Page 26 of Lovewell Lane (Honeyfield Dreamers #1)

Margo

My phone buzzing nonstop made me groan. Waking up at four in the morning was something I would never get used to. I rolled over to find the water bottle that I always kept next to the bed when I completely fell off.

I made a massive thump as I fell on the hardwood beneath me and looked down at the floor very confused. This wasn’t the color of my floors. My floor was a pale piney-looking wood floor. This was distinctly darker and more walnut-like.

I was still staring stupidly at the floor when the door opened, and Derek walked in. His hair was stuck up in all different places, and he looked sexy as hell in his sweatpants with no shirt on. This was the first time I’d ever seen him shirtless. I was definitely dreaming.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

I looked around to discover that I was in Derek’s room and that I was distinctly not dreaming.

“Oh, sorry.” I pushed myself up to sit upright on the floor. “I just fell off the bed. I thought I was in my room.”

He let out a sigh and reached down to lift me up onto my feet. Most people would help someone up by taking their hand. This caveman put both of his hands on my waist and lifted me until I was upright. Which I appreciated because I was still half asleep.

“You have to go to the diner?” Even his voice was sexy. The words slurred together to form a new sexy, growly language. It was even more rough than usual with sleep. I wanted to pull him back into his bed and force him to read me romance novels.

Instead, I simply nodded and looked up at him with heart eyes.

“I should go get ready,” I decided. Literally, I shook my head to get the thoughts of Derek out of it. Four in the morning was way too early to be pining after a hot farmer man who was emotionally unavailable.

“Okay. Do you want coffee?”

“No, I’ll get it at Lucky’s. See you around?” He nodded and stood at his back door, watching me go back inside mine.

The drive over to the diner left me too much time to think. Which was exactly eight minutes. I blasted the country music station that the radio in my Kia was permanently stuck on, but it did nothing to distract me. I had my diner to look forward to, and that was everything.

The butterflies in my stomach felt different than anything I’d ever experienced. I was excited to open a diner. Usually, those butterflies only came before a big trip or an adrenaline-inducing activity. But lately, I was getting them in my everyday life.

I wasn’t sure if I’d done something very right or very wrong. But it felt right.

Going to bed at nine. Waking up at four. Working for twelve hours. Greeting guests. Eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the diner. Talking to Scarlet on my drive home.

That was my routine for two months after I kissed Derek. I did nothing else.

I was officially on the grind, but it felt way more fulfilling than I imagined those stupid productivity influencers felt. I was working twelve hours a day because it was a joy, not to get rich. At least that was what I kept telling myself.

One month in, I finally hired a second server. Myself and Sarah had worn ourselves out, and I needed to be able to give her a break. The two of us and Mike had grown so much closer, trial by fire I guessed, but we still needed more help.

Every morning, I parked my car on the side street adjacent to Lovewell Lane and took the long walk to the back of the diner.

I noticed Derek had started parking next to me on days he was working at the store.

He also made sure to wave at me when he was walking into the store at six a.m. sharp. Usually every other day.

Even on days he wasn’t working, I found myself glancing up right on time to look for him.

We hadn’t spoken much. Not since the kiss. Not since I woke up on his bedroom floor.

I caught him staring at me a lot, though.

Through my diner window when he was working at his store.

At home when we both crossed paths in the backyard.

I still made an effort to see Tessa when I saw she was out after dinner playing with the ducks alone.

We were cordial when I dropped off leftover bakery treats after work some days and when Tessa invited me to participate in their nightly farm chores.

I secretly set aside an extra loaf of bread every week just for Derek.

I could tell he was waiting for me to say something about it first. He probably had some weird guilt over kissing me when he clearly fought the urge to at all costs.

Maybe even regret. It was the busy season for him too, so I was sure he was throwing himself into work the same way I was.

The giant trucks labeled Weston Farms coming and going every day told me they were doing well.

So, I assumed he was okay with our cordialness.

I didn’t have time to ponder about Derek’s issues.

Maybe the kiss was just a freak incident. I was emotional over the diner opening, and he was clearly embarrassed about rejecting me in the most romantic setting possible. It could have been a pity kiss.

Though it certainly didn’t feel like a pity kiss.

Scarlet assured me it wasn’t a pity kiss either whenever she asked for updates on Derek.

