by Nina Crespo
They’d turned out okay, but something had prompted her to try the recipe again today after preparing the pies for the tasting. This time she was adding a little more cinnamon and a dash of ginger to the pears and the topping. Once they were done, she’d give them to the staff as a treat.
As she turned off the mixer, Darby, the cafe’s dining supervisor, came over to her. “The guy who called about the job finally showed up.”
“He did?” Rina scraped the contents for the dough out of the bowl onto a small metal sheet pan. “Did he mention why he’s late?”
“No. But he did say he realized it was late. After that, he ordered the meatloaf special.”
“Food is his first priority? Un-be-lievable.” Rina set the bowl aside. “I guess he doesn’t really want the job.” All of her people were reliable. She wouldn’t risk hiring someone who wasn’t.
“What do you want me to tell him?”
“Nothing. Let him enjoy his meatloaf. I’ll be out there to talk to him in a minute.”
Darby’s sigh came with a slightly glum expression. “Too bad he missed his chance. He’s really cute and he has strong-looking hands.”
Rina laughed. “We don’t need someone who’s nice to look at. We need someone who’s dependable.”
“I know.” Mischief glimmered in Darby’s eyes. “But having this guy around sure would have made things interesting.”
Darby left to grab the guy’s meatloaf.
Rina rolled out the dough then spread it into the corners of the pan. He had strong hands? A chuckle escaped. That was interesting.
Since the filming had started at Tillbridge, a lot of the town’s available women, including Darby, had their eye out for new guys to meet. Dating in a small town was difficult. The pickings beyond people you already knew were so slim any new person that showed up, reliable or not, became a tempting possibility.
The image of the stuntman floated into her mind. Like Philippa had pointed out, he was cute. Had he been flirting with her when he’d thrown out that lame two-out-of-two line? The possibility of that being the case reluctantly brought a smile. But she didn’t need a guy connected to drama, pretend or otherwise, in her life. Unfortunately, that seemed to be what mostly existed in the wilds of dating.
A few months ago, after one glass of wine too many, she’d let Philippa dare her into creating a profile on a dating site. One of the guys she’d connected with had seemed decent. Several get-to-know-you texts and phone calls later, she finally agreed to meet him for dinner. But the night had gone downhill fast once his ex-fiancée walked into the place with her new boyfriend. Afterward, all she could think about was how much effort she’d put into being there. Hair and nail appointments. Shopping for a new dress. Driving an hour away to Baltimore. Wasted time and effort that should have been put into, not taken away from, Brewed Haven. After that epiphany, she hadn’t dated anyone since.
Rina took her time spooning the pear filling over the dough then topped the fruit with a mix of sugar and spices. After she popped the pan in one of the convection ovens in the middle of the kitchen, she set the timer on the Fitbit wrapped around her wrist. The guy who’d shown up late for his interview should have been at least halfway through with his meal by now.
On the way out of the kitchen, she called to Ben who was still at the service window. “How’s it going?”
Lean and studious-looking in a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, he gave her a thumbs-up and went back to work.
She strolled into the wide corridor.
Farther down, servers set up their trays with drinks at the beverage station across from the pass-through window in the kitchen.
Rina went the opposite direction past the outer door to her office. A few feet ahead on the right, a wide archway led into the dining area that was emptying out as the cafe neared closing time.
Darby rang out customers at the register at the coffee service station. She spotted Rina and surreptitiously pointed to a lone blond guy sitting at the dining counter.
Rina couldn’t see his entire face but his profile was familiar. No, it couldn’t be...
He glanced her direction, and her steps faltered. It was him.
Shrieks came from the side hallway across the dining area, and Rina hurried that direction.
A young brunette walked out of the ladies’ room on the left holding a little girl’s hand.
Water dripped from the woman’s face and the bangs of her shoulder-length hair. The front of her blue shirt was also soaked and water spots dotted the front of her jeans. Her Mini-Me’s blue dress wasn’t as wet but huge tears rolled down her rounded pale cheeks.
“Are you alright?” Rina asked.
The woman swiped hair from her eyes. “We’re not hurt, just wet.”
Water spattering on the bathroom tiles echoed through the closed door.
“I’m so sorry.” Rina called to a server, “Grab some towels please.” Shame heated her face. She didn’t think the dripping sink was that urgent. What happened?
Darby instead of the server brought over a few of the clean side towels they used in the kitchen. They were small but sufficient enough for the woman to pat her and her little girl’s face and arms dry.
Water was already seeping past the door into the hallway.
Rina took over towel duty freeing Darby to take care of the growing flood. “I have T-shirts that you can change into. And of course, your meal is on the house.”
Irritation filled the woman’s face, and she held up her hand as if planning to refuse the offer.
“Please.” Rina looked directly into the woman’s eyes. “I feel terrible this happened to you. Wouldn’t dry T-shirts be more comfortable than wet clothes?”
“Well...” The woman glanced at her daughter. “It probably would be best for Evie to have on something dry for the ride home.”
