“Try to park between the lines.”
Bridget ignored her galloping pulse as she attempted to guide Mac’s truck into a diagonal parking spot near Brewed Awakening. She inched it forward. Brake. Accelerate. Brake. Accelerate. It stopped with a jerk.
She never wanted to drive again.
Kaylee hopped out of the back seat, came around the front of the truck, stood on the sidewalk and gave her two thumbs-up. “You’re only over the line a little bit.”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to be over it at all.” Bridget climbed out and checked the lines. Kaylee was correct. She had crossed it slightly.
The urge to run into the shop and forget the previous ten minutes of her life hit her hard. Driving on the actual road had been frightening. It had only compounded her already high anxiety about leaving Joe alone at the shop. All throughout the class her mind had wandered.
Had Joe scared off her customers?
Had she even had any customers?
“Hop in, Kay. Your turn.” Mac stood on the sidewalk not far from Bridget and pointed to the truck door.
Why was the man so calm? And so handsome? Whenever she looked at his face, she’d find herself staring. It was like being sucked into a force field. Maybe she’d be better off never looking his way again. Fat chance of that happening.
“I’m not ready.” Kaylee shook her head, the color leaching from her cheeks. “I’ll do it later.”
The girl’s reluctance was justified—Bridget had given herself the mother of all internal pep talks only ten minutes prior—but Kaylee would miss out on life if she never challenged herself.
Bridget half expected Mac to insist she drive, but then, he was a softy where Kaylee was concerned. He’d let her slink away without putting up a fight. He didn’t seem to get that his sister’s insecurity would only get worse if she didn’t face her fears.
“You did good the other day,” he said.
Huh. Maybe he would insist after all.
“That was in the parking lot. This is the road.” Kaylee opened her eyes wide for emphasis.
Bridget pinpointed the exact moment he caved.
“All right, but you have to get used to driving or what’s the point of getting your license?”
“I will.” She smiled, rushing to him and giving him a hug.
“Thanks for the ride.” Bridget waved to them both. She’d interfered last time in the church parking lot, and she regretted it. Meddling didn’t come naturally to her, and that was how she wanted to keep it. “And thanks for the lesson.”
“You’re welcome.” Mac hitched his chin to her. She studied the pair for a moment as they got back into the truck and drove away. Then she shook her thoughts free and walked into the coffee shop. Please let there be customers inside.
As soon as she entered, she braced herself for the worst—an empty store. To her surprise all the tables were filled but one, and there were only two seats left at the counter. Joe stood near the register as he wiped a mug with a towel and chatted with an older man she didn’t recognize.
“Ah, there she is.” Joe beamed when he spotted her. “Like I was telling you, Simon, Bridget’s got a knack for running this place. Makes a dynamite cup of coffee, too.”
The strangest sensation spilled down her gut. Joe acted as if he were proud of her. Like a father would be. Like her own father never had been.
She swallowed the sudden emotions in her throat, gave them both a weak smile and fled to the back. After tying on her apron, she took a few deep breaths. Part of her plan to keep a low profile in Sunrise Bend required a certain detachment. Joe’s blind faith in her was leaving her decidedly undetached.
And that could hurt her.
She emerged from the back room and took her spot behind the counter.
“How did it go today?” she asked Joe.
“Good.” His good nature had clearly soared to new heights based on his expression. “Well, the register and I had a spat, but we worked it out.”
“Yeah, after you scared Janet away.” Simon, the wiry, bald man Joe had been talking to, let out a throaty laugh. His wrinkled face was weathered from years in the sun. Addressing Bridget, Simon pointed to Joe. “This one talks too much.”
“No one scared anyone away.” Joe scowled. “Don’t listen to him. He’s sore because he missed out on the last pumpkin muffin.”
“If you wouldn’t have been jabbing at the machine so hard, you might have realized you were down to one muffin and saved it for me.”
“The pumpkin muffins sold out?” Bridget couldn’t believe it. She’d baked two dozen last night after coming home from Mac’s house, and on a whim, she’d smeared on cream cheese frosting. Five of them had not been lookers. Okay, six. She’d priced them all low.
