Page 2 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

Pushing off the door, I opened my eyes and strolled to the counter to make coffee. Nothing in Gram’s house had changed since my last visit almost five years ago. From the cream-colored Formica countertops, with a few knife marks from when I used a steak knife to cut a tomato as a teenager to the crack in the window over the sink.

Hunter has been keeping the house up since Gram’s passing six years ago, and he promised me he’d not change a thing; he kept his word.

When I left the city, I had only one destination in mind.Home.

It was the best place to recover from my broken engagement, and have some time alone. No one from my workplace would be here, or have easy access to me. Only a few from Coleman, unless Hunter blabbed his mouth too much, would know of my marital situation, and that was good.

Normally a fairly reserved person, I didn’t care for people knowing my business; especially something like having a wedding called off. It would be so much easier explaining to everyone that Travis had a side fling, some sort of mistress.

But having to tell people that he was a drug addict, and I’d been clueless was embarrassing. It was better to not even broach the topic.

Grabbing the old percolator coffee pot, the same one Gram used my entire childhood, I filled it up with water and got it setup on the gas stovetop. It’s been years since I’ve had coffee brewed this way, and I smiled with anticipation waiting for the water to boil and brew the coffee grounds.

My eyes traveled to the kitchen window, and I resisted the urge to walk over there and see if Van was lingering outside.

“No, don’t do it,” I scolded myself and returned my attention to Gram’s kitchen.

If I inhaled deep enough, I could still smell her lavender perfume wafting through the room. The kitchen was Gram’sfavorite place to be when she was inside the house. When she was outside, her gardens were her favorite.

Thinking about her flower and herb gardens instantly gave me a reason to step up to the window, and peek out. Fortunately for me, Gram’s old gardens were along the fence line bordering the Willis property, so this would afford me a casual glance in Van’s direction.

Instead of surveying the old garden beds, my eyes went to the Willis backyard, which was void of any person.

“Oh, come on,” I scowled, just as the percolator began bubbling and spitting brewed coffee.

Moseying back to the stove, I stared at the little clear bulb on top of the percolator, mesmerized by the amber-colored liquid popping up and down every few seconds. Soon, I could drown myself in a hot cup of coffee without creamer and sugar.

When I arrived in town after midnight, I hadn’t thought about groceries, but I had at least brought a small box of necessities when I left the city. Coffee was in the box, but the sugar, and the powdered coffee creamer hadn’t made it into the box.

I was too exhausted last night to stop at a local 24-hour gas station and grab a few handfuls of sugar packets and those little non-dairy creamer cups, which now made me regret my laziness.

Opening the cupboard to my right, I took out a coffee mug that had been turned upside down, and still rinsed it out. After pouring a cup of coffee, I strode to the front door and opened it.

The sun filtered into the foyer, and I wondered what I’d do today. My first official day in Coleman after a five-year absence.

“Grocery shopping,” I nodded, sipping some coffee.

Grimacing at the bitterness of the hot brew, I was going to buy a ten-pound bag of sugar, and use half of it in tomorrow’s cup. As the caffeine settled into my body, and washed away all the stress from driving at night, I began to feel awake and ready to conquer the day.

Listening to the birds chirping, and somewhere in the distance a tractor sounded as if it were rambling through a corn or hay field, I felt relaxed. For the first time in a long time, my body wasn’t tense, and I sighed.

Coming home was just what I needed. I could sit out on the front porch or the back deck, enjoying the sounds of nature around me, sipping coffee in the morning and maybe a glass of wine in the evenings, and just forget about the stress of the day, and what had become of my life.

“But now what are you gonna do about Van?” I mumbled to myself, sipping more coffee as I sat on Gram’s old rocking chair. “You know he’s gonna run to Hunter.”

Laying my head back on the chair, I rocked and wondered if I should’ve told my older brother I was coming home. He had offered for me to come stay at Gram’s place when I first broke off my engagement, but I told him I was okay, and could handle the lousy hand life had dealt me.

But the more I considered the offer, the better it sounded.

And here I am.

I sighed.

A motorcycle rumble coming from the other side of the stockade fence caused me to glance towards the Willis house. Seconds later, the roar of the engine came into view, and I saw Van riding a spectacular, chrome-decked-out high dollar motorcycle.

Entranced with him riding the bike, I saw he was wearing a short-sleeved black tee shirt, showing off his tattoo on his forearm, and his biceps bulged beneath the shirt fabric. His long legs, encased in a pair of black denim demanded attention, and I felt my stomach flutter at the sight of him.

How did this man, after all these years, still make my heart skip a beat, and make me feel like a high school girl swooning over her true love?

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