The following Tuesday morning Bridget bagged freshly ground coffee beans and listened with half an ear to the conversation and guffaws of the four elderly gentlemen sitting at the table in the far corner. They’d quickly become regulars, showing up every weekday around nine and staying for a few hours. Lyle, John, Alan and Joe. She smiled to herself. Her guys.
A decade of working in diners and coffee shops had tuned her in to loneliness. She was thankful she could provide a place for them to gather together, and in the process, feel less alone herself. Like many around here, they’d been curious about her, and she’d told them the stuff she didn’t mind people knowing. They’d been content with that.
The scraping of chairs alerted her the guys were on the move. She checked the time. Eleven. The hours passed quickly when the shop was busy. And it had been busy every day. Which brought another concern front and center—what was she going to do about the next three Saturday mornings? She couldn’t run Brewed Awakening and attend driver’s training classes. Kaylee was the only other person who knew how to run the shop, and she’d be with Bridget.
Last Saturday’s sales had been terrific. She couldn’t afford to close the place and potentially lose repeat business. Not now, not when she was just starting out.
Yesterday afternoon she’d had to close early so Mac could take her and Kaylee to the DMV to get their permits. Thankfully, they’d both passed. Excitement mounted at the thought of the official paperwork folded in her purse.
But getting behind the wheel and actually driving? Made her nervous. More than nervous. Terrified.
“Enjoy the rest of your day.” Bridget waved to three of the men as they slowly made their way to the door. After sealing the bag of ground coffee, she began the exciting task of filling an empty sugar packet holder.
“What’s your special drink going to be next week? Something fancy?” Joe Schlock always lingered after the other guys left. If Bridget had to guess, she’d put him a few inches shy of six feet tall. Wiry frame, slight potbelly. He kept his thinning gray hair trimmed short and tended to wear jeans and flannel shirts. She’d talked to him enough to know he’d recently turned eighty, lived alone, missed his deceased wife terribly and loved to chat.
She didn’t mind. The kind of loneliness he dealt with was etched deep inside her, too.
“I haven’t decided yet.” Bridget turned her attention to the board with the menu items. With Thanksgiving only a few weeks away, maybe a twist on something pumpkin spice would be in order.
“Linda lived for her coffee.” Joe pulled out a stool and sat.
Bridget sighed in contentment as she prepared herself for a long-winded trip down memory lane about his late wife. She absolutely loved hearing him talk about Linda. Personally, she hoped if love ever did find her, she’d find someone who adored her the way Joe had adored Linda.
“The second time her cancer came back, I ordered one of those fancy espresso machines, not as top-of-the-line as yours, mind you.” Joe looked at the machine behind her. “Every morning I’d ask her what kind she wanted, and she’d tell me to surprise her.”
“Did you?” Bridget asked. He hadn’t told her about the espresso machine before. It was kind of difficult to picture him making coffee drinks. He seemed more outdoorsy. “Surprise her, I mean?”
“Of course.” He propped his elbow on the counter and waved dismissively. “Had to get creative. I ordered a book with all kinds of recipes, and I ordered all the flavored syrups I thought she’d like. It took some doing because I wasn’t used to buying stuff from the computer. Had to ask a pal to help me figure it out.”
The thought of Joe going to such lengths to make his wife a little happier during cancer treatments brought a lump to Bridget’s throat. That was love.
“What were her favorites?”
“She loved peppermint. And chocolate.” His crooked, bony index finger pointed her way. “And she was partial to a coconut mocha almond latte I made up by accident one time. It tasted like one of those candy bars.”
“Mmm...that sounds delicious. I might need to get your recipe.”
He tapped his finger to his temple. “It’s all up here. First you take the coconut-flavored syrup...” He proceeded to explain the ingredients and how he made the drink, step-by-step, and she could see he knew his stuff.
As Joe moved on to describe another drink—what he called a cappucinn-Joe—she tuned out to pray silently. Lord, You knew I needed someone to watch the store on Saturdays, and here’s Joe, who just happens to know how to make coffee drinks. An answer to a prayer I didn’t even make. Thank You.
“...the secret’s in the heavy cream. I ran out of milk...” Joe went off on a tangent about a dairy farm his friend in Indiana owned, and when he was finished, Bridget clasped her hands below her chin and captured his gaze.
“Are you busy on Saturday mornings until the end of the month?” she asked.
He frowned, thinking a second, and shook his head. “No, I can’t say I am.”
“I’m in a bind. I have—” she hesitated, not wanting to give out any more personal information than necessary “—an appointment, but I don’t have anyone to run the coffee shop for me.”