Which wasn’t often since I stopped having updates for her.

I think she could tell it was a sore subject because instead of asking about Derek every day, she made it clear how proud of me she was that I’d stuck with my plan to run the diner.

For once in my life I’d found something that I hadn’t gotten sick of in a matter of weeks.

Two months was officially my record, especially for something as demanding as running a diner.

It kind of felt like one of those games I played as a kid where you open your own business and have to keep growing it to unlock new cool perks.

I used to call them capitalism propaganda. Now I was just a cog in the machine.

And I was loving it.

“Please tell me you have a funny story for me. I am having the worst day ever,” Scarlet said grumpily through the speaker in my car.

“Oh, boy do I. You first though, what’s wrong?” I asked.

Scarlet was silent. I looked at my phone screen to make sure we hadn’t disconnected. The service out here wasn’t the best. “Scarlet?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing really,” she sighed.

“Out with it, woman.”

“Okay, so I found an engagement ring in Chad’s socks,” she said apathetically.

“What? A ring?” If I’d been drinking water I would have done a spit take. Scarlet and Chad had dated for years, but I honestly couldn’t tell you a single thing about the guy other than he wore a lot of dress shirts with his initials on them.

That wasn’t for lack of paying attention, either. I paid very close attention to my best friend. The guy was kind of just invisible. He would blend into a wall if you got distracted enough. He wasn’t particularly nice or mean or anything . He was… Chad.

Needless to say, despite Scarlet dating him for years, I never expected her to marry him. Chad was like grocery bags that you kept under your kitchen sink for years without ever using them but refused to throw them out in case you ever needed them.

“Yeah,” she breathed. It seemed like she was having similar thoughts.

“And you’re not excited?”

“No, I am.” Another long pause. “It’s just, it’s not even gold. I only ever wear gold jewelry and he bought me a silver ring.”

“Oh.”

“I know it’s stupid, I just—”

“It’s definitely not stupid. He should know you better than that.”

“But it could be like a family heirloom or something. I don’t know. It sort of sent me into a spiral. I don’t really want to talk about it, I want to hear your silly story. Shoot.”

“Okay, we will definitely be following up on this later though,” I said. “Alright, you remember the toupee guy from a couple weeks ago?”

“Oh do I? Of course! Did you ever figure out if he’s married or not?” Scarlet asked.

“The wife herself came in to eat with him today.”

“What? So he’s cheating on her? And he has the audacity to take his wife and mistress to the same restaurant?”

“Which is especially crazy because he doesn’t even live in Honeyfield. They live in some other small town half an hour from here. So he went out of his way to bring both of them in.”

“Nothing goes with infidelity like a diner sandwich on your beautifully fresh baked bread.”

“Exactly, I’m honored. Anyway, that wasn’t even the best part.”

“Oh, do tell,” Scarlet encouraged.

“So it turns out the mistress does live in Honeyfield. She’s actually one of our regular’s far removed cousins. He called her up while he was sitting at the bar top and saw the guy with his wife.”

“No. Way.”

“Yes way, and she showed up ten minutes later. Needless to say, there was a confrontation. Thankfully I didn’t have to break up any fights, but it was pretty spectacular. The mistress poured his orange soda all over his white dress shirt.”

“What grown man drinks orange soda anyway? He clearly has a complex.”

“Yup.”

“Maybe Honeyfield is cursed with love. Do you know any happily married couples that live there?”

“There are a lot of married couples, but it’s questionable to determine how happy they are.”

Scarlet sighed into the phone. “I’m guessing there are still no updates on Derek?”

“Nope. I’m about to drop off his bread delivery. That’s usually the most interaction we have nowadays. Sometimes I even just leave it on his doorstep and ring the bell before dashing.”

“You ding dong ditch him?”

“It’s kind of fun. I watch him roll his eyes from the safety of my house.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re keeping it playful, I guess. Maybe once everything has settled with the diner—”

“Oh Scar, sorry I have to go. Just made it home and I think you’re breaking up,” I said while moving my hand over the speaker of my phone.

“Your breaking-up noises are not at all convincing,” Scarlet deadpanned.

“Okay love you, I think there’s a train coming, and wow is that a UFO? Bye!”