“Yep. Lots of compliments on them, too.” There was that gleam of pride in his eyes again.
“Any problems?” What had Simon meant about scaring Janet away and Joe jabbing at the machine so hard?
“Well, if you count Janet pointedly asking him if he only worked on Saturdays, then yeah, you might have a problem.” Simon’s cloudy gray eyes twinkled. He was clearly enjoying tattling on Joe. “She wants to avoid him.”
“She’ll come back.” Joe waved off the statement. “Where else can she go for a toasted butterscotch macchiato? The Barking Squirrel has two types of coffee—regular and decaf. Period.”
Bridget debated asking if this Janet planned on spreading the word about not coming in when he was there. But Joe looked so happy in his apron, drying her mugs, she didn’t have the heart to say anything.
“What’s your story, girlie?” Simon gestured to her and took another sip from his mug.
“Story?” She’d been getting these questions for days. “Not much to tell.”
“Is that so?” He arched his eyebrows in skepticism, still holding the mug. “A pretty thing like you moving to a nowhere town like this? Doesn’t pass the smell test. And I’ve heard you’ve been tight-lipped with everyone when asked about it.”
“You think I’m pretty?” She pretended to laugh. Best to latch on to something easy. Maybe he’d let go of the rumor about her being tight-lipped.
“False modesty won’t work with me. A gal like you can take your pick of any of the young bucks around here, and you know it.” He grinned, then downed the final swig of his coffee.
She didn’t know it, but it was nice of him to say.
“Leave her alone, you old bag of nails.” Joe held the coffee pot up, and at Simon’s nod, refilled his mug. He placed the pot back on the warmer and addressed Bridget. “Ignore him. We’re glad you moved here. Sunrise Bend is a good place to live.”
“I agree.” She bent down to grab the stack of receipts from the shelf below the register. “Thanks again for helping me out. You can go ahead and take off...”
“I can stay for a while. I’ll clean off that table.” He took a cloth and bottle of spray over to the vacated table.
She flipped through the receipts, scanning them while Simon drank in silence.
Sales had been good. Really good.
A young family with a small boy and a baby entered. Bridget shoved the receipts back under the counter and gave them a pleasant smile.
“Welcome to Brewed Awakening,” she said. “What can I get you?”
The brunette hiked the baby higher on her hip. A little girl from the looks of it. Reminded Bridget of how Clara had felt in her arms last night. What an unexpected pleasure that had been.
“Stay here.” The young father grabbed the boy’s hood before he could run off. Then he turned up his nose at the menu. “Don’t you got something plain? I don’t go for fancy.”
“Of course. We have regular coffee in a dark roast and a blond roast. Decaf, too. Our flavor of the day is pecan brittle.”
“I don’t know.” The woman bit her lower lip and glanced at her husband. “Maybe we should go.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He herded the boy toward the door with his wife scurrying behind him. “Riley was right. These prices are outrageous.”
Bridget bristled. Outrageous? Her prices were lower than most nationwide chains.
“Don’t mind them.” Simon shook his head. “They’re frugal folk. When Marge and Bud owned this place, they charged about the same as you. Their daughter Riley actually raised prices when she took it over.”
Bridget did not have a good attitude about Riley Sampson. She had been pitting the town against Brewed Awakening before it even opened. Couldn’t the woman let it go?
“People are curious about you.” He stared over the rim. “The curiosity brings them in. But what will keep them coming back is your coffee. Joe’s right. Best I’ve had.”
Unexpected emotion pressed against her chest. What a kind thing to say. “Thank you, Simon. What’s your last name?”
“Valentine.”
“Really?”
“Yep. My favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day, too. Got it named after me and everything.” He rose, tossing a few ones on the counter. “Nice to meet you, Bridget.”
“My last name’s Renna.”
“I know that, too. Everyone around here does. See you around.” Then he turned to walk out, lifting a hand in farewell. “Bye, Joe.”
