For now she tried again to focus on the information she’d collected today. Green Gate Farms and the beautiful cooking school there that made even Tessa—lifelong indifferent cook—want to buy knives and wear a pale-green coat with her name embroidered on it. Hmm. She should definitely find out if they could get a coat personalized for each person on the tour. Great souvenir and conversation piece.
She thought, too, of baking bread with Vita, who had told Annie and Tessa about her habit of running every evening for three to ten miles. She’d shown them the medals she saved from the marathons she’d run around the country. Every year she picked a different race in a new city—this year she had run the Chicago Marathon. It was a vacation for her. And she had said, quietly, that running made her strong after she’d escaped an abusive relationship. Annie had looked at her for a long time. “How did you get away from him?”
And Tessa noticed the crookedness of Annie’s nose, the scar along her forehead, and wanted to cry. Cry for Vita and Annie and their scars. Cry for women who had not had anyone in their lives to make them fierce. Cry for Lisa, who had been learning fierceness when nature knocked her flat.
Before the black hole could open again in her chest, Tessa sat up and found her cell phone and called her dad.
“Hey, girl!” he said. “I’m so glad to see your number. How’s it going?”
“Dad, I had such a good day. I went out to the commune, or what was the commune.”
“Wow. Did it look familiar?”
“Maybe a little, and there was an old house I wanted to visit, but there was a conference going on there.”
A little bubble of silence came down the line. “A conference?” he repeated, perplexed.
“Yes.” She laughed. “I’d bet a fair sum of money that you’d never recognize it now. It’s big business. The farms are still organic, and they raise bees for honey and have retreats and conferences there.”
“Holy shit.”
“It’s really cool. And I’m pretty sure I recognized the tea they served in a little café.”
“Is it like a cinnamon ginseng lemony thing?”
“That’s it.”
“Gawd, I love that tea!”
“It was fantastic,” she agreed. “They have farm stands, and they bottle the honey and ship produce to cities all over New Mexico and Colorado, and they’ve just opened a vegetarian cooking school. It’s amazing.”
“A school! Huh.” He laughed. “I’m having a little trouble wrapping my old brain around the whole thing.”
“You should come on out here, check it out. You’d have fun.”
“Nah. You’re gonna be done in a couple of days, right?”
Tessa thought of the school, the hikes. “I might need to stay a little longer. There’s a lot to explore.”
“Sounds like it.”
“You’d have a good time, Dad. Why don’t you take a week and come look around?”
“No. Thanks. I’m not interested in digging around in the past. Look forward, never back.”
“Mmm.”
He said, “How are you doing with all your … stuff?”
“Fine. I’m fine.” She led him back to her questions. “Did we live in the old house at the commune?”
“Yeah. It was a wreck, but it was better for you than a tent in the wintertime.”
“I wish I remembered.”
“You were pretty little.”
She nodded. “I just keep getting the feeling …”
“What?”
“That there’s something I should remember, something important that I forgot.”
“Like what?”
Tessa narrowed her eyes, letting the sensation rise in her memory. “I don’t know. I can’t bring it in.”
“Well, let me know if it shows up. And call me if you need me.”
“I will. Thanks, Dad.”
Her phone beeped, and she pulled it away from her ear to see who was calling. Vince Grasso showed on the screen. Something hot ran down her spine. “Hey, Dad. I’ve got a call coming in, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Bye, kiddo. Take care.”
Breakfast #6
Decadence: Vita’s special homemade cinnamon rolls, hot and sweet, served with organic pork sausage, one egg, and coffee (we recommend you drink it black).
