Hey. Made it back to the ground in one piece.
LV: Good.
IT’S BEEN NEARLY a week since I’ve returned home. I’ve been trying to get back into the swing of things—early mornings at Magnolia’s, Thursday night dinners with dad, frequent text exchanges with Corie, and I have plans to go out for drinks with my friend Gloria in a couple of days—but it’s not the same. It’s now incredibly and disappointingly apparent that my life is lacking in ways that scare me. The last thing I want is to settle for less than all that I can get out of life.
I won’t sit here and say that what I’m lacking is merely the addition of mind-blowing sex to my daily routine. I know that since I left town for the holiday weekend, the only thing different about me is that I now know things about my body that I didn’t know before. I know how I like to be touched, how I like to be handled, and what can push me over the ledge and into the most amazing state of ecstasy imaginable. Yet, I know that while I’m still just Jill, what happened to me in Nashville was about more than sex.
When I got on that plane to come home, it felt like I was leaving something behind, but I chalked that up to walking away from what isn’t possible. From the beginning, I knew that anything beyond sex with Leo wasn’t possible. I believe that even now; except, it’s far more complicated than that. The truth is, what we had ended up being about trust and honesty and a deep sense of vulnerability. When I separate him from what I’ve come to realize is missing in my life, all that I want now seems more unattainable than I ever imagined it could be.
I don’t require much. I never have. Living in Dillon, it’s a quiet, steady, simple life. I’m okay with that. I’ve always been okay with that. There was a time when I thought I wanted more. I thought I wanted something bigger—bigger town, greater professional opportunities, and an environment that boasted of a booming social scene that I could get lost in. I was young, and like many adolescents who grow up around here, I had dreams of getting out of this place. Then mom got sick.
Watching her battle cancer, seeing her lose that fight, it changed my mind about a lot of things. At seventeen years old, I learned that life is unbelievably and unbearably short. I realized that you have to hold onto the things and the people that matter most; you have to love and keep them for as long as you’re blessed enough to have them. Suddenly, the more that I wanted was more time with my dad. The bigger and greater that I needed was the chance to help him keep Magnolia’s successful. Most of all, I came to understand that I didn’t need to be surrounded by a bunch of new people in some big city. I didn’t need to try and make a bunch of different friends—as if the success of one’s social life is measured by quantity over quality.
At the end of the day, what I have here in Dillon is good. I cannot argue that. However, I’m not living my life to the fullest. Not yet. In a way, I’ve known it for a while. I’ve always wanted what Corie has. We used to dream about it together. Not the money or the fame, but the kind of relationship that she has with Ashley. We wanted to fall in love with a man who would look at us the way Ashley looks at her. I don’t know a woman who wouldn’t want that. Yet, until my trip to Nashville, I didn’t realize that I had a longing inside of me that has been lying dormant. Now, what was a simple dream I was patient enough to search and eventually find, it seems more defined, more complicated, and grander than what I was striving for.
If I’m being honest with myself, I can only imagine one person that could connect with me in the way that I desire. The trouble is, I don’t know if I feel that way because I’ve never been compatible with someone at that level before, or if it’s because it really is Leo that I want. As I lay here in bed, waiting for my alarm to sound for the second time, I stare at our text exchange, trying to decide if I want to say something. It’s quickly becoming a habit—me staring at the two lines of dialogue we’ve exchanged since we said goodbye. It’s silly of me to think of him at all, really. It’s becoming quite obvious that he’s not interested in keeping in touch with me. Then again, he’s Leo. I’ve only ever known him as man of few words. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to—
I sigh, my phone buzzing in my hand as my snooze alert chimes. Sure that I can’t stay in bed a minute longer, I silence the alarm and crawl out from underneath my sheets. Perhaps a busy morning at the shop will do me some good and take my mind off of things a little bit. Fortunately, things have been busy. Dad told me that there’s some big construction project that’s now underway—a private residence likely to be an outrageous vacation home on the edge of Dillon. In any case, a bunch of workers are staying nearby, in from out of town. They discovered our shop and have been dropping in before they head out to the construction site. This morning, a little hustle and bustle is what my mind needs.
I OPEN THE shop promptly at six o’clock, and Ruth comes rushing in ten minutes later.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I know I’m late, but I’m here now,” she says in greeting, flashing me a wide, cheesy grin. I can’t help my smile as I roll my eyes in return. She really is a goofball, which usually makes up for all of her shortcomings—like her tendency to always be running a few minutes behind. It’s nice to have someone around who makes me laugh. At nineteen, she’s full of plenty of spirited pizzazz to go around.
“Did I miss any of them?” she asks, rounding the side of the counter to join me behind the register. As she comes, she piles her burgundy curls on top of her head, tying them up in a cute, messy bun. “I especially like the one with the beard.”
Laughing, I loop my apron over my head and point out, “Pretty sure most of them have beards, Ruth.”
Waggling her eyebrows at me, she replies, “Exactly.”
“You’re too much.”
“Jill,” she scoffs playfully, snatching her apron from under the register before she goes on to say, “I’m telling you, this is the best thing to happen to this town all summer. Think of the possibilities! Not to mention, we’re their first stop. Every day! We have an advantage over all the other bitches around here.”
