Chelsea Fine - Best Kind of Broken

You’d think senior citizens relaxing at a quaint inn in the middle-of-nowhere Arizona would be low-key and rather boring, but they’re just as bad as college kids. They flirt and drink and sleep with one another, and it’s just nasty. Entertaining. But nasty.

Haley gasps at Mable’s ongoing story, which I’ve failed to follow because I’m busy over here actually working.

“No, she did not.” Her mouth drops open in disbelief.

“Oh, honey, you know she did,” Mable says, and makes a disapproving mm-huh noise. “I told you that woman was trouble.”

Haley shakes her head and takes another bite. “Trouble, indeed.”

Wow. Remind me never to vacation at an inn when I’m older, for fear my daily activities might become the talk of the kitchen staff.

The old-fashioned phone by the door rings with a merry ding-a-ling-a-ling, and I can’t help but glance at the thing. It’s red and giant and hideous and it ding-a-lings loud enough to wake the dead. Ellen thinks the spinning dial and long coiled cord add charm to the inn. I think Ellen’s full of shit and just hasn’t gotten around to replacing the prehistoric device yet.

On the second ring, Mable wipes her hands on her apron—which is an appropriate shade of light blue and features no fruit or fringe—and answers the antique phone with a chipper “Good morning!”

She listens for a moment before promptly disappearing through the swinging door that leads to the dining room, speaking in hushed tones. Ever the gossip, Haley strains to hear what Mable’s saying through the door but gives up and turns to me.

“So.” She finishes the last bite of chocolate cake. “I hear you and Levi get to have weekends off this summer. Lucky ducks.”

Hardly.

I’m pretty sure the synchronized time off is part of Ellen’s diabolical plan to get Levi and me to spend some quality time together. Joke’s on her though, since I plan on ditching this place every weekend. No need to hang around Levi and our pet elephant more than necessary.

“Lucky, indeed,” I say dryly.

She rounds up all the chocolate crumbs on her plate and starts smashing them with her fork until they stick. “Got any big plans this weekend?”

“Not really. Just hanging out with Jenna and Matt.”

She licks the fork. “Who’s Matt?”

I pull some bell peppers from the fridge. “My, uh, boyfriend.”

I have this weird habit of saying “uh” before the word “boyfriend.” I can’t help it. It’s like saying “Jiminy” before “Cricket” or “more” before “cowbell.” It just falls out of my mouth.

“Oh right, the boyfriend. I almost forgot about him,” Haley says. “Are you sure he’s real? You don’t ever talk about him and I’ve never seen you guys together.”

“He’s real.” I rinse off a knife and start cutting vegetables. “It’s just hard with him living down by ASU and me all the way out here.”

Arizona State University is a hundred miles south of my hometown, and somewhere right in between the two, on a desolate stretch of freeway, stands Willow Inn. So yeah. Middle. Of. Nowhere.

She licks the fork again even though it’s squeaky clean. “Does Levi know about this real boyfriend of yours?”

I slant my eyes at her. “I can’t imagine how he wouldn’t, what with the gossip grapevine around here in full bloom. And I don’t know why he’d care, anyway. He’s like a brother to me.” My heart cringes at the word and I try not to overthink why.

“A brother.” She slowly nods. “Right… right—shoot!” She looks at the clock and drops her shiny fork. “I’ve got to get to the front desk. See ya.” She hurries from the kitchen just as Mable swings back in from the dining room.

I watch Mable hang up the phone without making eye contact with me, and my gut tightens. She moves to the counter and begins putting together a breakfast quiche. I continue chopping vegetables. Minutes pass.

With a slow inhale, Mable calmly says, “That was your mama on the phone.”

I slice a bell pepper in half. “My mama can go to hell.”

My statement makes the room feel thick, so I look up and try to lighten the mood. “Hey, and maybe while she’s there she can ask the devil if he wants Levi back.” I smile brightly, but the thickness lingers.

There’s a reason I chose not to go back home after school ended, and that reason gave birth to me nineteen years ago and has regretted it every day since.

Mable finishes layering the quiche and slides the dish over to me to finish. “She says she’s coming to see you in a few weeks. She wants to have dinner with you.”

I grab some cheese from the fridge and mutter, “Well, that should be fun.”

She gives me a tight smile because she knows how not-fun Sandra Marshall can be. One of the side effects of being from the same tiny town.

The door to the dining room swings open again and this time Levi walks through, a box of tools in his hand.

Cougar Mable immediately lights up. “Morning, Levi!”

“Morning, Mable.” He smiles at her. He scowls at me.

I notice his face is now clean-shaven and a part of me misses his scruff—what? No. NO. I do not miss his scruff. Missing scruff is for weirdos.

I scowl back at him and start grating Swiss cheese.

“Where’s the fire alarm in here?” he asks in his work voice. It’s a very different voice than his get-out-of-my-way voice or his if-you-want-hot-water-wake-up-earlier voice.

Mable points to the wall, looking far too happy to be of service, and I keep my eyes down as he moves past me. As I sprinkle cheese over the quiche, I can’t help but notice how grated Swiss kind of looks like white scruff.

I’m not a weirdo.

Quiche finished, I turn to start sautéing vegetables and my gaze automatically darts to Levi. He’s so distracting. His arms are all raised, and his shoulders are all broad, and he’s fixing crap, and it’s just… it’s just… annoying.

You know what else is annoying? The fact that the freaking fire alarm is right by the stove.

With a huff and a puff and some choice words in my head, I grab my sliced bell peppers and force my feet to the stove. I throw the vegetables into a frying pan, grab a wooden spoon, and ignore Levi’s close proximity.

My body hums.

I ignore that too.

I steal a glance in his direction and watch as the corded muscles in his forearm flex as he unscrews something on the alarm box. Why does he have so many muscles in his forearm? That can’t be healthy.

I drop my eyes to the frying pan and focus on bell peppers, because bell peppers are interesting and they don’t have backs the size of Alaska or copious amounts of forearm muscles.

The forearm muscles that I’m not thinking about lightly brush my shoulder, and the humming inside my body knots together and zips around like a bumblebee on crack.

I casually turn down the heat on the stove, like that’s the reason I’m suddenly a human vibrator, and go back to stirring. Levi goes back to screwing.

Bell peppers.

I’m thinking about bell peppers.

Levi brushes against me again, except this time his forearm grazes my breast and my body immediately goes wild, like I’m some love-starved teenager, and the humming dives low in my belly and the stove gets hotter and my breaths get shallow and suddenly bell peppers are the sexiest vegetable on earth.