by Judi Lynn
She was a damn coward, and she knew it. Patrick wouldn’t demand too much from her except constant support and occasional worship. And even that hadn’t been enough.
Bugger! The stinking idiot dumped her. Her tears were as much for her own stupidity as for losing him.
Tyne patted her back. He pulled away to bring her a Kleenex. She grimaced at his T-shirt, probably ruined with smudged makeup and gunk. The man was a luscious length of temptation who didn’t seem to think about his looks. Maybe when you were that sexy, you took it for granted. He handed her one tissue and dabbed at her eyes with another. “Hey, people break up all the time and live through it. It’s going to hurt for a while, but you’ll move on and find someone else.”
She snorted. Unladylike. “Bullshit. I’ve heard that all my life.”
He stared, but his brown eyes sparkled. “I’ve never heard you cuss.”
“Neither have my parents. It’s my own private pleasure, but the words hardly ever leave my lips.”
His handsome face lit up, curious. “What other naughty things do you think about?”
“Like I’d tell you!” She rubbed at her eyes, smearing her mascara she was sure. She probably looked like a puffy-eyed raccoon. But what did it matter? Even when she’d decided to settle for less, the professor had kicked her to the curb.
Tyne tried again. “You have a right to be angry. Anger’s good, but you can do better. Just wait and see. You’ll meet someone . . .”
She didn’t let him finish. “That’s a load of crap. I’m not buying it. I bought Patrick’s stupid lies for months, and I’m sick of it. Don’t you lie to me.”
His lips curled at the edges. “So why did you buy into his massive ego? The man was nothing but a spoiled snob.”
She winced. Tyne never minced words. She’d forgotten that. He wasn’t the best person to spar with verbally. He’d have eaten Patrick alive. She frowned. “You make me sound stupid. No one’s talked to me like that. Ever.”
“Then it’s time they did. Own up. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I’m tired of dating. I’m tired of looking for Mr. Right, and I’m not getting any younger.”
“So what? I’d rather be by myself and enjoy my own company than be stuck with a jerk.”
She sighed. No one else would say that to her either. But Tyne wasn’t like anyone else. He was his own person. Yes, the man was gorgeous with his dirty-blond hair and scruffy whiskers, his body that rippled with muscles, and pheromones that permeated a room, but that’s not what she liked about him. She liked his keen wit, his quick mind, and his outspokenness. At least, she used to like his outspokenness.
Her shoulders sagged, the fight seeping out of her. Defending herself took too much energy. Tyne would be too demanding day in and day out. He’d make her tired. “Look, you’re the type who goes for it. You’ve traveled all over the world. You wanted to be a chef, so you became one. I never dreamed that big. I’m happy here in Mill Pond, love working with stained glass. I just wanted a little more. That’s all.”
He circled the counter to get a better look at her. “Maybe you didn’t dream big enough.”
“Not all of us can get everything we want.” She went for another Kleenex and turned her back to blow her nose. She took another Kleenex to wipe under her eyes. The sheet came away covered in black.
Tyne leaned his hip against the counter. “I’m glad you won’t be smothered by Mr. Brain Drain.”
That was a new one. “Brain Drain?”
“He loved to hear himself talk, but never said anything of importance.”
Hmm, she’d never thought about Patrick’s rambling lectures that way. “I enjoyed hearing his point of view.”
“He did go on and on, though.”
“I thought he wrote good poetry.”
Tyne crossed his arms over his chest. “Boring.”
She blinked, surprised. “You don’t like any of those things?”
“Sure I do, but what else did he have to offer?”
“There’s more?”
Tyne gave her a look, and she could feel her hackles rise. How could this man annoy her more than anyone else ever had? And still, if she needed something done—furniture moved in her sewing room at home or new shelves put up in the shop—he could make it fun. He knew how to make her laugh. And suddenly, she realized that if she spent too much time with him, he could ruin her equilibrium. So she took a deep breath and smiled. “I’m fine now. The worst is over. I knew I was expecting too much. I’ll go back to my work and my sewing. I’ll get through this.”
