by Ellie Hall
From the manor, the city stretched in every direction—to the harbor and toward the royal castle at the foot of the majestic mountains before ending abruptly by the forest that stretched as far as the eye could see.
The little village, an older pocket of the capital, was enchanting. Ivy grew on the sides of the sandstone and brick buildings, little shops containing treasures and delicious treats lined the lanes.
An ever-present smile bloomed on Katerina’s face anytime she was there because it felt like home. In fact, her grin matched the one Connor wore since she’d appeared at the foot of the stairs, wearing his team colors—she wouldn’t admit it had been intentional either.
The scent of salty dough filled the air. Katerina slowed her pace outside one of her favorite bakeries that specialized in giant twisted pretzels. She rarely passed without picking one up, but typically it wasn’t during work hours.
“Smells good,” Connor said.
“Mmm,” she agreed.
Katerina’s eyes grew wide as they watched through the window as the master baker rolled the dough into a long log, picked up either end, and then in one effortless motion twisted it to form a perfect pretzel shape before placing it on a tray.
“What’s your favorite flavor?” Connor asked, pointing to the display.
There was plain, the traditional with salt, and one with cinnamon and sugar on top.
“I’m a traditional kind of girl.”
“What about the dipping sauce? The spicy mustard sounds good.”
“I’ve never tried it.”
Suddenly, his hand was in hers, dragging her through the door. The place where his palm met hers and his fingers twined tightly around, sent a flare of warmth up through her arm, into her cheeks, before doubling back to her belly. Her heart ticked out an unusual rhythm—though it had been doing that a lot lately, especially when under stress.
A bell jingled and the clerk behind the counter greeted her. “Hello, Katerina. I haven’t seen you in here in a while.” The older woman, wearing an apron, looked Connor up and down from head to toe. “And who’s this handsome gentleman you brought to visit me?” She winked.
“This is Connor Wolf. Meet Margie Wilson. She and her husband, Clarence, own the shop.”
Connor extended his hand.
Margie dusted hers off. “Best in town.”
“Oldest in town,” her husband called from the window by the front where he continued to twist pretzels.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wilson. Ms. Kuznetsova almost walked by without introducing me.” Connor was all smiles as though a spotlight shone on him.
Margie leaned in and said, “Handsome, polite, and old fashioned.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I’d say he’s a keeper.”
Katerina was about to explain, but Connor kept talking.
“If these are the best pretzels in town and I’m a keeper that means we have to get one of everything on the menu.”
Margie started to laugh and then stopped abruptly. “I don’t think he’s joking, but that just gave me the greatest idea.” She pulled Clarence from the window and leaned in as though they were in a team huddle. “What do you think about a sampler?” She went on to explain, creating miniature versions of their signature pretzels plus sample sizes of each of the various dipping sauces. She bounced up and down with excitement.
“Now, Margie, sometimes you get some cockamamie ideas, but this one is marvelous.” Her husband smiled at her.
She beamed. “What do you guys think?” She looked brightly at Connor and Katerina.
“It’s fantastic,” Katerina said.
“We have to do what we can to keep business going.” Margie dug under the counter and pulled out several small cups with lids.
Katerina knew all about the struggle of keeping a business afloat although hers was sinking fast.
“I have you guys to thank for the inspiration—you’re our good luck couple—and because of that, you get to be our guinea pigs.”
Katerina’s nose wrinkled and her eyebrows dipped. Firstly, she and Connor were not a couple. Far from it in fact. And what was a guinea pig?
Before she could say either out loud, Connor said, “What’s that face?”
“I’m not a pig,” Katerina said forcefully.
“Wait, you don’t know what a guinea pig is, do you?” He chuckled. “No offense meant.” He went on to explain the cute furry animal was also a term to mean they’d be Margie’s test subjects.
“Now, I have put the sauces in these cups for you to try. Obviously, we can’t make the mini pretzels right this moment, but next time you come in, we’ll have them ready. I’m sure that a big man like this can handle a couple of jumbo pretzels on his own, so I’m not worried about them going to waste.” She nudged Connor with her elbow as she set everything on a tray.
The sat at the empty bistro table on the other side of the bakery. The surface overflowed with pretzels and sauces. Connor’s knees bumped up against hers. That same thrilling flare burst through her. There was no escaping the contact because there wasn’t anywhere else for him to put his long legs so they remained there, knees pressed together.
“I’ll have to come up with a clever way to arrange all the items, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy,” Margie said, bringing them napkins.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Connor said.
“Oh, and Margie, we’re not a couple,” Katerina finally said.
The corners of the older woman’s lips curled up. “Oh, not yet?”
Before she could protest, the door jingled with an influx of customers.
Apparently, Connor was ignoring the whole blunder, staring hungrily at the pretzels. “Where do I start?” He tore off a piece of the plain pretzel and plunged it into the dipping sauce. “Oh, that’s delicious,” he said around a mouthful.
She cringed. But he must’ve taken it to be a scolding because he sat up straighter and minded his manners from there on out.
