She also had to make a butter pecan for Kat’s lemon plus cake and a bittersweet chocolate version with a fat, homemade caramel swirl to accompany the two grooms’ cakes. She had to start now. Even with the commercial ice cream freezer purchased with part of the deposit on the catering, it would take time to make enough of three kinds to pull that off.
After toasting the pecans and making a batch of ice cream base, Jenna poured it into a plastic container and stowed it in the fridge. If she put it in the freezer, it would almost certainly over-churn before she got back, but it wouldn’t take her long to dash to the store for the bananas and back. And there was no helping it.
A sense of surreality encompassed her as she completed the tasks. While they were not those she accomplished on a daily basis, they served to keep her mind centered. She couldn’t put her husband’s reappearance out of her thoughts, but she could work.
Not that different from every day of the past two years, but with less despair.
Grabbing her purse from the hook on the wall, Jenna started for the back door while fishing inside for her keys. She stopped and dug again. Nothing. Had she left them somewhere else? She hunted in the foyer then in her room, but her keys were nowhere to be found. She was almost anal about keeping things in their place just so this would not happen.
Passing the back window, she caught a glimpse of a motorcycle parked in the rear parking area where her SUV belonged, and the situation came into utter clarity. “That bastard took my car.” But at least if he had, he’d be back.
She’d been working extra hard partly because she had so much to do but also to keep her from thinking Gordon was just going to disappear again. If he left his beloved Harley, Bianca, she could count on his return. But how sad was that. All the time he’d been gone, he’d been with the motorcycle but not her.
Great, now she was jealous of a bunch of metal with a leather seat. And stranded. If she didn’t get the bananas soon, her whole schedule would be off. Feeding tapas style appetizers as well as other finger foods and a variety of other treats to enough people to populate a small city would take every bit of organization she could muster, and she’d be damned if she’d let a bunch of bananas or six throw her off her game.
She sank onto the side of the bed, considering what to do. She could call someone to give her a lift or bring the fruit by, but almost everyone she could think of was already hip deep in wedding preparations of one kind or another, and she hated to disturb them. Then her mind lit on another option. If Gordon felt comfortable driving away in her SUV, then what was to stop her from taking his bike to the store? The key sat on the night table, just waiting for her to help herself.
Okay, Gordon. You have nobody to blame but yourself if I get a scratch on the tank or kick up a bunch of gravel and scuff the seat.
She could ride, but had never been on a bike this big except when she rode behind Gordon. Might as well see if she could pull it off. In no time at all, she sat astride the monster. It was a little high for her, but she could manage to touch the ground, on tiptoe. And the weight didn’t matter, according to her instructor. A bigger bike just meant more careful balance. Turning the key, she felt her heart start up in time with the motorcycle. She’d gotten the license to surprise Gordon. They’d always talked about taking a trip across the country, and, to do that, she’d need her own ride.
He’d died before she could tell him.
No—a surge of anger had her twisting the throttle, revving the engine into a roar to match her mood—he did not die. He lied. Glad he’d parked facing the street so she didn’t have to turn the heavy machine and risk dropping it on her leg, she lifted the kickstand and roared off down the long driveway. She didn’t even think of the helmet until she was signing the ticket the nice police officer gave her for not wearing one. He commented on the fact she carried one attached to the saddlebag but chose not to wear it before printing out her notice to appear and handing it to her.
Gordon could damn well pay the fine. As the policeman headed back to his vehicle, she almost called him back to report her car stolen. It would serve her late husband right to be arrested after what he’d put her through.
By the time she stowed the bananas along with a bottle of tequila to drink herself into pleasant oblivion once the wedding was over and things returned to normal—what was normal now?—she’d calmed enough to remember the helmet and to pilot the hog safely back to the inn, where she found her car still missing. Fuming again, she parked Bianca under the jacaranda tree in full bloom at the edge of the driveway. The pretty purple blossoms it shed would cling to the paint and the leather seat. It wouldn’t cause permanent damage, but it would make for an unpleasant surprise when he returned.