“I heard you got your driver’s permit. You signed up for classes, too, didn’t you?”
Taken aback, she had no idea how to respond. How had he found that out?
“Jane Tooly said she saw you and Mac’s little sister there yesterday. Jane’s mom’s plates expired, and they had to get those taken care of because the new cop pulled her over and it put her mother in a tizzy—Jane’s words, not mine. He sure has ruffled a lot of feathers, and...”
Was there anything that didn’t get noticed and passed on around here?
“...Miss Davies told Lyle’s sister—she is one of the nicest ladies you’ll ever meet. Crochets little dishcloths and sells them at the bazaar every year—anyway, she said the driver’s ed class had almost filled up and a certain newcomer in town was on the list.”
“Oh, I see.” She hadn’t realized how connected everyone in town was and how quickly news spread. Like a grease fire. An out-of-control one at that.
“You don’t have anyone to watch the shop, huh? I can see where that would be a problem.” He rubbed his chin, staring thoughtfully at the counter. “I don’t suppose Riley Sampson would help you out. She’s not too happy you opened the place, but I can’t think of anyone else who would know how to brew those drinks on your menu.”
The last person she’d ever ask to watch the store was Riley Sampson. The woman had come into the shop last week with a chip on her shoulder and a rude comment for everything. She’d turned her nose up at the menu, then complained loudly to her two companions—both in their late twenties like her—about the prices. She’d even pretended to swipe dirt off the counter with her index finger before the three of them left without ordering a thing.
“I don’t think you understand,” Bridget said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I’m talking about you, Joe. Would you be interested in running the place for me? You’d have to open it, but I’d be back around noon. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, though—the place will be busy and you’ll be the only employee. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
He blinked rapidly, frowned as if confused and then a grin spread slowly across his face. “You want me to run it?” He jabbed his thumb into his chest. “Me?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“You’re sure? I mean, I made Linda her coffee drinks, but I’ve never made them for anyone else, and she liked them, but she didn’t have any other options and she might have just been saying she liked them and I—”
“Yes, I’m sure. I could use the help.”
“You realize I’m eighty.” He was either trying to talk her out of asking him or trying to convince himself she was serious. She guessed it was the latter.
“Yeah,” Bridget said. “I know.”
“Imagine that.” He straightened, his face clearing. “You know most people get tired of me hanging around them. I know I talk too much, but I can’t seem to help it. I don’t remember a time someone wanted me around more, instead of trying to get away from me.”
She let out a light laugh, although it did scrape her heart a bit.
“Well, I need you around more. If all goes well, I’ll finish the driver’s education classes the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend.”
“Your daddy didn’t teach you to drive?”
Her daddy hadn’t taught her much of anything. Hadn’t protected her, either. She wished he would have done a lot of things differently when he’d been alive, like opened his eyes to how her stepmother treated her.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Well, I’m sure they do it different up in the city.” He looked sheepish.
She wouldn’t argue with that. “He died when I was twelve.”
“I’m mighty sorry to hear that.”
A slip on her part. Her parents weren’t a topic she discussed with anyone. Her childhood wasn’t either. “Do you have any time this week for me to train you on the register?”
“Do I have any time this week? Pshaw...all I’ve got is time. Let me grab a bite to eat and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Oh. Okay.” She hadn’t expected him to come back today, but she supposed the sooner she showed him how everything worked, the better. “Don’t rush. We have plenty of time.”
“If you start training me and change your mind, I’ll understand.” He stood, giving her an earnest stare.
“I’m not going to change my mind.” Her heart pinched. She knew how he was feeling. She knew it well. For two years after getting her first job, she’d worried every single day about getting fired. All due to insecurity.
“I won’t let you down, Bridget.”
“See you after lunch.” She waved to him as he turned to leave.
One problem solved.
A cluster of other problems remained, though. The progress of making her apartment cozy was on hold. She’d ordered lamps and a rug from an online store, but they wouldn’t be in until next week. She still wasn’t sleeping well, and there wasn’t much she could do about it. And Operation Baked Goods was an ongoing experiment at this point. She’d baked muffins and cookies, but her displays and packaging were nothing special.
People had been buying them, though, so at least there was that. Maybe when the cellophane packaging, black ribbon and oval labels she’d ordered arrived, the treats would look more appealing.
The bell clanged and a group of ladies she didn’t recognize chatted all the way to the counter. One of them wrinkled her nose at the lopsided applesauce muffins. Two of the women kept talking while the others eyed the menu.
“I am so glad Joe didn’t see us. We would have never gotten away from him.” The older woman with poofy white hair and bright red lipstick shook her head. “I ran into him at the supermarket last week. I kept pushing my cart, or I would have never gotten my shopping done. He followed me down two aisles. I was quite curt with him. Joe has no ability to pick up on other people’s signals...”
