Nellie flushed as she rested a hip against the counter. “It’s more like a collection of lost souls that need a place to live out their days.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting them.” I reached for a container of cream and stirred a little into my coffee. Like most small-town diners, The Huckleberry Cafe made their coffee strong enough to wake up Rip van Winkle. While I added half a packet of sugar, I swiveled on my stool to glance out the front window. To check the weather, I lied to myself. It’s not like I was looking to see if Paul Bunyan was still standing outside.
Nellie caught me. “The taller one is Thatcher. Grumpier than a barn cat in a bubble bath, but he’s got a good heart. The other one is Holt. He’s on our local fire crew and has the cutest little boy.”
“Oh.” It was my turn to blush. My cheeks heated like they’d been kissed by the sun. “I was just checking the weather.”
“Mmm hmm.” Nellie smiled to herself. “Now, what’ll you have for breakfast? I’ll pack up some muffins and scones for tomorrow, but since you’re here, I want to send you off with a full belly.”
I hadn’t even looked at a menu, but a man sitting a few stools away had just dug into a huge pile of French toast. I nodded toward him. “That sure looks good.”
“Good choice. Huckleberry stuffed French toast. It’s one of the best things on the menu. I’ll have that out to you in a flash.” She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to look around and get a feel for the place.
The little cafe was exactly what I expected based on the other small mountain towns I’d visited over the past two weeks. About a dozen booths lined the back wall and tables set for two, four, or six sat in front of the large front window. Bright push pins held announcements on a bulletin board by the front door. Two ceiling fans lazily spun above, just fast enough to circulate the air.
I glanced back at the window, hoping I might catch another glimpse of the guy she’d called Thatcher, but he was gone. My chest tightened, but it was for the best. I needed to focus on my article and figure out my next steps. And while I didn’t know where I might end up, there was no room in my life for a grumpy mountain man. Not even one as attractive as the flannel-clad hottie.
Before I finished my first cup of coffee, Nellie was back with a pile of French toast stacked so high I wondered if I might become gluten-intolerant by just smelling it. She waited until I took the first bite before refilling my mug and taking off with the carafe of coffee in hand.
When I’d stuffed my belly past the point of comfortably full, Nellie packed the rest of my breakfast in a to-go container, handed me a bag full of something that smelled like fresh-baked heaven, and slid a key across the counter.
“Here you go. My number’s on the keyring. Call if you have questions.” She waved off the money I tried to hand her. “Breakfast is part of your stay. Come back tomorrow and you can try our mountain skillet and check out the farmer’s market kick-off.”
I was always looking for more local flavor to add to my story. “That sounds interesting. Is it an all-day thing?”
“It goes from seven until two. We’ll have local artisans, fresh produce, and even a few of my animals there. You’ll have to stop by. Everyone in town will probably walk through at some point.” Her brow arched slightly. “You will come, won’t you?”
“Sounds great. I’ll see you then.” I picked up the bag, the takeout container, and my purse and made my way back to the car.
The temperature had warmed up a little since I’d gone inside. I tucked everything into the car and drove through the middle of town, following my GPS to the cabin. When I’d booked it, the listing warned that it was almost at the end of a dead-end road, but I wasn’t prepared for the deep ruts that made my car rattle and shake.
I finally pulled into the drive of an adorable cottage that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. It was tucked against the base of the mountain where wildflowers gave way to tall, dense pine trees. Planters full of purple and white blooms hung from the railing of the front porch. Their sweet scent mingled with the smell of damp earth as I got out and looked around.
A family of ducks waddled down the drive and a miniature horse whinnied from a paddock behind the cottage. The porch held two heavy wooden rocking chairs… the perfect place to sip my morning coffee. I walked toward the bright purple door, eager to look inside.
It didn’t disappoint. The inside was even more charming. Whitewashed wooden walls held colorful framed prints of flower-covered hills. I stepped into the cozy living area, anchored by a large wood-burning stove in the corner. An overstuffed couch sat on the opposite wall with a fantastic view of the mountains right out the window.
I carried my bag up the spiral staircase to the bedroom where Nellie had left a vase of wildflowers next to the bed. Out of all the places I’d stayed, The Huckleberry Hideaway was already my favorite.
I should have been ready for a nice, long nap, but I felt the need to walk off some of the French toast before crawling into bed. So, I changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, grabbed a long-sleeved button down to shrug on over my shoulders, and laced up my hiking boots.
Since I’d come in on the road, I already knew what I’d see if I headed back in the same direction. I grabbed my notebook, favorite pen, and a trail map Nellie had left, shoved them into my daypack, and took a right out of the drive. The road curved around a bend ahead, and I wondered what I might find.
Before I made it too far, footsteps sounded on the road behind me. I turned to find a black and white goat trotting toward me. Figuring it must be one of Nellie’s, I waited for it to catch up.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked, not expecting an answer. “Did you get out, or does she let you have free rein?”
The goat stared up at me with big blue eyes, its jaw slowing moving back and forth like it was chewing a big wad of bubble gum. A light blue collar circled its neck, and I stepped close enough to read the silver tag that dangled in front.
“Hi, Gene.” I flipped the tag over to find Nellie’s name and phone number on the back. “I don’t know if you’re allowed to be out here. What do you think?”
It nodded its head and let out a soft Baaaaaaa.
“Why don’t you go on home?” The last thing I needed was to go hiking with a goat.
Gene slowly blinked, then turned and trotted back down the drive.
“That’s a good goat,” I called after him.
