Simply Irresistible (Crescent Cove Book 2) Page 9
“Fishing. Rough waves. Turbulent seas. It’s far too dangerous. I forbid it.”
She had no right to forbid anything, but I held in the words. Camila had said to behave at all times, and I assumed that applied to interactions with my mother-in-law. Bet Camila didn’t realize I’d be tested by Bethany this soon.
“Nothing’s going to happen.” I wanted to grumble, groan, scream that she had no right to forbid me from doing whatever I wished with my daughter, but I needed to remain patient. She was reacting to her loss, not to the situation. Nothing good would come from antagonizing her further. “If you want, I’ll call after I pick up Arie tomorrow. You two can talk, and you’ll feel better about all this. We can even set up a Skype chat, so you can see her.”
“You know I won’t be able to sleep a wink now, because I’ll be worrying about my precious grandbaby drowning in the Atlantic Ocean.”
Like always, shame rushed in, snarling me into a ball so tight, I could barely think. I understood that she grieved the loss of her son, followed not long after by my moving away. But I grieved for Jason, too. I was doing the best I could to make a life for me and my daughter without him.
I was trying to find a new me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you’re hurting.”
“Our son died. But we won’t let you take Arie away from us.”
“We need to end this conversation.” Lord only knows where I found my resolve to speak nicely because a snarl was rising in my throat.
“Don’t you speak that way to me.”
I held the phone away from my ear, glaring at it, before taking a deep breath and replying. “I’m going to hang up now.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Just watch me.” A burst of courage shot through me, and I slammed my trembling fingertip onto the power button, shutting down the phone.
Let her try to call back and holler at me now.
Phone tossed onto the kitchen counter, I stormed back to the spare room that was still filled with boxes that needed to be sorted through. Body trembling, I cussed and got back to work. By late morning, I’d finished unpacking. Nothing beat physical labor to cool down anger. I was about to make some lunch when the doorbell rang. I took the inside stairs to the ground floor, crossed the open area where customers would sit and enjoy their tea, coffee, and baked goods, and opened the door.
“Hi,” a woman with long, chestnut-colored hair said, extending her hand. “I’m Lark Harpswell.”
Returning her shake, I tried not to drum the toe of my sneaker on the floor. Please, don’t let this be someone selling me religion. Or a vacuum cleaner. Girl Scout cookies, I’d take. Though this woman, who looked to be in her late twenties, was a bit old for Girl Scouts.
“Yes?” I said.
“When my fiancé, Dag, told me you were opening a tea shop, I knew I had to stop by and introduce myself.”
Dag. The name sounded vaguely familiar.
“Dag and Roan are best friends.”
“Ah. Come on in.” I waved, then shut the door before all the heat escaped.
She stomped her feet on the rug and glanced around. “You’re making awesome progress. It’s been years since I was inside this building.”
“Thank you. It’s a lot of work, but I love how it’s coming along.” It was nice talking to local people, getting to know my future customers. “Hey, do you want some tea? A raspberry muffin?”
Lark’s eyes widened. “Did you say muffins?”
“Indeed.” I grinned. “In addition to muffins, I also happen to have a batch of triple chocolate brownies I made yesterday.” Stress made me bake. And then I ate them. Unless I took up long-distance running, I was going to need looser jeans.
“I’d love some.”
She followed me upstairs to my apartment, where I encouraged her to sit in the living room while I got the tea and goodies ready.
A short time later, I sat across from her, both of us digging into big bites or rich, chocolatey goodness, washed down with piping hot Earl Grey tea.
“This is fantastic,” Lark said, almost hugging her brownie. “I’d ask for the recipe, but I’m a dismal cook.”
“Once I open, I’ll be selling yummy things like this, plus cookies, cupcakes, pies, and a bunch of other items for main courses. Sandwiches and soups, mostly. I don’t plan to be open for dinner. I’ll cater to the breakfast and lunch crowd. Sure, someone can stop by mid-afternoon to buy things for dinner, but I’ll close by four.”