The woman behind her—slightly younger and more stylish—pushed to the front and proceeded to order a complicated coffee drink, so Bridget missed the rest of their conversation.
As she began making the drink, doubts crept in about hiring Joe. He’d admitted he couldn’t help himself from talking too much. While Bridget didn’t mind, other people around here obviously did.
He knew how to make the coffee drinks, though. That was what was important. Right? Would people avoid Brewed Awakening on Saturday mornings if they knew he was in charge?
Gritting her teeth, she returned to the task at hand. She didn’t have any alternatives at this point. And she’d already assured him she wouldn’t change her mind.
Bridget cashed out the women and bit the inside of her cheek as they laughed and talked on their way to the table near the front.
She had to keep the shop open on Saturday mornings. If Joe drove away her customers, so be it. The last thing she was going to do was break the man’s heart.
First up, a hot shower. Wait, he’d forgotten to jot down the blue tag 41 on the whiteboard in the ranch office. Mac ground the heel of his hand into his temple as he stopped in his tracks walking to the house late Tuesday afternoon. He’d add it tomorrow morning. Every bone in his body ached at the moment.
He’d better set a reminder on his phone. Every calf he’d decided to keep over the winter was too important to let slip through the cracks. Mac took his phone out of his coat pocket and typed in a reminder to check the calf.
His breath spiraled in the air. It had been another long day in the saddle. This time of year always put him on alert. Had he baled enough extra hay over the summer or would he need to supplement with purchased hay? The pastures didn’t offer enough forage for his herd to graze all winter.
He didn’t want Dad to end up being right that it was foolish to keep those extra calves.
Mac marched on toward the house, eyeing the sky. What was the weather forecast? The threat of early winter storms put him on edge. Didn’t seem to be one brewing, though.
Kaylee had gotten a ride home from school earlier, so at least he hadn’t had to drop everything to drive into town for once, but even with the extra hour on the ranch, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was behind.
As he reached for the side door leading to the house, the rumble of a vehicle in the driveway got his attention. A black truck stopped. Out stepped John Lutz. The man ambled toward him.
Mac really didn’t have the energy for this. He barely had time to get cleaned up before he had to pick up Bridget and drop her and Kaylee off at the community center where their driver’s ed classes were being held.
“What can I do for you, John?” He tried to keep his tone pleasant, but his insides begged for this encounter to be over with ASAP.
“I’ve got those quotes I mentioned. The estimated expenses to repair the irrigation diversion.” John held out a stack of papers, pointing to a column on the left of the top page. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, but we can go inside and I’ll walk you through it if you’d like.”
“Not necessary,” Mac said a little too quickly. “I’m sure I’ll have no problem figuring it out.”
“If you have any questions, I can help.” John frowned. “Although page three gets a bit tricky. Maybe I should get you up to speed...”
“Actually, I have to run Kaylee into town soon.”
His face brightened. “How is she? I hear she’s helping out at the new coffee shop. Mary and I need to get over there soon.”
“She’s good.” At the very least, improving. “She’s taking driver’s ed classes, so...”
“You’re not gonna teach her yourself?” He scratched his stubble.
“I think it’s best left to the professionals.” He aimed for good-natured in his reply, but he inwardly bristled. Sure, most of the locals skipped formal training and taught their kids how to drive, but he was new to this. He didn’t want to take the chance he’d teach her wrong or forget something important and be the reason she got in an accident.
Kaylee was the only family he had left, and he wanted her around until they were both old.
“You might have a point, there.” John chuckled. “Those Danbury kids sure could have used lessons. I don’t know if their ma and pa taught them a lick about driving. I’ve seen the youngest hot-rodding out on Old Bend Road more than once.”
Terrific. Now he had to worry about other drivers on the road, too. Until this point, he’d only been worried about Kaylee. Mac glanced down at the papers he was holding and moved them to his other hand.
He didn’t have time for chitchat. The moment grew awkward, then John pointed to the estimates. “Holler if you have any questions.”
“I will.” He exhaled in relief when John turned and strolled back to the truck.
Mac didn’t even wait until John started up the truck before heading into the house. He hung up his coat in the mudroom and massaged his neck while heading down the hallway.
“Come on! We’re going to be late.” Kaylee sat on the couch and shoved one foot into a running shoe.
He tossed the stack of papers onto the console table and kept walking.
“Mac!”
Stopping, he fought a groan and let his head drop back. He was taking five minutes to clean up in the shower and if it made them late, they’d be late. There was no way he was getting in the truck smelling like a pile of manure.
