JOSIE
I think my name is Josie Cole.
If you had asked me that simple question six months ago, I wouldn’t have balked at my answer. But that was before everything changed. Before I learned that everything I’d been told about my life was a lie.
I’d lived my whole life as the only child of older parents who had desperately wanted kids but hadn’t been able to conceive until late in life. My mom—possibly the sweetest, most loving woman ever—had adored me and showered me with affection. My dad was gruff but kind. If I was the center of mom’s world, she was the center of his. When she died of breast cancer when I was sixteen, it broke both our hearts. He’d always been taciturn and solitary. When I graduated from high school, it never occurred to me to go to college. He needed me with him, and there would never have been money for college even if he hadn’t.
We’d been poor and moved around a lot. I hadn’t cared about either of those things because, as Momma always said, “Family is what matters. As long as you have family, you have everything.”
Then, on his death bed, my dad revealed the unthinkable. Everything about Momma’s favorite saying was a lie. I didn’t have family. We weren’t family at all.
The reason my parents had me so late in life, is because I wasn’t their child. I wasn’t even legally adopted.
To hear my “father” tell it, one day, Momma came home from work with a newborn baby. He’d loved her too much to deny her anything. So without even asking where she’d gotten me, they had packed what they could into the back of his truck and driven off in the middle of the night, disappearing to start a new life with new identities and a new child.
The only clue I have to who I really am and whether or not I have any family left at all is the name of the town where they lived before I was born.
After Dad’s funeral, feeling hurt, betrayed and lost, I gave in to the impulsiveness my parents tried so hard to control all my life. I set out to find the truth, no matter where it took me or what the cost.
So here I am in a strange state, in a strange little town sitting at the counter at Red’s Diner with my last $26.43, slowly nibbling on my grilled cheese sandwich, trying to make it last, since who knows when I’ll be able to afford another meal.
And, yes, the idea that my last meal for a while will be a grilled cheese sandwich is a bit depressing, but it was the cheapest thing on the menu. I take a swallow of water, and then the lady behind the counter, Violet—she told me earlier— sets down another plate in front of me. This one is smaller and is holding a piece of cake.
I look up at her and shake my head, slightly panicked because while it looks tasty and smells amazing, I do not have room in my budget for amazing. “I didn’t order that.”
She gives me a warm, genuine smile. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’re instantly friends with someone even if you’ve never met them. A smile that says, “Yep. We’re going to be friends. Just accept it because that’s the way things are.”
I automatically smile back, but before I can push the plate across the counter to her, she holds up her hand to stop me.
“It’s a rule here at Red’s. Everyone’s first visit is on the house and includes a slice of my famous apple cinnamon blaze cake.”
I try to send her a skeptical, steely-eyed look. Because I’m ninety-seven percent sure she made that “rule” up because I look so pathetic.
And, yes, I do look pathetic. I know it.
But Coles don’t take charity. That’s a rule that’s been so deeply ingrained in me, it’s just part of my … well, I’d say it’s in my blood and my DNA, but that’s just silly now that I know my blood and my DNA don’t have anything to do with being a Cole.
Still, I don’t take charity.
She must see that I’m about to argue with her because she calls in reinforcements. “Isn’t that right, Chase Michael?” She glances down the counter, and I see a large cowboy sitting there.
It’s a testament to how consumed I’ve been worrying about my current dire situation that I missed seeing a mountain of a man sitting only a few stools away from me. He’s got a cowboy hat sitting on the stool next to him, and scuffed boots rest on the floor because he’s clearly so tall that he’s basically just leaning on the stool.
The man looks up at Violet. “I’m sorry, Ms. Violet, I wasn’t listening. I was wrapped up in your delicious lunch.” Even from his profile, I can tell the smile he offers her is sheepish.
I can’t see his entire face from this angle, but I see a strong jaw, covered in a short beard, and dark wavy hair so thick my fingers itch to touch it. His thick legs are encased in worn denim that I bet mold nicely to what is probably a beefy bottom. My cheeks heat at that thought. What is the matter with me that I’m ogling this stranger?
“I was just telling our new friend here,” Violet says, then turns to me. “What’s your name, honey?” she asks me.
“Josie.”
Violet smiles—it’s that same friendly smile that just lights up her already pretty face—then looks back at the cowboy. “I was telling our new friend, Josie, that the first meal here at Red’s is free and comes with a slice of my cake. She was looking at me suspicious like, and so I thought I’d let you confirm to her that it’s the truth.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Then he turns his gaze to me, and I swear I swallow my tongue. “What Violet says is true.”
His deep voice with a thick Tennessee accent flows over me ,and I suppress a shiver. Of the good kind.
I know I’m probably staring, but he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. Granted, I come from a very sheltered life, so I haven’t known many men. But unlike the slick and chiseled hotties you see in magazines and on TV, this man is all big and rugged good looks. There’s nothing polished about him, but just looking at him makes me feel warm and safe, but also tingly and a little breathless.
Which just sounds crazy even inside my head. Maybe it’s from lack of sleep.
I can practically feel Violet looking back and forth between me and this mountain of a man, and my blush deepens.
