"Because it gives me an excuse to grab one for me. Iseriouslyneed one." She abandoned the baking supplies and practically bolted from the kitchen, leaving me staring after her.
Huh. What wasthatabout?
17
Small Town, Big Grip
Griff
It was my second day on the job, and I'd realized something big. In such a small town – in this case literally an island – secrets didn't stay secret for long.
It's not like I'd been blabbing. Quite the opposite. Even with Maisie, I hadn't used my full name. But based on the number of curious glances thrown my way, it was obvious that my arrival – and my sudden employment – had not gone unnoticed.
Still, the shop itself was a decent place to pass the time. While Maisie handled the front counter and customer drop-offs, I slipped into the back room where I could work in peace. The air smelled like rubber and chain oil, and the moment I got my hands on a busted three-speed with a sticky shifter, I found my rhythm.
The work was easy, but that wasn't why I liked it. I'd forgotten how much I missed this – fixing something with my own hands. No meetings. No presentations. No media statements. Just parts, tools, and focus.
By late morning, I'd tuned two bikes, replaced a bent derailleur, and reorganized the toolbox just the way I liked.Was I overstepping? Hell no.The wayIsaw it, if this was going to be my domain for the next month, I'd clear away the clutter and get things humming.
A wide wooden door separated the front space from the back, and I'd been keeping it mostly shut while I worked. Already,Maisie had peeked in twice – once a couple of hours ago to offer coffee, and just now to offer lunch.
The coffee, I'd taken. But the lunch? That was a different story. Recalling yesterday's sandwich, I replied without pausing my work. "No thanks."
This made her frown. "But that was part of the deal. I mean…I don't want you working for free."
Yeah, andIdidn't want to use Maisie's credit card to buy food. It felt wrong, even if it wasn't. When I made agreements, I stuck to them – which was why I was here. But yesterday's sandwich hadn't settled in more ways than one.
Call me old-fashioned, but I liked to pay my own way. I'd known this even yesterday, when I'd walked into that small-town café and paid with a card that wasn't my own.
Sure, I'd done it. But I hadn't liked it.
I'd walked out feeling like a world-class loser. Sure, I knew I wasn't. But knowing and feeling were two different things.
And then came the cranberries.
Fucking cranberries.
What were they?A regular staple around here?
To Maisie, I replied, "Yeah, well, I'm not hungry." It was utter bullshit, of course. So far, I'd been surviving mostly on those cranberry pastries, which were already halfway gone. Some might call this a blessing considering the heaping hell of dried fruit in every bite.
But forget pastries. What I really wanted was a ribeye the size of Texas and a baked potato so loaded it needed its own plate. While I was at it, I wouldn't mind a basket of homemade dinner rolls with extra butter. My mouth watered at the thought.
I recalled the bag of potato chips I'd purchased yesterday. I hadn't even opened it – not because I didn't want to, but because I was saving it for tonight, and I knew that once I opened thebag, those chips would be down my gullet before the bag hit the table.
Maisie edged closer to say, "But youwillbe hungry, right?"
Hell, I was hungrynow. And yeah, we'd made a deal. But life was funny that way. Sometimes, things sounded good in theory but didn't jive with real life – or with people's personalities.
And my own personality? Turns out, I was a lot prouder than I'd thought.
I was still mulling it over when she added, "I mean, youwilleat?"
Something in the way she said it made me smile. "Well, I'm not on a hunger strike, if that's what you're thinking."
Just then, the bell on the front door jingled, and a gaggle of female voices filled the front room. The connecting door was open just a crack, but their conversation carried loud and clear – like a gossip grenade with the pin already pulled.
"Is that him at the fence?"