“If only you’d been around eight months ago when I was looking for a job.”
I leaned forward, placing my mug of tea on the coffee table. “Are you looking for a job?”
Wouldn’t that be perfect? Staff was a detail I needed to take care of soon. I’d already placed ads in the local papers, online, and outside various stores, stating the types of employees I was looking for. People called daily, and I had interviews set up already. I’d need a few cooks, sous-chefs, an assistant manager or two part-time if I couldn’t find someone who wanted full time, plus staff to man the front areas, where my goods would be sold.
“Nope. Sorry. I’ve got a fantastic job. I’m the Assistant Director at the Sweetwater Cancer Foundation.”
I bit into my brownie, chewed, and swallowed. “What do you do there?”
“Well…” Lark smiled. “Nice of you to ask! I mostly do fundraising. Which is part of the reason I stopped by this afternoon.”
“You’re looking for donations?”
“In general, yes, but I’m mostly selling spots for the upcoming Highland Games that’ll be held in July. We’re eager to showcase local businesses. The event has a Scottish theme, but we’re open to local fare that isn’t Scottish, of course.”
I grinned. “I did mention scones, didn’t I?”
Her smile matched mine. “That’s bannock to a Scot.”
“I’d love to sign up for a booth.” What a great chance to get my name out there. I could tailor my recipes to fit, or jump off the cliff and feature some of my usual—though sometimes eclectic—fare.
“Wonderful. I’ll send paperwork around within the next month.” Lark sipped her tea. “This tastes fantastic, by the way.”
“I buy the leaves online, directly from growers.”
“You’re going to offer tea like this, and”—she lifted her empty plate that had recently held two brownies—“goodies like this once you open?”
“Definitely.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a customer.”
“So, you said you’re engaged to Dag?”
“Yes.” Lark sighed, and, in her beautiful eyes, I could read the love she felt for him. “We’re planning an August wedding. I can’t wait. We’ll finish with the games a month before, which will free me up for the final arrangements.”
“And the honeymoon.”
“Absolutely a honeymoon. Dag’s surprising me, but I have my suspicions where he might take me.”
Eager to hear what she suspected, I lifted my eyebrows.
“I’ve always dreamed of visiting Scotland, and he knows I’d love him forever if he took me there.”
I had a feeling she’d love him forever even if he took her to the local mall.
We chatted about the Games while finishing our tea, but eventually, I had to get back to work, and Lark had other businesses to visit.
“It was great meeting you,” I said, holding open the front door for her to walk through. It was nice making a friend.
“You, too.” She paused on the front deck and turned. “Maybe you and Roan would like to come out to my and Dag’s place sometime for dinner?”
“Oh, Roan and I aren’t dating.”
Lark laughed. “Seems I used to say something similar about Dag, but fate has a way of intervening, despite our best intentions.”
Probably not for me and Roan. “We’re just friends.”
“Well, keep it in mind. I’m sure Dag will mention it to Roan. If nothing else, we can chat some more.”
“Me, too.” She started down the steps. “Talk to you soon!”
I shut the door and leaned on it for a moment, before directing my feet back upstairs. After two brownies, I just wanted to sleep off my carb coma, but the painting wouldn’t get done on its own.
I pushed my living room furniture into the middle of the room, draped old sheets over everything, and rolled a fresh coat of paint onto the walls and trim. Standing back in the doorway between our kitchen and new living space hours later, I nibbled on a slice of cheese. A professional would’ve done a better job, but I was happy enough with my efforts. The room looked fresh, more like a home.
After drinking a big glass of water, I cleaned the brushes and put everything away. It was almost three and time to get ready. Roan would be here soon.
I showered, then stood in front of my open closet door, speculating about what I should wear.
