To Find Love Again

BROOKE

Did I actually just say—

“Yes,” her mouth repeated again, without the full permission of her brain. “I’d love to get food with you.”

“Great,” said Josiah. He looked surprised, even relieved, at her response. “I’ll come pick by and pick you up when your shift is over.”

She nodded. He turned swiftly and walked out of Lawson & Son, into the afternoon light.

She studied him until he disappeared from view. His confident stride. His sturdy, muscular back. His tight and, quite frankly, adorable butt.

This man seemed to contain multitudes. Power and vulnerability in equal measure.

It was these qualities that must have compelled her to say yes to a date, despite the fact that she had practically sworn off all men since the incident.

For months, she had been wary of every new suitor she encountered; worried about what they might do to her—or make her do—if they got her alone.

There was something different about Josiah. She was sure of it.

So often in her life, Brooke had been the object of desire.

Now, for the first time in what felt like forever, there was someone that she desired. And that felt so powerful.

It was as though he had yanked open the curtains and let in a stream of sunlight, bright as all the possibilities in an unknown future.

Let’s just hope those curtains stay open.

But when she looked down at her phone, she was engulfed by darkness yet again.

***

JOSIAH

Josiah walked away from Lawson & Son with two new businesses and, somehow more remarkably, a date.

A date? Is that what this was going to be?

It just occurred to Josiah that he hadn’t been on a first date since he met Misty.

He hadn’t even been interested in another woman until he saw Brooke. What was it about her that made him ask her out, just like that?

He wasn’t sure he was ready to date again. Or if he deserved to date again.

Misty had lost her life because she loved him. In Josiah’s mind, love and loss had become inseparable.

It’s just not fair. It’s not fair, Misty.

Josiah wished, for the millionth time, that he could switch places with Misty.

That he could have taken that bullet.

That she would be on her way to Rose’s Café right now, inheriting what was rightfully hers.

His thoughts were spiraling when he finally reached Rose’s, a quaint, if somewhat outdated, establishment.

Josiah gathered himself at the door. He was the owner now and he wanted to make a killer impression on the employees.

But, who was he kidding? With his tattoos, piercings, and leather jacket, he always made a killer impression.

When he walked in the door, the place went silent. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence in the milk-toast town of Bracketville.

They’re scared of me… And maybe they should be.

Josiah laughed to himself before turning on his heels and walking over to a nearby table, the soles of his shoes making little squeaking noises against the linoleum floor.

The manager didn’t bother to greet him—she was too busy schmoozing with a table of local cops.

That’s cool. I’m not here or anything…

After seating himself, a teenage girl—her mouth full of gum, the tips of her long black hair dyed green—rolled up to him.

Waitresses on rollerblades?! Seriously?

“Here’s your menu,” she said dispassionately, “what do you want?”

Josiah arched an eyebrow.

“Is that how they taught you to greet guests?”

The girl glared at him, the wet, smacking sound of her chewing a clear sign of just how little she cared for his backtalk.

“Nobody complains, long as they get their food. Now, what do you want?”

Josiah sighed and really took in the restaurant.

The paint on the walls was faded. The floor was dirty. The tabletops were covered with grease. Everything about it screamed apathy.

Well, if I did stay, I’d certainly have my work cut out for me.

“Coke. No ice. And I’d like a burger with extra fries. No onions. No mustard. Oh, and a little bit of white gravy on the side.”

“White gravy?” the girl asked, pausing her chewing and cocking her head to one side.

“To dip my fries in.”

The girl wrinkled her nose in disgust but said nothing; she simply rolled back to the counter.

As soon as she was gone, Josiah flipped open the file Mr. Lawson had given him and skimmed through it.

It took him about twenty minutes to fully understand the legalese on display.

Part of this was due to his not knowing the terms. Part of it was because he was constantly looking for his waitress, who had never bothered to come by with his drink.

But by far the biggest reason was the fact that he kept getting side-tracked by doubt.

