"Potatoes are an evening food. They have no place at the breakfast table."
Bridget feigns shock, fanning herself with the menu. "Whoa, Buddy, you'd better lower your voice, or our chef Marco will have a few choice words for you. All of them swears."
She spins away before I can respond, leaving me to admire her figure again, drumming my fingers on the solid maple table. I can tell with one glance that all the furniture in the café was made by Jim Clendening's boys. He's one of the older farmers in the area, and his sons both work the land with him, and make excellent minimalist furniture out in the barn.
When Bridget returns with my coffee, I ask, "So, you play guitar?"
She shakes her head quickly, causing her breasts to sway slightly as I try like hell to maintain eye contact. "Barely. I'm terrible."
"So you just use the case to hide all of your shotguns?"
Finally, a full, satisfying laugh. "No, it's a real guitar. I have a lesson after work."
I instinctively reach for her hand, stopping myself just in time to tug instead at the edge of her apron. "You're not terrible, you're a beginner. Huge difference." She starts to answer, but I add, "Honestly, how weird would it be if you played like Herman Li or Steve Vai the first time you picked up a guitar?"
Bridget's smile is my new favorite thing on this planet. "Okay, you're right. I'm very new. Which is why I'm taking lessons."
She rushes off to the kitchen, so I send my brother a quick text.
Me:Running a bit late. I'll bring coffee and muffins so that you don't hate me.
Braden:No worries, His highness Ansel is running late too.
Me:You're nasty. I like that about you.
Braden:No raisins in those muffins, or you'll see what nasty really is.
Me:Check.
I slip the phone away as Bridget approaches with my breakfast, and see a question in her eyes. Is she curious whether I'm texting a girlfriend?
"My brother is concerned about the muffin situation," I say in my most businesslike tone. "Could you please bag up eight muffins, a mix of everything that doesn't contain raisins?"
"Lumberjacks don't live on raw steak and energy drinks?"
"Nah, that's just in the recruitment ads. They pull you in with all of the glamor, but it's really just coffee and muffins, cleaning machinery, sharpening saws, and fighting with Braden over who gets to control the music."
"Yet here you are, taking some time for yourself to have breakfast first." She wags a finger. "Good for you. Itisthe most important meal of the day."
"There are two reasons for me to have a big breakfast today." I'm delighted when she leans in closer.
Bridget is so natural and earthy, in brown pants, a plain auburn shirt, and tiny gold earrings. I love a girl who's not fussy. "Really? I'm all ears."
How I'd love to nibble on her ear right now, to see if she'd blush when I touch her. "I need the fuel because the rain has been a bit of a pain in the ass the past few days."
"And the other reason?"
"Hopefully it's giving me enough time to work up the nerve to ask you out for dinner."
Bridget blinks slowly. "Me?"
"Yes. You're gorgeous, charming, and I'd really like to get to know you. May I please take you out to dinner tonight?"
She takes a half step back as her fingers twist in her apron. "Um, I have my guitar lesson tonight."
"What time do you finish work? I can drive you to your lesson so that you don't get soaked, and we can talk about it then?"
The bell rings over the shop door as several people come in, and I can tell she has to leave. Reaching out, I gently take her hand for a few seconds. "Just tell me what time to be here."