“A surprise, huh?” I whispered. That was helpful. Tonight might bring the latest sci-fi flick or a Disney-on-ice production. Both of which Roan would love equally. So would I, for that matter.
He’d typed his number into my phone before I left Dad’s, so I sent him a text. Any clothing suggestions? I’m not sure what to wear.
That’s an interesting question. If I was a guy with a loaded mind…
Which we both knew he wasn’t, not as far as I was concerned. Ha, ha. Really. So…?
Dress warm. It’s twenty out. We’ll be outside for a while then get some dinner.
When Roan pulled his car up to the curb, I was sitting on the wooden bench on my front deck. Standing, I strode down the steps and crossed the sidewalk.
Roan popped open the door from inside, and warmth dumped out, bathing my cheeks. “Hop in,” he said.
I settled my jean-clad butt on the seat. Over my red sweater, I wore a puffy down coat in deep blue. A matching striped knit cap with pigtail ties sat on my head. My mittens matched my hat.
“All set?” Roan asked while I bucked up. His eyes drifted across my face—his expression almost wistful. He looked so forlorn, I wanted to stroke the hair off his face like I’d done when we were kids who couldn’t see how powerful a simple touch could be. I told myself that this was what I hoped to recapture with Roan, not the heat of that night after graduation.
But I’d never been good at lying to myself.
Roan
Curiosity was eating Cara alive.
“Where are we going?” she asked. Secrets used to drive her crazy. More than once, she’d told me about creeping through her parents’ basement and attic, snooping for her Christmas presents weeks before the holiday. And begging me to tell her what I’d gotten her for her birthday.
“Perley Peak,” I said.
Perley Levesque had made a fortune bringing phone service to the state in the ‘60s. He’d been as generous as he’d been ambitious. When he died, he left his town a trust and a big piece of land that stretched for miles. The locals called the tallest hill Perley Peak after Perley cut in hiking trails and let everyone enjoy them whenever they pleased. The recreation area was one of the state parks, now, and I had a season’s pass.
She was going to love this. During the summers between school, Cara and I had spent tons of time hiking. I’d even talked her into camping once. She’d huddled in her sleeping bag inside our small tent, jumping at every chirp and stick snapping nearby. Later, she’d told me that cooking bacon and eggs over the open fire the next morning made her want to try camping again. But then, bacon made everything better.
We drove for almost two hours before turning off the main route and down the quiet, country road that led to the Peak.
“This area looks heavily wooded.” Cara squinted through the windshield, although she couldn’t see far, with the falling snow. Just flurries, the forecasters had said. They better be right, since my vehicle didn’t have four-wheel-drive or snow tires. Her attention shifted my way. “We going hiking?”
“You’ll see.”
“If you have a decent flashlight, I’m game.” She stared at her feet. “I only wore low boots, though.”
“What you’re wearing will be fine.” I turned the car onto the road that led to the base of the Peak.
As we drew close, she gasped. I grinned, enjoying her amazement. This area sure was gorgeous, with the lit-up mountain spread out ahead of us.
Pulling my vehicle into the parking lot, I shut off the engine.
“This is incredible.” She leaned back against her bucket seat. “It looks like a brochure for the Alps.”
A small lodge had been built at the base of Perley Peak. Lights trailed up the hillside behind, and a chair lift wound its way through the evergreens to the top.
Cara faced me, eyes wide. “A ski area?”
“Just a few lifts. Enough to keep the local kids happy. The Peak can’t compete with Sugarloaf, but it draws a decent crowd for night skiing.”
“I bet it does.”
A few brave people swooshed down the slopes through the shadows cast by the yellow lights. I used to come out here all the time. I loved bombing down the black diamond trails. When had I last been skiing? Bummer that I couldn’t remember. Work absorbed much of my time, to the point I couldn’t stand loosening the reins long enough to fit in anything else.
“We going skiing tonight?” she asked. “I’m not sure I’m up for that. It’s been, like, twenty years since I tried it. You do remember I only dared take on the bunny slope when we went to Sunday River.”