He was excited to see Brooke again. But he was also absolutely disgusted in himself for thinking that a girl like Brooke would want to get entangled with a mess like him.

A biker.

A widower.

By his own appraisal, Josiah was damaged goods.

Eventually, though, he was able to drown out these queries and get the gist of his papers.

According to the documents, Rose’s Café hadn’t been very profitable recently, despite the fact that it was one of the only—if not the only—restaurants in town.

Josiah looked up from the papers and surveyed the customers. Or, rather, surveyed the lack of customers.

Only a handful of people bother to eat here—and at lunch, no less. That says something.

On top of that, the manager hadn’t charged the cops for any of their food.

I wonder how often she does that?

Even though Josiah knew he couldn’t stay in Bracketville, he found himself shaking his head with disgust. The Tuckers deserved better than this—their business should be thriving.

He owed it to them.

He owed it to Misty.

As he thought this, he found himself coming up with ways to improve the place.

Like how he’d done back in Fury Rider’s early days, when he was trying to grow the membership.

Re-paint the walls, for one thing. Get rid of those ridiculous rollerblades. And definitely do something about the staff—

As if on cue, the girl from before rolled up, his food and drink in hand.

Aw, how thoughtful, Josiah mused sardonically. ~She brought me my drink after twenty minutes.~

Josiah set the papers down and cleared his throat.

“What’s your name?” he asked the girl.

“Jem,” she said, blowing—and popping—a bubble.

“How long you worked here for?”

She shrugged.

“A couple months.”

“First job?”

“If you don’t count babysitting, which I don’t.”

Josiah nodded, and stroked his chin.

“When they hired you, did they give you any kind of customer service training?”

“I mean, sort of, but— Hey! Why are you giving me the third degree?” Jem asked, raising her voice loud enough for a stern-faced manager with graying hair to come rushing over from the other table.

“What is it? What’s wrong, Jem?” she asked, frowning at Josiah.

“This guy’s been asking me all kinds of questions.” Jem pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

The woman placed her hands on her hips and glared down at Josiah.

"What sort of questions?"

“Just about the way this establishment is run,” Josiah said, taking a sip of his Coke, which was, of course, room temperature.

“Well,” the woman huffed, “if you’d wanted to know about that, you should have asked me. And not my employees.”

“So you’re the manager, then?” Josiah asked, recalling the aspersions Mr. Lawson had cast on her capabilities.

The woman nodded before flashing Jem a dirty look.

“And my employees shouldn’t have answered any questions specifically meant for me.”

Jem twisted her lip with shame.

“I’m sorry, Marg. I didn’t—”

“Get out of here,” Marg barked. "Your shift’s over.”

Jem turned red with embarrassment and skated away, but not before casting one last suspicious glance at Josiah.

As soon as she was gone, Josiah laced his fingers together and addressed Marg.

“Jem told me that she hadn’t received any kind of customer service training.”

“Did she?” Marg growled, glaring after the girl.

“She did,” Josiah said, taking another sip of his lukewarm Coke.

He grimaced and set the drink down.

“You’ve got one week to train her on how to properly greet guests.”

Marg looked down at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“If I come back, and she’s still this unprofessional, she no longer has a job here. And you better start charging all the customers—including those cops.”

Marg let out a short, derisive laugh.

“Who are you, telling me how to run my restaurant?”

“The new owner,” Josiah said.

Marg’s jaw dropped. And Josiah felt his heart sing with sadistic glee.

I bet she’ll be singing a different tune now.

“What?” Marg said helplessly.

“It’s true,” Josiah grinned, indicating the file he was reading. “This paper says you work for me now.”

“Give me that!" Marg snarled, grabbing the file.

As soon as she saw the first page, however, her face fell. She looked back at Josiah, her expression a mixture of horror and disbelief.

“You really are the new owner.”

Josiah nodded.

