Blossom Street Brides by Debbie Macomber Page B

double whammy had sent Max spiraling emotionally. In an effort to escape the pain, Max had taken to his bike, randomly traveling across the country from one state to the next, with no agenda and no purpose in mind other than to forget and to heal.
    Rooster joined him intermittently, mostly to check up on Max and to tell him what was happening with the business, although at the time Max showed little interest in anything to do with their livelihood.
    Then while the two of them were on the road, Max hadmet Bethanne and almost overnight everything had changed. First they’d followed her to Vegas and then to Branson, Missouri. Max had been smitten, big-time. At first Rooster was amused, and later he was grateful. Falling in love with Bethanne had pulled Max out of the deep emotional pit he’d slid into after such devastating losses. She’d given him a reason to move forward, both with life and the business.
    Even now Rooster was convinced that if Bethanne had chosen to remarry her ex-husband, Max would have accepted her decision and returned to California to the life he had once known. Love had the power to heal, and Rooster had taken note of that lesson.
    Rooster sat up straighter. To his surprise, the woman with the cameo crossed the street and headed directly for The French Cafe. She caught his gaze and smiled politely, acknowledging that she remembered him from the yarn store. She passed him and went inside the small restaurant. Within a few minutes she was back with a cup of coffee. Apparently, all the tables inside were taken, because she came outside and claimed the table on the other side of the entrance away from him. She pulled out the chair and sat so she could look out over the street. She appeared to be waiting for someone, because she glanced anxiously at her wrist and at the people coming and going along the sidewalk.
    After a few moments, she hurriedly reached for her purse and brought out her cellphone. She glanced down at it and seemed to be reading a text message.
    Rooster watched as she quickly typed out a response. Reading her body language was easy. Her shoulders tensedas she exhaled with what looked like irritation. Rooster guessed whoever she was waiting for was going to be late.
    Seeing how busy the cafe was, it seemed a shame that they should each claim an entire table. Having finished the croissant, Rooster discarded the paper plate, reached for his coffee, stood, and approached her.
    “Would you mind if I joined you?” he asked. “These tables are becoming a premium.”
    She glanced up, and a look of surprise came over her before she nodded. “Sure. Why not?”
    He pulled out the chair across from her. “Name’s Rooster.”
    “So I heard. I’m Lauren. Lauren Elliott.” She held out her hand for him to shake. “Is your name really Rooster?”
    “It’s what my friends call me.” He briefly took her soft hand in his, then leaned back in a relaxed pose and crossed his long legs, propping his ankle on his knee.
    Clearly amused, she smiled. “I have to say it’s one of the more original names I’ve heard in a while.”
    “I’m pretty much used to it. Last name is Wayne.” He sipped his coffee. “You’re waiting for someone?” He’d deduced that much easily enough.
    She glanced at her wrist. “He’s already fifteen minutes later than we originally agreed, and then he texted to let me know he was running a few minutes behind. Like I hadn’t noticed.”
    “Not a great way to start off your evening, is it?”
    “No, but this is typical of Todd.” She didn’t sound overly pleased with her date.
    Her phone beeped again, and she reached for it. “Now he says he’ll be another fifteen minutes.” She tossed her phone back in the purse and looked across the table at Rooster. “I’m not waiting.” She hesitated and then seemed to reach some decision within herself. “I realize it’s last-minute, but how would you like to go to dinner with me?”
    “What about your