Page 28 of First Love, Second Draft

“See? Told you it could be done,” Gracie said.

Noah started a slow clap. “Andbooywas it sexy.”

14

Noah had hoped by now to find some time to talk to Gracie about... well, their future. Mainly, did they still have a chance for one or not?

But after all the jowl-grabbing on the porch yesterday morning, Gracie kept brushing him off whenever he approached her, declaring she couldn’t afford to waste another single minute on anything but her story. She spent the rest of the day on the couch, pecking away at her laptop, and said she planned to do the exact same thing today until her entire manuscript was fixed.

Well, pecking away and finding sustenance on nothing more than toast and tea might work for Gracie, but Noah was in dire need of some real food and conversation this morning. Which is why he now found himself climbing out of his Jeep on Main Street in Alda, getting heckled by Bobby the Barber.

“You know,” Bobby said, sweeping the sidewalk in front of his barbershop the same way he had since the first time Noah rolled into town some twenty-plus years ago, “if you’re still looking for those five strikes, the men’s bowling league starts up on Tuesday. They might even let you finish out the season,” he added with a guffaw.

What was it Jesus had said about a prophet without honor? Well, this might not be Noah’s hometown, but it still rang pretty true. Notthat Noah minded. Sometimes it felt nice just being known as plain old Noah Parker, Gracie’s fella.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Bobby,” Noah said, reaching for the door to Lyla’s Diner just as Mert Adley pushed it open.

“Well, howdy do there, Noah.” Mert Adley, wearing a green mesh John Deere cap and bib overalls, held the door open for him. “Good pitching earlier this season. Not sure what happened there toward the end.”

“I think I got old.”

“Ha!” Mert slapped him on the back. “Happens to the best of us, doesn’t it? But hey, there’s always next year, right?”

The door clanged shut with a ding. “Not always,” Noah muttered, not wanting to give any thought to what next year might look like for him. Not before he poured some coffee down his throat at least.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee, maple syrup, and greasy bacon welcomed Noah further inside. Conversations and silverware clattering on plates sounded along with the song “A Teenager in Love” by Dion and the Belmonts. Place hadn’t changed a bit since Noah was a teenager. Shoot, probably hadn’t changed a bit since Dion was a teenager.

No, he hadn’t grown up in this sleepy little town. But he’d spent plenty of time here winning Gracie over. And somehow this town had wormed its way into his heart. Probably because the people here had allowed him to worm his way into theirs.

The tension Noah put on every day like a T-shirt loosened from his shoulders. Felt good to be home.

“Ooop. Everybody sit up a little straighter now,” a deep feminine voice boomed. “We have us here a see-leb-er-tee. Yes, we do.” Lyla hoisted her tray with a coffee pot and mugs up over her fleshy shoulder and sashayed over to Noah. “Well, hello sir. I do believe we have your special booth ready and waiting. Right this way.”

“Thank you, server.” Noah replied in a snooty tone. “And do you still have my usual drink, the triple non-fat sow-cow macchiato with an extra shot of caffeine-free espresso, two spoons, one straw?”

“Oh, but of course.” She motioned to a booth covered in wet streaks. A dishrag was still perched on the edge of the table.

When he sat, she plunked a mug in front of him and poured dark coffee from her pot. “Does it meet your standards?”

Noah tasted a small sip of the plain black coffee, strong enough to put as much hair on his chest as what was currently covering his face, and made a show of working it around in his mouth before swallowing. “It will do quite well, thank you.”

Her stoic features finally broke loose into a toothy smile, and she cackled. “Stand up and give me a real hello.”

Noah slid out from the booth and wrapped the short, hearty woman in his arms. She squealed when he lifted her off her feet. “Silly boy.”

“I’ve missed you,” Noah said, setting her back down and grinning into her round face.

“Of course you have. Nobody makes breakfast like me. I tried telling you that.” She waved her fingers at another customer who’d just stepped inside. “Figure out what you want. I’ll be back in a few.”

No sooner had Noah settled back in the booth, than his old friend Abe slid into the seat across from him. “You dirty dog. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back? I would have lined up a parade. Organized a bake-off. Put together a talent show. A kissing booth. Something.”

“I think you just covered all the reasons I didn’t tell you.” Noah emptied creamer into his coffee, then flung the empty container at Abe. A few years older than Noah, Abe was one of the guys who had tried staking a claim on Gracie before he realized he had no chance once Noah started dating her.

Abe caught the missile and grinned. “See that. Lightning-fast reflexes. I should have gone pro.”

“Really missed your chance.”

Abe hunched his shoulders, a what-do-you-do expression on his face. “Too bad this town would’ve fallen apart without me as their mayor.”

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