“I’ll be ready in five minutes.” He was surprised he sounded so calm. “Grab a bite to eat while you’re waiting, okay?”
“I thought we were stopping to get tacos.”
“No time.” His stomach grumbled at the thought of tacos. “We’ll get something to eat after your class.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She’d be starving by then, no doubt, but what else could he do? He’d lost track of time, and then John had stopped by and...
From the minute he’d arrived here to live full-time as a freshman in high school, Mac had immersed himself in the ranch. He doubted he would change. Didn’t want to, either.
Until recently, it had been fine for him to spend all day checking cattle and doing chores. He’d never had anyone else depending on him. But with Kaylee here...
The ranch didn’t run itself.
So why did he feel guilty doing his job?
Because you have the money to hire more people if you really want to, but you don’t want to, do you?
Shutting his bedroom door, he faced the truth. The ranch was his first love. It mattered to him in a way his father had never understood. Mac might have more on his plate now that Kaylee was living here, but it didn’t make the ranch any less important to him.
The cattle, the land, the equipment and everything on this patch of Wyoming depended on him. He hadn’t let them down yet, and he had no intention of letting them down ever. He’d just have to take each new challenge one step at a time.
Bridget’s eyes were glazed over as she and Kaylee stepped into Mac’s truck after the first driver’s ed class ended. Talk about information overload. This whole getting-her-driver’s-license thing was turning out to be a big headache.
“Thanks a lot, Mac.” Kaylee sounded disgusted. “You officially found us the most boring instructor on the planet.” The girl climbed into the back seat, leaving Bridget to buckle into the passenger seat.
“I’m sorry?” He waited for them to get settled before backing out of the parking spot.
Bridget rested the side of her head against the glass and stared up at the stars. They were so bright. There had to be a bajillion up there. She’d never dreamed the sky could display such a magnificent show. Back home, the city lights had dimmed the stars.
“I’m starving,” Kaylee announced. “We’re getting tacos, Bridget.”
“Yum.” She didn’t have the energy to protest, and besides, she really loved tacos.
“I can drop you off first, if you want.” Mac looked her way. Bridget let out the teensiest of sighs. Even in her tired state, her body hummed at seeing his perfect face and hearing his low, smooth voice. She gulped. Maybe she should get dropped off.
But tacos...so yummy...
“If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to join us.” He turned onto a side street.
“I’m hungry.” She didn’t even try to deny it. She was hungry for more than tacos—she craved companionship. She didn’t want to be alone right now. Which was odd, since she’d literally been around people since opening the shop at seven this morning. Normally, being alone didn’t bother her.
“I’m famished,” Kaylee said dramatically.
“We know, all right?” Mac flashed her a grin in the rearview.
Bridget liked the way they teased each other.
“Let’s hope Rex still has tacos left from the Tuesday rush...” He turned into the parking lot behind the Barking Squirrel, and the three of them got out of the truck. Bridget rubbed her forearms. Even wearing her winter coat, she felt chilled.
Mac held the restaurant door open for them, and they found a booth along the wall. The place was emptying out—clearly the dinner rush had come and gone. A waitress stopped by wearing a red polo shirt and jeans. They all ordered tacos and sodas, and Mac requested queso and chips as an appetizer.
“I don’t think I can sit through thirty hours of these classes.” As soon as the waitress arrived with their drinks, Kaylee tore the paper off her straw.
“You’d be surprised at what you can sit through.” Mac sat across from Bridget and Kaylee, and Bridget couldn’t help but stare at him. He was even more attractive in close quarters.
Who was she kidding? He was a fine-looking man in any quarters.
“I can barely sit through biology every day,” Kaylee said. “Now this? Uh-uh. Braxton was right. Driver’s ed is a waste of time.”
“Braxton Crossdale?” Mac snorted. “I wouldn’t listen to that kid.”
“Well, I don’t have much of a choice. He’s my lab partner.”
“I’ve seen him drive, Kay.” He leaned over the table. “The kid hits every curb he comes across. His front end will have to be replaced by the new year if he keeps it up.”
Bridget sipped her drink, thankful Mac and Kaylee were comfortable enough with each other to push each other’s buttons. She, personally, had never felt safe pushing anyone’s buttons, not after spending years trying to avoid her stepmother’s rages.
All the times she’d been screamed at, locked in her room for no reason, forced to scrub bathroom floors with a toothbrush... Bridget shook away the horrible memories. She was certain the woman had had an undiagnosed mental disorder, but little good the information did her now.
Hopefully, the queso would come soon. As if the waitress heard her, a platter of nacho chips and cheesy dip appeared in the center of the table. Three hands dove in immediately.