If he returned.
No, Gordon would return. He’d managed to hold onto his motorcycle even after his “death.” Maybe she should chain it to the tree to ensure he didn’t take it and leave again without saying good-bye.
Where the hell was he now?
Gordon approached the small firehouse at the back of Chief MacKay’s property with tentative steps. He’d waited while Tina, the chief’s wife, motored away in a car filled with balloons and streamers and other party paraphernalia. The chief’s distinctive red truck sat in the driveway, next to the garage-sized version of the Cedar Valley Firehouse.
Gordon had been away from Jenna for too many hours, but if he called her, she’d want to know why he left and where he’d been, and he wanted to answer her questions in person. But, unless she’d acquired another vehicle, and he hadn’t noticed one, he’d also left her stranded.
Last night had been a miracle, holding his wife in his arms and making love to her, but he had no doubt his feisty mate had been stewing since she awoke, and every minute he stayed away added fuel to her fire. He’d known her too long to think she’d accept anything but the whole truth.
Before he could exit the SUV, the door at the top of the high steps opened and legendary Chief MacKay stepped out. Still tall and straight, if a bit thicker in the middle than twenty years ago when Gordon idolized him and wanted to be a firefighter. His great-uncle descended to stand next to the vehicle and waited for him to open the door and get out.
When he did, he met the level stare of the patriarch of the entire MacKay clan and one of the greatest men ever to live in Cedar Valley. He’d guided the fire department so long, when he threatened to retire “next year,” as he had every year for the last decade, no one believed it.
“Hello, sir.” Why did the sight of Mac turn him into a ten-year-old caught playing with matches?
“Nephew.” Mac eyed him up and down. “You look remarkably well for a dead man.”
He shrugged. “‘The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.’”
“Don’t quote Mark Twain to me, boy. I’m almost old enough to have known Samuel Clemens, and neither he nor I would have the imagination to understand why you’d leave that sweet wife of yours to weep over your grave when you’re clearly in perfect health.”
“I didn’t—”
“Not to mention the rest of us. Does your wife know you’re here? Your mother?”
Oh god, Mom. She’d never forgive him. “Jenna does. Nobody else, well, except Caroline.”
“The wedding planner?” The great man’s bushy reddish-gray eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Are you fooling around on your wife? You know I can’t tolerate a cheater.”
“Sir…no. If you don’t mind, can we go inside? I don’t want anyone else to see me yet, and I need to fill you in on some serious matters.”
“Does this include why you left, where you’ve been, and how you know Caroline?”
He nodded.
“Then what are you waiting for. Let’s go inside the firehouse. I have a pot of coffee on and some bear claws from Dessert du Jour. That Jamie has really picked up where Bethany left off. I hear he’s got some extraordinary wedding cakes planned for my granddaughters’ nuptials.” Mac led the way up the stairs and inside.
The buildin
g and its furnishings, heavy wood and overstuffed maroon leather, were a gift from the community of Cedar Valley to one of their most distinguished citizens. A bar-size refrigerator, microwave, and built-in soda fountain lined a counter mounted on one wall with glasses hung from a rack overhead. The cracked white coffeemaker was the only thing not new in the place. Gordon remembered it from his visits to the real firehouse as a kid. They’d probably upgraded to something fancier for their java needs—like Jenna had.
Jenna. He had to speed things up. Accepting a cup of coffee from Mac, he took a sip and swallowed hard. “Great stuff.”
“You should see the coffeemaker at the firehouse now. Makes all kinds of fancy drinks like lattes and foamy-top things. But it can’t make a good, strong cup of joe like this.”
Strong was right. “I want to get home before Jenna thinks I’ve left her again.”
“Bear claw? I have to sneak these in here. Tina has me on a diet again.” The man had a great physique for his age, but Aunt Tina wanted him to live to a hundred, and she watched him like a hawk.