His face scrunched. He obviously didn’t like her answer. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Get your sweater. Let’s get out of here. The leaves are gorgeous. The air smells like energy. Let’s go for a hike.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.” She withdrew into herself. She felt it happening. He was going to mock her now.
He looked her up and down. “What? When your heart broke, did your legs break, too? Do your feet still work?”
“I never hike.”
He stared. “Why not? You live on the edge of the national park, and you never hike it?”
“I look at it. I enjoy its beauty.”
He let out a long breath. “I’m gonna love this, I know, but why just look when you can experience it?”
She pressed her lips together, gathering her thoughts. “My parents weren’t happy I moved there. They said it wasn’t safe for a woman to hike alone on the trails. I was too far from town. There could be snakes. People have fallen on some of the steep trails and broken their ankles.”
He threw back his head and laughed, and she cringed, but he didn’t stop there. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her to her feet. “You won’t be alone. If we see a snake, I’ll lift you on my shoulders so it can’t reach you. And if you start to fall, I’ll grab you. Enough already. Let’s go.”
He tugged her along with him, and she wasn’t sure she had a choice. “I look horrible. My makeup’s a mess. I’m ugly when I cry.”
He put a finger on her lips. “You could never be ugly. You don’t need makeup. You’re one of loveliest women I’ve ever met. So hush up and move it.”
Lovely. He’d called her lovely. But then he yanked again, and she had no choice but to follow. She stalled when he opened the door to his orange Jeep—a deathtrap on wheels. But he gave her a small push, and she slid onto the passenger seat. He slammed the door and went to slide behind the steering wheel.
“Have you ever been in a Jeep before?”
“No.” And she was sure that was a good thing.
He grinned. “Then you’re in for a treat.”
Treats weren’t healthy for you, were they? The Jeep jerked forward, and she braced her feet. If she could survive being cast aside, she could survive this.
Chapter 3
Tyne drove to his favorite trail. It wound around the back of a clearing where he’d spot deer if he came early enough in the mornings, then it passed behind Daphne’s house. It never hurt if he saw her, too. He’d called her lovely, and he’d chosen the word carefully. Beauty could be sterile, brittle. Lovely implied warmth and character, at least to him. He parked at the small gravel lot by the asphalt-paved path. He loved nature, loved to hike.
When he’d traveled, he’d walk for miles on his days off, climbing mountain trails, trekking along small paths through dense foliage, and wandering through cemeteries. He wanted to breathe in a place, to see it in its natural state. And then he met as many people as he could, drinking in their spirit, their approach to life and food. It seemed that the way a person approached food was often a clue to how they approached everything else.
He circled his Jeep to open the passenger door for Daphne. She hesitantly stepped out of the vehicle, squinting at the trail and all of the foliage on either side of it. He grinned. “I hike this trail a lot, and I’m still alive. Come on, sissy.”
She huffed and stayed close. Even with him next to her, she watched for every root or leaf that i
ntruded on the path. “Is that poison ivy?” She pointed at a vine at the edge of the trail.
“Nope, just a creeping vine. Are you allergic? Have you had a bad case of it before?”
“No, but I’ve never touched it, have I?”
He shook his head. If she didn’t know what it looked like, she wouldn’t know if she’d touched it, would she? Her backyard bumped up against the park. She could easily have poison ivy on her trees or in her flower beds. “I’m guessing it doesn’t bother you.”
She didn’t believe him, he could tell. She stopped to stare at a hole a few feet from an incline. “Is that a snake’s hole?”
A chipmunk ran and dashed inside it. Tyne stepped in front of her to protect her. “You’re in danger now. He might think you’re a nut.”
