Second Chance at the Orchard Inn, page 14
There were interesting fashion choices and lots of goofy faces. Evidently scarves had been a big thing, because they wore a lot of them, even though it was rarely that cold in Texas. There also seemed to be a tendency to layer tank tops.
“What were we thinking?” She shook her head.
She found the candid pictures from Home Economics, where she’d been a teacher’s aide during her free period. The Home Ec teacher let Aurora lead the class when it came time to cook.
Those sophomores had so much fun cooking pizzas with Aurora that they asked for another cooking section at the end of the semester. Aurora had kept it simple enough, with pasta dishes, but they’d made homemade pasta and sauces for their final grade. The results of her pasta lessons became legend over Christmas break.
“Pasta princess.” Aurora used the underclassmen’s silly nickname for her and smiled, running her fingers across the black-and-white photos.
Some of her high school memories were good. Great even.
“You say something?” Beth popped her head into Aurora’s room.
Aurora glanced up, still smiling at the images before her. “No, just reminiscing. And laughing at how cool we used to think we were. How many tank tops did you layer when you were in high school?”
Beth stepped in, glancing down at the open yearbook in Aurora’s lap. “Oh, wow. So many.” She laughed. “At least you missed the UGGs phase. We all wore UGGs in eighty-plus-degree weather. And bedazzled pockets on our jeans. It hurt to sit down sometimes.”
Aurora snorted a laugh. “I forgot about those.”
“So…” Beth straightened her blouse and fidgeted with her bracelet, clear signs she had something on her mind. “Are you going to call Jude and see him again?”
Aurora slouched under the weight of that question. “Looks like it.”
“You said the last visit went well.”
“It did.” I kissed him, her mind echoed. “We talked, finally, and I think we’re at a good place now. We made peace with the past, but I don’t want to jinx it.” Or end up kissing him again.
“You won’t jinx it.”
Aurora cocked an eyebrow. “If I get too involved or offer up too much advice, I might step on some toes. I can be a little pushy at times now, and Jude can be as stubborn and proud as his dad.”
“Good thing you don’t know anyone else like that.”
“Hey!”
“I meant all of us. You, me, Cece. You have plenty of experience dealing with determined, prideful personalities.”
“I guess I never thought about it like that.”
“It’s just my opinion, but I think your conversation will be the opposite of a jinx. He knows you’re the best person to give advice on a restaurant and, sure, maybe they decide not to go through with it, but at least you offered your help.”
Aurora stared at her old yearbook.
The idea of Jude needing her help and seeing her as any kind of expert on a matter did funny things to her stomach.
His opinion of her shouldn’t matter as much as it did, but she’d never stopped caring what he thought. That’s why the years after their breakup were so difficult. She didn’t want him to resent her or view her and their time together as a mistake. She cared about how he felt. She cared about him, and probably always would.
“Okay.” Beth backed toward the bedroom door. “I’m going to butt out now, but good luck.”
Once her sister left the room, Aurora flipped to the back of the yearbook, to the next to last page, where Jude’s inscription took up the entire page.
What really mattered was the last sentence.
I can’t wait to spend forever with you,
making our dreams come true.
They’d had so many dreams, so many plans. Their lives had turned out okay without each other, yet thinking about what could’ve been made her heart ache. Maybe, even if they hadn’t ended up spending forever together, she could still help Jude make his dreams come true.
That’s what friends did after all.
Before she lost her nerve, Aurora picked up her phone and tapped out his number.
Again, he answered on the first ring.
“Aurora. Hey.”
“Hey.” She smiled at the surprise in his tone. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee or dessert later?”
“Yeah, absolutely. How about Lucky’s Diner?”
“Sounds good. Is after dinner okay?”
“Works for me. Just text me when you’re leaving the inn. See you there.”
Aurora hung up, her heart hammering like she’d just asked a boy to a Sadie Hawkins dance. She wasn’t going to overthink her reaction or how long it took her to get ready to see him.
Chapter 14
Jude was already waiting for her when she arrived at Lucky’s Diner. He sat facing the door at the last booth in the corner.
Their booth.
“You look nice,” he said as she sat down.
She’d finally settled on a casual sundress. Yes, it was a great color for her—sage green—and yes, it accentuated her shoulders and neckline, but it was casual.
Just like the two of them.
Casual and friendly. Just two casual friends, hanging out.
“I went ahead and ordered two coffees and got menus,” he said.
“Smart move. I might get some fries too. I had an early dinner snack thingie and I’m still hungry.”
“Dinner snack thingie,” he repeated with a furrowed brow.
“You know. Finger sandwiches. I ate a bunch of them, but it’s not enough to count for real dinner.”
“Well, I did have real dinner, but I can’t sit by and let you eat fries without participating. Let’s get the large and split it.” He popped open his dessert menu.
Splitting a large fry basket was what they had done in high school. She couldn’t eat all the fries in a regular order, so she wouldn’t order any. But when she stole Jude’s, she’d end up eating half of them and he was left with a gaping fry void.
Solution: split the large fry. With a side of ranch dressing.
