Room 143

Chapter 10

Caroline

“Take a right at the four-way stop," Taylor instructs as I follow her instructions on how to get the butcher. I've slightly told her about what happened between me and Nash yesterday. I didn't get completely into it, because she's my best friend and she'll know just from the tone of my voice how much I'm still thinking about him. “I can't believe you actually left your house early to get a treat for a dog." I can hear the eye roll in her voice.

To her it might seem stupid, but to me it means a lot. I have a feeling it means a lot to Nash, too. The way he pays attention to her, and calls her his girl. I kinda want that to be me.

“I'm just trying to be nice."

“Tell that to a sucker who'll believe you. Wanna know what I think?" She takes a bite of something, chewing loudly in my ear. Nobody gets between this girl and breakfast.

I really don't, but I know telling her those words won't stop her.

“I think," she continues, “that you two had more than a little fun when you went to work for me."

That's what I'd told her with a wink, that we'd had a little fun. The look on her face let me know she didn't believe me then and sure as hell doesn't believe me now.

“I think I've made it to the butcher's," I cut her off, fake excitement in my voice. “Talk to you later!"

I hang up before she can say anything else. At this point I'd be okay being lost in Harper Valley, but the sign up ahead that reads Butcher Shop is a pretty good indication I've found where I wanted to go. My tires squeal as I turn into the parking lot, the rubber rubbing across the hot pavement. When I step out into the heat, today wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I'm kind of wishing I was back in the dress. At least then I could feel a cool breeze up the skirt.

There are already a couple of trucks parked in the lot, and I'm nervous as I push the door open and walk in. There's a group of men at the lone table, drinking steaming cups of coffee, they seem to be discussing current affairs, as one of them has a paper open, pointing to it while they seem to have a heated argument. One person is in front of me, and I pray they take a while with their order, but lucky me, they're checking out within seconds of me standing behind them.

“What can I get for you?" The guy behind the counter is young, younger than me if the no wrinkles around his eyes is any indication. He's got a ready smile as I fumble through what I've been told to say. Quietly, I lean in, almost like I'm sharing a secret with him.

“I'm told you know what a dog named Bailey likes?"

Never have I felt so stupid in my life, but here we are. He throws his head back laughing.

“Bailey girl, huh? What'd you do to her?" He grins at me, waiting for the answer.

His smile is so contagious I have to return it. I wrinkle my nose up and tilt my shoulder as I answer. “Kinda mentioned the word treat around her."

“Bad move," he laughs again. “She knows exactly what that word means and what she normally gets for a treat. Once or twice-" he leans against the counter like he's telling me a secret, “she's come down here on her own to collect her treat."

“I don't imagine Nash was very happy with that."

“Oh no." He turns from me, messing around behind the counter. I see him take some of the brown paper synonymous with a butcher shop and wrap it around something. “He came storming down here pissed off, yelling and acting all crazy. He slammed the door so hard it cracked two of the panes." He points to the door inset with four windows in a square shape. “Bailey was laying right where you stand. He looked at her and told her to get her ass up, they were going home."

I'm giggling now. “And what'd she do?"

“Wiggled her nub like she had not a care in the world." He shakes his head, setting a package on top of the case. His gaze has a far-off quality to it, like he's remembering it clearly. “They didn't leave until she was damn good and ready."

“Somehow I can see that happening. How much do I owe you?" I indicate the large package.

“On the house." He smiles, pushing it toward me. “What can I say? She's one of my favorites," he shrugs.

I don't want to take advantage of this guy, but at the same time I don't want to offend him either. I grab hold, sliding it off the counter and into my purse. “Thank you! Thanks for saving a potential friendship with Bailey."

“Trust me, darlin' she'll be your best friend if you give her that package."

The use of the endearment throws me off guard. Not many people used them in the city. At least not in the part I frequented. I do this stupid little nod and then leave before I embarrass myself any further. Getting out to my car, I slide in, take a deep breath, and start the car. Blessed cool air blows from the vents, and I'm smiling to myself as I drive back the way I came, and hope like hell I can find my way to work.

*****

“Surprised to see you here so early," Nash says as I come walking into the open bay. It's about fifteen minutes before we open. “Thought it'd take you longer than that to find the butcher."

“Told you I have a best friend here," I throw back at him. “She directed me while we had our morning conversation."

“Lucky for you."

He looks different today, like he's not as stressed as he was yesterday. He's actually smiling at me, and I'm left to wonder why. “Do I have something on my face?"

“No," he chuckles. “Why?"

“Because yesterday you couldn't seem to get rid of me fast enough, and now you're smiling at me. What changed?"

An emotion I don't know crosses his face. One I'm not familiar with him enough to know. I wish I did.

“Got a good night's sleep last night." He shrugs.

The way he says it, makes me draw my eyebrows in, totally not sure if I believe him. “Anyway, I got Bailey her treat."

He whistles loudly. “Bailey girl, c'mere!"

The dog comes jogging up to us her tags jangling around her neck. She screeches to a stop right in front of us. She sits immediately, sniffing the air, and when I produce the wrapped paper, her butt wiggles on the concrete, her nub swinging back and forth. She's making whining noises and looking between me and Nash.

“Unwrap it." He nods to it. “She'll eat the paper if you give it to her."

My eyes bug as I struggle, but eventually get it unwrapped. He stands beside me. “Hold it down to her."

Apparently I don't do it well enough, because he grabs hold of my wrist. The moment his fingers touch my skin, I feel those same fireworks, the speeding up in my chest, the anxious roll of my stomach. It's no different than it was when we were alone in the hotel room all weekend. His sharp intake of air proves he's affected too.

“Easy." His southern-tinged voice takes on a dominant tone that really does it for me as he speaks to Bailey. “Easy," he tells her again as he moves my arm down closer. Bailey sits, her whole body shaking as she barely restrains leaping up to take her treat. “Go!"

She jumps up grabbing the bone from my hand, before she takes off into the garage.

“You're welcome!"

“She'll be preoccupied most of the day."

I can hear the grin in his voice. The two of us are alone, waiting for the rest of the crew to show up. He rocks back on his boots, and I twirl my hair around my finger.

“Thank you." I tilt my head, glancing over at him. “For letting me do this job when you could have told me to leave."

He's quiet for longer than I'd like for him to. Those intense eyes of his staring at me. There's something in them I can't quite place. “Wanna know a secret, Caroline?"

I'd like to know all of his secrets, but all I do is nod.

“I should have told you to leave, for my heart and for yours I should have told ya to leave, but I couldn't. I don't really know what to do with you now that you're here."

I open my mouth to speak to him, but his brothers pick that moment to pull into the parking lot. Instead of answering, I give him a little wave, heading off to the office.

When I break for lunch, I push back from the desk, and when I do, there's a noise that sounds suspiciously like a dog. Looking to my left, I see Bailey, with her head down, eyes open, glancing up at me. Reaching down, I pet her softly. When she licks my hand, I can't help but smile.

“Thanks, girl," I whisper. “Thanks for the welcome."