by Holly Jaymes
I rolled over, not wanting Gwen in my head while I was going to sleep. Instead, I wondered about Hope. Should I apologize for nine years ago or just let it go? She was friendly this evening, but I’d seen the hesitation and wariness in her eyes. If there was a hotel available, she’d be there in a minute, that I was sure of.
Duke thrashed a little bit over in his pillow. I smiled, wondering what he was chasing in his sleep. Deciding there was no sense in rehashing my history, I closed my eyes and willed sleep to come.
The next morning, my eyes popped open just as the sun’s rays peeked into my room. I always had to set an alarm to wake up on time in the morning. I’d been more of a night owl. But since retiring and moving to the mountains, I didn’t need an alarm, and yet I always woke up early.
I slipped on my running shorts and shoes and then headed out to the kitchen with Duke close behind. I gave him a dog treat, and then we headed outside for my regular morning run. I wasn’t sure how late Hope would sleep, so I decided to keep my run relatively short. I was thinking around five to seven miles.
“Come on, Duke.” Together we took the trail that wound through the woods of the Blue Ridge. Animals made some parts of the trail, others were historic having been made by settlers or moonshiners, and other parts were made for tourists and outdoors people to enjoy the beauty of the area. Thinking of history made me wonder if Hope would have any interest in the Pioneer Festival or perhaps the Foodie Festival.
Nah. She was here to work.
A little over thirty minutes later, I arrived back at my place and entered the gym that was connected to the backside of my home. I grabbed water from the mini-fridge, and then I did a few resistance exercises. One thing I learned when I retired was that there were a lot of hours in the day to fill up. Sure, the first few weeks were awesome catching up on sleep and binge-watching TV shows. But it got old fast. Plus, I started to get soft in the middle.
Now I had a specific morning routine that included exercise, reading, journaling, and often meditating. I always had some project I was working on so that every day, I had a reason to get out of bed. Today that project was Hope, or more accurately her car, and getting her settled with anything she needed to work.
When I finished with my workout, I headed into the main house. I went to the kitchen to start the coffee and then grabbed my phone to call Eddie the mechanic.
“Mitch, what’s up? Ready to sell that motorcycle yet.”
I laughed. It was a long running joke that Eddie coveted my bike. “Not yet.” Not ever, I thought. There was nothing quite like riding along the skyline ridge on a motorcycle. “I’ve got a friend whose car broke down at the Crawford turnout. I was hoping you could tow it and fix it.”
“What is it?”
Did it matter? “It’s a sedan…” I couldn’t remember the make or model.
“Lexus.”
I turned to Hope’s voice, and my breath caught in my lungs. Her hair was in a messy bun. She didn't have on any makeup, and she wore leggings and a t-shirt. Why that made her stunning, I didn’t know.
I turned away so I could speak. “Lexus,” I told Eddie.
“Yeah, I’ll go get it. Do you know what happened?”
I covered the mouthpiece and turned toward her again. “What happened?”
“Everything died.” She saw the coffee and pointed.
I nodded and pointed to where I kept the mugs. “While you were driving or had you parked and couldn’t start it?”
“While I was driving.” She pulled out a coffee mug and poured herself a cup.
“It died while driving,” I told Eddie, moving out of her way because her scent, something close to honeysuckle, filled my nose and fogged my brain.
“Maybe the alternator,” Eddie said.
“So you’ll get it?” I asked.
“Yep. On it now. I’ll call you later.”
“Thanks, Eddie.”
“You’ll come to the Foodie Festival, right? Janis has her famous jams.” Eddie’s wife was a foodie’s dream come true. I’d yet to have anything she made, whether it was her jams, breads, pickled preserves…didn’t matter, it was all excellent. She’d been one of the people I’d learned from during my cooking phase.
“I’ll be by at some point,” I said. Taking a breath to prepare my body for the reaction of looking at Hope, I turned. “He says he’s on it. He’ll call us later.”
She’d taken her mug and sat at the table. Her gaze moved from my face, downward, and then up again. I realized I didn’t have a shirt on. On the one hand, I felt a little naked and worried she’d think I was trying to seduce her. On the other hand, I hoped that the flash of heat in her eyes meant she liked what she saw.
“Duke and I take a run every morning,” I said by way of explanation.
“Rain or shine?”
“Usually. Not during the snow. During snow, we might hike though.”
“I was thinking last night about how someone who retired at twenty-seven would spend his days.”
She’d been thinking of me last night. “It was easy the first week. After that, it got boring. But I find ways to fill it.” I poured a cup of coffee and then went to the laundry room and grabbed a shirt. I slipped it on and then joined her at the table.
“Do you do any work?”
“You mean for pay?” I asked, sipping the hot brew. Living in the mountains, I’d learned to appreciate the small things. A sunrise and great coffee were two of my favorite things.
Hope nodded, sitting back in her chair.
“I do a little consulting. Depending on who it’s for, I might get paid.”
She cocked her head to the side. “So you volunteer some?”
“Yes.”
“Parkers fancy system in his office.”
I laughed. “That was barter. He gave me some legal advice.”
“So how do you decide who gets free and who pays.”