Joe returned and stashed the cleaning supplies. “I’m telling you, this place needs Christmas decorations. I have lots of ornaments in my attic if you need them. They’ve been up there for a couple of decades, so they might be dusty. Probably smell of mothballs, now that I think of it. Hope there aren’t any mice. Hmm...we stored some decorations for Linda’s friend, but she died and...”
“That’s okay.” Bridget was tempted to take him up on the offer, though. She’d been a thrift shopper for years, and the only thing better than cheap was free. But old, smelly decorations from his attic wouldn’t lure in customers. Mice wouldn’t either. “I’ll buy some soon. I have to make everything fit into my theme.”
“Theme?” He scratched his chin. “What do you mean?”
“The coffee shop I worked for in the city always had a Christmas theme. I need the mood in here to be just right.”
“Well, you know what you’re doing. Me, I unravel the ball of lights and string ’em up here and there and all over. Except the porch. Boy, that was a mistake. It happened a few years ago, or was it last winter? No, it was the year before. Anyway, the wind tore the lights down...”
As he continued on about lights flying into the ditch and a Christmas tree topper stuck against his porch rail, Bridget surveyed the coffee shop, trying to decide what color scheme to go with. It depended on if she wanted it to look elegant. Or bright and cheery. Or kid-friendly. Or rustic-chic.
“...and I tell you it’s strange to see a tree with colored lights on top and white ones on the bottom. Don’t know why Sheryl thought mixing the two would work...” Joe kept talking.
She took out her cell phone and texted Sawyer.
What are you doing after church tomorrow?
A few seconds ticked by before he replied.
Ken’s not feeling well. Tess is taking care of him, so I might not make it tomorrow. His oncologist appointment is next week. Hope it’s nothing. Would you mind praying for him?
That didn’t sound good. According to Sawyer, Tess’s father had been managing his lung cancer pretty well all year. She hated to think he might be getting worse.
She typed, Of course. Please tell Tess I’m praying.
Bridget sighed. There went her plan to shop for decorations tomorrow.
A ding had her checking the phone again. Sawyer replied Do you need me to take you somewhere?
She would not ask that of him. No. Stay with Tess.
Bridget lightly bit her lower lip as she debated what to do. She did have someone else she could ask. She was relying on Mac too much, though. It wasn’t as if she had much choice. She had to rely on someone until she got her license.
Decision made. She’d call Mac later. Maybe he’d be willing to give her and Kaylee another driving lesson tomorrow...all the way to the store where she could buy some decorations.
Relying on other people wasn’t her strong suit. And she’d had to do that again and again since moving here.
She thought of Mac, of Kaylee, of Sawyer and Tess. Maybe relying on others wasn’t the end of the world. Still...she craved independence. And Mac’s driving lessons would give her just that.
Sunday afternoon Mac gripped the handle above the window as Bridget merged onto the highway. He’d been keyed up to get her call last night, even if it had been to request a driving lesson to the nearest shopping center. He’d figured Bridget could get a good hour of practice in on the way there, and Kaylee could drive on the way back.
His sister, however, had other plans. She never had other plans.
Kaylee was spending the day at the high school helping plan the decorations for the parade floats each class would be building. It was the first time she’d gotten involved with anything school-related.
Maybe he should have stayed home...just in case Kaylee needed him.
The truck swerved. He squeezed the handle tightly.
“Am I doing this right?” Bridget had both hands on the wheel in a death grip, and she was leaning forward like an old lady in a cartoon.
“You’re going too slow. You want to stay close to the speed limit.” Mac was glad there weren’t many vehicles on the road today.
“The speed limit? That’s way too fast.” Her forehead wrinkled with worry.
“It will feel natural—don’t sweat it.” He let go of the handle and tapped his fingertips on his thighs. “You look uncomfortable. Why don’t you relax into the seat?”
“Then I won’t be able to see the road.” She flicked a scared look his way.
“You’ll be able to see it.” Maybe this would be easier for her if he took her mind off her fears. “How did Joe do yesterday?”
