Page 151 of Rough and Rugged

As the weeks went on, Cal shared kitchen tips and cooking became one of my guilty pleasures. After twenty years of eating what was placed in front of me, I challenged myself, learning to make delicious meals from scratch, enjoying the freedom of experimenting with ingredients. Much to my surprise, I found that I like the precision of baking even more.

The old bell rings above the door as it opens, and I spot someone in my usual booth at the back. Grinding my teeth, I divert to the opposite side of the small dining room.

“Tourists,” I mutter, glancing over my shoulder at the man sitting in my spot. I know the fragile economy here relies heavily on the influx of visitors during the summer, but I can’t help the resentment as they intrude on my peace.

Sammi saunters over to my table as a woman and young child emerge from the restroom and join him, and I force myself to look away. Smiling up at her, I grin when she pours hot coffee into the plain white mug on the table without prompting.

“Mornin,’ sugar,” she says brightly. “The usual?”

I nod, grabbing the coffee and drinking half of it down before I say a word. “You know it.”

She scribbles on the order pad before topping off the mug and walking away with a friendly wink. No matter what time of day or how busy, Sammi is always smiling. At first, it was off-putting, but now it’s part of her charm.

The diner is busier than usual, another clue to the changing season. I’m sitting by a side window, and I can feel the warm sun coming through the glass, easing some of the tension humming inside me the longer I’m away from home. People passing by glance at me, making me feel exposed. My scar is visible, facing the street, and self-consciousness flares within me, though logically, I know that they’re moving too quickly to notice.

I’m lost in thought when I hear the bell ring as the door opens. When I glance up, I see a woman enter, walking over to an empty table at the front of the diner, right in front of the window that faces the busy main street.

She pulls out a chair and sits, her profile toward me. I stare, transfixed, taking in her delicate features and dark, wavy hair falling in a curtain down her back. When she looks up at Sammi’s approach, offering her a beaming smile, my heart stutters in my chest. My fingers grip the edge of the table hard enough that I’m surprised it doesn’t break in an effort to keep myself from rushing over to her.

I bite back a groan as I watch her bend over to grab something from a bag beside her chair, the movement giving me the slightest hint of cleavage before she rights herself, giving me just enough clarity to resist her siren call. My cock is painfully hard, finally showing interest in someone real, not an anonymous face on a computer screen.

I wonder what her long hair would feel like as I run my fingers through it or if she likes it when a man holds onto it, using it to guide her up and down his cock as her lips wrap around him. My hand clenches involuntarily into a fist, pressing painfully into my thigh as I try to regain control of my imagination.

I’m not sure how long I watch her, my mind running a million miles an hour wondering who she is and what she’s doing here. Her hands are wrapped around a camera, and her lips are tipped up in a smile as she looks at images on the screen. I shake my head to clear my thoughts when jealousy whelms within me as I wonder if it’s photos of another man that have captured her attention.

“You okay, sugar?” Sammi asks, clearing her throat as she sets a large plate down in front of me. I blink, looking up at her, wondering how long she’s been standing here watching me lose my mind over a stranger.

“Fine,” I choke out, ashamed of myself.

She gives me a sassyharumphand turns to walk away.

“Thanks, Sammi,” I say before digging into my breakfast. Forcing my eyes to remain locked on my plate, I eat quickly, grabbing my wallet and tossing enough money for a week of breakfasts onto the table and rushing out of the diner without looking in her direction again.

Chapter Four

Briar

Sweetie’shasthatperfect,small town Southern charm I’d been hoping for when I chose Shady Rock as the home base for my summer class project. Jasmine vines are crawling up the rock exterior, and even though the blooms are mostly gone, faint traces of the fragrant scent cling to the air.

When I enter, I take a seat at the first empty table I find, happy that I can look out the large window at the main street. I’m not waiting long before a friendly waitress comes to take my order. Telling her to surprise me, I laugh when she accepts my challenge with a wicked grin.

Reaching down, I grab my camera from the bag at my feet, scrolling through the photos I’ve taken this morning around town, smiling as I zoom in on a large, dark purple Iris. The flower is in focus, but behind it and to one side is an old couple on a park bench. They’re out of focus, but they’re holding hands, gazing at each other, and it’s clear that they’re still madly in love.

That’s the kind of love I want to find.

Someone moving quickly through the diner catches my attention just before the front door closes with a loud thud, and I see a large man walk past the window. He’s only in view for a few seconds, but I’m riveted. He’s tall—his head nearly out of view at the top of the window—and broad. The kind of build that makes a woman feel small and protected in all the best ways.

Before I can do more than glance at his chiseled features, he’s gone, leaving me with a pang of disappointment.

“Alice and William,” Sammi says, glancing over my shoulder as she sets a glass of cranberry juice on the table. “They’ve been married for sixty-seven years.” Her wistful sigh tells me there’s a story behind it.

“That’s so sweet!” I say, mentally doing the math. “I’d love to hear about them.”

Cultivated flowers and love stories of beloved octogenarians are hardly the focus of my class project—the last hurdle before I graduate—but I can’t help my curiosity.

Sammi looks around, checking her tables, before she pulls out the chair beside me and launches into an unbelievable story of family rivalries, forbidden love, war, and happily ever after, spanning nearly seven decades.

“Wow,” I sigh, looking from Sammi back to their image on the screen. “I’m no writer, but that sounds like an epic romance novel.”

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