Where Would I Be Without You - By CJ Hawk Page 0,103
breaking my thought of past mistakes, I turned and smiled at the jovial man. “Well Hope, welcome to Hope Springs Falls, WY. I’m sure you’ll like it here. We all do.”
I had to smile. The man was a walking, talking advertisement for this town with his robust voice and red cherry lip smile made me want to toss a white wig and beard on him followed by a red velvet hat. “Where are we?” I asked as it looked as if he had pulled in front of a café. WALKER CAFÉ. Big Roman print letters painted on the window along with the specials for $2.99.
“I figured you could use a hot meal and cup of coffee to warm you up. This here is Cindy and mines café. Owned and operated since we graduated high school together. Married thirty-five years with three kids, five grand kids and couple dogs. Any hoot, Jerry, the mechanic is on one of his drinking binges so when he sobers up tomorrow he will just unhook your car from my tow truck and fix you right on up. His shop is just across the street.”
“That’s alright I can change my own flat tire. If you want to just lower my car off your tow truck, I can change it.” The last thing I wanted was to be without my car. Besides, all my luggage was in the backseat.
“No can do. Once I got your car out of the ditch, I noticed your axle was bent. Nope. Jerry is gonna need to straighten it out. You go on in. Cindy’s expecting ya. I’ll put all your belongings into our minivan over there and drive you on over to Julie’s place you're renting, after you’ve had a good meal. No trouble at all. You just go on in.”
I smiled a sincere smile and figured the man was Chris Cringle or a descendent there of. Nothing cuter than a grandparent with a minivan.
Taking a quick look up and down the street while seated in the front of the tow truck, I noticed the small-town appeal. Quaint shops and storefronts with benches and potted flowers out front, stretched up and down the street as far as I could see in the drizzling rain. No fast food drive-through or quick-stop gas stations, at least not along the strip of Main Street, I was looking at.
The rain was slowing and the wind was not blowing as hard, but if I was going to make it inside the café without getting soaked, I was going to have to make a mad dash for it in my denim skirt and white canvas tennis shoes.
Mr. Walker already pulled his minivan up next to my car and was unloading my things. I wanted to help or do it myself, but just from our short drive; I figured he was the type of man who would want to do it himself plus the fact he would have to bill me seventy dollars for the tow. He probably wouldn't have felt right taking my money if I didn't let him set about to do his job.
With a quick open of his tow truck door, I ran for the front door of the café and almost made it.
Chapter Two
I didn’t get it. Shouldn't it be typical gentleman behavior to ignore a woman’s mishap, or trip in the mud in my case, and ignore the obvious of my ill begotten ways.
The fact that the man in the café was eye appealing did nothing for his funny sense of humor or the fact that he knew more about me and my ill-gotten career move than I cared for anyone to know about. Now the Walkers and the few late dinner guest at Walker Café knew, which meant by weeks end most of the town knew, and that was what I was trying to avoid.
When I first was guided by Cindy Walker to sit down on a stool next to an attractive man, I didn't see the harm. He was easy on the eyes with his soft brown hair that waved with a dire need of a cut with his piercing steel blue eyes. His worn jeans and cowboy boots gave him the rustic farm boy look. His dirty denim shirt told me he worked, hard, for a living and the way that denim shirt filled out with broad shoulders that tightened in that shirt I mentally wondered what he looked like naked. So sue me. I was still a woman.