SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,50
about the many countries she’d worked in and traveled through after leaving Sawyer Beach.
“And the teaching?” Mrs. Gill asked. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I did. My students were so eager to learn English and their families…well, they were great too. Welcoming me into their homes and their kitchens. I tried so many different foods you wouldn’t believe it.”
“It all sounds wonderful.” The older woman touched cool fingertips to Harper’s forearm. “But you’re here now and I sense a new chapter upcoming in your life.”
“You’re right,” Harper admitted. “But I haven’t figured it out quite yet.” Definitely not sticking with bartending, she knew, though it was more the golf guys and the sadder-but-wiser women she was way over. Mixing drinks wasn’t so bad. And any paycheck was a boon.
“You’ve done well so far,” Mrs. Gill said, beaming. “And I can’t wait to see what you come up with next. You don’t need to know exactly what that is this very second.”
Harper nodded. “Yes.” It felt good to admit she was contemplating something new and that she wasn’t entirely sure what that something new would look like. Strangely, in an adaptation of a too-common saying, speaking truth seemed to give her power. “I’m turning a new page.”
Then she recalled her mac ‘n’ cheese mission and excused herself with a kiss to Mrs. Gill’s cheek and a promise to visit again. With a little skip in her step, she ordered more of the truffle-drizzled casserole that she delivered to the table. To replenish her empty glass, she spun back toward the bar.
With a fresh cocktail in hand, from the corner of her eye she caught sight of Mad again, contemplating a long selection of salads on ice. What was the point of attempting avoidance, she wondered, when their singular trajectories kept leading them back to each other? The truth was, she wanted to be with him again, and he’d virtually admitted the same.
With a little shrug, she headed his way, then tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned, then smiled.
Her lips were already curved in one.
“You looked very serious standing there contemplating arugula and radicchio,” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Which one is which?”
“You need to come out to the farm again. We’ll have a greens tutorial.”
“I’d like that.” His eyebrows rose. “You’ll be around for such a study session? I wasn’t sure of your immediate plans.”
“I’ve committed my car to the Sunnybird Farm cause while Grandpop’s truck is getting fixed—the diagnosis was the need for a new torsion bar,” she said. “So Sawyer Beach is stuck with me for a few more days.”
Enough time to make good on that promise she’d half-joked about.
You know I owe you.
She could tell that occurred to him, too, because one eyebrow rose and there was a new glint in his eyes. “I was planning on calling you after my dinner with…”
His gaze shifted over Harper’s shoulder and he groaned. “Mom,” he said.
Harper took a look. Amongst the nearby tables sat Gwen Kelly, beckoning to them with a friendly smile on her face.
“She’ll never forgive me if I don’t bring you over to say hello.”
“Of course,” Harper said, already moving in that direction. “I’ve always liked your mom.”
The older woman patted the chair beside hers and sent her son off for a post-dinner cup of coffee. “Tell me what you think of the food hall,” she said, focusing her attention on Harper.
“It appears to be doing really well,” she said. “I can say the mac ‘n’ cheese is sublime.”
“I know it. I tell myself if I eat a salad as well it cancels some of the calories, but I really don’t care.” Gwen tucked her dark hair behind her ears. “Now, how is your family?”
“Much the same. Working hard.”
They chatted about the farm and Harper asked about Gwen’s duties as mayor of Sawyer Beach. “I cut the ribbon on a new convenience store and a day care center two days ago,” she said. “And I’m planning to be at your family’s upcoming Pumpkin Day.”
Harper blinked. “Another mayoral obligation?”
Gwen leaned close. “It’s more of an avocation, in this case. I keep trying to fix up your mom with an eligible bachelor I have in mind and I think I might be wearing her down.”
“My mom?” Harper stared. “Rebecca Hill, grower of herbs, reader of cookbooks, connoisseur of evenings spent alone?”
“I’ve been trying to change all that…or just the evenings alone part. There’s this great guy who works in the city hall planning department. I think they’d be perfect together.”