The memory warmed her, and she bit back a smile, remembering the time she’d cross-contaminated his ranch with some ketchup from one of her fries.
She might as well have spat right in that little white paper cup of homemade ranch for how he reacted.
“What are you grinning about over there?” he asked now.
“Do you still order ranch with your fries?”
“Here I do, are you kidding? Best homemade dressing in the tri-county area. And you better not get your nasty ketchup in my ranch either. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”
Aurora laughed.
“It wasn’t a little bit either.” He scowled. “Big ol’ blob of ketchup right in my ranch. You turned the whole thing pink.”
Aurora laughed harder. “Didn’t you order a second cup?”
“I had to! You ruined it. They charged me for extra too.” His laughter tangled into hers. “That’s like getting cheese sauce in the salsa.”
“I used to do that as well, huh?”
“All the time!” He shook his head good-naturedly. “Just dippin’ all haphazard, cheese globs in the salsa. Ketchup in the ranch. It was chaos.”
Her cheeks hurt from smiling at his outrage.
Spending time with Jude was so refreshing. There were no false airs about him. His genuine, down-to-earth personality and unpretentious nature were completely different from most of the people she’d met in L.A.
There were no guys like Jude in Los Angeles. At least, none that she’d ever met.
“I’m glad you called me,” he said. He put his elbows on the table and leaned closer, as if confiding a secret.
His eyes, already ridiculously blue, were brighter in the lighting, and she was close enough to make out the gray around his iris.
She probably didn’t need to be this close to him again.
“I know we…” He tilted his head to the side, conspiratorially. “You know.”
Kissed. Jude.
“We kissed,” she blurted what’d been repeating in her mind all day.
He had the grace to look a bit bashful. “But I hope that doesn’t…I don’t want to make it weird. You know?”
“Yeah.” She did know.
“We got caught up in the moment. Maybe?” He offered them both a safe excuse. A way to make it okay and not threaten the progress they’d made toward amends.
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “The moment.”
“Right. But it’s okay. We’re good, right?”
Aurora took a breath, alarms of self-preservation ringing in her head. He was still too good-looking, too charming, too funny and nice, and too familiar. Being on the outs with Jude Jones had been her only protection over the years. Now she was defenseless.
What if they had another moment like by the lake?
If he got that look in his eyes again, if he leaned in to kiss her, was she strong enough to say no? Push him away and run?
No. Probably not.
“Right,” she said. “We’re all good.”
The waitress arrived with their coffees. They ordered the basket of fries; Aurora ordered a slice of pecan pie and Jude ordered the apple. Same as always.
“You could branch out, you know? Try something different,” she teased. “Do you ever get anything besides apple from here?”
“Why fix it if it ain’t broken?” He held up his hand, ticking off his points on his fingers. “Apple is a classic, it’s the only one you automatically get a la mode—unless you say otherwise—and it’s their best.”
“Agree to disagree there. Unless something has changed, their pecan pie is the best.”
“Oh, really?” He leaned back, looking entirely too smug. “Because it’s the apple they’re entering in the big pie contest for the jamboree.”
“Guess I’ll have stiff competition then.”
His eyes widened. “You are not.”
She shrugged. “Don’t laugh. I told my sisters I’d do it if I was still in town.”
Those last three words bounced around her brain, a small knot forming in her stomach, but she wasn’t sure why.
“Why would I laugh?”
“I don’t know. Pie contests at local festivals aren’t in my usual repertoire.” But, since she’d made the lavender-honey pie, more and more recipes had come to mind. Ways to improve the base, new interpretations on old classics like pecan, peach, and, yes, even apple.
She was, dare she say, inspired.
“Oh, so you think you’re too good for our lil’ ol’ jamboree contest?” he teased.
“I did not say that. It’s just not what I normally do.”
“Well, regardless, I wasn’t going to laugh. I’m just mad I didn’t act fast enough to get you to bake our pie for the contest.”
“You entered the contest?”
Jude’s laughter rippled across her skin. “No, I didn’t do anything. My dad agreed to the contest, but no one has stepped up to actually make the pie for our entry. We’re all playing this big game of Not It. Fun times, everyone avoiding the task until the last minute, and then I’ll probably go buy a lemon meringue from the store and play dumb.”
“You could make a pie.”
He snorted. “I could make a mess.”
“No, I’m serious. A real, legitimate pie. Pie recipes can be very forgiving if you keep it simple. I could help you find an easy recipe. An icebox pie or something. Very little skill involved.”
“Little skill. That’s my tagline in the kitchen.”
Aurora gave up fighting how easily he made her smile and laugh. And on keeping any kind of distance.
“I could walk you through it,” she offered.
Jude suddenly went quiet, no longer joking around. He leaned forward again. “You’d really do that?”
“Of course.”
She wanted to help him, if she could. Part of her even needed to help. Prove that they could be friends and be good for each other.
“I will gladly take you up on the help, but what happens when I beat you in the contest?”
Aurora quirked her lips. “I don’t think we need to worry about that.”
