Page 23 of The Wedding Run
I open the shop door. “And he will, you know. He’s very successful. He’s what my momma calls a ‘real catch.’”
“I’m not into fishing,” she says, looking up at me. “What about you, Luke? Don’t you want to rule the world?”
“Me? I’m just a simple guy.” I move toward her, and thankfully, she steps into The Brew. I follow with a sigh of relief.
CHAPTER 10
Libby
ADolly Parton song plays on a sound system, providing a retro, down-home vibe. Frankly, I think to myself, Jolene can take my man.
Scents of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon saturate the air. I’m impressed by Luke’s shop. Tables with mismatched chairs painted in bright colors are placed near ample plugs for charging laptops and devices. Booths feature quilted cushions. Stacks of games and used paperbacks rest on an accessible shelf. A group of what looks like church ladies sit in a corner booth, their knitting needles clacking as they chat. It feels like a home away from home.
“You’re late!” Behind the counter, an older woman says from behind the counter as she steams milk for what appears to be a cappuccino. She has a short, gray bob and moves with the agility of a high schooler. “But take your time, Mr. Boss-man.”
Luke waggles a to-go cup at her. “I was here before you opened.”
“I can testify to that!” I add.
Luke grins. Ourtête-à-têteunnerved me as we exchanged shots like a tennis match, slamming them over Derek. I’m notsure who won that round, but I need more caffeine to fuel the next.
“Libby,” Luke says, “this is Roxann. Roxie, this here’s Libby.”
“The bride! I heard it but didn’t believe it. You got some explaining to do, young man.” Roxie wags a finger at her boss.
The female customer waiting at the counter smiles in greeting. “Last we heard, you were the best man, not the groom, Luke Maine!”
Wait. What?Seriously, these folks believe Luke stole me away from Derek? I mean, he’s good-looking and really nice. But…
“It’s not what you think,” Luke says.
Roxie places the cappuccino in front of the customer. “It’s all over town, how you stole the bride from Mr. Fancy Pants. Don’t get me wrong, we’re all cheering for you.” She turns her attention to me. “Congratulations, hon. You’ve got yourself a mighty fine young man. Well, not too young. But not too old, neither. I taught him in fifth grade. Known him and his family all his live-long day. And I’m miffed at him for not including me in the festivities. But apparently, he was in an all-fired hurry to marry you. And I can see why.”
She finally takes a breath.
“Slow down, Roxie,” Luke says. “This is Libby Peterson. Not Maine. And for your information, she’s single.”
“Single?”
“Numero uno.” I toss out as I offer my hand for her to shake. “But with that kind of an endorsement, maybe I should give Luke a second look.”
I smile at him, and he looks like I've knotted a tie too tightly around his neck.
Luke clears his throat. “Roxie was exaggerating on my good qualities.”
“You two aren’t hitched?” Roxie asks.
“Luke was kind,” I say, “or foolish to cross my path on my escape yesterday.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Luke answers Roxie’s question. To me, he adds, “Roxie’s been trying to marry me off since she tried to teach me about decimals.”
“Now that is an exaggeration,” Roxie says. “I waited until you graduated high school before I started matchmaking. But I'm not sure you ever caught on to decimals.”
"That's what calculators are for." He winks.
“You staying in Storybrook long, hon?" Roxie asks. "We could use some new blood.”
“All singles beware,” Luke warns.