“And it looks like I didn’t arrive a moment too soon. ’Cause, to be perfectly frank, you’ve been running this place into the ground.”

“Now wait just a minute—” Marg sputtered.

“Barely anyone is eating here.” Josiah responded cooly. “That tells me that some serious changes are warranted. I’m happy to keep you on as manager, but only if you implement my changes. If not, you’ll have to leave.”

Staring daggers didn’t adequately describe how Marg was looking at him. Her fists were clenched. Her jaw was clenched. Her body was positively trembling with rage.

“Listen here, buddy,” Marg said, her voice low and deadly. “Rose’s is my place. Mine. And there’s no way I’m going to take directions from some pony-tailed gorilla in—”

“Then you’re fired,” Josiah said, picking up his burger and taking a bite.

It took a minute for the news to sink in. But when it did, Marg’s whole body contorted with rage.

“You can’t replace me!” she spat.

“I can’t?” Josiah asked, arching an eyebrow.

He pulled out his phone and opened one of his contacts.

***

***

Josiah smiled up at Marg.

“I’ve just found a replacement manager.”

He expected her to shout. Or perhaps to hit him. But she did neither.

Instead, she wound up doing something even more unsettling.

She simply shook her head and said, “Mister, you’ve made a big mistake.”

With that, she turned and walked out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Josiah sighed.

Well, that’s one less headache, I suppose. But how many more am I going to have to deal with?

He got up and walked over to the counter, where Jem was talking to another, curvy, red-haired girl.

Jem saw him approaching and rolled her eyes.

“What do you want?”

Josiah smiled and held out his hand.

“I just wanted to start things over. I’m Josiah Anderson. The new owner.”

Jem’s eyes widened, and her jaw went so slack that Josiah was surprised her gum didn’t fall out.

Josiah kept his hand outstretched, expecting her to take it, but she was too stunned to move.

The other girl, by contrast, grinned at Josiah.

“Nice to meet you, handsome.”

This statement snapped Jem out of her momentary stupor. “Seriously, Carol, do you have to flirt with every guy you meet?”

“No!” The redhead pouted, folding her arms across her chest. “Just the really tall ones."

This elicited a hearty chuckle from Josiah.

“I know this is all very surprising. I’m a little overwhelmed myself. I just inherited two local businesses, and I wanted to get a feel for them. Speaking of which—”

He turned to Jem.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what the people around town say about Tucker’s Motorcycle Shop, would you?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jem frowned.

“What can you tell me?”

She shrugged.

“I mean, they think it’s nice. I guess.”

Josiah narrowed his eyes.

“You guess?”

Jem twisted her lip.

“I mean, it’s nice. Real nice. And that’s kind of the problem. It’s a little too expensive for regular people.”

Josiah processed this news.

If what she said was true, then he might have a real hard time running this second business.

But he resolved to worry about that later because the sun was setting, and Brooke would be waiting for him.

He said goodbye to Jem and Carol, dashed out of the restaurant, and retraced his steps back to the law office.

As he walked, he tucked in his shirt. Then untucked it. Then tucked it again.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so conscious of his appearance.

Normally, he enjoyed the fear that his style provoked in people. But now, he hoped for the opposite. He wanted Brooke to feel completely safe with him.

But when the office was in sight, he saw that she was already in danger. She was standing out front, surrounded by five young thugs.

She can’t catch a break, huh?

Josiah recognized them. They were the same guys who’d flipped him off this morning.

Josiah couldn’t hear their words, but he could tell from Brooke’s expression that whatever they were saying was upsetting her.

And even though he barely knew Brooke, even though he was full of doubt as to where their date might take them, Josiah felt anger rising up in his chest at these men.

None of the pedestrians on the street stopped to help or even notice that Brooke was in distress.

He tried to take deep breaths, to control his rage like he had practiced. But it wasn’t working. Someone was going to have to intervene.

He clenched his hands into fists and took off.

Those guys don’t know what they’ve gotten themselves into.