I left Decadent Catering with a package of mint truffles, ribbon sandwiches, a container of Valerie’s specialty herb and spinach salad, and a smile on my face. Valerie was organized, confident, and from what I’d sampled so far, talented enough to pull off catering Sylvia’s bridal shower. It was a relief to find someone I felt was competent enough to help me through the summer.
On the way back to my shop, I turned sharply into the post office when I remembered that I hadn’t checked the P.O. box for a couple days. With keys jangling, I hurried inside to grab my mail. There wasn’t anything interesting in the little silver box, and I crammed the bills into my purse. I turned to go but halted when I recognized the profile of Luke from Clay’s Barbeque. Should I say hello? I recalled our conversation from yesterday and frowned.
He turned at that moment, and his eyes brightened with a smile when he saw me. “Hello, there. It’s Adri, right?”
I nodded.
“What’s the matter, no fried pickles today?” He winked, and I felt my cheeks flushing. What was I, thirteen?
“Just bills, unfortunately.” I patted my purse and immediately felt even more juvenile. I racked my brain for something witty to say.
He stepped toward me and all wittiness left my brain when I focused on the dark blue of his eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry if I came off rude yesterday,” he said.
“Oh, uh—”
He grimaced. “I didn’t mean to make fun of your profession. I’ve got a chip on my shoulder, and it carries over where it shouldn’t.”
I felt myself softening, but my stronger side resisted. “You weren’t very nice, and I even shared my pickle with you.”
He chuckled. “Maybe we should start over.” He held out his hand. “My name is Luke Stetson.”
I tilted my head and my lips twitched as I tried to suppress a grin. Finally, I reached out my hand. “Hi, Luke. I’m Adrielle Pyper, but my friends call me Adri.”
“Well, Adri, would you consider letting a big-mouth take you out for an early lunch?”
My surprise must have been evident because he laughed. “C’mon, I promise I’m not all bad.”
“I guess you’ll have to prove it to me.”
Luke adjusted his glasses. “I’m up for a challenge.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me out the door toward his shiny Harley. “Mind if I drive?”
Dang, was I ever in trouble.
At first I thought I’d be just fine if I sat up tall and kept my hands on my thighs, but as soon as Luke pulled out on the street and revved the engine, my hands flew forward of their own accord, gripping his waist. I could almost feel Luke smiling as we cruised down Main Street. Or maybe that was me. Why was I smiling so big? My hair brushed against the back of my neck, and I felt the cool breeze tickle my arms as we buzzed through town. I was just about to ask where we were headed when Luke pulled up in front of Honey’s Pizza Cafe.
“Have you ever had the pizza pockets here?” he asked as I got off the bike.
“No, but I love pizza, so I’m in.”
“What did you think of the ride?” Luke twirled the keys on his index finger.
His grin told me he already knew the answer. “Pretty smooth.” I hoped he caught my double meaning. “How long have you had it?”
“Only about six months. I’ve been saving for one of these since I was a teenager.”
“Lucky.” I put my hand on the leather seat. “I had my eye on a Road Glide custom painted to match my shop, but I didn’t think my brides and their mothers would be too keen on a Harley-riding wedding planner.”
“I’m impressed that you knew this was a Road Glide.”
“I may be a wedding planner, but I’m a country girl first,” I replied.
Luke smiled appreciatively. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
I shrugged and turned toward the restaurant so he wouldn’t notice the heat in my cheeks. He took my cue and opened the door for me. As we entered, he placed his hand briefly on the small of my back. The gesture startled me, mostly because of the way my middle began flitting with butterflies. What was happening here?
I studied Luke as we stood in line. He seemed relaxed, and when he smiled at me, I was struck by the sincerity there. Maybe yesterday he was just having a bad day. He had apologized for his comment. I wondered about the chip on his shoulder he’d mentioned—maybe he’d been dumped recently. We moved into a line with about four people ahead of us. The line was for the pizza pockets, set up similar to a sandwich bar, and it seemed to be moving at a good pace.
“I’ll have the supreme with jalapenos, please.” Luke pointed at the menu and then turned to me. “I’ve tried about half of them, if you need a recommendation.”
I stepped forward and squinted at the menu printed on glossy cardstock hanging from the wall. “I’ll try the Hawaiian with extra cheese.”
The pizza pocket was delicious. Ham and pineapple encased in delicious rosemary garlic bread that had a slight crunch on the outside but was absolutely moist on the inside. “Mmm, this is incredible. Thanks for lunch.”
“Glad you approve. I know the owners, and they are great people. It’s fun living in a small town like this, feeling like you’re supporting each other.”
“It is. Idaho is full of great little towns like this one.” I took another bite of my pizza pocket.
“So what great little town do you hail from?” Luke took a sip of his lemonade and waited for me to finish chewing.
“Rupert. It’s about the best place to grow up in the whole world.”
He chuckled. “That’s only what, an hour and a half from here?”
I nodded. “Have you been there?”
“Just passed through. It’s a beautiful route for a bike ride between here and there. Sometimes I take off Fridays and
