Second Chance at the Orchard Inn, page 4
He was already going as fast as he could without bowling people over.
“Hurry,” she repeated. “They might get stepped on.”
She was no longer the quiet, meek girl he’d known in school. The Aurora of his youth never shouted directions or commanded him to do anything. This development suited her. He’d always wished she would’ve spoken up more back then, but he didn’t want to admire changes in her. What good would it do to like things about Aurora now?
He’d had his chance. They’d had their moment as a couple, and it hadn’t worked. Their time had come and gone, and he’d be smart to remember that fact.
“I see them.” He spotted a cluster of chicks by a tent where cookies were being sold and hurried ahead.
He needed to focus on finding the baby chickens, and not worry about the past. His hasty immaturity had put the nail in the coffin of their relationship, but there was nothing he could do to change what’d happened between them. He’d promised himself, long ago, to move on.
Aurora caught up with him and gently picked up a chick as he set the basket down. He scooped up another two and placed them inside.
“I don’t know if that’s all of them,” she said.
“Yeah, I think I saw more than this scurrying out of the Wattersons’ tent. Let’s get on Main Street and look around.”
They reached Main Street, his basket of wares cheeping and chirping delightfully.
“They’re adorable.” Aurora peered down to check on them.
“Cute little fugitives,” he agreed. “Did you happen to see which way Roscoe went?”
“No.”
They began methodically making their way past the outer market booths, peeking under tables, but finding nothing.
Jude was about to give up hope when someone behind them screeched.
As he turned, a lady lurched in their direction, all but diving past Aurora and shoving her toward the ground.
He couldn’t drop the chicks, but he couldn’t let Aurora fall either.
Jude kept the basket in his left hand and reached for Aurora with his right arm, wrapping it around her and pulling her close.
She stumbled, but his body blocked her fall. Aurora bumped against him and ricocheted off just as quickly.
“Oh!” She tottered on her feet, trying to hold her balance. “Sorry.”
“It’s oka—” He barely had the words out as Roscoe barged past, skidding into Aurora’s calves.
“Oh!” she said again, her hands flying out to brace against Jude.
He caught her. Not in an embrace, because he knew better, but in a hold.
“What in the world?” She pulled away again, her hair now in a side bun, as about half of it fell loose.
“Roscoe is on the run. Must’ve seen more chicks.”
“More chicks,” they repeated in unison.
They turned together and ran after the dog.
Sure enough, up ahead, three little chicks wandered innocently into a green space at the end of the market.
“Here.” Jude shoved the basket at Aurora. “I’ll catch Roscoe, you get the chicks.”
He was the faster between the two of them, and had experience hemming up rambunctious dogs.
“Roscoe!” he yelled, the dog barely looking back as he cleared a hedgerow, closing in on the chicks.
There was nothing for it but to dive for the leash, so that’s what Jude did.
Like diving into home, he propelled himself forward, over the perfectly manicured bushes, arms stretched forward. He landed hard and skidded a little, the smell of earth and grass filling his nose, but, more importantly, the feel of nylon in his hand.
“Gotcha!” Jude exclaimed, his lungs protesting the words when the wind had just been knocked out of him.
For his part, Roscoe rounded on him and planted both front feet on his back, licking him eagerly.
Somewhere, off to his right, he heard giggling. Giggling that grew and grew until it was uncontrolled.
He knew that laughter. A laugh that had made his heart sing as he could only laugh in return.
God, he’d missed the sound of it.
Managing to dislodge Roscoe, Jude rolled over and sat up, only to receive more kisses.
“Enough.” He tried to hold the dog back.
“At least he’s lost all interest in the chicks. Now he only has eyes for you.”
Jude glanced up. Aurora stood above him, surrounded and backlit by sunlight, her hair a lost cause and a basket of baby chickens in her arms.
She looked like someone’s overworked guardian angel, or the rumpled patron saint of chicks.
