Page 1 of Make it Real
ONE
jed
I was usually smarterthan this, I swear.
My family might object, depending on the day, but I liked to think of myself as a pretty sensible guy. I paid my bills on time, I hadn’t been in trouble with the law since a couple of speeding tickets in high school, and I never wore socks with sandals. But every now and then, I managed to do something that showed a disturbing lack of judgment or sense.
Agreeing to meet Callie Matheson for coffee fit squarely in that category.
Waiting at a table in The Busy Bean where she’d suggested we meet up, I scanned the street outside. I’d arrived early because sometime between yesterday’s innocent “Would you get coffee with me?” text and this morning, I’d realized I had no idea why she wanted to get together.
Or that she had my phone number.
At first, I’d assumed it had something to do with the kindergarten class she taught. Since she’d become friends with my family over the winter—and turned out to be my nephew Dylan’s teacher—she’d invited a couple of us to visit the school and speak to her little students. From all I’d heard, my cousin Eden had charmed them with a presentation on the public library, and my brother Wade’s talk about fire safety had been a smash hit. I’d figured my turn had come to tell the kids about local farms or, I don’t know, how many servings of fruit they should have every day, something along those lines.
But around seven this morning, I’d remembered school’s out for the summer. Unless Callie was trying to get a jump on next year’s guest speakers, it seemed unlikely she wanted to ask about an opportunity for her students to Meet the Farmer.
Which left an uneasy weight in my stomach about what she might actually want from me instead.
I couldn’t think of a lot of reasons she would ask me to meet her. I usually only had the one motivation when I asked a woman to get together, but I probably wasn’t the best example there. Other, purely platonic, reasons to invite someone to coffee must exist, but at the moment, I couldn’t think of anything.
Five past ten, and still no Callie. I drummed a light beat on the tabletop, my eyes on the café’s doors. Rigid time constraints were one of the first things I’d gladly let go of when I got out of the Army and came home to Magnolia Ridge, but I would have welcomed promptness today just to ease my mind I hadn’t stumbled my way into a date.
Not that I didn’t like to date. I did. Believe me, I did.
And not that I didn’t like Callie, either. The times our paths had crossed, I’d only had positive impressions of her. My sister and cousins wouldn’t have become so chummy with her if she weren’t good people, and they adored her. A little on the young side, she tended to chatter and could come across as trying too hard, but she pretty much radiated sweetness and enthusiasm.
Exactly why I hoped she hadn’t invited me here with romance on her mind.
I wasn’t a romance guy. I dated plenty, but that was about the extent of it. I didn’t have a whole lot of experience with anything more serious. Guaranteed Callie would want something serious. Nothing about her struck me as someone who dated just for fun.
Ifthat was even why she wanted to meet me. Getting ahead of myself here, but that question mark looming over this coffee date turned my stomach in on itself as minutes ticked by. How many lessons had I learned about using my head and avoiding an ambush, and here I’d gone and walked straight into the unknown.
Finally, I spotted her doing a hurried little skip past The Busy Bean’s front window, rushing to make our appointment.
Wouldnotcall it a date until I had confirmation. Possibly not even then.
She burst through the door, head swiveling to scan the café. She wore a white T-shirt and a pair of cut-off overalls that managed to both ease my fears this was some kind of a formal date, and simultaneously ramp up the coil of tension I had going on. When her eyes hit me, a huge grin sprang to her face, twisting a tiny little something in my gut.
Regret, maybe. Did Iwantto be here on a date with her? Best not to think too much about it.
I stood from the table to greet her. A good foot shorter than me, she tilted her head back and the grin disappeared, taken over by a subtle frown.
“Sorry I’m late. That’s so rude when you agreed to meet me on such short notice.”
“No problem.” Didn’t think I should open by admitting I’d agreed to the meet-up because I’d thought she needed a favor, and only later connected she might have had other ideas in mind. Other ideas I was currently trying to force frommymind.
We moved to the counter, ordered our drinks, and I paid for my Americano and her iced something-or-other. She bounced on the balls of her feet while we waited, her bright blue Converse tapping away with nervous energy. Not a great sign for a non-date explanation. But despite its name, The Busy Bean wasn’t too crowded this morning, and we returned to my table a couple of minutes later, drinks in hand.
She took a seat across from me and pushed a lock of dark hair behind one ear. She’d gotten it cut since we first met at Christmas, and it now hit just below her chin in soft waves that seemed destined to get in her way. Not that I was cataloguing her hair. After twelve years in the Army, I’d learned to notice my surroundings, that’s all.
Although, a pretty woman’s hairstyle had never been part of field training.
“So, what can I do for you?” I took a sip of coffee. Not the best opener, but probably a good idea to keep things a little distant here.
Callie paused a beat as if holding her breath. “I want to proposition you.”
Hot coffee shot down my windpipe. I coughed and spluttered, eyes stinging with tears, throat burning.Notwhat I’d expected her to say. So much for keeping things distant.