“Pretty good, considering.” Her gaze was locked ahead, but she relaxed a bit.
“Considering what?”
“Well, he’s new to my computer system. And he’s chatty.”
“Yeah, he is.” Mac chuckled. “He talks Randy’s ear off every afternoon at his store.”
“I don’t mind. But...some of the customers might.”
“Anyone specific?”
“Some of the middle-aged and older ladies. A Janet in particular.”
“Ahh. Janet Jones. Dina’s mother-in-law. She’s a nice woman. Strong opinions. Gets things done.”
“Hmm.” Her shoulders finally rested against the back of the seat. “Maybe that’s why he annoys her. She has things to do, and his rambling holds her up.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Mac thought of his father and how he’d rudely cut someone off if they interfered with his schedule, but the man would talk for hours to someone he wanted to partner with. “My dad could be like that, too.”
“Do you miss him?”
Did he? They hadn’t been close. They’d talked once a month or so, but it was usually to go over ranch numbers.
“Sometimes.” It was true. Dad had a larger-than-life presence, but he also had a good sense of humor and occasionally had confided things Mac had never expected him to share. Those were the times Mac yearned for. When his father had treated him like an equal. “Do you miss yours?”
“Sometimes.” She glanced at him then, and his stomach flip-flopped. “He was great about some things...and not so great about others.”
“Same as mine.” He found himself wanting to talk about his father for once. “My dad had a tendency to steamroll everyone. He wasn’t a jerk. It was more like determination. Ambition. What he wanted, he got, and if you didn’t agree, you were wrong.”
“Did you ever disagree with him?”
“Oh, yeah. Just not to his face, unless it was really important.”
“Like what?” She kept a steady speed and seemed less scared.
“How to run the ranch.” Mac clenched his jaw. Last year he’d decided a phone call wouldn’t cut it with Dad, so he’d flown to Texas to discuss his plans on keeping half the calves. Had prepared a presentation with charts and graphs and everything. Dad had barely paid attention and dismissed his ideas as dumb.
Just thinking about it made Mac feel like an idiot all over again.
“I thought you owned the ranch.” She kept her gaze straight ahead as they continued on a flat stretch of highway.
“I do now. But when Dad was alive, he never signed it over to me. I went to Texas last summer to convince him to try something new. I never should have gone. He liked having his hands in my business too much. Liked having something to threaten me with.”
“He threatened you?”
He shouldn’t have said so much. “More like leverage to get his way. Forget it. It’s hard to explain.”
“Emotional blackmail,” she said under her breath. “My stepmother was an expert at it. And my dad let her walk all over him.”
Let her walk all over him... He knew those words well, and they never ceased to bother him. “You keep in touch with her?”
“No.” The word was curt.
“Start easing off the gas.” He pointed to the curve up ahead. “See the sign? That’s how fast you should go when you take the turn.”
“What happens after the turn?”
“You speed back up.” He grinned at her as she concentrated as if her life depended on it. “You’re doing good. I wish Kaylee would get a good chunk of practice in like this.”
“She’ll want to once she gets more comfortable behind the wheel.”
“Yeah, but how do I get her behind the wheel? She’s too scared to try.”
“You seem to know when she needs patience or when she needs a push.”
Did he know? He’d always loved Kaylee, but he’d never lived with her. The two weeks in the summers didn’t count. And besides cattle, he didn’t push anything. Why would he?
His phone rang. Was something wrong with Kaylee? His heart started beating rapidly. He checked the caller and rolled his eyes. Dina Jones.
“You can take it,” Bridget said. “I don’t mind.”
“No. It’s not important. Just another request for money to help out the booster club.”
“Another request?”
He kept his tone light as he filled her in on all the requests he’d gotten over the past months.
“That’s awful. They shouldn’t be hitting you up for money. I don’t care how much you inherited.”
She clearly had no idea how much he inherited or she wouldn’t feel that way.
“No big deal,” he said, wanting to change the subject. “What are you shopping for today?”