I shrugged, wondering why she was interested. “Depends. Poor school districts get free, rich lawyers pay, except for Parker.”
She studied me over her coffee. “Do you ever get bored or lonely.”
Her question felt too personal like she was looking into my soul. Unable to handle it, I stood up and went to the fridge. “Sometimes, but I have Duke to keep me company.” Opening the fridge, I asked, “Do you want eggs and bacon again for breakfast?”
“I don’t need a big breakfast. Coffee is fine. Also, if I’m going to stay, I feel like there should be some…parameters.”
“Sure,” I said as I pulled out the eggs. I suspected the parameters were no touching, which was fine. Sure, I was attracted to her, but she was still Parker’s sister. That part hadn’t changed. I pulled a bowl from the cupboard and started breaking eggs.
Duke barked, and I remembered I hadn’t fed him. “Alright, buddy.”
“Can I help with something?” Hope asked.
“No, thanks.” I pulled Duke’s bag of dog food out from the laundry area and grabbed his bowl. When I returned, Hope was breaking eggs into the bowl.
“How many? Three? Four?”
“Four,” I said. I got Duke fed, and then went back to the eggs. Hope had stirred them but then stepped away when I moved back to finish.
“As I was saying.” She leaned against the counter next to me. There was something domestic and nice about it.
“If you’re worried about any hanky panky—”
She laughed. I smiled at her reaction, even though I felt offended. “What?”
“I was going to talk more about paying my way for food and things.”
My cheeks felt hot with embarrassment.
“I know there won’t be any hanky panky. You didn’t like it so much the last time.”
“What?” I immediately swiveled my head to look at her. “What are you talking about?”
She had an expression like she wished she hadn’t spoken the words out loud. “It was nine years ago, Mitch. We were kids.”
“We were old enough to fuck on a
riverbank.” I immediately winced at my choice of words. She did too. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be crude.”
She shrugged. “The point is, it was a long time ago.”
“But you seem to think I didn’t like it. That’s not what happened.”
She waved a hand and started to walk away. I reached out and wrapped my hand around her wrist to stop her. Her skin was warm and soft, and zing of electricity traveled up my arm.
“You regretted it,” she said.
I sighed. “Hope, I regretted betraying my best friend. You’re his sister. He wouldn’t like that I touched you.”
She tugged her arm back, and I let her go.
“But just because I regretted betraying my friend doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it because I did, Hope. I enjoyed it a lot.”
“Mitch.” Her eyes implored me to stop.
“I’m sorry that I hurt you, especially if you had the impression, I was disappointed.”
“As I said, it was a long time ago.”
Annoyed, I put my stirring fork down. “And yet I still conjure that night up when I’m feeling lonely.” I tried to avoid being vulgar that time and had to hope she understood that I meant I jerked off to the memory of her.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m not hitting on you, Hope,” I said, wanting her to know she was safe around me. “But if you think I didn’t get off that night, you’ve been wrong for nine years.”
She stared at me, and I desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. Finally, she said, “Thank you for letting me know that.”
I nodded and then picked up my fork to resume making my eggs.
“I’m going to get dressed,” she said, turning to head back to the extension.
“There are towels in the bathroom,” I said, trying not to think of her naked in the shower or wrapped in one of the plush towels.
My goal in life since retiring was to live with less stress, angst, and drama. But I was beginning to think that inviting Hope in my house was going to blow that all to smithereens. She was a smart, beautiful woman that I’d cared for and coveted for a long time. Being in proximity to her was going to bring that all back. I had to hope that continuing to take care of my own needs in the privacy of the shower would be enough to satisfy the growing need to touch her again.
Book 3: Chapter 5—Happy Sally and S’mores
Happy Sally and S’mores
Hope
I couldn’t get into my room fast enough. I rushed into the bathroom, turned the water on cold, and then got under the spray dousing the incredible flame burning for Mitch. Oh, my God. When I saw him in the kitchen without his shirt, I thought I might have started drooling. His pecs were larger, and one of them housed a new tat of a dove with a date on it that made me wonder if it was in honor of his father. His six-pack was now eight. His legs were lean yet strong. I had a nearly uncontrollable desire to yank his running shorts down just so I could see him in the buff. Michelangelo’s David had nothing on Mitch.
What really fried my brain and incinerated my insides was when he said, “I still conjure that night up when I’m feeling lonely.” I was pretty sure he was telling me that he masturbated to the memory of us that summer. I had an image of Mitch, big and strong, stroking himself in the shower. I turned my face into the shower spray to wash that image away. I couldn’t be thinking about such things.
When I finished my shower and got dressed, I assessed the room, willing myself to focus on my work. The living area had good light, but the desk was at the opposite side of the room. Hoping he wouldn’t mind my moving it, I pulled it toward the window. Then I pulled out my computer and sketch pad, setting them on the desk. I sat down and struggled with where to start. I needed sketches of the clothes I wanted to design as that was the crux of my business, but I also needed a business plan, financial assessments, and research. I decided on sketching, feeling like I was putting off essential tasks, but wanting the creative outlet to help settle my nerves.
“Hope?”