“Chase Michael, come on over here and introduce yourself to Josie,” Violet says.
He nods and stands, and good grief he’s enormous. He’s got to be well over six feet, and he’s thick and barrel-chested. My entire body heats, and I think I might be hyperventilating.
And then he’s standing next to me, holding out a hand.
I place my palm in his, and he gives me a ghost of a smile. I’m too dumbstruck to return his smile.
“Josie, nice to meet you,” he says in that deep accent. I’d swear I see the slightest tinge of pink stain his cheeks.
His massive bear-paw-sized hand is calloused against my own, but I have no desire to release him. I’m not one of those tiny, delicate women, and I’ve never had my hand so engulfed in a man’s hand before. In fact, I kind of want to slither up next to him and just lean in. Just sort of burrow.
Which is the silliest instinct, given that I just met him. And also that my life is in chaos. I have zero idea what my next move is in life, but clearly hugging random strangers should not be on the list of possible steps.
Ever since I learned the truth about my family history, I’ve assumed my parents kept me sheltered my whole life because they were afraid someone would learn the truth and I’d be taken away from them. But maybe it’s actually because they sensed that the first time I ever met a super-hot stranger I would want to climb him like a tree.
I mean, it’s probably that first thing, but at this point, who knows?
“Nice to meet you,” I manage to choke out. I even force myself to release his hand. Yay, me!
Violet sets down another slice of cake in front of the stool next to me and nods to it. “Here, honey, you have some cake, too,” she tells Chase. Then she turns to me. “You’ll have to forgive me for being nosy, but your phone has been going off every few minutes. Are you in some kind of trouble, Josie?”
I finally drag my gaze away from Chase, prepared to lie my socks off. But the look of genuine concern in Violet’s eyes nearly undoes me.
I’ve tried so hard to be strong and keep it together since dad died. The months since then have been a blur of grief and confusion. And loneliness.
So much loneliness.
I know now why we lived such a solitary, isolated life. Why they worked so hard to protect me. What I’ll never understand is why they didn’t see how alone I’d be once they were gone.
It’s been months since anyone, even a relative stranger, has shown me this much kindness. I’m like a frostbite victim being thrust into a warm bath. The shock of it nearly breaks me.
I open my mouth to answer, but tears spring to my eyes, and I have to snap my mouth closed or risk bursting into tears.
I swallow hard, muster my courage, and try to imagine any way I can’t get out of this mess I’m in without asking for help.
Coles don’t take charity. And even if I’m not a Cole, I hate the idea of burdening anyone else with my mistakes. I hate needing help. And I hate even more that I alone got myself into this mess. Okay, I had some help from my dearly departed parents who lied to me my entire life. But the reason I’m here in this diner…all me.
But the truth is, all the grilled cheese sandwiches in the world can’t solve this. My $26.43 can’t solve this.
I don’t need charity, but I do need help. Rather desperately, in fact.
“I don’t really know,” I admit. I look down at my phone, and it’s the same number. Seven missed phone calls and twelve text messages.
Violet pours three cups of coffee, then sets them on the counter. “Spill it, honey.” She nods to the diner behind us. “We’re the only ones in here. I have no other customers to tend to. Nowhere else to go. If I can help, I will. And I know Chase well enough to know he’d say the same.” They exchange a look, and from the corner of my eye I see him give a determined nod. “You’re safe here.”
I swallow hard, wanting her words to be true. They feel true. I feel safe in this moment. Safer than I’ve felt in months. Maybe safer than I’ve ever felt. And while I’m sure Violet’s kindness, the coffee, and the cake help, I suspect my sudden sense of security has everything to do with the quiet giant next to me.
“It’s kind of a long story.” I pause, giving Violet and Chase the chance to shrug it off. But Violet just nods and sips her coffee, and I can feel Chase’s steady, comforting presence as he listens, so I continue. “I’ll try to just skip to the main parts. Basically, I found out a couple of months ago that everything I believed about my life was a lie. I don’t know for sure, but suspect I was kidnapped as a baby.” This is a bit of a stretch, but I’m still not ready to admit out loud that my parents were criminals. “There aren’t any records, but I know I have a twin sister out there somewhere, and my only clue was that we were born in the hospital in Jasper.”
“Oh, honey,” Violet coos and squeeze my hand.
I exhale slowly. “Anyways, so I wanted to come here to see if I could find out any information, but when my daddy died, he left me with a mountain of debt. I had to sell the house to pay it off, and by the time I did, I was down to my last fifty dollars.”
There are details I leave out. I don’t describe my frantic search of my parents’ house for clues about my origin. For any kind of records. I don’t talk about my fruitless search for a birth certificate. Or the stunning revelation—thanks to a kind but ultimately unhelpful librarian—that without one, I can’t get a driver’s license or an ID or a social security card. And without any of those things, I can’t get a job.
I am, essentially, a person who doesn’t exist. I have no way to support myself.
