3

Allen watched after Heather Shaw as she walked to the checkout area. He heard the items being scanned. As he passed the entrees being cooked for sampling, he recalled how his body went still when he held her. Should he have been paying more attention? Did his mind wander where he didn’t hear her behind him? Whatever the reason, his heart perked when he caught the beauty in his arms.

Clasping his pint-sized chocolate cookie dough, he strolled to the checkout line. There she was. Only a few feet away, her hair shining in the fluorescent light. Was that wine or burgundy in her hair? A smirk crossed Allen’s face. Whatever it was, her bright smile was breathtaking.

Chiding him for cookie dough ice cream? It made him laugh. Standing in line, he glimpsed Heather in the line next to him. It was a small town, so he would run into her.

Judging by her toned legs, she had to be in shape. Her honey skin glowed on her face as she turned her face back and forth between the contents in her basket and the cashier. Then they locked eyes. Heather’s lips parted and she licked her medium lips.

“Are you ready to check out sir?” the cashier asked.

“I’m sorry, yes,” he said placing his pint on the conveyor belt. The beeps of the scanner filled his ears, while music played through the speakers. Lifting his chin once more, he caught sight of Heather sauntering out the door.

“Sir? Your receipt?” the cashier said.

Allen blinked and accepted the small piece of paper. “Thank you.” He grabbed his small grocery bag, only to see Heather gone. Biting his lower lip, he walked to his black and yellow Chevrolet Colorado.

His phone vibrated. “What’s up, Des?” Allen settled into the driver’s seat, connecting his Bluetooth to his truck.

“You up for dinner tonight? Morgan’s asking,” his cousin said.

“The last time you invited me—”

“I know but it’ll be the three of us.”

Allen didn’t want to be the third wheel. While he was happy for his cousin, he didn’t care to see them exchange glances and stealing kisses at the table.

“You promised to get out more.”

“You enjoy throwing that back in my face. I said sometimes.”

Desmond sighed. “I know. No pressure. She thought it would be nice. I’ll tell her you can’t make it. No big deal, okay?”

“If I change my mind, where are you eating?”

“Mabel’s Diner. It’s across from the floral shop on Third Street.”

Allen tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Though he wanted to do nothing but sit on his couch and watch reruns, he wanted to get past the churning in his stomach with meeting new people. His job was different. He could plaster a smile on his face if he needed to, but he enjoyed helping people.

Hanging up with Desmond, he pulled into his driveway. Once inside, he changed his clothes and showered the day away. He roamed his living room crossing over his area on his espresso hardwood floors. A half-read book hung upside down on the arm of his couch. He picked up a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. He must have left it the night before when he fell asleep on the couch.

Looking through his refrigerator, leftover stir-fry didn’t appeal to his stomach. Was it bad to go out? He was getting better every day. There was no need to rush. If he had to, he could ignore Desmond and Morgan’s bantering since he heard Mabel’s meatloaf was the best in town.

Changing into a sweater and jeans, he fastened the buttons on his coat and tied a scarf around his neck. His boots tracked the snow to his truck, and he rubbed his gloved hands together once inside. He didn’t hesitate to turn on his heated seats.

The closer he drove into downtown, the more he saw how Maple Meadow took Christmas seriously. Garland decorated the poles lining the streets, while a twelve-foot tree stood in the square. He thought they only did this in movies, but Maple Meadow proved him wrong. Stringed lights lit the local deli, flower shop, and coffeehouse. Allen did a double-take. Was the ice cream truck decked in Christmas lights? He supposed there were those who loved the season. He kept things simple for the holidays. It was easier to handle.

Pulling into Mabel’s Diner, Allen exhaled. He was only hanging out with Desmond and Morgan, but why did it remind him of what he didn’t have? He cleared his throat and walked through the glass doors, hearing the bell chime above his head.

Allen spotted the long counter with stools spaced underneath. Unloosening his scarf, he looked around for Desmond, only to see him seated next to Morgan in a booth. Was that another woman sitting with them? Allen hoped Morgan didn’t plan to fix him up again, but the slight quiver in his stomach said otherwise. He could sneak out with no problem. He pivoted to leave and made a mental note to tell Morgan to stop with the blind dates.

“Allen!”

Too bad her voice stopped him in his tracks. Allen turned to wave, but Morgan only waved him over. Desmond rubbed his forehead as if wishing Morgan would keep out. Allen could say hi.

“Hello everyone,” he said clutching to his keys inside his coat pocket.

Morgan clapped her hands. “I’m so glad you could come. I want you to meet a new friend of mine, Portia Barnes.”

Allen licked his

lips and extended his hand to the woman.