“Oh, is that right?” I chuckle, raising my eyebrows at her.
“You’re killing me!” she exclaims, grabbing hold of my arms and giving me a small shake. “We’re cute and we make them coffee at the crack of dawn. We’re basically a fantasy come to life. You just have to work it, girl.”
I roll my lips between my teeth, fighting a laugh as the bell above the door sounds, announcing our first customer. Ruth and I both turn to see who it is, and she gasps before moving me in front of the espresso machine.
“Beard numero uno. Watch and learn,” she whispers with a wink.
I let her have her fun, flirting with the men as they come in for their morning dose of caffeine. She’s better at the register anyway. With me handling the espresso bar, we have the first round of them in and out in no time. Things start to slow down around a quarter to seven, and I know that this will be our short reprieve before our local regulars start coming in on their way to work.
I’m cleaning up my mess when the bell chimes again, and I don’t bother to look up as Ruth greets the customer. It isn’t until I feel her at my side, her hand squeezing my hip, that I stop wiping things down.
“What are you doing?” I ask, frowning at her in confusion.
“This one’s for you,” she replies with a grin. “Take the helm. I won’t spill his order. I promise,” she adds with a giggle.
Throwing my dish towel into the sanitizer sink, I cough out a laugh and do as she suggests—taking the helm. It isn’t until I reach up to tighten my ponytail that I see the man who’s come in. He’s standing a few feet away from the register, scanning over our menu mounted above the counter, allowing me the opportunity to give him a proper once over.
Unlike a lot of the other guys who’ve been dropping by the last few weekday mornings, I haven’t seen him before. He’s quite handsome, in that clean-cut, All-American way. His face is smooth, his light brown hair neatly cropped, and his blue and teal plaid button-up is tucked into his jeans. Though, at the same time, I can tell that he’s got a little rugged in him, too—his sleeves rolled and pushed up over his elbows, and his work boots living up to their name.
“Psst,” Ruth hisses, earning my attention.
When I look her way, she bugs her eyes out at me before tilting her head in his direction, not so subtly implying that I should speak to him. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about taking flirting advice from a nineteen-year-old who seems a bit boy crazy, but I won’t deny that I could offer him at bit of friendly customer service.
“If you need a few suggestions before deciding, I know the menu by heart. I could help,” I call out.
His gaze drops down to meet mine, and the look on his face catches me off guard—as if the sight of me has caught him off guard. After staring at me openly just long enough to be considered flirtatious and not creepy or rude, he blinks, his brown eyes smiling as he makes his way toward me.
“You know, usually, I stick to what I’ve got in the pot at home. I’ve been trying to get by on hotel coffee since I’ve been up here, but it’s not cutting it.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Coffee is our specialty,” I assure him.
His smile stretches into a grin as he folds his arms across his chest. “That’s what my men’ve been telling me. It’s why I’m here, to see what all the talk’s about. They didn’t mention the pretty blonde I’d find offering to help me with the menu.”
Ruth clears her throat, and I snap my head in her direction, fighting a blush as she appears to be stifling the urge to let loose a victory cry.
“I’m Henry, by the way.” I return my attention toward him, just in time to see him take a step closer as he extends his hand across the counter.
Feeling slightly bashful, but not wishing to be rude, I slide my palm against his, accepting the gesture. “I’m Jill,” I say in reply.
“Nice to meet you, Jill.” When I let him go, he pulls back, sliding his fingertips into the front of his jean’s pockets as he says, “Anyway. I think I’ll take you up on that offer. What would you recommend for a simple guy looking for a good cup of joe?”
“We’ve actually got a pretty good house blend. My dad roasts it himself.”
“Well, that sounds like something I’ve got to try. I’ll take a large.”
“Room for cream and sugar?” asks Ruth as I ring up his order.
“No, thanks.”
By the time his transaction is complete, Ruth is pushing his beverage across the counter. Henry is getting ready to slide his wallet back into his pocket, but then he seems to change his mind. After a pause, he glances up at me and reaches back inside, pulling out a card. He places it in front of him, holding it down with two fingers as he stows his wallet. That done, he reaches for his coffee with his free hand before he speaks.
“I’m sure by now you realize I’m new around here. I’ll be around for the next little while, heading up a project a little north of here. If you ever feel so inclined to help me with any other menus you might have memorized, I do appreciate a good meal.” Sliding his card toward me, he taps it twice and then starts backing his way to the door. “My treat, of course. And now you have my number, in case you get hungry.”
He grins at me, and I smile at him in return, feeling both flattered and surprised by all that’s just happened.
“See you tomorrow,” Ruth calls out, waving from beside me.
It’s what she’s been saying all morning. I’m not sure if her presumptuous farewell is a reflection of her confidence in our ability to make a mean cup of coffee, or her belief that she’s a bright spot to the men’s mornings, or both. Regardless, they haven’t failed to return yet. Only right now, I know she’s not hoping this one will come back for her, but for me.
When Henry nods his agreement, lifting his coffee in a silent toast as he turns to open the door and take his exit, I get the distinct impression that coffee won’t be why he comes back tomorrow.