“We don’t?” He grinned as the waitress delivered their fries and cup of ranch.
“No, we do not. Eat your ranch.”
They shared the fries and talked about what might be the easiest pie to make. In the end, they settled on a lemon cream icebox pie—a simple recipe with only a few ingredients, equally sweet and tart, cool and refreshing.
Their diner pies arrived, and they each cut into their own before sharing some with each other.
“Mine is better,” she announced.
“I don’t have enough time to tell you how wrong you are. Mine is better.” He licked a smear of ice cream from his lips.
Aurora glanced away, and someone outside caught her eye.
Erica Burr. Walking up the sidewalk, into the diner, a man trailing behind her.
“Crap,” Aurora muttered with her mouth full. She was supposed to have until tomorrow to deal with Erica.
“What?” Jude leaned toward the window, following her gaze.
The door jingled, announcing her arrival.
He looked at Aurora with comically wide eyes. “Guess her ears have been burning.”
“Jude,” Erica exclaimed as soon as she saw them. “Aurora. Hey. I heard you were in town.”
“Hey,” Jude said.
“This is crazy seeing y’all here.” Erica brushed her long red hair back over her shoulder.
“You too,” Aurora managed.
“This is my fiancé, Ted. Ted, these are some old high school friends of mine.”
They all made introductions and Aurora pasted on a smile. High school friends? Since when?
Ted looked annoyed at his meal being delayed by their introductions.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, won’t I?” Erica tilted her head the other way, her hair swinging again.
“Sure will. Are you excited?” Aurora used a little too much inflection on the question, trying not to cringe at how forced she sounded.
“I don’t have to go to that, right?” Ted huffed and crossed his arms.
“No.” Erica feigned a laugh that was more forced than Aurora’s enthusiasm. “Dear. Of course not. Just us girls, right, Aurora?”
“Right.” A pang of inexplicable sympathy rose in Aurora’s chest. Ted’s attitude was…well, it sucked.
“Thank god.” Ted restlessly looked around the diner. “You can deal with all of that.”
All of that being their wedding?
“Well…” Erica pasted on a big smile. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you then.”
“Nice meeting you, Ted,” Jude added, no doubt just being nice.
“Yeah. Likewise.”
Jude widened his eyes as they walked away, taking a seat at the opposite end of the diner.
“Wow.” He mouthed the word to her.
“Right?” she mouthed back.
He hunched his shoulders, whispering conspiratorially. “What was that about her seeing you tomorrow?”
Aurora realized Jude wouldn’t know anything about that new development in her life. She leaned in, whispering back. “She’s having her wedding at the Orchard Inn.”
“Shut up,” he hissed.
“As I live and breathe.”
He shook his head and mouthed wow again. “That seems weird to me.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“That guy had the personality of this saltshaker.” He nodded toward the basket of condiments on their table.
“Not even. That saltshaker seems nice.”
Jude grinned and sat back. “Well, Godspeed to both of them.”
Ditto, Aurora thought. She couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with someone like Ted.
To be fair though, it’d gotten pretty difficult to imagine spending her life with anyone. She’d yet to meet someone in her dating adventures whom she could tolerate longer than a couple of months.
Chefs were notoriously difficult to date, with long, late hours, a giant helping of stressful working environments, and sprinkles of neurosis. That wasn’t the only reason though.
She couldn’t find anyone who fit. Her partner needed to be patient, supportive, good-humored, and independent. And she wasn’t about to settle for someone like Ted.
Jude dabbed his mouth with his napkin, the fries and his slice of pie gone. “Told you mine was better. You still have half of yours left. Thus, it is the subpar pie.”
He grinned, teasing her—some might even say flirting with her—and Aurora felt it all the way down to her toes.
She shouldn’t entertain this, but it was too fun to resist.
“Then I guess you wouldn’t be interested in the rest of my subpar pie.” She pushed her plate aside.
“I didn’t say that.” He tugged her plate in front of him. “Thank you very much.”
He’d always been willing to finish what she couldn’t eat. At seventeen, he’d been a veritable bottomless pit for snacks, leftovers, and treats.
Aurora shook off the past, willing herself to focus on the present. Broaching the restaurant topic was trickier than one might think.
This was Jude and his family. This was important.
“I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sounds ominous,” he said around a bite of pie.
“No. Not really. Your sister wanted me to talk to you about the restaurant idea some more.”
Jude swallowed, then opened his mouth to speak.
Aurora held her hand up to make him pause a bit longer. “Before you say anything, she brought it up to me. Jenna showed up at the inn with Max and asked me to discuss the restaurant with you. Let me just say that straightaway.”
He was quiet.
“She first mentioned something to me that day in the shop when I visited the farm. Then she said you told her about what I’d said when we were in the barn.”
Jude nodded. “We’ve batted around the notion for months now, and I knew she’d want to hear what you had to say on the topic.”
“And?”
“And?” His eyes sparkled as their gazes met. “We both think it’s a viable plan, with a lot of potential. I…I think it’s a great idea, but I don’t see how we can make it happen. Not right now.”