Portia beamed and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you.” Could he fake a headache and leave?

“Sit down.” Morgan gestured for Portia to scoot over.

She did.

Allen forced a smile and took off his coat. He would leave in fifteen minutes and take the meatloaf to go. He sat next to Portia.

“So Morgan tells me you’re a physical therapist,” she said.

“Yeah.” His eyes narrowed at Desmond and Morgan, but she only tilted her head to the side with a raised eyebrow.

“That must be rewarding, helping people.” Portia turned in her seat to face him better.

“It is. I’ve met some great people. What do you do?”

“I’m a teacher,” Portia said.

“What grade?” Allen asked.

“Second grade. I wish the benefits were better.”

Allen nodded. “I’ve heard some stories about the school system.”

Portia smiled. “Thankfully for me, I love what I do and I feel like I’m making a difference with the kids.”

“This is good.” Morgan gestured between the two of them. “I think you two are hitting it off great.”

“Allen, don’t you have to be somewhere?” Desmond asked. His cousin’s eyes widened and lowered to the table.

Allen's lips parted, but he reached for his phone inside his pocket. He saw a text from Desmond.

7:33 PM… Desmond: Sorry about Morgan. I’ll talk to her. Tell her you need to leave. Make up something man!

Allen scratched the back of his head. This was his ticket out. He sighed. He could have dinner. He shook his head and stuffed his phone back inside his pocket.

“Allen’s new in town,” Morgan said to Portia.

“Do you like it here so far?” Portia asked him.

Maybe he should have taken Desmond’s advice and left. “Yeah, it’s much quieter here compared to the city.”

“Where were you before?”

“Houston,” Allen said, picking up a menu. His skin prickled at the thought of small talk but he was trying. He needed to get out more. He couldn’t stay in his house all the time, although it sounded better than chewing the inside of his cheek.

“I can’t imagine living anywhere other than Maple Meadow. I’m glad you’re here,” Morgan said.

Allen gave a faint smile. She meant well, but she was persistent.

“So what looks good?” Desmond picked up his menu. “I’m thinking the chicken fried steak.”

Portia tapped her fingers to her lips as she perused the menu. “I’m thinking the chicken fried chicken.”

The bell chimed again and Allen turned his head towards the door. A familiar face and his lips parted recognizing the woman from the store. What was her name? He knew her name. Heather. That had to be it. Bundled inside her coat, she walked over to the pickup line. Mabel’s did pickups? Allen would have to try it during his lunch hours.

Heather greeted the worker behind the counter and then stood off to the side next to the under glass domes, filled with several fruits and meringue pies. Allen stared. Why? She wasn’t the only beautiful woman in town. Portia was beautiful but Heather had his attention. She swayed back and forth on her booted feet as she waited. She even smiled to herself. What brought that smile?

“Allen?” Desmond said.

Allen blinked. The waiter stood with her notepad and pen waiting for his order. He cleared his throat. “Sure, I’ll have… the meatloaf.”

The waiter smiled and Allen handed her his menu.

“Feeling okay?” Portia asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be back.” He stood from the booth and headed for the restrooms. Only, he had to pass the pickup area. Heather sat on the wooden bench with her legs crossed.

What would he say? His heart palpitated and his mouth went dry. Shaking his head, he weaved in and out of the maze of tables, coming to the open area. Heather looked up, and he locked eyes with her. She sat back in her chair.

“You’re following me? Should I call the sheriff?” She smiled biting her lower lip.

“No, I’m here for the meatloaf.” Not his best comeback line but it was the truth. Women liked honesty, didn’t they?

“It is Mabel’s specialty. Have you tried the homemade biscuits yet?” she asked as she leaned in as if to share a secret with him.

Allen walked closer and stood beside her seat. “Not yet, but I will. Thanks.” He stuffed his hands inside his pocket. Why did he come over? He didn’t do this. Put him in a work situation and he could handle himself, but this woman had his fingers tingling. He exhaled. He could do this.

“What brings you here?”

“I had a taste for the shepherd’s pie,” Heather said.

“So ice cream and shepherd’s pie.” He laughed. “And I’m unhealthy for eating cookie dough ice cream.”

“Moderation is key and I don’t eat the same every day.” She looked over at him. Her smile reached her eyes.

“Heather?” a voice called out.

She rose from her seat and walked over for her to-go bag. Handing the cashier cash, she had her keep the change. Heather pivoted to face Allen. “Enjoy your meatloaf.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you.”

“It’s Maple Meadow. You’ll see me around.” She walked past him to the exit door.

Allen stared after her as she walked away. He saw her twice. Maple Meadow was a small town, so that was normal.