VITA’S CINNAMON ROLLS WITH ORANGE CREAM CHEESE FROSTING
About 16 rolls
1 package yeast
½ cup water
1 tsp plus ½ cup raw sugar
1¼ cups of milk
½ cup butter
2 eggs, beaten
1 T vanilla extract
5 cups white flour
1 tsp salt
(Vita’s secret spice mixture: 1 T cinnamon, ½ tsp nutmeg, 1 star anise pod, ground fresh, 1 tsp ground coriander)
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup butter, very soft
ICING:
6 oz. cream cheese, softened
½ cup cream
½ tsp vanilla
1 tsp orange zest
2 T Orange juice
1½ cups powdered sugar
For the bread:
Add ½ cup butter, cut into pieces, to the milk in a glass measuring cup and scald the milk in the microwave for about 2 minutes. Let cool to room temperature or a tiny bit warmer.
In a small bowl, mix ½ cup lukewarm water with 1 tsp sugar and sprinkle yeast on top. Let it get foamy.
In a large bowl, beat together ½ cup sugar, eggs, and vanilla. Stir in cooled milk-and-butter mixture and add the yeast mix. Stir in flour and salt until it is saturated. (Dough will be sticky.) Turn it out onto a floured surface and knead thoroughly until it is pliant and warm, like baby skin, about 15 minutes, adding flour as required. Return the dough to a large oiled bowl and turn it so the oil covers the entire ball. Cover with a thin, damp towel and set in a warm, draft-free place to rise until doubled in bulk. (At high altitudes, you will not want to use the trick of putting the bowl inside a stove. It will not be reliable, and may overproof.)
When the dough has risen, mix together brown sugar and spices and set aside. Prepare 3 13×9-inch pans with sides by cutting parchment paper to fit the bottoms.
Turn the dough out again onto a lightly floured surface and gently fold it down, then roll it out into a large, thin rectangle. Spread butter over the entire surface and sprinkle it with the spices and sugar. Roll it neatly from the long end, and pinch the edges closed. Slice it into 2-inch pieces and put them in the pans approximately 1½ inches apart to give them room to rise again. Let rise for an hour and then bake for 20-25 minutes in a 350 degree oven until golden brown and bubbly.
While the rolls are baking, prepare the icing by mixing all ingredients together until smooth. Drizzle over the rolls while still warm. Serve immediately, or microwave for 30 seconds before serving.
TEN
Vince had dropped the children with his mother on his way to work. She dismissed his worries about Jade and Natalie’s constant fighting but promised to keep an eye on them when they were in Pueblo.
“And be sure Jade doesn’t get baby teenager clothes,” he said.
“Vince,” she’d said in her ex-smoker’s rasp. “I got it.”
At work, the fire and rescue teams were doing training all week, brushing up on winter tracking, signs of hypothermia, winter survival in all its forms. It was a slower season for them once the hikers and amateur climbers and unskilled rafters headed home for the cold months, but there were always lost cross-country and backcountry skiers, and they did double time as house fires came front and center.
All day, Vince found himself thinking about the long limbs and straightforward gaze of Tessa Harlow. Her card was tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. He had the evening free. She was just passing through, so presumably she didn’t have any big requirements for commitment and he wouldn’t have to worry about his girls having much contact with her.
God knew he could use a little recreational relief.
As the guys wandered out of work, blinking in the bright sunshine following an afternoon of training films, a couple of them invited Vince to come along to a local watering hole.
He shook his head. “Got other plans,” he said, and headed home for a quick shower. Taking her card out of his wallet, he sat next to Pedro on the couch and dialed the number.
She answered, “Vince, hello.” Her voice, smooth and low, percolated near the base of his neck. “I’m so glad you called.”
“Me, too,” he said, and at least it was honest. They arranged to meet in an hour.
Which was how he found himself in one of the lanes along the plaza, as the evening breezes began to sweep north across the river. She was sitting outside a little restaurant on a bench, wearing jeans and a simple tank top and gold sandals. A big fringed scarf, printed with wild red paisleys, was thrown over her shoulders. She didn’t see him.