She gave him a flinty look. Good, she had a little more spine than he thought she did. He liked Daphne, enjoyed her company when she’d invited him for a coffee after she saw him on the trail, but he’d never met anyone so self-contained before. Those types didn’t go into the restaurant business. Chase had been attracted to her ethereal quality before he fell for Paula, but Tyne found most mousy people too tepid for his taste. He liked passion, but he suspected there was plenty of that hidden somewhere in Daphne. She just kept it under lock and key.
He motioned to their surroundings. “Have you ever seen so much color?”
It was time to focus on the beauty, not the imaginary dangers. Oak leaves added coppers and bronzes to the mix of vibrant yellows, bright reds, and vivid oranges. He bent to gather a bouquet of leaves for her. “I press them in books to look at in winter.”
She smiled. “I iron them between wax paper and string them along a wall in my sewing room.”
He picked up acorns and walnuts and filled his hoodie’s pockets with them. “They look pretty in a glass jar.” Then he snapped off some fountain grasses for her.
She gaped. “You’re not supposed to pick anything here.”
Tyne shrugged. “I didn’t. I took the tops. Besides, I know the park ranger. She gave me permission.”
“Would any woman deny you anything?”
He slanted a glance her way. “I don’t know. Would you?”
She turned bright scarlet, brighter than the red leaves in her hand, and he couldn’t help but laugh. She pressed her lips in a tight line, irritated with him.
She got braver and braver the longer they walked. She stayed behind to gaze at a log covered with fungi. She craned her head to see a downy woodpecker better. The farther they went, the slower she walked. He smiled. She was mesmerized, and then Tyne realized she’d probably never walked this far. She was getting tired. He looked at the sun and said, “It’s low enough that it must be near suppertime. Let’s go to my place, and I’ll fix us something to eat.”
She looked surprised. “You cook on your days off?”
He gave a wicked grin. He knew it was wicked, because she looked wary again. “Days off are when I do what I want, complete freedom.”
“Is your food spicy?”
“Why?”
She looked flustered, tried to dodge the question. “Never mind. I’ll be fine. You’ve spent enough time with me. I’m sure you have something better to do, someone else to see.”
She was trying to get rid of him. How cool! Most women wanted him to stay. She meant to retreat back into her shelter, though, and he had no inclination to let her. “I haven’t made any plans. Let’s go to the store and grab whatever we want for tonight.” He couldn’t help himself. He asked, “Want some whiskey? Wine? If you’d like to get plastered, I’ll keep an eye on you.”
She looked horrified, and he chuckled. She glared. “I usually eat dinner at my parents’ house.”
“Then you’ve seen enough of them. Tell them you can’t make it tonight. Let’s go shopping. I’m hungry for Thai food, my favorite.”
“With curry? It’s hot, isn’t it?”
“It’s according to how much you add.” Another wicked grin. “How spicy do you want it tonight?”
She actually backed away from him, which amused him even more. “I think I’ll just grab a burger at Ralph’s.”
“Like hell you will. Do you know how many women beg me to cook for them? This is a rare privilege. I’ll keep it tame. You’d better enjoy it.”
Enjoy it? She looked like he’d offered to take her to the dentist’s office for a root canal. He decided to take it easy on her and smiled. “I’m teasing you. Come on. You might like Thai.”
She sighed. He ignored it, tucked her into his Jeep, and headed to Art’s grocery on Main Street.
Chapter 4
He dragged her into the store with him. “I usually run to Tessa’s barn for fresh produce, but I’m in a hurry tonight.”
“Is it open this late?” Daphne glanced at her watch. “I thought she closed at five.”
“She does, but she leaves a basket on the shelves, and you can just throw in cash for whatever produce you take. Have you shopped there before?”
Daphne gave him a look. Dumb question. He wasn’t sure she knew how to turn on her stove. “We’ll start with the fresh ingredients. Tell me what you like.” Taking her hand, he led her to the produce aisle. “Cilantro?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not for me.”
“Fair enough.” He added two limes to their cart, bok choy, and red peppers.
She stared. “I only cook with vegetables out of cans. They’re soft.”