“The meet and greet was great. I didn’t realize there were so many fans in Concordia.” Katerina said, delicately breaking off a piece of pretzel.
“Football is played professionally in the United States, but it’s a global passion held by many.”
She nodded and then added, “Many rowdy and rough people who enjoy watching men pummel each other.”
Connor’s brow furrowed. “It’s so much more than that. What? Is it not civilized enough for you?”
She raised and lowered her shoulder. The truth was, she hardly knew a thing about it.
“What do you know about football?” he asked. When she didn’t answer he said. “Nothing. You know nothing.”
“Enlighten me,” she said, propping an elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand.
Connor went on to give her a thorough education on all things related to the sport.
Ordinarily, she’d have wanted to take a nap, bored by stuff like that, but found herself engaged by his passion. His smooth southern accent deepened as he went onto tell her everything about Ryan, the running back, then Chase the quarterback, Gray, the linebacker, Declan the wide receiver, and a bunch of the other players.
“What about you? You’re the safety, right?”
He nodded then told her about training, workouts, and game day.
“Speaking of training, I missed my appointment. Hammer is going to be ticked.”
As she chewed a bite of the cinnamon sugar pretzel, dipped in a sweet, creamy sauce, she had a sudden idea. “Not to worry. I know a place we can go where you’ll get in a workout. I’ll assure your coach it is part of the program.”
“Nice. After all these carbs, I could stand to break a sweat.”
Katerina gazed at the table. He’d eaten nearly the entire spread. Only a crumb remained.
He dipped his finger down and said, “Oops. Missed one.” He winked as he popped it in his mouth. Then leaned in as though to brush a crumb from Katerina’s face. “Missed another one.” He ate that one too.
She shoul
d’ve been grossed out, but there was something so sweetly flirtatious about it she tried to hide her smile as they said goodbye to the Wilsons.
“Oh, don’t forget your extra one,” Margie said, passing Katerina a bag.
She always brought a pretzel to Arthur up at the school.
Conner lifted his eyebrow.
“Everyone deserves a treat now and then,” she replied as they stepped outside into the late afternoon.
“So? Where are we going?” Connor asked.
“First, we’re going to quickly stop by the school to grab your workout gear and then it’s a short walk up the hill from there.”
Katerina debated whether to bring a change of clothes. Her heart stuttered as though it was exclaiming yes! But her mind quieted the desire.
At the school, Arthur greeted them with his usual dignified gusto.
Connor went upstairs to get his workout gear.
Katerina gave Arthur his pretzel.
He grinned gratefully. “My favorite. As always, thank you.”
“How is Mrs. Fitzwilliam doing?” Katerina asked.
“Recovering nicely. Thank you for asking.” His voice trembled a bit.
Worry crept over Katerina. “You sure? Why don’t you take a few more days off? We can manage without a bit longer. We have all these strapping football players here to help and they can lug their own bags around.” She smiled.
“I couldn’t, Miss.”
“Why not?”
Arthur was polite, but she was his boss. If she said he could take time off, she meant it.
He shook his head. “Mrs. Harrow indicated I might be let go soon. We need the insurance for as long as possible so I’ll keep my shifts, please.”
“Oh, Arthur. You’re not going to be let go.” Why would Regina say such a thing?
“She’s been in your office all hours trying to figure out the finances and I suppose I’m the expendable one.” He gazed at his shoes.
“That’s absolutely not true. Arthur, you are the heart and soul of Blancbourg.”
He shook his head.
“Wait?” she said, belatedly catching something else he’d mentioned. “Do you mean Connor, my pupil, has been in my office? If so, we’ve been doing harmless pranks. It’s over now. I won.” She flashed a triumphant grin.
“No, I meant Regina Harrow. She’s been using your office for years.”
Katerina tilted her head, more worried than ever that Arthur needed a break. His wife’s illness was probably taking its toll on him.
Connor appeared with a duffel bag. “Ready to get sweaty?” he said.
Katerina felt the urge to offer a reassuring hug to the older man. Instead, she said, “Arthur, please take another couple of days off. I promise your job will be here when you return.”
At that, she and Connor stepped outside. They climbed a gentle hill, passing historic buildings, cottages, and Bavarian-style structures.
Connor paused by a plaque outside of a home that had been there for several hundred years. “You might laugh, but I’ll let you get away with it for not knowing what the expression about guinea pigs meant.” His eyes sparkled with mirth.
“My English is just fine, thank you.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Upon leaving Russia, she had a handle on the language but made it her mission to be completely fluent. “I’m sure there are words in English that you don’t know.” She turned away from the sign. “Mellifluous for instance.”
“As in your voice is mellifluous. Try again.” He nudged her with his elbow.
She tried to conceal the tremble that started upon his touch. “Ineffable.”
He held up his hands. “Easy there. That doesn’t sound polite.”
“Do you know the word?”
He tilted his head. “It means ‘too great to be expressed in words.’”
Connor stepped next to her, gazing out at the vista. She could feel the warmth coming from his skin. “Ah, much like this view.” Then in a lower register, he said, “Like you, ineffable.”
