Page 20 of Reckless Chances
“What can I do?” Emma stepped behind Charlie and hugged him from behind. His heart skipped a beat, she hadn’t run screaming. He patted her hand. You just relax, maybe pick out some music?” He flicked on the Bluetooth speaker.
Emma paired her phone to the speaker and Charlie couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face as he watched her scroll through the music on her phone. “Do you have any requests?” she asked without looking up.
“Surprise me.” He mixed the ingredients for crepes and poured the batter onto a sizzling cast iron pan. Over the hissing and popping butter, he first heard her giggle and then a twangy guitar riff from the speaker. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Country?”
“I don’t have any obscure hipster stuff.”
“What makes you think I’m a hipster?” He pulled an antique manual beater from a hook on the wall and started whirring the latest batch of whipped cream.
“The hair, the beard, the suspenders.” She came up behind him. “The tiny home, the aversion to modern-day appliances...” She stuck her finger in the bowl.
“Careful...” he lifted the beater out of the bowl, his fingers gripping the handle for the wheel. “These old ones have claimed many a finger.”
She stuck her finger in her mouth, her pink lips pursed around her finger. Charlie had to look away, squeezing his eyes tightly to rid the image of a part of him in that rosebud mouth of hers. Johnny Cash’s voice filled the room and Charlie sang into the beater along with the lyrics. “Would a hipster know the words to this song?” he asked.
“Maybe ironically,” she giggled. “Do you actually like country music?”
“I live in Chance Rapids. It sneaks up on you until you’re singing along to every song on the radio. And, I started the suspender thing years ago. And the beard...” he rubbed his chin, the scar camouflaged beneath the thick beard. “I ‘ve had it for years too.”
“Those smell amazing,” Emma said.
“Shit,” Charlie turned and grabbed a spatula from the pottery holder on the counter, flipping the crepe just in time. The sun filtered in through the tea towel curtains while the coffee percolator gurgled on the stove, and the most beautiful woman he’d ever met was humming along to Johnny Cash at his side. Could this really be happening to him? He leaned over and kissed Emma’s cheek. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” She squeezed his waist. “This place is amazing.”
She had no idea how much that statement meant to him. He felt a surge of adrenaline rush through his body and had to steady himself against the counter. He loved her. He knew it in that second.
“Are you okay?” she squeezed him tighter.
He was terrified. “I’m fine, but maybe I’m a little hungover,” he said.
“Let me get you some water.” She took a mason jar from the open shelves and filled it from the tap.
“Thanks.” He took a sip. “Emma, I have to tell you something.”
She put her hands on her hips and leaned against the counter. “Ooookay.”
“It’s not bad.” He set the glass down on the counter.
I love you. He said in his head, but there was no way he was letting those words slip out – not yet anyway. “I feel like I know you. Or, I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s so weird. The first day you walked into the job site, I felt like I had seen you before.”
Her brow was knitted. She obviously didn’t feel the same way. “Maybe I have a twin,” she shrugged. “I’ve never been to Chance Rapids, and I’m pretty sure I would remember if I had seen you somewhere,” she tugged at the belt loop of his pants.
“Yeah, maybe you have a twin,” Charlie agreed. Emma was right, if he had met her, there’s no way he could’ve ever forgotten her - she confirmed that they never met, but the nagging feeling remained. He plated the crepes and pulled out a bottle of maple syrup from the tiny propane fridge.
“Rum?” she asked, eyeing the bottle.
“It’s maple syrup,” he laughed. My brother makes it from his bush lot in Vermont, I guess he ran out of plain bottles. He flipped down the folding table and set out a stool for Emma and himself.
Charlie watched as Emma devoured the plate of crepes. For such a tiny woman, she sure had a voracious appetite – and he loved watching her eat. “You have used the space here really well.” She pushed the empty plate away from her and dabbed the side of her mouth with the cloth napkin.
Visiting a home like this was one thing, and Emma sure looked at home in his space. “Do you think you could live like this?”
“What? Like in the middle of nowhere, or in a micro-home?”