“Lucky me.” Jude pushed himself up and Aurora offered her hand to help.
The gesture surprised him, but he was glad of it.
“You’re filthy,” she said.
“Huh?”
“Your shirt and jeans.” She pointed.
His once white T-shirt was now streaked with green and brown. “It’s okay. I always keep a change of clothes in the truck. Getting dirty is part of the job.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Aurora smiled as she nodded, and their gazes locked.
Something in his chest twisted at the sight of her smile. He wanted to cling to this moment a little longer. Just the two of them—a crazy dog and a dozen chickens. They were standing there together, after all this time.
He’d often wondered if he’d ever see her again. Aurora was so different, but still so much the same. And one thought grabbed him.
He’d messed up.
He’d known Aurora was unhappy in their relationship near the end. They’d started bickering a lot, but she wouldn’t talk about what was bothering her and he couldn’t handle the angst on top of everything else he had to deal with. When he ended their relationship, she’d quietly accepted his decision—and then disappeared.
He’d never understood, and it made him wonder if he’d ever really known her at all.
Regardless, he’d gone about things all wrong back then. He’d handled their breakup awfully, but by the time he realized it, she was leaving town. Heck, leaving the state. She left their hometown for good, and that was it. They never spoke or had the chance to hash it out. She was just gone, and he wasn’t about to intrude upon her new life.
Aurora deserved happiness, and it was best if he let her be.
“I should— Here.” She handed him the basket and turned to go. “I need to get back.”
Jude shook off the trail of his thoughts. “Yeah, I should get back too.”
To his job, and many responsibilities. Back to the present, and back to reality.
Chapter 5
Did y’all get all of them?” Cece asked, passing Aurora her water bottle.
She took a long drink. “I think. I hope so. Jude is taking the basket and Roscoe to Mrs. Watterson.”
“You’re all flushed.”
“It’s hot.”
Cece lifted one eyebrow.
“What?” It was already about a million degrees outside, and a stream of sweat trickled down her back.
Jude returned to the tent, glistening like a golden god in his dirty, clingy T-shirt and ruffled hair, damp at his temples.
“Sure is.” Cece smirked.
“Zip it.”
“That was crazy.” Jenna bounced Wyatt as she finished twisting a wrap around her. “The market isn’t usually this exciting. Must be you.”
Jude dipped behind the tent and out of sight.
“I doubt it.” Aurora ran her fingers through her hair before pulling it back and up into a bun again.
“It really has been good to see you. It’s been forever. I know…” She waved both Aurora and Cece toward the front of the tent and lowered her voice. “I know I should’ve reached out to you weeks ago, when I heard you were in town, but I didn’t know if things would be weird.”
“Why would they be weird?” Aurora asked, as if she didn’t know.
“Because of you and Jude.” Jenna was as straightforward as ever.
“That was years ago. It’s fine.”
No, it wasn’t, and they both knew that. She’d loved Jude’s family like her own, but when they broke up, she felt like she had to break up with his family too. Teenage Aurora had no clue how to navigate the web of an ex-boyfriend’s family, especially not once she decided to move away for culinary school. So, she’d talked to no one in his family about leaving for Colorado and hadn’t reached out to any of them until years later.
Cowardly? Maybe. But she’d been reeling from the breakup, and the sudden decision to go to school in Colorado, instead of in-state. She’d done the only thing she knew how to in the moment. She ran away.
“I know. It was all a long time ago, but I’ve heard from you maybe twice in ten years—and that was online. It’s different than in person. I was afraid it might be awkward if I reached out or dropped by. But now you’re here.” Jenna’s smile was warm and genuine.
And Aurora felt like crap for not extending an olive branch weeks ago. “No, I should’ve called you. That’s on me.”
Jenna’s smile widened. “Then how about we make up for the lost time?”
“Okay?” Nerves fluttered in her stomach.
“Come by the farm tomorrow. See what we’ve been working on and check out the full collection the farm has to offer.”