He stopped, filled with a hunger that had been missing in his life for a long, long time. Her tanned throat drew his eye, and he loved the wavy blond hair, the way she pulled it all into a kind of messy ponytail or something so that shiny little curls fell around her face and neck. Everything about her spoke of confidence and the solid sense of herself and clear-sighted directness he found refreshing.
Beside her, leaning against her leg, was a black-and-white dog, scruffy and badly in need of a bath and a good meal. She spoke to him quietly, rubbing his ears, touching his shoulder blades, firmly stroking down his back. The dog panted softly in the warm evening, smiling upward into the air.
Tessa looked up as Vince approached. In the twilight, her eyes were the color of new leaves, and she gave him a rueful smile. “I keep running into this little guy. I’m going to have to name him pretty soon.”
“Lot of strays around here,” he said. “Breaks your heart.”
“You have room for one more dog, don’t you? Look at this face.”
Vince snorted. “It’s a good-looking pup, but no can do. I have a houseful already.”
“I’m so tempted to take him to my room for the night. Maybe tomorrow, then, I could take him to the humane society or something. Is there a no-kill shelter here?”
“Probably.” The dog really did have a great face. Vince held out his hand. The dog sniffed it and gave it a gentle lick, then let Vince stroke his chest. “He’s so skinny.”
Tessa sighed. “I’m totally stuck on him. I can’t leave him again.”
“Again?”
“I’ve seen him every day since I’ve been here,” she said. “My dad would tell me that means he’s mine. And although I do try to avoid all that metaphysical crap he loves so much, I have to admit … this one is weighing on my conscience.” Light edged her hair as she bent toward the dog. “Do you think the hotel will let me keep him for a night?”
“It’s Los Padres, right? They do have a dog policy.” He grinned. “Not sure they have stray dogs in mind. He’s probably riddled with fleas, you know.”
“I know, this is nuts.”
“Tell you what,” Vince said. “I’ve got my truck over there. We can put him in the back for now, have some dinner, and figure out what to do.”
“I’d like to feed him.”
“There’s probably some dog food left from the other day when we went up to the lake. And I’ve always got water.”
She smiled at him. It gave her skin a radiance, something nearly supernatural. Her long green anime eyes again made him think of something. Someone. “My hero,” she said in that hot-chocolate voice. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He bent and scooped the dog into his arms. “Come on, baby, we’ll get you something to eat.” The dog licked his neck, whimpering softly until Tessa came along and put her hand on his head. “It’s okay, sweetie. Promise.”
At the truck, Vince put the dog down and unlocked the back gate, letting it swing up so the dog could leap into the rubberized back. He poured water and kibble into dishes, and the dog went after the food like the starving creature he was.
“Poor baby,” Tessa said, and Vince thought she might be blinking tears away. It made him want her in a way that felt like too much. He took a step backward.
The dog was happy enough to curl up on a blanket in the back of the truck, and they left him there and walked back through the gathering evening.
“I like your scarf,” he said, mainly because he couldn’t think of anything else.
“Thanks.” She smiled at him. “Do I make you nervous, Vince?”
He stopped. “Maybe a little. You’re not really like the women I usually meet.”
She stood looking up at him, her hands caught behind her back, which afforded him a pleasant view of her not-insubstantial breasts, sloping away into darkness beneath her tank top. “What are they like? Your lovers?”
“Lovers?” He nearly coughed. “Uh. Just … women, I guess.”
“I’m just a woman.”
“No,” he said. “You’re kind of … mysterious.”
She laughed. “Trust me. I’m really not at all.” She took a step closer, her lips still turned up at the corners, teasing and sweet at once, and he thought of his fantasy of her lying on the shores of the lake half naked, pleasuring him. Her gaze went to his mouth. “Here is something unmysterious—I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the first night we met.”