“Delaney said only rich kids go to driver’s ed.” Kaylee crunched on a chip.
“Tell her only smart kids go.” Cheese dripped off the end of the chip he was holding and fell with a plop onto the table.
“Her mom and dad made her drive the country roads by their house.”
“Well, you’ll be doing the same soon,” he said. “When we have a little free time, I’ll teach you the basics.”
Bridget was on her fifth chip. Or sixth? Who cared. She took another bite.
The thought of actually driving a car brought goose bumps to her arms. When would she learn the basics? Was it even possible for her to learn them? The idea of operating a vehicle intimidated her beyond belief.
“It won’t matter,” Kaylee mumbled.
“Why?” Mac straightened in his seat.
Kaylee shrugged. “Never mind.”
“Something’s going on. Tell me.” He sipped his drink.
“It’s just...everyone looks at me weird.”
“What do you mean?”
Kaylee’s face flushed as she munched on a chip, clearly avoiding answering the question.
“Because you’re taking driver’s ed classes?” Mac’s eyebrows drew together.
“Not just that. It’s...everything.”
Bridget figured it was time to join the conversation. “I get weird looks, too, Kaylee. Don’t sweat it. Sunrise Bend doesn’t get a lot of new people. They’ll get used to us.”
“You think so?” She brightened and reached for another chip.
“Yeah.” Bridget nudged her elbow into Kaylee’s arm. “Oh, look, the tacos are here.”
Plates filled with hard-shelled tacos, beans and rice were placed before them, and they all attacked their food.
“If anyone makes you uncomfortable, let me know.” Mac gave Kaylee a stern look between bites. “I’ll take care of it. The Crossdale kid better lay off.”
She blanched. “No. No. I don’t want you to say anything to anyone. Promise me, Mac.”
Oh boy. Bridget kept chewing, willing Mac to say the right thing.
“If you’re being harassed...” he said.
“I’m not.”
“If that changes...”
“I’ll tell you.” Kaylee nodded.
“Okay.” Mac’s jaw tightened. “You know, I’ve been in your shoes before.”
“I doubt it,” Kaylee said under her breath.
Bridget watched the exchange with unabashed fascination as she shoveled another forkful of rice into her mouth.
“I moved to Sunrise Bend when I was fourteen.” He gave Kaylee the look that said you need to listen. He glanced at Bridget, too, but she wasn’t sure what his expression was telling her. “I’d spent the previous two summers on the ranch with Otis and Helen—I don’t think you met her before she died. Anyhow, I did not want to go to the college prep high school Dad had picked out for me. I’d gotten to know Austin, Jet and Sawyer when I was here the previous summer, and I wanted to go to high school with them and work on the ranch with Otis. So I told Dad.”
“I didn’t know that’s how you ended up here.” Kaylee picked up her second taco. “I can’t believe Dad actually let you move. You were younger than me.”
“It was not a good conversation.” His eyes grew hooded as if the memories were painful. Bridget took another bite. Interesting. His life wasn’t as perfect as she’d previously assumed. “The first day of high school, the kids in the hallway parted like a zipper when I walked in. They all stared at me and whispered. I never felt so out of place in my life.”
“That’s what they did to me, too,” Kaylee said softly.
“I’m sorry. For both of you,” Bridget said, meaning it.
Kaylee flashed a grateful smile to her. Mac did, too.
“For a long time,” Mac said, “all I heard were cracks about how nice it must be to have a rich father. But after a while, they got to know me. And they realized the only thing different about me was the fact my dad had a lot of money. They got used to me, and they’ll get used to you, too.”
Bridget took another drink. She didn’t want to feel sorry for Mac, but she kind of did. Of course, it was nothing like what she’d been through. But still.
“What if they don’t?” Kaylee asked.
“You’ll always have me.”
With her eyes burning, Bridget turned her attention to her plate. That’s what made her different from Mac. Different from Kaylee.
They had each other.
And she’d been tossed out on her own. Alone. Like garbage.
Sixteen years old. She’d been sixteen when her stepmother threw her out with no money, no warning. That late May afternoon had been one of the worst of her life.
Mac and Kaylee would never know how it felt to have nothing and no one. To be on the streets. And she was glad. She didn’t want anyone to ever go through what she had been through. They’d had cushions to break their fall—money and loved ones.
When a person had no cushions...well, the fall might not kill you, but it left parts of you broken, never to be put back together.
She pushed her plate away. She wasn’t hungry anymore. A lot had changed in ten years. She had more options than when she was sixteen.
But she’d keep her past tucked in her pocket where it belonged.