“It’s Manny! Manny Finkelstein, the mechanic who helped you change that tire two weeks ago? You dropped your garlic!” he says and uncurls the long fingers to reveal a bulb of garlic in the center of his palm.
“I dropped my... I dropped my garlic. Thank you,” I manage to croak.
“You okay, Jared?”
“I think so.” I look around frantically, but everyone else in the big store seems normal. “Do you know Chloe?” I ask, just because my brain is making connections, my mouth is on autopilot, and my manners are lost in the shuffle.
“From Chloe’s Curiosities? Sure do! Lovely girl.”
“Yeah. I... I’m making her dinner.” That’s not what I wanted to say. I wanted to say, “What are you?” If there are real banshees, and there is this man, who looks like he’s not quite human...
“Really? A little romance?” Manny looks thrilled. “Good luck. She’s an absolute doll.”
I smile, nerves temporarily vanishing. “I’m trying to impress her. I think she’s pretty special, too.”
“Well, take a little advice from one of the old-timers in town. The bakery here is fine, but nothing special. Go to The Pine Loft and ask if Georgie will make you his famous Guinness Chocolate Cake. Tell him it’s for Chloe, and he’ll probably have it ready for tonight.”
“Oh! Wow, thank you. That’s a great idea.”
Manny winks at me. “You strike me as the marrying kind, Jared. We marrying kinds have to stick together. Chloe hasn’t dated in donkey’s years. If she likes you... Lucky fella.”
He talks like an old man. Looks like Frankenstein’s monster, fixes flats, and gives dating advice.
You know what? Chloe and I have to end up together, because if we don’t, I’ll have to leave town... And even if she’s not in love with me, I think I just fell in love with Pine Ridge.
“Thanks, Manny! I’m going to head over to The Pine Loft now—ooh, as soon as I pick up the flowers.”
“Flowers?” Manny’s voice develops the tiniest hint of alarm.
“A dozen red roses? They’re the symbol of love and romance, right?” I try not to sound like a gawky freshman asking for advice from one of the cool older kids, but that’s the way I feel next to Manny.
“Chloe sure does love plants,” Manny nods slowly. “Uh... You know, just thinking ahead here, it might be a good idea to take the thorns off before you give them to her. So she doesn’t hurt her hands.”
I think of how my philodendron shot up and sprouted leaves in seconds when Chloe was happy last night.
“I don’t want thorns the size of shark fins if she gets upset, got it,” I mumble.
Manny gasps. “You know?”
“I know,” I wink, and suddenly, I’m back to cool kid status. I know the secret—and Manny’s scarred, stitched hand reaches out to give me a fist bump.
“Good luck,” he repeats, winks, and walks off.
I WORRY ALL DAY ABOUTwhat to wear, about what wine to bring, about how I’m going to be able to get to know someone when I’ve already broadcast clear signals that I’m lonely and aching for love.
A green sundress with spaghetti straps and adorable green sandals that show off the pedicure I got at lunchtime will work, right?
I hope all of this works.
If it doesn’t, I don’t think I can stay here. Or he can’t stay here. He’ll have to move, or I’ll feel his heartbreak all the time, layered on top of mine.
“Especially not if he keeps cooking like that,” I tell Marmalade as I fasten on my earrings and inhale the mouth-watering aromas that are coming across the street. Fresh bread... Garlic and tomatoes... Meat and onions, and something sweet and savory, and...
Home. He feels like home and home cooking.
I totally do not skip down the stairs, giggling to myself in excitement that I’m about to rush into the big, cuddly arms of a man who is cooking just for me. I’m a powerful businesswoman. In my thirties. I do not giggle and skip.
Oh, the hell with it, yes, I do. I try to compose myself enough to knock on his door, but before I can even raise my hand, Jared is there, smelling like Italian heaven and holding roses in a white vase that looks like it’s an antique.