“If I remember right, you spent most of your time on your butt.” A cute butt, too.
“I fell. Over and over.” She scowled. “I ached for days.”
Why was I thinking about rubbing her butt, soothing that remembered pain?
We’d just arrived, and my body was screwing with my mind already, that was what was going on. If I was wise, I’d turn around and drive home before I got pulled into this so far, I couldn’t find a way out.
I’d never had been the smartest guy around, not when it came to Cara.
“Good try, but we’re not going skiing.” I shifted in my seat, putting my butt-stroking thoughts aside. I’d make this friendship between us work, somehow. “I’ve got other plans for us tonight.”
“Okay, you win. I can’t guess what it is.” She reached for the door handle. “Let’s do it. Whatever it is.”
“You always were in a hurry.” Laughing, I opened my door. Coming around to the front of the vehicle, I joined her. Our arms brushed as we crossed the lot and stepped up onto the walkway. Fresh snow squeaked underneath our boots. Flakes floated around us. They collected on Cara’s eyelashes, melting to turn her lashes into spikes.
We strode across the lodge’s wooden deck, where I held open one of the double entry doors. Inside, Cara paused on the mat to stomp the snow off her boots, while tugging off her mittens.
People clunked their ski boots through the arched, two-story room, bundled up in parkas and snowsuits. Overhead, clusters of deer antlers had been turned into light racks. The holidays were long passed, but they’d left the red, green, and white lights strung around the ceiling.
On the other side of the room, a woman stood behind an open window underneath a display with lift ticket pricing.
“Two for the south slope.” I slid two twenties across the countertop, toward her.
“Let me.” Cara reached into her pocket.
I tapped her arm, stilling her movement. “My treat. You paid last time.”
She scrunched her face. “How could you remember that far back? And when was that, anyway?”
I actually didn’t remember, but it sure was fun to tease Cara. “We went to the movies. We’re supposed to take turns, right?”
“That has to be seven or eight years ago. Before Lainie, because she wasn’t…Well, you know.”
Lainie had chewed me out whenever I spent time with Cara, so we’d stopped doing things together. That would’ve been the best time to end things
with Lainie. Hindsight was everything.
The woman handed me our tickets and leaned out the window, pointing. “You can pick up your stuff down the stairs, at the end of the hall.” Her nod encompassed us both. “Have a fun time.”
“Thanks. We will.” I turned to Cara. “You ready?”
She scowled, but her lips twitched. “Still not telling me what we’re doing?”
“No way. You’re gonna have to wait.” My grin was so big, my cheeks stung. She was too cute all the time. “It’s a surprise.” I rubbed my gloved hands together. “You’re going to love it.” Chuckling about the snit building on her face, I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs at a half-run.
“Slow down.” Cara giggled. “You’ve got too much enthusiasm. Whatever your surprise is, it’ll still be waiting when we get there.”
“No, it won’t.” I threw a pretend sulk over my shoulder, making her snort out more laughter. “All the good ones will be gone by then.”
“Whining. Just like a little kid.”
I didn’t touch that comment, because my body told me I was feeling anything but childish. We clomped down the stairs and along the hall, stopping in front of another window.
A teenager sat on a stool inside but stood when we approached. He glanced at the tickets I handed him. “South side?” His eyes slid from Cara to me, his mouth maintaining a flat line. “One or two?”
“One,” I said.
“One what?” Cara looked back and forth between us.
Not giving it away that easy, honey.
I put my finger to my lips. “Shhh,” I told the teenager. “It’s a secret.”
“Secret?” The kid grunted. “Sounds…fun.” He turned to stroll further into the room but paused and squinted back at me. “Since this is a secret, you want me to put it out the back door for you instead of handing it over now?”
“Now there’s an idea.” I loved where he was going with this. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, folks.”
Folks. As if we were eighty-years-old instead of under thirty.