I jumped at the sound of Mitch’s voice.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He leaned against the doorjamb, looking like the Mitch I knew nine years ago in faded jeans, a black t-shirt, and sexy smile.
“I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Eddie called and said the part needed to fix your car has to be ordered. It will be a few days to get in and so probably a week that you’ll be without a car,” he said.
Just when I was starting to feel like I was getting into the groove of my retreat, reality kicked in.
“You’re welcome to drive my SUV if you need it,” he added.
“I can’t put you out like that. What will you drive?”
“I got my bike,” he grinned and again, it reminded of the young Mitch I once knew.
“You still have that?”
“Yep. Ole Bessy and I go everywhere together.”
I snorted.
“In fact, I was going to take her down to the Foodie Festival. I told Eddie I’d visit his wife’s exhibit. Want to come?”
I quirked a brow. “On your bike?”
“Yeah. It’ll be fun. There’s nothing like feeling the wind on your face.”
I really shouldn’t. I had work to do. I looked at my watch and discovered it was just past lunchtime. I’d been sketching for hours.
“Maybe another time,” he said straightening from the wall.
As he started to turn, I called out. “I want to come.” I tried not to think of those words in a sexual context.
He grinned at me. “I’ll meet you out front.”
I started to slip on ballet flats, but then thought sneakers would be better for riding on a motorcycle. I found a white leather pair in my suitcase. I also grabbed my jean jacket since I was going to be on a motorcycle. I checked myself in the mirror. I had on tan cropped pants, a white sleeveless blouse, white sneakers, and a jean jacket. To add a little color, I tied a floral square scarf around my neck.
I grabbed my purse and rushed out front. Mitch straddled a black motorcycle. He’d put on a leather jacket, and the total package made my mouth water.
He held out a hand. “Just climb on. There are footrests there.”
I got on behind him, holding on at his waist as he put the bike in gear and pulled out of his long drive.
The ride was loud, but he was right about the wind. I felt like I was flying. Once, I wrapped my arms around him when I worried I might fall off during a sharp turn. He did it a few more times, and I wondered if he was doing it on purpose to get me to hold him closer.
We arrived at a park that had rows and rows of vendors, and a band playing in a gazebo. The area was filled with people eating and drinking.
“Wow, there’s a lot of people for a Monday,” I noted.
“What until the weekend. It will be packed.” Mitch held his hand out to the side to help me off and then dismounted after me.
I pulled the helmet off. “Do I have helmet hair?”
He laughed. “Just shake it out.” He ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair.
I shook my head and ran my fingers through the strands. When I looked to him to ask if it was better, his eyes were piercing as they gazed at me.
He reached out and pushed an errant strand back. “You always were the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“We’re outside,” I said a bit breathlessly.
“Are we?”
My insides went all soft. While my head told me not to get caught up in Mitch’s sexiness or enchanting words, my body was ready to get naked.
“Come on,” he said, holding his arm out to guide me where to go.
We wove through the rows of vendors, tasting a variety of foods and snacks until we reached a tent with a sign that said Trudy Goode Food.
“Mitch!” the plump woman a few years older than me behind the table said. “Eddie said you’d be by.” She eyed me standing next to him. “Something about a friend having car trouble.”
> He blushed slightly. “Trudy this is Hope Caldwell, She’s Parker’s sister and a longtime friend of mine.”
“How do you do?” Trudy’s smile practically reached her ears.
“I’m very well, thank you.” I scanned her table filled with jams and other preserves.
“I know you’re here for some jam, Mitch, but I’ve got some of those chocolate chunk cookies you like.”
Mitch grinned. “Just for me?”
“Don’t you know it.” She winked.
“Do you have any happy sally?” he asked.
Trudy gave him a sly grin. “Now Mitch, I’m a law-abiding citizen.” She looked to the right, then left, and then at me.
“She’s alright. I’ll vouch for her,” Mitch said, putting an arm around my shoulder.
“Let me get you your cookies,” she said, turning and getting something out of a bin at the back of her tent area.
“What’s happy sally?” I asked. Whatever it was, it was likely illegal. Did Mitch smoke pot? Do drugs?
She handed him a lunch-sized paper sack.
“What do I owe you,” he asked, pulling out his wallet.
“You know your money is no good with me.” She waved his money away.
Mitch rolled her eyes. “Trudy, you can’t keep giving me food.”
Trudy looked at me. “Mitch here got our technical issues all cleared up for both me and my husband’s business. Now those scammer bastards won’t mess with us.”
“Let me at least pay you for the booze,” Mitch said.
Booze?
“Shh, you wanna get me arrested?” She held out her hand. “Five bucks.”
“Here’s twenty. I don’t have anything smaller.”
She rolled her eyes. “How is it some woman hasn’t married you up yet, Mitch?” She looked at me. “You should take him, honey. They don’t get much better than Mitch.”
“I once stuck a snake in her wading pool,” he told Trudy. “She knows she can do better than me.”
I laughed. “I totally forgot about that.” Then I frowned. “You were mean.”
He shrugged. “It was Parker’s idea. I did it so he wouldn’t get in trouble from your parents.”