“This isn’t the full collection?”
“Are you kidding? Not nowadays. This isn’t half of it. There’s so much more since you were last out there. You’ll see what I mean. We’ve even started supplying a few restaurants in town.”
“Wow, really?” Aurora tried to temper her reaction, but she was impressed. Her family had done the same, taking their home and, first, turning it into a bed and breakfast, then expanding into weddings and events. They’d turned the scandal of their dad leaving into something beautiful.
“Yep. You never know, you might even find some inspiration when you visit.”
“Can I come too?” Cece chimed in. “I haven’t been by in a while.”
“Of course. Tomorrow afternoon okay?”
“It’s perfect.” Cece answered for them. “We should probably get home now though. Beth will send out search and rescue if I miss our afternoon appointment.”
Aurora should take the easy out and leave right now, without saying goodbye to Jude. Maybe it was guilt over not saying goodbye to Jenna ten years ago, or maybe it was because she wanted to see Jude one more time today. Whatever the reason—or complete lack of—Aurora went behind the Joneses’ tent on her way out.
“Jude?” she called, wishing to simply be polite and prove they could be normal, neighborly people to each other.
“Yeah?” He popped up from behind several boxes. Shirtless.
“Oh.” Aurora immediately stared at the sky, the side of the tent, anywhere except him.
“Sorry.” He shrugged a clean T-shirt on quickly, but not quick enough that she couldn’t get a look at him.
Jude hadn’t looked quite like that in high school.
Sure, he was an athlete then. Baseball kept him fit and muscular. But farm work? Farm work did him justice. Manual labor was a good look on Jude.
“I just wanted to say bye.” Aurora stared at the tent again. She shouldn’t have come back here, and she probably shouldn’t go by the farm tomorrow. What good could come of them spending any more time together? They’d both moved on with their lives, right? And the past should stay there.
“Y’all are leaving?”
“Yeah. We have a potential client coming by at one, and I smell like chickens.”
“Okay, well, um. I guess I’ll…see you around?”
“Sure. I’ll see you.”
“Aurora?” He paused after saying her name.
“Yeah?”
“I have my shirt on now. You can look at me.”
“Oh.” Her laugh came out all nervous and twittery. She hated herself for sounding like that. “I wasn’t not looking—” Yes, she was. “Anyway. I will see you around.” She waved and spun around, returning to Cece as fast as her legs could carry her.
“Okay, we can go,” she said to Cece as she whizzed by.
“The corn,” Cece reminded her.
“Crap.” Aurora backtracked and grabbed the sacks of corn. “Bye, Jenna. Bye, Wyatt.”
“Bye,” she heard Jenna’s voice trail off as she passed Cece on the way to her car.
“Good gosh, would you slow down?” Cece called behind her. “I’m not back to full speed yet.”
Once she was a block away from the market, and safe, Aurora stopped around the corner and waited. “Sorry. I know we need to get back, so I’m hurrying.”
“You’re all flushed again.” Cece grinned.
Aurora made a face at her sister. “Just get in the car.”
On their way home, Cece leaned her seat back a bit, reliving the morning. “How funny was that with the chickens?”
“Yeah. Funny.” Aurora shifted in the driver’s seat, trying to relax her grip on the wheel. “I wish you’d mentioned seeing Jenna and everyone at the market before.”
“By everyone, do you mean Jude? You wish I’d warned you that Jude is usually at that farmers’ market.”
“Not warned me, exactly. It would’ve been nice to have a heads-up though, and to know that you’ve been in touch with them.”
“I know. I should’ve said something, but I thought you knew he’d be there.” Cece sat up, turning toward her. “They do own a farm, and it is a farmers’ market.”
“I know, but…” But what? She’d known chances were good she’d see Jude there this morning.
“And I should’ve mentioned I talk to them from time to time.” Cece’s voice softened. “But it’s a small enough town, it’d be weird not to talk to people. Plus…” Her sister let the sentence drift.
