Page 26 of Playing With The Mountain Man

“Don’t come over,” I screeched.

The last thing I needed right now was for someone to try to help, only to get cut on glass or burned by coffee.

“Tillie!” someone called, and my head snapped up. No one called me Tillie. Not around here anyway. Here in Wattle Creek, I was Rosie. Rosie and River.

My eyes snapped up, and I saw Emmy standing in the doorway, stunned. Not that I could blame her. She was basically walking into my sleep-deprived shit show.

“Don’t move,” she bossed, edging around the mess and ducking behind the counter.

I looked up at the table I’d been heading to before I tossed their breakfast on the floor. “I’ll get you another stack of pancakes straight away,” I promised before adding, “on the house, of course.”

“You don’t need to do that,” the woman assured me.

“Yeah, we’re not in any hurry,” the man answered before looking adoringly at the woman seated opposite him. My stomach lurched. I wanted someone to look at me like that. I wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, I suspected it had something to do with the man with scruff on his jaw and muscles for days.

After Sean passed away, I swore I was done. I didn’t need a man in my life. I had River, and that was enough. We would be fine just the two of us. And we had been. We were. But sometime in the last few days, the idea of a man had started to creep in, and for the first time, it didn’t seem like such a scary proposition. It wasn’t that I wanted a diamond ring, more like someone to talk to. Someone who could hold my hand and carry on a conversation.

“Right, Rosie,” Emmy instructed, reverting back to my normal name, “you run home and change, and I’ll get this sorted.”

“It’s your day off,” I reminded her.

“I’m aware.”

“Then why are you here? Surely there are more exciting places to hang out on your day off than at work,” I pointed out, stepping out of the puddle of coffee before bending down to pick up some shards of glass.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Emmy started before glancing over her shoulder and lowering her voice. “There was no way I could wait until tomorrow to find out how your big date went.”

My stomach sank. Part of me wanted to tell Emmy everything. Confide all the dirty details and get her opinion. I’d been out of the dating game for so long that I had no idea what I was doing. Or worse, what he would expect. But on the other hand, I wasn’t sure whether what Cody and I did even counted as a date. Did he think it was? Did I even want it to be? Fuck! I had a million questions and zero answers.

“I … I …”

“Go change. You smell like coffee.” Emmy grinned knowingly.

“Back in a second,” I promised, carefully stepping over the puddle and making my escape.

“Take your time, we've got this,” Emmy promised.

“Need a new serving of pancakes for table fourteen, please,” I told Ryan as I scurried through the kitchen.

After almost tripping in the garden, I managed to make it inside without face-planting. As quickly as I could, I stripped off, leaving my soggy clothes on the bathroom floor.

All I could smell was coffee. It was one thing to be surrounded by the aroma all day, it was another to smell it on your skin. Coffee was not a scent that worked for me. Powdered sugar, vanilla, hell, even bacon I could make work, but coffee not so much.

I turned on the shower and jumped in. The moment the hot water hit my skin, I screeched. When I glanced down and saw the angry red skin, I reached for the faucet and turned the water to cold. I hadn’t thought it had burned, but the evidence was clear.

Once I was clean, dry, and coffee-free, I dressed and hurried back to work, only to find everything just as it should be. The couple whose breakfast had turned into a frisbee were enjoying a freshly cooked stack. The mess was gone, and everyone seemed happy.

“Oh, wow! Emmy, you’re a miracle worker,” I praised, tying an apron around my waist.

“Glad you remembered. Now, you can pay me back with a strawberry milkshake and the details of your date. Don’t skimp on the dirty details either,” Emmy declared confidently.

“Strawberry milkshake? What are you, five?” I accused, reaching under the counter for the milkshake cup.

“Just make the milkshake and start talking. How was it?”

I ignored her question while I poured milk into the glass and added ice cream. When I added the strawberry syrup, I scrunched up my nose. I could already smell how sickeningly sweet it was. I waited until it was blending before I turned back to face her.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” I dodged.