Page 27 of A Tempting Seduction (Protectors of Jasper Creek #5)
Chapter Fifteen
The August humidity hit me like a wall the moment I stepped outside, making my shirt stick to my skin before I'd even unlocked the door to Java Jolt.
I fumbled with the keys, my fingers slippery with sweat and my mind somewhere else entirely.
Kristin had called in sick with a stomach bug, which meant I got the joy of opening by myself.
Normally, I would have grumbled about the early hour and the extra work, but this morning I was grateful for the distraction.
My head was completely in the clouds, and every single one of those clouds had Ford Larson's name written across it.
I flipped on the lights and went through the familiar routine of getting the shop ready. Coffee brewing, pastry case wiped down, register counted. But my hands moved on autopilot while my brain replayed every moment from the other night.
When Bobby arrived with the pastry delivery thirty minutes late, I wasn’t even upset.
I just smiled and asked him about his family as I helped him take the boxes off the dolly.
I started filling the shelves while daydreaming about three nights ago, just like I had been ever since Ford left my duplex after I’d made him breakfast.
As I placed the blueberry muffins on the pretty platters I thought about the way Ford had looked at me when I'd opened my apartment door.
The heat in his brown eyes when I'd suggested he come back after tucking in JR and Suzy.
The feel of his mouth on mine, gentle at first, then demanding in a way that made my toes curl just thinking about it.
My lips tingled as I remembered Ford kissed like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't afraid to take it. He kissed like he meant every second of it. He kissed like he was staking a claim.
The back door buzzer rang, interrupting my very pleasant daydream. I went back and let Jordan in. He had a grin that could have powered the entire coffee shop.
“Well, look who's bright and cheerful this morning,” I said, surprised by his mood. Jordan was usually about as talkative as a tree stump before ten AM. “Did you win the lottery or something?”
“Better.” He hung his jacket on the hook behind the counter and started tying on his apron. “Remember that Apex Legends tournament I've been training for? I placed second last night. Two grand prize money.”
I felt genuinely happy for him. Jordan was completely obsessed with gaming when he wasn't working, and I knew he'd been practicing for this tournament for months.
“That's amazing, Jordan. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I'm thinking about upgrading my whole setup with the prize money. Maybe get that new graphics card I've been eyeing and upgrading my chair.” He moved to check the coffee brewing behind me, already lost in thoughts of his gaming rig.
I went to the front and turned over the sign to say we were open. In walked Mrs. Riley, for a large black coffee and a blueberry muffin. Jordan and I fell into our familiar rhythm, and the morning rush began in earnest.
By nine-thirty, the initial wave had died down, leaving just a handful of customers scattered at tables throughout the shop.
Florence was holding court at her usual spot by the window.
She'd been nursing the same latte for forty-five minutes while keeping a steady eye on everything happening on Main Street.
Florence was Jasper Creek's unofficial information network. If something happened in town, she knew about it within hours. If something was about to happen, she usually knew about that too. She was also harmless as a kitten and had one of the biggest hearts of anyone I'd ever met.
“Ruby, honey,” she called from her table. “Come sit with me for a minute. Jordan can handle things.”
I glanced over at Jordan, who waved me away with a smile. The morning crowd had thinned to just a few customers, and he could easily manage on his own. Damn, I hoped he kept on winning tournaments, I was loving this attitude shift.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and walked over to Florence's table. She patted the chair beside her with the enthusiasm of someone who had news to share.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Congratulations for what?”
“Don't play coy with me, sugar. The whole town's talking about how Ford Larson babysat with you the other night.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “The whole town?”
“Well, maybe not the whole town. But Eunice Reston saw you two on her evening walk, and she mentioned it to her sister Carol, who told the quilting circle this morning. You know how Patsy and Evelyn are about spreading news, and then Evelyn told her husband Pete, who was having coffee with Bernie Faulkes.” Florence waved her hand dismissively. “You know how it goes.”
I did know how it went. News traveled faster than lightning in Jasper Creek, especially news about people's love lives.
