“Well, your hands took the brunt of your little collision with the sidewalk, but this cheek of yours is...well...to be honest, you’ve got a nice little cut. I promise to be gentle.”
Before he started to dab it with peroxide, I let out a giggle, and it startled him.
“I haven’t even touched it yet...and what could possibly be funny?”
I giggled again, holding onto Chuck with my now-bandaged hands.
“In movies and books, when two main characters meet in a funny way...they refer to it as a ‘meet cute’–like it was cute how they meet.”
“And?” His smile and eyebrows raised was captivating. I didn’t want to stop looking at him. “Can’t say I’m following you, Cutie?”
“What we have here is not a ‘meet cute’ — it’s a ‘meet cut’ and you’re a butcher. And you cut meat. And there’s a good chance I might pass out now...” I let out a sigh and did just as I predicted. I fainted in Drake’s arms.
Chapter Eight
Drake
This girl was something. I hadn't known her for more than a few hot minutes and had already rescued her from her two left feet, dressed her wounds, and then she passed out on me.
I knew this wasn't anything serious. Likely she just needed to eat and drink something, and she was probably one of those who were squeamish around blood. Good thing she came into the shop while it was clean.
I cleaned the cut on her face while she was out and iced her knees and hands. I locked the shop real quick and ran across the street to grab two coffees and croissants for when she woke up. And as I arrived back, she was coming to.
“Hey Cutie,” I said softly, thinking about her little “meet cute” story and how fitting of a nickname it was.
“Did I seriously faint? Oh. My. Gosh. I am such a dork,” she said, putting her head in her bandaged hands.
“I hardly think you passing out has anything to do with your level of dorkiness, but I am not an expert in this field,” I said and shrugged my shoulders.
“That’s because you don’t have a dorky bone in your body! You’re all muscle! Dorkiness involves at least a little bit of fat!” This cute thing sure was a spitfire.
“So Cutie, you like coffee? I also got you a croissant and, if you’d prefer, I have bottled water in the case out front...I wouldn’t mind grabbing you one.”
“You’ve called me Cutie a few times now,” she said. Caught on quick, that one.
“And I intend to continue calling you that unless you object to the nickname?” I handed her the coffee and she eagerly took it and sipped it slowly. A drop of the light brew was left on her lips and it took quite a bit of restraint for me not to lick it off, but seeing as how we just met, I grazed the little drop off her lips with my thumb. “I wasn’t sure how you like your coffee.”
Her eyes. Those super light brown eyes with the little gold specks. I was unable to take my attention elsewhere.
“Well, now that you’re getting a little sustenance, let’s talk logistics...whatcha doing in Hazenberg?” I questioned.
“I like my coffee how you assumed I like my coffee...light and sweet and flavorful. Is this a white mocha?”
“Yep. Figured the sugar would do you some good.”
"Might keep me from passing out on you again?" She shrugged her little shoulders and checked out my bandage work. Truth was she probably wasn't little like I referred to her. She was probably average or normal. She just felt small and frail in my arms and I had a sudden urge to protect her.
“I’m here for work,” she said, circling back around to my other question. “Just finished college. Moved here to work at the newspaper.”
“Ah yes, you’re the new girl starting soon. Lanah told me there would be new blood there next week.”
“Lanah, eh? Name doesn’t ring a bell, but I’m sure I will meet her eventually.”
I explained to her that Lanah was my advertising representative at the Hazenberg Herald. “We go back a long time as she has held that role for many years working with my grandfather and now me.”
"I start on Monday. So I guess it's good I have the weekend to tend to these wounds." She reached up and winced when she lightly touched her bandaged cheek.
“Yeah, be especially good to that cheek...hopefully, it won’t scar.”
She finally started munching on the pastry and I started to feel better about her well-being.
“Say, I still have a good hour before I have to open up...would you let me take you home and help you get settled? You should probably take it easy today.”
“After this morning’s clumsy-fest, I’m not going to argue with a ride,” she said and scooted to the edge of the counter.
“Now hang on, I said about an hour. So finish your croissant and coffee first and we’ll just take our time,” I told her. She seemed to be in a rush to get everywhere.
She told me more about her job and that she'd be heading up the Dear Aggie column. Her family was in Texas, which is where she grew up. Her best friend and roommate's family lived in Indiana and she'd be driving through soon to visit. She was most certainly a talker and, in some strange way, I liked it.
I didn’t find myself getting close to people very often, and having conversations outside of “what’s the best meat for this” and “what’s the best meat for that” just didn’t happen much for me. She was a breath of fresh air.
“I jog regularly...well, until today...and I am used to swimming just as often. I’ll have to find a pool around here soon. Maybe you can point me in the right direction?”
“I have a pool. At my house, I mean. It’s in-ground, pretty good size. I swim laps often myself.” Now I felt like a dork inviting her over so soon.
"Well, I'd be looking for a pool where I could go swim laps...like a YMCA or public pool?"
“Heh, we do have a YMCA, but that pool has been out of commission for years. And the public pool, well, kids pee in it. And that’s not a place I’d recommend you going.”
She giggled again. I appreciated her laugh. It was refreshing.
"So there's your invitation. You're welcome to come swim in my pool whenever you like. I don't have kids, or family members for that matter, and I don't pee in my pool."
“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse...”
Chapter Nine
Aggie
So far, the people I had met in Hazenberg were all right. My clumsiness, however, did not stay back in Jacksonville. Drake dropped me back off at the B&B, where I planned to relax for a little before checking out and heading to my empty apartment to wait on the furniture delivery.
“Hi Makayla,” I said, answering my cell phone.
“My goodness, child! You’ve barely been here 24 hours and you face-planted?”
How did she already know that?
“Ha, err, well, yep. Word travels fast around here, eh?”
“Yes, it does, but I happened to swing by the butcher shop and Drake was just opening, which was rather unlike him, so of course I pried the details out of him.”
Well, that's good. At least he wasn't a gossip queen.