“Christmas decorations for the store.” She bit her lower lip. “For my apartment, too, I suppose.”
They discussed artificial versus real trees and whether white lights were better than multicolored, and soon he was directing her to their exit. A few minutes later, she successfully parked in a vacant area at the far end of the lot.
“Nice job,” he said as he got out.
“Thanks.” She drew her shoulders up to her ears at the chill in the air, and her pretty face lost the pinched look from earlier. He couldn’t help but stare. “I feel a little better about driving now. Getting on the highway was scary, but once I merged, it wasn’t so bad. Would you mind if I drove home, too?”
“You should.” They began walking to the main entrance. “If you keep practicing like this, once you’re done with driver’s ed classes you can get your license right away.”
“You think so?” They kept an easy pace across the lot. “If I can keep practicing. I feel bad asking you to give up your free time.”
“It’s what friends do.” He shot her a confused glance. “I’m your friend, right?”
“Yes.” Her eyelashes dipped. “You are.”
They were friends. Driving together. Shopping together. The closer they got, the more he revealed to her.
What would happen if he let the truth slip out? He’d never lived up to his dad’s expectations and didn’t deserve the ranch or the inheritance.
She’d think he was a pushover. She’d walk all over him.
He shouldn’t be giving her mixed signals—and he shouldn’t be giving himself mixed signals either. What he was feeling was more than friendship. And he didn’t need any more friends.
Had she bitten off more than she could chew with a seven-foot tree? Later that evening Bridget was overloaded with shopping bags as she attempted to insert her key into the apartment door’s lock. In the city she’d simply set up a two-foot-tall pre-lit tree and pop a few candy canes and tinsel on it. There hadn’t been room in her tiny apartment for anything else. Now that she had the space, she’d gone a little overboard with the decorations she’d purchased with Mac.
“Here, let me.” Mac took the key from her hand and unlocked the door swiftly. Then he opened it and followed her inside with the large tree box hefted on his shoulder.
Today had been fun. And scary. But mostly fun.
She flicked on the lights and let the bags drop to the floor. Driving wasn’t as terrifying as it had been yesterday. Dare she say she was actually getting the hang of it? Mostly because of Mac. He’d been blessed with an extra helping of patience.
And she’d enjoyed his company all day. He was easy to be with. At the store, they’d loaded two carts with inexpensive bulbs, lights, artificial greenery, wreaths and two artificial Christmas trees. One for her apartment and one for the coffee shop. He’d picked up some items he thought Kaylee might like, then they’d stopped at an Italian restaurant for a bite to eat.
On the way home, she’d felt more comfortable driving and had asked him about the ranch and what he did there. After hearing the details of raising cattle, she was even more glad she worked inside making coffee. His life sounded like a lot of hard, physical work. And he did it in all kinds of weather. He had to make tough choices, too, which she didn’t envy.
“Where do you want this?” He kept one hand on the tree box propped vertically next to him.
“Oh, anywhere.” She doubted she’d be doing anything with it for a few weeks. She had too much to think about already. Once she got her driver’s license, she’d have more time on her hands. Room to breathe again. Then she’d figure out Christmas.
Her traditions consisted of watching a movie in her apartment with a cup of hot cocoa when her shift ended on Christmas Eve. She always worked Christmas Day, too. Then she and Sawyer would get together the day after Christmas and share a pizza and a small gift. It had been fine—a step up from the holidays after her father died—until last year when Sawyer moved back to Wyoming.
It was at that point she’d realized how alone she really was. The cup of cocoa and movie hadn’t cut it, and the video call with Sawyer the day after Christmas hadn’t either.
“Is over here okay?” Mac was already carrying it to the far corner of the living room where she’d set a used end table.
“Sure.”
“I like what you’ve done with the place.” Mac was giving the room a once-over. She’d only had two people up so far—Sawyer and Tess. It was strange having Mac up here, too. Yet, he looked like he belonged. To be honest, no matter where he was, he looked like he belonged. He just had a kind of air about him.
