Chapter Eight
Honey smoothed her mid-thigh length skirt. Peach and teal cotton tonight. Her layered chiffon top was white with tiny dots of peach, teal, and aqua. She took a quick look in the mirror. She loved her top’s spaghetti straps and floaty bodice. The skirt was lightweight and cool; perfect for a warm evening. She grabbed a lacy shawl in case the day’s heat started cooling off before she got home.
It had been almost a week since she’d seen Ira. Surprisingly, though they’d only had one official date she missed him. She’d gotten used to waiting on him every day at Tammy’s. He was never much for conversation, but was always polite and gracious. She was looking forward to talking to him again.
The evening was beautiful as she walked to Sammy’s Steakhouse. Originally, their date was for her to see his new home. At the last minute, he’d changed his mind and invited her to Sammy’s instead.
It was only five blocks from her apartment in the brownstone on Spruce Street. The early evening light breeze was a blessing after the day’s incessant heat. A family picnicked in the gazebo in the town square. Children swung on the swings and squealed with delight as they slid down the orange and green spiral slide. A short distance from the play park, in an enormous green space, the high school marching band practiced the Canadian national anthem for the upcoming Canada Day celebrations. They had improved considerably in the past few weeks.
Honey loved to walk past the quaint buildings of downtown Coyote Creek. The businesses ranged from the basic cinder block construction housing the rock and gem shop, to quaint repurposed homes.
Sweet Heaven Chocolate Shop was an enticing bubblegum pink and Betty’s Books was barn red with white trim. Marcy’s Crafts, in it’s bright yellow and white, two-story remodeled home, was a favorite hangout. Honey loved to get her crochet supplies there.
All the businesses were decked out with planters and flowers, and a few shops even had benches for resting on. Honey greeted several people she knew, including Ken Flint. He seemed oblivious as he stomped from his truck into the bookstore. She wondered what he was upset about. She ignored the slight. No sense fretting over things she couldn’t change. Ken tended toward grumpy since his wife Lindy left him. He was trying desperately to win her back. She sent up a silent prayer the family would come back together. She wanted everyone to be happy and their three children missed their mother desperately.
Up ahead, on the south side of Main Street on the corner of 12th Avenue, Ira leaned against the hood of his Jeep, outside of Sammy’s. Once again, he’d traded in his usual khakis for snug denim jeans and cowboy boots. His white cotton shirt was well-pressed and he had a denim jacket slung over one shoulder, held in place by the tip of his finger. He looked every inch a rancher and was about the sexiest thing she’d seen in longer than she cared to recall.
“Ira, hi. Sorry if I kept you waiting. I got caught up in my searching.” Her apology was sincere. Sometimes, she lost track of time. Luckily, she had set an alarm so she wouldn’t inadvertently stand Ira up. She smiled widely, unable to hide her happiness at seeing him.
“It’s only a minute or two, I saw you coming.” His grin tickled her right down to the toes in her adorable strappy short heeled sandals.
“Thanks. Oh, smell that!” She inhaled deeply. “Garlic toast and grilled steak. Does anything smell better? And this building,” she waved toward the red and white building housing Sammy’s Steakhouse. “It’s perfect. I love how it’s modeled after an old hip roof barn. Look, the patio is open.” The east end of the building was an enormous garage style door which opened into a patio eating area enclosed by a waist high white picket fence.
“It’s quaint and I love the implied pun. A barn for a steakhouse. Shall we go in?” He offered his elbow. His stomach growled, making them both laugh.
She clapped her hands before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Yay, lets! I could eat…well, a cow.” She giggled.
Inside, the hostess led them past tables covered in brown paper where families colored together. Flameless candles burned on all the tables. A light breeze blew in through the open door to the patio. Fresh, small town air mingled with a dozen enticing food smells. Once they were seated, Honey said, “I swear sometimes I love the smell of food more than eating it. I mean seriously, I can’t get enough. Fried chicken, coffee, bacon, grilled meat, baked potatoes, and I think I smell pecan pie.”
“You can differentiate all that? Amazing.”
Honey sobered for a moment. “It’s part of my past. For a time when I was young, my family didn’t have much money. I learned to enjoy all aspects of food. How it looks, how it smells. There wasn’t much to go around, but what we did have was delicious. My mom was a great cook. I learned to eat slow and savor every bite. Quality became more important than quantity. We always had enough, but treats and junk were rare.”
“Admirable. There is something sensual about enjoying food.”
His words hung heavy in the air, drawing her attention away from food to the deepening magnetism pulsing through her. She pushed the attraction away. No sense rushing things, or imagining a double entendre where one didn’t exist. The universe would send her what she was supposed to have. Maybe it was Ira. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, she wasn’t in a hurry to find out. Things would arrive as they were meant to. Even if she occasionally wished they would hurry up.
“That’s true,” she agreed. “Food can be very sensual. Of course, I am super hungry. I hope the server brings a loaf of garlic bread when she comes. I’m not sure I can wait until dinner. Even if it is only twenty minutes.” She laughed as her stomach repeated the noise his had made earlier.
“I can tell.” He tilted his head to the right and looked at her, as if he was puzzling something out.
“What? I can see the questions in your eyes. Go ahead and ask. I have no secrets.”Okay, maybe one, a big one, but she wasn’t going there this early in a friendship. Even her best friend didn’t know the truth about her government job.
“You’re always…cheerful.”
“That’s not a question.” Honey grinned. “I try to stay happy. I wasn’t always. I search for the best in everything and try to find the good. I’m optimistic about life and the future. Although I do admit, sometimes it’s hard to see the bright side. Not tonight though. Tonight, for example, I’m hungry, but I smell steak.”
“It does smell delicious.” He sipped his water.
“You, on the other hand, seem to be a generally serious person.” She twisted his observation back at him, curious about his innate nature.
“I suppose I am,” he replied after a moment’s thought. “Being in the army teaches you life is a serious business, and shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
“On the contrary,” she waved her hand in a fluttering half-dismissive motion, “it is precisely because life is serious that you have to take it lightly. You can’t let the bad weigh you down, which is why you focus on the bright side. I’m not saying there’s no time to be serious, I’m saying life hands us a lot of crap. Deal with it, let it go, and find the beauty.”
“I don’t know. I can’t imagine living like that.” His words were not judgmental.
“People think I’m frivolous. I’m not. I’m just not looking for the bad. I’m a trained optimist. I worked hard to become this way. I did it for my mental health.”