“Things are going well,” I admitted, feeling that familiar warmth spread through my chest. “Really well.”
“I'm so happy for you, honey. Ford's one of the good ones, and Lord knows you deserve some happiness after everything you've been through.”
Florence didn't know the details of my past, but she'd picked up enough from Little Grandma and Miss Gladiola to understand that I'd come to Jasper Creek looking for a fresh start.
It was one of the things I loved about this town.
People might be curious, but they respected privacy when it mattered.
“Speaking of happiness,” I said, eager to change the subject away from my love life, “I have some news that might interest you. Miss Gladiola and Little Grandma are throwing a party next week.”
Florence's eyes immediately brightened. “A party? What's the occasion?”
“Just a celebration. Ford's been out of town working on a project in Nashville, and Miss Gladiola and Little Grandma have been waiting for him to get back so they could do their big cooking and baking day. They want to test out some family recipes on a friendly crowd.” I thought about how thoughtful the two ladies were, putting off their plans just so Ford could be part of it.
“It's going to be at the ladies’ house next Saturday at two o'clock.” I really wanted to tell her about my mother’s recipe box, but that would lead to questions that were best left unanswered.
“Oh, how wonderful! I love their gatherings. Little Grandma always makes the best cornbread, and Miss Gladiola has a way with desserts that should be illegal.” Florence was practically bouncing in her chair.
“What can I bring? I make a mean potato salad, or I could do my famous green bean casserole.”
“You don't need to bring anything. They've got it covered.”
Florence gave me a look that suggested I'd just told her the sky was purple.
“Ruby Miller, I was not raised in a barn.
You don't show up to a party empty-handed, especially not one thrown by two ladies who've been feeding this town for decades.
I'm bringing my green bean casserole, and that's final.”
I laughed, knowing better than to argue with Florence when she'd made up her mind. “Fine. Green bean casserole it is. And make sure you spread the word, will you? They want to make sure anyone who's interested knows they're invited.”
“Consider it done.” Florence's eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a woman who'd just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip in weeks. “I'll have the whole town knowing by lunchtime.”
That was exactly what I'd been counting on. Florence was better than a phone tree when it came to getting information out to people. By the time she finished her rounds today, half of Jasper Creek would know about the party.
The thought of the party made me smile. It felt good to be part of something, to have people to invite and plans to make. Two years ago, I would never have imagined myself helping to organize a community gathering. I'd been too busy keeping my head down and trying not to attract attention.
Now, I was talking about parties and introducing my boyfriend to family recipes and planning a future that stretched beyond just surviving each day. It felt like stepping out of a shadowy corner and into warm sunlight.
The lunch crowd started filtering in around eleven-thirty, and I moved back behind the counter to help Jordan with the sudden influx of customers.
The usual suspects appeared: construction workers grabbing coffee and pastries, office workers from the courthouse looking for caffeine fixes, and stay-at-home moms treating themselves to fancy lattes.
I was in the middle of making a complicated order involving extra shots and alternative milk when I turned around and nearly dropped the ceramic mug I was holding.
Lance Leeds stood three people back in line, wearing an expensive suit and a smile that used to make my knees weak. Now, it just made my stomach clench with dread.
He looked exactly the same. Perfectly styled blonde hair, blue eyes that missed nothing, that politician's bearing that made him seem taller than his actual height. He was handsome in that clean-cut, all-American way that photographed well and played perfectly on campaign posters.
He was also supposed to be two thousand miles away in California, basking in his recent election victory and planning his bright political future.
I managed to finish the current order without completely falling apart, but my hands were shaking as I passed the drink across the counter.
Lance's presence filled the small coffee shop like smoke, making it hard to breathe.
Every instinct I'd developed over the past two years was screaming at me to run.
But I couldn't run. Not here, not in front of the whole lunch crowd, not when Jordan was counting on me to help manage the rush. So, I forced myself to keep working, to smile at customers and take orders and pretend that my entire world hadn’t just gone sideways.