“Plus, what?”
“It’s a touchy subject to bring up. I didn’t want to make it weird.”
Too late.
“It’s not a touchy subject,” Aurora lied, denying the weight and impact of Jude Jones and his family upon her life.
Cece scoffed. “Who are you trying to kid here, me or you? I’m not some casual California friend of yours. I’m your sister. The subject is touchy. Always has been, always will be.”
Aurora took a deep breath and had to relax her grip, again.
Cece was right, and annoyingly so in that way only little sisters could be. “Okay, whatever, it’s touchy. You still should’ve told me.”
“Fair enough.” Her sister leaned back in her seat. “I should’ve told you. I can tell you now though. Anything else you want to know?”
“No,” Aurora answered too quickly. She wanted to know everything about Jude and Jenna, and their parents and Bonnie and—
“It’s going to be okay.” Cece’s voice went soft again. “Going to the farm tomorrow? Might not be the easiest thing you’ve ever done, but it’ll be fine. Everyone seemed fine today.”
Fine. Right.
She and Jude had said maybe a dozen words to each other, while alternating between awkward proximity and careful politeness—a far cry from how they’d been years ago.
Back in the day, she and Jude had been so comfortable in each other’s presence. She’d sneak off at night and drive around with him, talking into the wee hours. Sometimes they’d fall asleep while talking on the phone. She’d loved Jude with everything she had, and he made her feel the same. Even though he was the guy almost every girl wanted, he made Aurora feel like the only person in the world.
If not for biology lab, in the spring of their junior year, they might not have ever gotten close. They knew each other, distantly, before, but ran in completely different circles.
Dissecting earthworms together made you fast friends.
Friendship flowed into flirting, and Jude had the kind of confidence that allowed him to ask her out within just a couple of weeks.
Even when jealousy brought out the cruel side of a few girls, Aurora weathered their snide comments with Jude’s affection. And, when the school’s queen bee, Erica Burr, started a nasty rumor about her, Aurora held her head high, knowing it wasn’t true.
What Erica and those other girls thought didn’t matter. All that mattered was her and Jude. What they had could survive anything.
Except it didn’t.
“Are you going to stay in the car and roast, or what?”
Aurora looked around. She’d gotten them back to the inn and put the car in park, all while her thoughts were years and years away.
Cece was standing by her car with bags of corn, staring into the open passenger door. “We’re home. Snap out of it.”
Well, they were at the Orchard Inn. Could she still call this home?
She was a visitor here now. Her home was her apartment in L.A. All of her stuff was still there, her job that she’d worked so hard for, and, most notably at the moment, her car.
“I’m coming.” She grabbed the last bag of corn and the small bag of herbs from the back seat. “I cannot believe I’m going to their farm tomorrow.”
Aurora waited for her sister’s quick retort, but Cece was already halfway to the house.
What if Jude’s parents came around and wanted to talk to her? They had to hate her. She loved his folks, but she hadn’t seen or spoken to them since the breakup. She didn’t want to deal with any ill will from them. She’d always felt comfortable around Jude’s family. Accepted.
With a grumble, Aurora plodded around the back of the inn, the door to their private residence hanging open in Cece’s wake.
“Leave the corn on the table for now. I’ll help you shuck it outside later if you want,” Cece yelled down the hall.
Aurora set everything on their table and flopped onto the sofa. She could use a moment to relax before washing up for their appointment.
A few minutes later, her phone pinged from inside her purse, startling her from her impromptu nap. Hauling herself up, Aurora dug around her bag and grabbed it from the bottom as it pinged again.
The texts were from Sloane. Roommate, work bestie, knower of all gossip, and keeper of all confessions. Sloane was junior chef at Brio, the restaurant where they worked, and she’d been keeping Aurora updated on all she’d missed while away.
Aurora rubbed her eyes, forcing them into focus on Sloane’s text.