She’d never belonged. She was achingly aware of it even if she’d learned to keep it hidden well. Bridget would like to belong in Sunrise Bend, but she didn’t know if it was possible.
“Yeah, it’s eclectic.” Her furniture was a mishmash of secondhand finds she’d picked up over the years.
“It’s you.” He met her eyes and smiled, cueing her pulse to take off. “You picked out everything, right?”
“I did.” Would she have selected the same if she could have afforded more? She didn’t know. The apartment was starting to feel comfortable. That was all that mattered. She remembered Mac saying his house had been professionally decorated. It made her feel better. His house was comfortable, too.
She was getting more and more curious about Mac. Like what he’d shared about his father on the ride.
“The talk you had with your father last year to try something new—what was it?” Bridget gestured for him to sit on the oversize chair while she took a seat on her worn, sage green sofa. He obliged.
“You want to know about my idea for the ranch?” He spread his knees and let his elbows rest on them.
“Well, yeah.”
“I wanted to sell half the calves in the fall. Keep the others to fatten up and sell in the spring. He thought it was a stupid idea.”
“Why?” She knew nothing about ranching beyond what Sawyer had told her of his childhood and what Mac had shared about his daily life.
“It costs money to feed them all winter, plus the weather gets harsh around here. There’s less chance of them thriving during the cold months. We usually sell all the calves in the fall, and the sales carry us over financially until spring.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize.”
“Now that Dad’s not here to stop me, I did things my way. This year will be tight, profit-wise, since I’m using the ranch’s reserve funds to get through the winter, but once spring comes around, we should have a good handle on what we need to do to stay profitable moving forward.”
Reserve funds. She knew all about those. It had taken her four years to build the tiniest of nest eggs. Four more to grow it to a cushion that kept her from panicking every day about losing her job. It had taken two more years to save what had ended up being the down payment for this business.
Even with her reserves, she worried about losing it all.
She had the feeling she’d always worry. Being homeless for almost two months tended to do that to a person.
But Mac had an inheritance. One big enough that people around town expected him to donate to their causes.
“It must be a relief to finally run the ranch your way. And you could always dip into your inheritance if money gets tight.”
“That’s Dad’s money.”
Was that how he saw it? Maybe he wanted nothing to do with the inheritance.
“Yours now,” she said.
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s good to finally do things my way. But with Dad’s death, there are other things I have to make decisions about, and I never wanted to make them. Still don’t want to. Makes my life more complicated.”
“Are you talking about Kaylee?”
“No, she’s—I’d do anything for her. She’s all I’ve got left.” The honesty in his eyes convinced her of what she already knew. He’d never consider Kaylee to be a chore or a complication.
“These other decisions...” She tried to find the right words, not sure what they were talking about. “You’ll get them figured out.”
Surprise flashed across his face, followed by a look of resignation. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am.”
“Well, I should probably get going.” He rose, his gaze resting on her for a long moment.
“I really appreciate all you’ve done for me, Mac.” Saying his name sent a tingle across her skin. “You’re giving me my freedom. Teaching me to drive.”
“Freedom?” He started walking toward the door, and she followed him. “You’re as free as anyone I know.”
“Me? Why do you say that?”
He reached for the handle. “You make all the decisions for yourself, and, from what you told me, you don’t owe anyone a thing.”
She supposed it was true. “I’ll owe you rent soon.”
His gaze smoldered. “You know what I mean. You don’t have to answer to anyone.”
Her heart sank. Yes, she liked making her own decisions. No, she didn’t owe anyone anything besides the rent. But not having anyone to answer to wasn’t always a good thing.
Because no one needed her.
She wished she had a family to answer to, who wanted her around on holidays. Parents who would have made sure she had enough to eat and a place to live.
Being independent was a double-edged sword.
Mac gave her a final, lingering look before leaving. She shut the door and locked it, turning to lean against it.
Why would Mac—who had security, friends, money—consider her to have more freedom than he did? It was a quandary she doubted she’d get to the bottom of anytime soon.