A Quiet Kind of Wanted
A slow burn romance about an arranged marriage, a quiet countryside life, and two lonely people learning what it means to be wanted.
Chapter 5
The Town
Troy had an old truck that grumbled when it started and smelled like motor oil and pine, and Elena decided within thirty seconds of being inside it that she either hated it or could tolerate it.
She wasn't sure which yet.
"You don't have to come," Troy said, for the second time. "I just thought — town's not far. Might be good to know where things are. In case you ever need anything when I'm not around."
"I'm already in the truck," Elena said.
"Right." He put it in reverse. "Okay then."
The town was small in the way that felt intentional, like it had decided at some point not to grow any bigger and had stuck to that decision firmly.
One main street, a hardware store, a diner with a hand-painted sign, a small grocery with a produce display that spilled out onto the sidewalk.
Everything looked like it knew everybody else's business.
Which was proven almost immediately when they climbed out of the truck and a woman in her sixties appeared from the direction of the diner like she'd been waiting.
"Troy Burnett," she said, hands on her hips, eyes already sliding to Elena. "So it's true."
"Morning, Patty," Troy said, with the patience of someone who had known this woman his entire life.
"This her?" Patty didn't wait for an answer. She looked at Elena directly, not unkindly but thoroughly, the way someone looks at a person they're trying to figure out. "You're prettier than I expected. Not that I expected anything. Troy never tells anyone anything."
"Patty," Troy said.
"I'm just saying." She extended a hand to Elena. "Patty Marsh. I run the diner. You ever need anything and this one's useless — " she jerked her head at Troy " — you come find me."
Elena shook her hand. "Elena."
"I know who you are, honey." Patty patted her hand once before releasing it. "Small town. News travels."
She looked at Troy. "Feed her properly. She looks like the city stopped doing that a while ago."
Troy's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "She feeds herself fine."
"The eggs were good," Elena said, without thinking.
Patty looked between them, slow and satisfied, like she'd just confirmed something she suspected. "Come in for coffee sometime," she told Elena. "On the house."
She disappeared back into the diner.
Elena stood on the sidewalk and felt something strange — not comfort exactly, but the outline of where comfort might eventually fit.
"Sorry about her," Troy said.
"Don't be," Elena said. "She's the first person who's spoken to me like a person in a while."
Troy didn't respond to that.
But he slowed his pace so she could look in the shop windows without feeling rushed, and he carried the grocery bags without being asked, and he didn't once make her feel like she was taking too long.
Troy had an old truck that grumbled when it started and smelled like motor oil and pine, and Elena decided within thirty seconds of being inside it that she either hated it or could tolerate it.
She wasn't sure which yet.
"You don't have to come," Troy said, for the second time. "I just thought — town's not far. Might be good to know where things are. In case you ever need anything when I'm not around."
"I'm already in the truck," Elena said.
"Right." He put it in reverse. "Okay then."
The town was small in the way that felt intentional, like it had decided at some point not to grow any bigger and had stuck to that decision firmly.
One main street, a hardware store, a diner with a hand-painted sign, a small grocery with a produce display that spilled out onto the sidewalk.
Everything looked like it knew everybody else's business.
Which was proven almost immediately when they climbed out of the truck and a woman in her sixties appeared from the direction of the diner like she'd been waiting.
"Troy Burnett," she said, hands on her hips, eyes already sliding to Elena. "So it's true."
"Morning, Patty," Troy said, with the patience of someone who had known this woman his entire life.
"This her?" Patty didn't wait for an answer. She looked at Elena directly, not unkindly but thoroughly, the way someone looks at a person they're trying to figure out. "You're prettier than I expected. Not that I expected anything. Troy never tells anyone anything."
"Patty," Troy said.
"I'm just saying." She extended a hand to Elena. "Patty Marsh. I run the diner. You ever need anything and this one's useless — " she jerked her head at Troy " — you come find me."
Elena shook her hand. "Elena."
"I know who you are, honey." Patty patted her hand once before releasing it. "Small town. News travels."
She looked at Troy. "Feed her properly. She looks like the city stopped doing that a while ago."
Troy's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "She feeds herself fine."
"The eggs were good," Elena said, without thinking.
Patty looked between them, slow and satisfied, like she'd just confirmed something she suspected. "Come in for coffee sometime," she told Elena. "On the house."
She disappeared back into the diner.
Elena stood on the sidewalk and felt something strange — not comfort exactly, but the outline of where comfort might eventually fit.
"Sorry about her," Troy said.
"Don't be," Elena said. "She's the first person who's spoken to me like a person in a while."
Troy didn't respond to that.
But he slowed his pace so she could look in the shop windows without feeling rushed, and he carried the grocery bags without being asked, and he didn't once make her feel like she was taking too long.
Chapter 5
— Chapter 5 of 6