He started to refuse, but the sight of golden pastry drizzled with white, shiny icing made him remember he hadn’t eaten since the delicious oatmeal cookies the day before.
“Sure.” Gordon accepted a napkin from Mac and helped himself. He bit in and groaned. “I think this is even better than Bethany’s. Did Jamie go to culinary school?”
Mac snorted, taking a seat on a couch under the front window. “Hardly. He has a good helper and is learning, though. Don’t you think he’s got a knack?”
Gordon’s mouth was too full of almond paste and flaky layers to answer, but he nodded.
“Sit, boy. I need to know what’s going on. I don’t kid myself you’ve shown up here two days before Kat and Brigit’s wedding for no reason. And I don’t believe in coincidence. Where have you been?”
Swallowing, Gordon set the pastry on its napkin on the slate-topped coffee table in front of him. “I’ve been in Florida.”
Chapter Seven
By the time Gordon left Mac’s place, having told the whole story of his disappearance and return for the first time, he needed a nap. Badly. But unless he wanted to pull over to the side of the road and sleep, taking the chance of angering Jenna to the point she wouldn’t talk to him at all, he couldn’t waste that time. Or keep her car any longer.
The fire chief had insisted on speaking to their whole team, and he’d set up a meeting at a diner out on the highway for later that afternoon. Understandably, his great-uncle had concerns for their family. All of them. Anyone else would have insisted they call off the ceremony, but Mac’s practicality and cool head in a crisis allowed him to agree that if they didn’t catch the criminals and end their plot once and for all, they could continue to plague MacKays far and wide.
It would help if they had any idea what the hackers sought. He rolled down the window and breathed in the warm, summer-scented air. The Omega Team had done everything and anything to make sure no trail remained.
The software he’d been working on before his “death” was related to a guidance system for weapons so new, only prototypes existed, but if they could get their hands on his work, the hackers could sell the encoding to almost any enemy of the United States. After taking Gordon out of the picture, Grey and his team had found enough dirt on the company owners to not only close them down but send a few of them to jail.
The hackers, who had never set foot in the country…not so much. But with their pet firm gone and Gordon, the only person who’d had the security clearance to have some of the information, out of the picture, there should have been nothing left to worry about. For this, he’d given up everyone he loved. He’d been huddled in the humid Florida climate, rarely leaving home for two years. Even his work had been out of reach—of anyone. It existed only on his laptop. The government had been forced to start a new program with a new contractor, who, if Grey’s information was correct, had made little or no progress.
Gordon, unknown to anyone at all, had continued on his own and had a system almost ready to turn over to the government. He’d hoped to finish this week, his OCD not allowing him to give up on a job so important to the security of his country. Only the danger to his family brought him out before he finished.
He’d missed these highways and the scents of all the crops growing in the summer heat. Trucks laden with produce passed him. Peppers, garlic, corn…lots of tomatoes. He shuddered. Poor Jenna. All that red pulp decorating the corpse she thought was him. He’d never intended to traumatize her like that.
The inn sat on its hilltop ahead, and he signaled and exited, heading up the narrow road toward home. At least he hoped it could be home again. Jenna likely had doubts about their relationship, but he didn’t. He wanted her. Had wanted her since the first day he saw her, and would want her until the day he died.
Motoring into the drive, he drove past the inn to the parking area in the back and braked. The bike… Where was Bianca? The spot where he’d left her was filled by a gray sedan. Heat raced through his chest. The one thing he’d managed to take from his old life to his new, transported to Florida and back in The Omega Team private jet. Before he could panic any further, he saw her. In the corner of the parking area, under the purple tree Jenna planted their first year there. Some kind of subtropical variety unlikely to weather a frost, she’d strung it with fairy lights so their slight heat would help it survive.