A little over twenty minutes later, a five-year-old Evie and her mom walked through the now-empty cafe. Both wore fresh-from-the-package Brewed Haven T-shirts.
Rina went with them to the door. “Again, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Well, I guess accidents do happen.” Evie’s mom looked down at her daughter. “I think getting sprayed with cold water was more of a shock than anything, right pumpkin?”
“Um-hmm.” Evie agreed as she shoved a double chocolate chip cookie into her mouth with one hand while clutching a bag with more of the cookies that Rina had given them in the other.
As Evie and her mom walked to their car, Rina locked the door behind them and sagged against it. Her cheeks hurt from maintaining the smiles-for-miles Bolan attitude while hiding her embarrassment.
She shouldn’t have ignored the issue with the faucet. Evie’s mom said the cold water knob had popped off when she’d turned it and water had gushed into the air. How had a slow drip ended up turning into a geyser so fast?
Untimely repairs, that’s what you can expect with old buildings...
The designer she’d hired five years ago when she’d renovated the space had pointed that out to her several times. And so had Zurie. She’d been the most vocal about not buying an older building. But it had good bones, and the original pedestal sinks in the bathrooms had character. The place had just needed some love, and Rina had poured hers into it along with a nice amount of cash. She had no regrets about doing it. And for years, Dennis’s prior knowledge of the building’s quirks and repair needs had kept things in order.
Weariness made her shoulders heavy. She just wanted to go upstairs and rest, but a long soak in her claw-foot tub would have to wait.
The sound of water being squeezed into a plastic bucket came from the side hallway. Seconds later, Darby rolled a cleaning bucket on wheels with a mop inside of it into the dining area.
Rina pushed away from the door and met her. “Thanks for staying behind to mop up. I’ll call a plumber first thing in the morning.”
“You may not have to. The handyman who showed up late for his interview is taking a look.”
Was Darby referring to the Destroyer of Pies who broke things for a living? “You mean the guy waiting for me at the counter? He’s not a handyman.”
“He sure acted like one.” Darby gave a pleased smiled. “He jumped right in and turned off the water valve under the sink then asked for tools to fix the faucet. He seems to know what he’s doing. I brought him Dennis’s toolbox.”
“You what?”
Chapter Five
Rina rushed to the ladies’ room and stopped in the doorway.
The Destroyer of Pies was crouched over the gray metal toolbox on the floor with a hammer in his hand.
Panic leaped inside of her. “Don’t!”
He looked at her and his brows drew together with a puzzled look. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t break my sink.”
“It’s already broken. My plan is to fix it.” He set the hammer aside on the floor next to his phone, took a metal wrench from the box and stood.
His beige Timberlands had damp spots on them. Wet spots also dotted the slightly faded jeans hugging his thighs and hips and his shirt stretching over his wide chest. The front of his hair was also damp and waves ran through it as if he’d recently raked it back from his face. He lifted the wrench and his bicep bulged. He held it like he knew what he was doing but looks could be deceiving.
Rina walked farther in. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”
“Scott.”
He reached out his hand, and she slid her palm into his. The heat of his skin flowed into her like a current connecting them, holding her in place.
“I’m Rina.” She took her hand from his but the warmth remained. “I appreciate you jumping in to help, Scott, but these sinks are—”
“Vintage. The real deal, not replicas.” As he glanced around the ladies’ room, an expression of appreciation came over his face. “Let me guess. The sinks inspired the design scheme.”
Antique-style mirrors with decorative oval gold frames hung above the two white pedestal sinks that sat against pale lavender walls. Faux green plants in white pots were on corner shelves, and framed watercolor pictures of flowers hung on the back wall. Instead of metal-encased toilet cubicles, three floor-length dark-wood stalls provided style and privacy. The men’s room also followed the same theme but had black-and-white color decor and touches that gave it a more masculine feel.
“You’re two for two.” The similarity to what he’d said to her that afternoon drove her gaze to his. She hadn’t meant to almost duplicate his words.
Sincerity deepened the color of his hazel-green eyes. “About this afternoon before lunch. I feel really bad about what happened. I’m sorry. I noticed you limping to the parking lot. Are you okay?”
Seven years ago, she’d survived one tragic accident, three surgeries and months of working her way mentally and physically back to health. The discomfort she dealt with now was nothing compared to what she’d gone through back then. But there was no need to open the door to that conversation. “I’m fine. And I accept your apology.”
“Good.” He pointed the wrench at the sink. “If you have spare parts for the faucet, I can fix this.”
Just because he could recognize a real vintage sink from a replica didn’t mean he had the skills to repair one. “I appreciate the offer, but I should probably find someone with experience.”
“Experience.” He chuckled. “Does shadowing my father at his plumbing company growing up plus working for him on kitchen, bath and pool design projects count?”
“Maybe.”
“Here’s the problem.” Scott picked up the silver cross-shaped cold water knob that was lying in the sink. He flipped it over to the back side.
She leaned in and the invisible pull activated again drawing her into the pleasing woodsy scent with notes of tangerine, ginger and cardamom wafting from him. He smelled just as tempting as one of her desserts.