It’s all too humiliating to admit. So I skip that part. “Then I saw an ad, and it seemed like my only hope.” I cringe, not even wanting to finish the story. Oh, what they’ll think of me when I give them the rest of the details, even if this part isn’t the worst of it. “It was for a mail-order bride service.”
I release an awkward chuckle. “I didn’t even know that was still a thing. But the company pays for all relocation costs. I didn’t know what else to do. So I found a man looking for a bride here in Whiskey Run. It was the closest I could get to Jasper.”
Beside me, Chase has stilled, his coffee cup halfway to his lips.
“You’re married?” he asks.
I sneak a glance at him. “No. I couldn’t go through with it. I thought I could,” I say quickly. Not wanting Chase or Violet to think that I’d just used the company for my travel costs and had planned on bailing on the marriage. “I intended to fulfill my end of the bargain, but when I got here, I just couldn’t. All the calls and messages are from the company. I’m guessing they’re wondering where I am and why I skipped out on my wedding day.” I look down at what I’m wearing; a sad excuse of a wedding dress, with its pale blue floral print and simple A-line style. Even faded and a few years old, it was the nicest thing I had hanging in my closet.
I finally muster the courage to look up at Violet, sure I’ll see condemnation in her eyes, but instead, she’s just watching me, thoughtfully.
“Who were you supposed to marry?” Violet asks.
I frown. “Mr. Crawford.” I drop my face into my hands. “I saw him waiting outside the courthouse. The moment I saw him, I knew I couldn’t go through with it. I have no idea why. I just knew. So I turned and walked away. I don’t think he saw me.”
“Rick Crawford?” Chase asks.
“Yes, I believe that’s his first name.”
“He’s twice your age. At least,” Chase says, a growl lacing his voice.
“And mean as a hornet,” Violet adds. She reaches out and pats my hand, nodding. “You did the right thing trusting your gut feeling about him. That man is a hundred pounds of nastiness crammed into a twenty-pound bag. He’s already had three other wives that he chased off.”
My stomach rolls at the thought that I could have attached myself to such a person. “I’m an idiot.” I shake my head. “I just didn’t know what else to do.” I give a nervous laugh. “And I knew wandering in here and ordering lunch wouldn’t solve anything. But I thought maybe if I could just sit and think, a solution would come to me.”
Just then, my phone buzzes against the countertop.
Chase reaches across me, his thick arm doesn’t even touch me, yet I still feel the heat from his nearness. He swipes my phone and brings it to his ear.
“Hello,” he says. Then he stands and walks away from the counter.
I look at Violet. “What’s he doing?”
Violet smiles as she watches him, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Taking care of things, I imagine. Chase Michael is as good as they come. Such a sweet boy.”
“Boy! He’s enormous.”
Violet chuckles. “That he is. He’s a gentle giant, and I’ve known him his entire life. He’s from good people.”
I stare after him and notice that now he’s got his wallet out, and he’s looking at something inside. He nods, talks a little longer, and then pockets his wallet. By the time he walks back over and hands me my phone, the call has ended.
“Everything has been taken care of, Josie. They won’t call you again.”
I look up into his face, into those warm brown eyes that remind me of chocolate milk. That’s dumb, I know, but I look at him and all I can think about is all those comforting things that I love. Chocolate milk and snuggles on the couch with a good book, the sound of a cat purring, and the silence of a first snowfall.
But instead of getting lost in his eyes, I force myself to think about his words.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
He lifts a big shoulder in a shrug. “I paid the amount of your relocation costs. So everything with the company has been resolved.”
I frown. “Why would you do that?”
“Good people,” Violet murmurs, her expression a little smug, then continues her wiping down of the countertops.
I look from him to her and back again. Unsure what to say or do.
Because Coles don’t take charity. Even when they’re desperate.
I open and close my mouth.
How am I ever going to pay him back?
I know exactly how much those fees cost because it was in the contract I signed. Before I can even think of what to say next, Chase asks, “Do you need somewhere to stay?”
I wince. Crap, I hadn’t even thought that far. And my last twenty plus bucks isn’t going to find me a hotel. I again look at Chase’s face, his expression warm.
I’m still not willing to admit how desperate my straits are, but he clearly sees the truth in my expression.
He just nods. “Then come on, you can stay with me. I actually just had a dog have a litter of pups, and I could use an extra pair of hands to help with that.”
I want to protest. I want to have another option.
But I don’t. I am officially completely out of options. And no matter how hard paying Chase back will be if I continue to accept his help, it will be impossible if I die of starvation or get arrested for loitering or sent to debtors prison or whatever happens to the impoverished and homeless in Whiskey Run.
I come to my feet and nearly fall off the stool. Big hands come to my hips, steadying me. My entire body comes alive. It’s a different kind of alert than one you’d feel if you were afraid.
As if my situation wasn’t absurd enough already, now I’m going home with the first man I’ve ever been attracted to.
My body boldly declaring: I AM A WOMAN! And it’s looking at Chase and noticing that he’s very much a man. A big, strapping man with a kind face and a gentle voice, and a penchant for paying off random women’s debts.
How is it that this man who seems determined to solve all my problems might be my biggest problem of all?
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Do you have a book about her sister?