Page 28 of Mountains Divide Us

“He’s this older, way more mature person. He was in the Army for years, and I’m the pink-haired little girl, dreaming of some fairy-tale love story. I got the feeling Deputy Frank Sims doesn’t believe in fairy tales. Know what I mean?” I said, remembering the way Frank’s eyes had sparkled when he watched the little boy at the restaurant.

Someone banged on the bell at the front desk, and then we heard, “Sam? Where are you?”

“Oh, that’s Juneau,” I told Brady. “She probably wants her dress back.” I called to her. “Back here!”

When she found us, she popped a fist on her hip over her pink puffy coat. “Well? How was the date?”

“Oh my God, you’re both awful.”

“Hey,” she said to Brady.

“What’s up?” he said, and then they turned in unison, both fixing their eyes on my face.

“Did my dress work? You better start talking, Sam, or I’m gonna write you into one of my books and turn you into a bitter, sexless spinster.”

“Okay, okay, jeez, but one of you has to buy me a green tea latte first. That’s the deal, and I’m sticking to it.”

* * *

The warmth of Coffee Shot was familiar as we entered, the three of us huddled up together to combat the cold wind before the door shut behind us. Coming here felt like seeing an old friend, if a cozy little country shop could be one. I loved being here. It made me feel like I was a part of the community because it was a hub of Wisper, everyone making their way to the Main Street café at least once a day and running into friends, coworkers, or family. It was nearly always full, and there was usually some kind of fundraiser going on.

This month it was Snowflakes for Shannon, which raised money for a little girl in the next town over who had leukemia. The owner of Coffee Shot, Walt Finkle, asked for a dollar donation with every cup of coffee he sold. Actually, it was more like a very polite demand, and when you gave it to him, he handed you a paper snowflake to hang in the front window. Customers wrote their wishes for Shannon to kick cancer’s butt on their snowflakes. You could barely see through the window at this point, there were so many snowflakes. And then, at the end of February, Walt would match the donations and deliver the money and the snowflakes to Shannon and her parents to help pay for her medical care or to buy her something really special.

This was what had drawn me back to Wisper. My gramps was a big reason, too, but I’d spent so much of my life hopping from place to place, and now that I was getting older, I wanted a home base. I wanted to plant some roots. I needed stability after Florida, and the memories I had from spending summers here as a little girl were so happy. They were always at the front of my mind, pulling me to this tiny town in the heart of the West.

Juneau handed Walt a crisp twenty after she paid for our drinks, and we filled out our snowflakes at our table as we sipped them. I hummed along quietly to “Ain’t No Sunshine” in the background, playing from the speakers overhead, as I typed a reminder into my phone to find some used books for Walt to take with him when he delivered the money from the snowflakes. I couldn’t imagine going through something as hard and scary as cancer without some good books to get lost in, and Shannon was the perfect age to be introduced to Judy Blume. I had an old paperback copy of Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret back at Gramps’s house just waiting for her eleven-year-old eyes. Banned books my ass. Are You There, God was a classic.

Brady stuck our snowflakes to the window with the clear, sticky adhesive circles Walt had provided, then plopped back into his chair. “Thanks, Juni. Now spill, Sam.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, thank you for the drinks,” I said, and Juni winked and smiled. “And yes, he kissed me. Yes, it was amazing. But no, I don’t think we’re going out again.”

Juni whimpered. “Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”

I threw my hands up, then lowered my voice, looking around and hoping only she and Brady would hear me say, “What more is there? He’s almost forty-nine.”

“Are you kiddin’?” Brady scoffed. “If you kissed him, then you touched him, and I definitely need to know what that felt like. Who cares how old he is?” He looked at Juni. “Have you seen the man’s body?”

“Mmhm,” Juni hummed suggestively, smirking and agreeing. “He’s like one of those guys you see on TikTok chopping wood for no reason at all with their shirts off, except he’s a seasoned one. He’s so freaking hot. Imagine what he’s capable of in the sack, Sam.”

I laughed. “He actually said that when I told him it wasn’t going to work out.”

Her eyes grew twice their normal size. “He did? And please tell me you didn’t.”

“Yes, Juneau, I did, because it’s not.” I was saying it, but inside, I was knocking myself upside the head. I wanted to see him again. His smile, though rare, was magnetic, and all of his old-fashioned mannerisms were working their charms on me as I recalled them with my friends.

I kept saying it was the age thing, but now that I’d had the chance to get to know him a little, it wasn’t even the biggest obstacle between Frank and me.

“Okay, fine,” Brady said. “But what was his body like? At least give us that much.”

“You’re so bad,” I said, and I smiled. I couldn’t help it, and the memory had me flustered enough so that only half of my thought came out. “He was hard.”

Suddenly, like in any self-respecting rom-com, a hush fell over Coffee Shot, and I watched as Brady’s brown eyes rose slowly, one agonizing inch at a time, until they finally focused on someone standing behind me.

I heard a gruff grumble, a strict clearing of a throat.

Juni turned her head, looking behind and above me, and she gasped. “Oh shit.”

Brady coughed at the same time and, trying to hide his smirk, said in an annoyingly amused voice, “Hey there, Deputy Sims. Can we help you with somethin’?”

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