and gave me a once-over. From the expression on his face, I got the impression he liked what he saw. For the first time in a long time, I felt feminine and sexy, and it was all because of the way a total stranger had been staring at me.
He hefted himself up onto the stool right across from where I’d been standing behind the counter. “Hey,” he’d started in a sultry, deep voice. “I’m new to town, so this is my first time here. Any chance you can point me to what’s good?”
The breath I’d been holding whooshed out, taking the burn in my lungs with it. I returned his smile, feeling more confident than I had in years. “Well, New In Town. This is my place, so I can say with certainty there isn’t a single thing on the menu that isn’t fantastic.”
The flirting had started there. Three times a week for the next month, Ford’s fine ass was on that stool, making me feel like a million bucks. I hadn’t flirted in ages; I’d forgotten how much fun it was.
He made me feel alive and beautiful. I could see the desire in his eyes when he looked at me, and I was waiting for him to make his move. I could have sworn he was close. Then, it all stopped.
There was no more playful banter, no more flirting, no more sultry looks. He’d gone from making me feel like a desirable woman to some lady he had to deal with to get his pizza. Then he and Owen became buds, and I was relegated to the position of best friend’s little sister.
I’d have been lying if I said that blow to the ego hadn’t taken my self-confidence back several steps. But that was years ago, and I’d managed to get over it... kind of. It still sucked that he came in regularly, because the crush that had formed that first day was still very much there, no matter how often I reminded myself that nothing would ever come of it. Over time, we’d managed to become friendly with each other, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say we were actually friends. We were more acquaintances than anything else.
“Hey,” I greeted, the smiles and banter from those earlier days long gone. I took him in like I always did—I was only human after all, sue me—and noticed he was wearing the standard uniform of a navy-blue T-shirt with the Grapevine Fire Department insignia printed on the left side of his chest, navy Dickies, and black boots. “Ordering to go?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“The usual?” I asked as I tucked the towel I’d been using to wipe down a recently vacated table into the strings of my apron and started back around the counter.
“Please.”
“All right. Have a seat and I’ll get that started for you.”
He hopped up onto the barstool he always sat on whenever he came in if it was empty. It had kind of becomehisseat after all this time, not that either of us would admit such a thing out loud.
I quickly scrawled off a ticket, four pizzas, one with pepperoni, one veggie, and two meat lovers, along with two orders of our homemade garlic bread sticks and a small salad for Lydia, and pinned it to the holder. “Ticket up and put a rush on it. It’s for the fire department.” My cook, Ben, gave me a salute, pulled the ticket from the wheel, and got to work, putting everything else on the back burner. First responders got special privileges at Junior’s. It was a rule my grandfather had implemented back in his day, and one my father and I had been all too happy to continue.
I wasn’t sure what I would have done without Ben. He kept my kitchen running like a well-oiled machine when I wasn’t able to be back there, which was far too often. The only thing he wasn’t able to do was make Junior’s famous sauce. That was a recipe that stayed with my family’s bloodline, no exceptions. Which meant I had to come in early every single day to make sure we had plenty stocked and make more if we didn’t.
It might have seemed ridiculous to some, the way we harbored that family secret, but I’d always thought it was fun. My own father didn’t even know what went into making it. He and Mom were partners in the pizzeria in every way but that one. It had been a point of pride when my mother handed that recipe down to me, and I couldn’t wait to do the same for Hazel if this was what she decided she wanted to do with her life.
With that taken care of, I went back to cleaning and checking on my customers to make sure they had everything they needed.
I’d just carted a bin of dirty dishes around the counter, dropping them off to be washed, when Ford spoke again. “What are you doing bussing tables? Don’t you have people for that?”
I let out an indelicate snort and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. “I’m supposed to,” I griped as I got busy restocking the jars of parmesan cheese and red chili flakes. “Kadence called insickagain,” I told him, using finger quotes to make my point. “There wasn’t anyone to pick up her shift, so I have to pull double duty.”
“Christ, that woman,” he grunted on my behalf. It wasn’t the first time I’d complained about Kadence to him. Hell, I was sure I’d bitched to half the town by now. It was amazing my issues hadn’t gotten back to her directly. “I keep tellin’ you, Hard, you gotta get rid of her.”