In full bloom, the tree, a jaca…jacaranda had shed its blossoms all over his baby. Continuing on to park the SUV in the spot he’d taken it from, Gordon fumed. Why had Jenna moved the Harley? The bike weighed too much and she could have hurt herself. Or the bike. But he wouldn’t think like that. She’d always been a little jealous of Bianca. A complaint about the bike could be the tipping point.
As he pulled his duffel from the hatch, the kitchen door opened and all concerns for his favorite wheels fled his mind. Jenna watched him approach, a gleam in her eye. He couldn’t figure out what caused the grin lifting the corners of her full, rosy lips, but at least she wasn’t glaring at him.
Taking it as a good sign, he smiled back at her and climbed the two steps. Jenna moved back to let him pass. “Did you get everything taken care of?”
Just as if he’d returned from a day at work, he bent in for a kiss, falling into the rhythm of their days before he left. She didn’t flinch away, nor did she return it. Perhaps he’d misread her happiness at seeing him return.
“I’ll go put my things in the bedroom.” Gordon started down the hallway, but Jenna stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“We have a room upstairs for you.”
His heart sinking, he turned back to face her. “Jenna, I—”
She shook her head slowly. “I can’t, Gordon. I just can’t let you walk back into my life without so much as a discussion of how you left.
“Can we talk now?”
She waved at the kitchen, and he noticed for the first time that the usually tidy space was one step short of a disaster area. Piles of fruits and vegetables filled the counters along with cans, boxes, and a plethora of other foodstuffs. “I’m quite busy preparing for a wedding.”
“My cousins’?” He lifted the biggest pineapple he’d ever seen. “Are you doing catering now?”
“You guessed it. It’s the biggest event I’ve taken on, though.”
He chuckled, despite being relegated to another room for the night. “It’s the biggest event Cedar Valley has ever seen. Looks like rush hour in Los Angeles in our little downtown.”
She paused. “Is that where you were? Los Angeles?” A machine began to grind, and she hurried over and pressed a series of buttons before he could answer. “Oh no. I’m afraid I might have over-churned it after all.” Jenna picked up a bowl and pulled a handle. Creamy chocolate ice cream filled the container, and she turned to face him. “No. It’s safe.” Snapping a lid on top, she tucked the bowl into a standup freezer and leaned against it. “I’m going to be working nonstop for
the next two days if I want to have everything ready for your cousins’ affair.”
Gordon watched her pour warm tap water through the machine and load it with another creamy mixture. “Don’t you have any help with this?” He’d love to take the opportunity to assist her, but keeping her and the rest of his family safe came first. Still, he had a couple of hours before he had to meet the chief and the other operatives. Since Jenna clearly could not stop work to listen to an explanation, and he had a feeling he’d not be returning to her bed until she had one, he could talk and cook.
Besides, Jenna was always happier with a project. She’d never been one to demand formal communication. Maybe they’d never needed it. They’d understood one another from day one. She must feel so betrayed now.
“Tomorrow, I will have more help.” Bustling from one side of the kitchen to another, she flew from task to task. He’d always admired the graceful way she dealt with stressful situations, always making her work appear easy when any fool knew it to be anything but. This time, he wondered if she’d taken on more than she could manage.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m going up to my new room and take a fast shower. When I come back, I’ll help out while I throw myself at your feet and explain where I’ve been and why.”
“You want to shower before cooking? You’ll just be all sweaty again.” Chopping some kind of vegetables, she didn’t even look up.
“You already got me sweaty last night, and I didn’t get to shower before I went out. Just give me a few minutes.” He winked at her, probably pointlessly since she still stared at her cutting board.
“Okay.”
Her enthusiasm warmed his heart. Not.
“What room am I using?”
“The Sierra Room, first one at the top of the stairs.” He’d helped her paint the mural in that one. One of the few things he’d actually contributed to the inn besides a couple of pieces of furniture he’d made. A good sign she assigned him this one?
He could only hope.
The Omega Team: Hidden Asset (Kindle Worlds Novella) (MacKay Destiny Book 8) Page 4