“Is that so?” He looked at her mouth, and, feeling way over his head, bent down to kiss her. Thinking maybe it would just be a little taste, an appetizer. Her lips were pillowy soft and yielding. Her breasts barely brushed his chest, and her arms were still locked behind her, which was weirdly arousing. He stepped slightly closer, aware that they were on the corner of a lane that was not well traveled but there could be someone passing at any moment, and yet the moment was so sweet, so engrossing, he couldn’t think of a reason to stop.
Instead, he angled his head a little and she tilted the other way, and he took her head into his hands, feeling hair on the backs of his fingers, the angle of her jaw against his palm, her sweet mouth opening and inviting his tongue inside. So he dove, and she made the softest sound and followed him back when he would have retreated. Her hands came up to his sides, the backs of his arms, and he felt the brush of her body down the front of him, nudging breasts, belly, thighs. It gave him a massive hard-on—slightly embarrassing in so public a place—and he lifted his head. “We have to stop this.”
She half-closed her eyes, resting her cheek on his palm. “I love your voice,” she said. “It sounds like something wild. The wind or an elk.”
Her lower lip glistened, and he bent as if in a trance to suck it gently into his mouth. “How hungry are you, really?”
She laughed. “Hungry enough we do need to eat.”
It broke the tension, and Vince managed to pull himself together. He took her hand as they walked toward the restaurant.
“Where are your girls tonight?”
“My mother took them to Pueblo to go school shopping. It’s a pretty good-size town about three hours north of here.”
“I would have thought Albuquerque was closer.”
“It’s about the same. Easier driving north, and my mom’s sister lives there.” He felt that ripple of worry over the fighting again. “I’m hoping a break will shake things up and they’ll stop fighting so much.”
“They are clever at pushing each other’s buttons. And Natalie is a little intense.”
He paused, his hand on the door to the restaurant. “What do you mean?”
“She’s just a little prickly.” She narrowed her eyes. “Protective. Doesn’t like it that Pedro likes me.”
“Picked up an awful lot in an hour.”
She raised an eyebrow. One side of her mouth lifted. “Did I step on your toes? I didn’t mean to. It’s part of my job to be observant, figure things out.”
“You didn’t step on my toes.”
“Yeah? So, were you ever going to open the door, then?”
Maybe, he thought, she was too brash for his ta
stes. Too plainspoken. He pulled the door open and she brushed by him. A scent of lemon and nutmeg rose from her skin, and in response, a rush of saliva filled his mouth. He didn’t even like lemons. Too astringent.
And yet he discovered he was again watching her ass as she walked ahead of him, rear end shapely from all that hiking.
A young hostess seated them on the patio, brought water. “Have you eaten here?” Tessa asked, scanning the menu.
Vince shook his head. “Hasn’t been here long, I don’t think—a year or a little more.”
“It has a pretty good reputation,” Tessa said.
The menu was new American, pretty simple stuff. Local meats and fish, trout and bass, and even some game meats—venison and rabbit—cooked simply and straightforwardly. The side dishes were unfussy—roasted summer squash and roasted ears of corn. Tessa ordered venison stew, along with a salad of fresh greens and the roasted corn. After his long day, Vince was starving, and he ordered a steak and a beer. “You want me to order anything else?” he asked. “We can try the beets, too.”
“Sure,” she said. When the server gathered their menus and departed, Tessa inclined her head. “You’ve done restaurant tastings or something?”
“My wife was a big fanatic for food television. She fancied herself a gourmet.”
“Ah. What kind of food did she cook?”
“Classic French style—Cordon Bleu, the whole nine yards.” He shrugged. “Let’s not talk about her.”
“Is that a painful wound, still?”
“No,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I’d just rather talk about you.”
A slow grin spilled over her face. “Good answer.” She leaned back and the scarf slid sideways, showing the smooth line of her collarbone. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me where you lead your tours.”
“Small talk, then.” She smiled at him. “Okay. I’ve been in thirty-seven countries, and lived in four. I like it. I like learning new things, meeting new people, just the adventure of it.”
The Secret of Everything Page 13