And easy. If Daphne ever made a salad from scratch, instead of out of a bag, he’d be surprised. “What do you order when you go to restaurants?”
She thought about that and nodded. “I like steamed vegetables or sautéed.”
“Then we’re good.” He took her to the meat case. “Chicken? Pork? What’s your favorite?”
“Chicken.”
He added that to the cart. Then he went to the international food aisle and chose two cans of coconut milk, jasmine rice, and fish sauce. He had everything else at home in his cupboards. He usually had these, but he’d run out.
“Fish sauce?” She grimaced.
“It gives dishes a salty flavor.”
“Then why not use salt?”
“Not the same.” By the time they finished shopping, she was worried about their meal, he could tell. “I won’t poison you. I cook Thai food at the restaurant. Guests love it.”
“But foodies come to the inn. They want something different, unusual.”
“Because once they try it, they like it. You will, too.”
She looked doubtful. “I have cereal at home.”
Good God! He rolled his eyes. “So if you can’t eat my food, you won’t starve?”
She blushed. He held off telling her she looked pretty with her cheeks bright pink.
He paid for their items and drove her back to her shop, but this time they climbed the inside steps to his apartment.
She turned around to take it all in. He’d hung colorful scarves on the white walls.
“I got those in South America.” He carried the grocery bags to the galley kitchen. Its work counter looked out over the sitting room and sleek, wooden table. “Teak,” he said when she ran a hand over its smooth surface. Two elaborately carved, wooden panels hung behind his low-slung sofa, and upturned fishing baskets served as side tables. “From Thailand.”
“Everything’s so neat and uncluttered.” She sounded surprised. Tyne had been inside her house often. Her sewing room was organized, but stacks of fabrics lined the shelves on one wall. Partially finished quilts and table runners hung over the backs of chairs. Books and magazines were scattered around her living room.
He shrugged. “I move around a lot. I like to travel light.”
She looked up and frowned at him. “Are you going to stay in Mill Pond, or are we just another spot on your travels?”
Good question. “I don’t know. I came home to open my own restaurant. Mill Pond has all the specialty farms a chef could want. I like the area and the people, but it’s too
soon to tell.”
She nodded, and from her expression he could tell she’d decided he was only temporary, that he’d be gone before she knew it. She glanced at the chin-up bar attached to the door to his bedroom, noticed the workout weights lying on the floor near his bed. Everything portable. And she smiled. Her shoulders relaxed. Her mood lightened.
Intriguing. She thought he’d lose interest in her soon and move on, that he lived in the moment, and that made her feel better. Little did she know that he’d promised Chase and Paula he’d be there for her when Idiot Professor showed his true colors.
“I could use some help,” he said and motioned to the ingredients he’d put on two cutting boards. “You can do the veggies, and I’ll do the chicken and sauce.”
She came around the counter and stared at the chef’s knife beside her board. “Don’t you have any gadgets to throw these in? Something to chop them up for you?”
Tyne shut his eyes and counted to ten. “Chefs don’t need gadgets. We have skills.”
She picked up the knife and cut through the bok choy. He held his breath. He’d never seen worse knife skills. She was lucky she still had fingers. “No, no, not like that.” He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her to show her how to do it right. She tensed. Oh, lord. “I’m not trying to feel you up. I’m trying to keep you from cutting yourself. Pay attention.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I feel smothered in maleness.”
“Really?” He grinned, happy with himself, then stepped aside and rested his knife on his own board. “Like this. Do as I do.”
He showed her how to chop an onion. She followed his example and smiled, obviously pleased with herself. In a few strokes, all of the bok choy was chopped. He left her to the rest and started cutting the chicken breasts into chunk-sized pieces and started the rice. She came to stand beside him at the stove to watch him cook.
She listened to the chicken sizzle. “I don’t cook very often. I burn everything.”
“Do you turn the heat too high?”
She pressed her lips together. “No, I usually get distracted and forget I have something on the stove.”