“Right here.” He pointed. “See? It’s cracked. When your customer turned it, the pressure of the water pushed it off. The good news is, the connection to the line in the sink is intact. You just need a new knob and seal. It’s an easy fix.”
Okay. His diagnosis of the problem and knowing how to repair it was a tad impressive. But there were plenty of good reasons for her to say no...and even better ones for her to say yes. He not only had plumbing experience, but he also hadn’t told her she should get rid of the sinks because they were relics, and the biggest reason of all—she needed it done. Something inside of her said to trust him.
“Alright,” Rina said. “I’m pretty sure we have the parts, but I won’t be able to search for them until morning.”
“I can come by tomorrow night. It might not be until eight or eight thirty.”
“That’s fine. I’ll put a sign on the sink so people won’t use it.”
Silence lingered between them.
“Well...” They both said the word. He waited for her to speak first.
Rina pointed behind her at the open doorway. “I should finish closing down the kitchen and lock up.”
“And I should let you do that, but first...” Scott stepped back and cool air magnified the loss of his closeness. He dropped the wrench and hammer inside the toolbox and picked up his phone. “I need your number.”
Was he trying to ask her out on a date? Unexpected giddiness flushed warmth into her face. She really didn’t need the distraction. Especially one that looked like him.
As he handed her his phone, a hint of a smile tilted up his mouth. “If I’m running later than expected, I’ll call and let you know.”
“Oh right.” From the look on his face, he’d read her mind. As he watched her tap in the number, she messed up more than once. Of course he wasn’t going to ask her out. Here she was thinking about how to let him down easy while all he was trying to do was make up for wrecking the pies.
Scott accepted his phone back from her and tapped the screen. “I called you so now you have mine, too.”
Her phone was on the desk. She’d temporarily add him to her contacts later.
He picked up the toolbox and followed her to the dining area where Darby straightened chairs.
“Where do you want this?” He pointed to the toolbox.
“By the counter is okay.”
As he put the box by one of the stools he glanced at the plate of pear bars on the counter in front of him. “Those smell good. What are they?”
“Pear bars. But they’re not for sale. I’m still working on the recipe. I left those for the staff to try out.”
“Is it okay if I taste one?”
“Yes, but like I said they’re not perfected.”
Scott picked up a bar. He took a bite and his brows shot up with a low deep hum of approval. “You’re definitely on the right track. Mind if I take some for the road?”
Only the staff, family and close friends were allowed to sample her experiments, but the smile reaching into his eyes and highlighting the angles of his gorgeous face made her want to give him the entire plate. “Sure.”
He took a large paper napkin from a stack on the counter next to the dessert and tucked three bars inside of it. “Thanks.” Scott smiled as he sucked filling off his thumb. “I’ll be back tomorrow to fix the sink.”
As soon as he left, Darby came over to Rina with a confused look on her face. “I thought he wasn’t the handyman?”
Chapter Six
A short time after leaving the cafe, Scott walked into his room at Tillbridge’s guesthouse, his home for the next several weeks.
He wasn’t high enough on the list to snag a private cottage on the property. Those were reserved for the director, Holland Ainsley, along with Nash Moreland and other main stars of the film. But as a thank-you for helping him ou
t, Kyle had pulled some strings and got him one of the few spaces available in the twenty-room guesthouse reserved for senior members of the crew.
Everyone else was staying at base camp—a group of trailers set up on the far side of the property for production, makeup, wardrobe, craft services as well as living quarters—or a chain motel down the road.
He set his keys and wallet on the dresser against the wall on the right, but the last dessert bar in the napkin beckoned. The delicious mix of spiced sweet pears and flaky pastry practically melted in his mouth. He’d been hooked on the bars after the first bite, and even more interested in getting to know Rina after talking to her. Working around celebrities, he ran into a lot of people who were superficial. Rina’s smile was beautiful, but her laugh was even better. It was wholehearted and so carefree. There was also an appealing strength in her that was grounded and real.
Scott dropped down on the wood bench across from the dresser at the bottom of the queen-sized bed to take off his boots. Spending time with a woman had fallen low on the priority scale over the past few months. He just hadn’t felt a strong enough connection with anyone to make the effort, but with Rina he’d felt something different. Not that he was looking for a deep relationship, just a low-key, let’s-enjoy-ourselves arrangement, if she was interested.
When he’d asked for her number, from the way she’d looked at him, she’d probably thought he’d wanted to ask her out. And she’d planned to shoot him down. It didn’t seem like she was still upset at him for running into her at the barn. Maybe she thought they didn’t have anything in common. There were archived photos on his father’s company website of projects he’d helped work on in the past. He could show her those and maybe that could lead to him inviting her out to hear more about what inspired her design ideas.
It was kind of funny that after all these years he was using plumbing and bath designs to get to know a pretty woman. But tinkering with the pedestal sink had actually brought back good memories of working with his dad growing up in New Jersey. How many years had passed since his father had taken him to that old Victorian home near Princeton? Twenty maybe? He’d been around eleven that summer and happy to spend time with his father who was still hands-on with his growing business.