At least that’s what she thought he’d said because if so, he’d rendered her speechless, in any language.
A moment passed and then another as they stood side by side. Then he turned to her abruptly. “Wait. I had another idea.”
Her pulse raced, still not quite sure what to think or say.
“This is a wealthy nation, as reflected by this splendor,” he paused and gestured to the view, “and the many donations I received for the charity during the meet and greet.” He knocked her with his shoulder as they started to climb the hill again.
Once more, she felt off-kilter, out of step, and like her heart was beating out a different tempo than it ever had before. She could hardly take a deep breath.
“Oh, I meant to say before, it was too bad my face was cut off in all of those pictures.”
“I have one to paste back on. I found it on the bottom of my computer mouse.” She dug into her pocket where she’d stuck it and then pressed it against his forehead.
His eyes crossed and he barked a laugh before taking it off. “So not getting my entire head in those photos was revenge for my prank.” He snapped his fingers.
“Your head is rather large.”
“I’d apologize for my pranks, but you have to admit, they were hilarious.”
“Oh yes, hilarious. Especially the airhorn,” she said dryly. “It almost gave me a heart attack.” She rubbed her chest at the memory.
He laughed. “But you can keep this. That way you’ll have something to gaze at longingly while you’re in your office, Shorty.” He bopped her on the nose and passed the small picture of him that he’d printed from his social media back to her.
“Hey,” she said, knocking back into him, but she laughed.
He held up his hands in protest, “I was teasing about you being short. I’m just tall. That’s all.”
“Yes, you are,” she muttered.
It had been a long time since she’d joked, laughed, and had an easy rapport with a guy. What had changed so suddenly?
They’d stopped on the slanted sidewalk still heading uphill. Connor was lower than her so they were almost eye level. She counted her heartbeats. It seemed to skip one. She pressed her hand against her chest.
“Everything okay?” he asked as concern filtered across his brow.
“Yeah. Fine. Stress. That’s all.”
“Oh. Sorry about that. But that gets me to my point. This country is so wealthy,” he repeated.
“You were saying, but based on that, you wouldn’t expect to learn that Blancbourg might have to close soon, not that you’d care.”
“Not true. I’ve learned a lot. You’ve taught me a lot,” he said in a lower tone as his eyes lifted to hers. “Listen to this idea. You could see about getting the manor on the historic register. I’d even go with you and try to get it all sorted out.”
“You mean you’d like to do something helpful to contribute?” she teased, referencing their earlier conversation.
“Hey, you can’t deny that I’m a giver.”
For once, she didn’t refute it because it was a step in the right direction on both accounts; Connor was showing progress in his lessons by being altruistic and they were finally getting along.
Katerina wanted to linger on the way he’d made her pulse race, but she was slightly short of breath. It was definitely the stress after spending hours reviewing accounts and not being able to trace where all the funding was going. Something was off, but she wasn’t sure what.
“I think you have a great idea,” she said at last. “Must be the pretzels. Margie had her sampler idea, I had the idea for the workout, and you might just have helped me save the school. Well, the building at least. It’s a great piece of property. I’d hate to see it fall into ruin or be demolished.”
“We’ll go tomorrow to find out about the process. Also, that way, I can get another one of those pretzels.” He winked.
They’d reached the top of the
hill with a lane lined with two-story buildings. They climbed to the second floor of a broad, Bavarian-style one with dark wood timbers and cream-colored paint.
The faint sound of music sounded from behind one of the doors. Katerina pushed it open and said, “Welcome to your workout.”
Ten little girls wearing pink tutus tiptoed across the wooden floor in the wake of an older woman with a shock of white hair and wearing black along with a severe a ballerina bun.
Connor stood there, a hulking giant compared to all the cute kids, and his jaw dropped.
Chapter 8
Connor
Connor wanted to protest, to refuse, and to tell Katerina there was not a chance he’d do ballet, but he figured he wasn’t done paying his penance for the pranks. It also meant he could prank her again.
Mostly, he was never one to back down from a challenge. While he didn’t want to humiliate himself in front of Katerina, neither did he want to back out, which would’ve been more embarrassing.
He rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s do this.”
A smirk spread wide across Katerina’s mouth.
After the kids’ class was over, the little girls filtered out. Their eyes were wide as they passed him.
“You brought me a giant?” the woman in black said. She was as petite as Katerina and her eyes were just as sharp.
“What do you have for me, coach?” he asked.
“You may call me Madam Tissot.” With her French accent, she left the T off the end. “We will warm up then move to the barre.”
“If those little girls can do it, so can I.” But Connor wasn’t so sure.
The two women laughed as though they saw right through his false bravado.
For the next sixty minutes, Madam Tissot had him feeling like a pretzel and feeling all the pretzels he’d eaten. He woke up and worked muscles that he didn’t realize he had—and he had a lot of them. They started with a primary practice of positions and then did relevés, plies, and tandus. Connor was strong but had to hold the barre for balance.
