Page 15 of Grumpy Biker's Bride
What I have is a rented room up a flight of stairs, lovely and temporary, rent paid in croissants. A job I adore that ends whenGus's gallbladder finishes healing, in a building that may belong to Rotmere in a month. And Hawk.
I love him. I write that on the envelope too, because it's the truth and makes more sense than math. I love his gravelly voice. I love that he gave me his grandmother's secret recipe and how safe he makes me feel. But I can't make Grandma's recovery stand in the same space as my heart. I traded myself to Keith for what he promised, and that promise evaporated with sixty dollars folded in a letter.
Bishopsdale has cheaper rent. It isn't much of a future. But June needs a ground floor room and I intend to make it happen.
And there it is, in pencil, on the back of an envelope. The answer I hate.
I write a note to Marvin first. I thank him, I tell him Gus's kitchen taught me more in weeks than some kitchens teach in years, and I copy out the venison and huckleberry special onto a recipe card. A recipe is the only thing I have worth leaving.
Viv's note is quick to write, because Viv will understand.
The blue bedroom was as perfect as you are. Thank you. My grandmother needs a ground floor room, and I need to find a secure job and a home for her. One croissant owing. I’m leaving a note at Marvin’s and some money for the croissant. T.
Hawk's note takes me the whole night.
Every version sounds like Keith's letter.I'm sorry. You deserve better.I sit on the floor with pages around me and my hand over my mouth so Viv won't hear me crying.
In the end I tell him the truth, that Grandma June needs me to provide for her. Not to come after me, because it’s not fair on him. And that he’s the best man I ever met and I don’t want him to hate me. I’ll have to mail it to him once I’m back in Bishopsdale.
While it's still dark I carry my suitcase down Viv's stairs in my socks, leave her note by the coffee pot and my key on top of it, and let myself out into the cold.
The mountains are going pink behind the town as the sun rises.
The depot's three streets over. Marvin's is on the way, near enough, and his envelope is the last thing holding me here. I cut down the alley to the back lot, ready to slide it under the door.
But the kitchen light is on.
The smell of baking reaches me and my feet stop.
It's Wednesday. Hawk bakes on Wednesdays.
Chapter Ten
HAWK
Yesterday Taryn texted me.
Taryn: Tired tonight. Need some rest.
I've read a lot of signs in my life. Animal trails, the color of the sky in the morning, and the way birds go quiet before weather. I lay awake half the night reading those words and wondering what they mean. I'm at Marvin's before dawn with my shoulders up around my ears, taking it out on pie dough.
Grandma used to say you can taste a man's mood in his crust. Today's batch is going to taste like a rockslide.
I'm pulling the first pie out of the oven when the back of my neck prickles. Years of stand hunting and military service will do that to a man. Somebody's watching.
I look up through the window over the sink, and there she is.
Taryn's standing at the edge of the back lot, just past where the kitchen light reaches, in her coat with her hood down. Her suitcase is in her hand.
My heart drops into my boots. She's out there in the cold looking in, and from the suitcase, she didn't expect the light to be on.
I make myself breathe and try to calm down. It’s hard, because every part of me wants to go through that door at a run and gather her into my arms. She’s spooked.
So I wipe my hands on my apron, walk over, and open the back door. She's twenty feet away with an envelope in one hand, clutching that damn suitcase.
“Kitchen's warm,” I say.
Then I leave the door standing open and go back to my pies.
