Page 88 of Digging Up Love
“I don’t think that’s it at all. I think you’rescared.” He shot out the word like a poison-tipped tentacle. She drew her strong arms across her chest to protect her heart.
A small voice told him to stop, but he barreled over the warning, pain giving edge to his words. “You’re scared to tell your family. Scared to open up to me. You’re scared you might fall in love with me.” He let the words flow, fast, before he could change his mind. “Life isn’t always safe. Falling in love is never a sure thing. But if you don’t take down your walls and be honest with people, no one will get in, and you’ll end up alone.”
Across the charged air between them, Alisha spoke, voice flat and calm as the water, her trembling chin the only giveaway. “It’s not me who’s scared of ending up alone, Quentin.”
CHAPTER 31
ALISHA
“What’re you doin’ out here in the rain?”
Eye on the viewfinder, Alisha knelt on the porch and snapped another photo of the white porcelain plate piled with ginger-molasses cookies.
“Just social media stuff.” She’d been back home since last night, with no word from Quentin since he’d stormed away from her on the beach. This morning she’d tried to call, then texted an apology, asking for an update about his meeting with Dr.Yates, and nothing. Not that she blamed him. She’d torn off the scab on the wound closest to his heart.
The crew would return by midweek to finish out the dig. Did he even want to see her again? And if so, what would she say to him about their future? She was still torn between staying and going. Caught between the status quo and the unknown.
She took a last photo, capturing the peeling gray paint of the porch floor—an eyesore according to Mrs.S, but shabby chic in Instagram aesthetics—and the individual sugar crystals on the cookies. Sitting back on her heels, she lowered the camera and smiled up to whereGrandpa stood at the open front door. “Finished.” She picked up the plate and offered him one.
He bit into it and chewed with an appreciative murmur. “Tasty as always.” He crossed over to the porch swing, and she joined him. They swung back and forth for a moment to the patter of rain on the roof.
“You know, you’ve really gone and knocked it outta the park with the dessert menu, Ali girl. Not that I had any doubts. But business is up since we started serving real desserts. I should’ve listened to you a long time ago.”
At his praise, Alisha almost choked on her mouthful of spicy-sweet cookie.
“Although, whether that’s thanks to your desserts or our fifteen minutes of fame remains to be seen.” She slanted him a look and caught him grinning. “Teasing, Ali. And no, we didn’t have any trouble from nosy newsmen while you were away, like I been telling ya since last night. All quiet, except half the town’s on our case for not sharing the news ourselves. But they’ll get over it.”
The rain picked up, streaming down in a curtain, and he raised his voice over the racket. “I came out to ask a favor. I know you’re busy with orders and whatnot, but I was hoping you could whip up a cake for my birthday party. Nothing fancy,” he added.
She swallowed. “Sure! But I thought you were trying to fly under the radar this year.”
He chuckled. “A man can hope. But Hank convinced me I oughta celebrate seventy-five in a big way. Figured we could have a little shindig at the restaurant.” The metal chains creaked as they swung forward and back. “Already asked your sister, but she can’t make it down on such short notice.” He took another bite, and a small shower of crumbs bounced off his belly.
“Fine by me, though. Glad she’s got her career all taken care of. Won’t catch me complainin’ about a steady job.” He eyed the half-eaten cookie in his hand, tufts of white arm hair standing out aroundhis leather wristwatch. “Which reminds me, with business at Honey and Hickory good as it is, and you having free rein with your desserts, maybe you wanna take a break from this?”
She pivoted toward him on the threadbare cushion. “Why would I want a break from it?”
“I’ll never understand your generation, spinnin’ out your energy in a thousand different directions,” he said, more to the rain-soaked garden than her. Alisha kept her mouth shut, so he went on, louder. “As delicious as your cookies are, Ali—and theyaremighty tasty, don’t get me wrong—your side business is a distraction.” He sniffed.
“From what, exactly?”
“From yourjob.” He leaned heavy on the last word. “The one I’m paying ya for. In case you’d forgotten.”
No. She had not, in fact, forgotten who signed her checks, or whose roof she lived under. Four months and an entirely revamped dessert menu, yet nothing had truly changed. Ribs tight, she sat paralyzed. The water sluicing out of the eaves made her ears ring.
After all she’d done to atone for the sins of her father, Grandpastillsaw her as a burden?
She leveraged herself to her feet, and the swing jerked on its chains. “How could I forget?”
The short walk across the porch lengthened, swallowed her up. She made it to the door and eased it shut behind her—quiet, slow. Leaned her head against the doorframe. Granny called out something from the living room, but Alisha ignored her, blindsided.
Grandpa didn’t want her here anymore. Granny didn’t need her. The fence around her was built of self-doubt, not circumstance. Quentin was right. She couldn’t stay in Hawksburg forever. But was she brave enough to leave?
CHAPTER 32
QUENTIN
Tre swung open the door of his condo. “Here he is, the man of the hour! Can I have an autograph, Dr.Harris?”
