“We have our good days and our crazy days,” replied Todd. “Today was one of the crazy ones. Supplies have been running a bit low with the storm and what Paula can’t get for folk; we get for them, couriering from Fairbanks and other towns that have supplies.”
“It’s a good business,” Todd continued, “we can only do the well-paying adventure tours in summer when the tourists throng here but in winter, this is our staple. And we provide a much needed service so that feels good too. An added benefit you could say.”
“Thanks for helping out, Bree.”
“My pleasure,” she smiled back at him. “Now, I gotta get home. They must be worried.”
“They’re okay,” reassured Todd. “I called them just before night hit. I remember how your granddad fretted when you drove to the farm in the dark. I reassured him that I’d follow you back. In fact, I’ll spend some time with Amber and if it’s okay with you, bunk there for the night.”
“Uh, sure,” Bree responded automatically, good manners having been ingrained into her DNA. “Amber will love that.”
“I doubt we’ll get any more calls as it is way after closing time.” Todd got up to go around the office and began to prepare to call it a night. “Let me just grab my stuff and we can be off.”
“Darn it,” Bree said in exasperation. “I forgot about Gran’s order from Paula.”
“No hassles,” Todd waved her concerns away. “I’ll grab it tomorrow and bring it around after work. I’ll be coming to see Amber anyway.”
“Great,” Bree smiled. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Todd smiled back. “Now let’s go.”
Chapter 7
A few days later Bree found herself heading for the local hardware store. Her grandfather had begun preparing the soil in his hothouses to be ready for spring planting. It was still a while away but he swore that the soil needed to be nurtured and treated so that it could yield a better harvest. Not having much of a green thumb, she was happy to leave those details to him. Amber on the other hand, was looking forward to digging in the dirt and of course, having a license to look dirty went down pretty fine too. Fortunately, the local hardware store carried just about anything needed on a farm in small quantities and knowing her grandfather and his habits, they would’ve pre-ordered what he needed in time.
The musty smell of wood hit her first, then the sharp smell of paint and the unique iron-tinged smell of metal. Sitting behind the counter was Mrs. Stewart, a constant in the community that went back to when her grandparents were kids. Mrs. Stewart claimed that the pure, unpolluted Alaskan air contributed to her amazing ninety-odd years on the earth.
“Hi Mrs. Stewart,” she called out, although she was right at the counter, Mrs. Stewart on the other side. The tiny woman sporting an unmoving cap of grey hair and hand-woven cardigan, sat knitting and grumbling to herself about winter bugs. “Mrs. Stewart,” Bree repeated, louder.
Mrs. Stewart looked up with a start before her face split into a broad smile. “Bree, how nice to see you, dear.”
After exchanging some pleasantries, Bree inquired, “Is Mr. Stewart around? I’ve come to pick up the hothouse supplies for my granddad.”
“Oh, no dear,” Mrs. Stewart answered, baffled. “I’m afraid that John’s down with a bug. I sent him home when I called this morning and he was barking like a dog. He wouldn’t hear of closing the shop so I said that I’d sit here. Everyone knows the shop and us so they can just get what they want when they come in. It took some arm-twisting, but he gave in. He didn’t listen to me when he was sick as a boy and he doesn’t listen as a grown man. But, you know what kids are like.”
“I sure do, Mrs. Stewart. My Amber’s the same. But, she just loves the outdoors here.”
“Yes,” nodded Mrs. Stewart, needles clicking between syllables. “The Alaskan air is the purest you’ll find anywhere. It keeps you younger and living longer.”
“Sure is,” nodded Bree. Bree stood a moment, her head tilted in contemplation. “Would you happen to know where Mr. Stewart keeps the hothouse supplies?”
“Well as your granddad is one of the few that asks for it, I know it’s not in the main part of the store,” responded Mrs. Stewart. “Why don’t you go look out back. It should be in the store room. That manure sure does stink, so it won’t be kept in there.” Mrs. Stewart pointed to the storage room leading off from the inside of the store.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Bree nodded relieved to be getting the stuff. She didn’t know who would sulk more - Amber or her granddad - if she didn’t take their ‘dirt’ back to the farm.
The storage area was really an oversized shed located behind the store amongst many other bits of rubble and scrap material dotting the thinning snow in a haphazard manner; as though they’d been thrown there and forgotten. It wasn’t a sight that melded with the crisp, clean feel of the snow nor was it a sight, she imagined, that the neighbors across from it cherished.
With a creek, the door gave way and she was met with the dank smell of stale air and pitch darkness. Fumbling around on the inside wall near the door, she finally located a light switch and flipped it. In contrast to the outside, the shed was neatly kept. Rows of shelves lined half of it holding various machine parts and larger tools. The other side showcased general farming material, which was where she’d probably find her granddad’s ‘dirt’. Determined, despite the heebie-jeebies the place gave her, she proceeded inwards. This place must be the perfect hide-out for bugs; warm, dark, and safe from the elements.
She heard a squeak, let out a screech, and jumped onto the nearest high surface, which unfortunately turned out to be a slippery bag of something. She lost her balance and landed on her side on the dirt-covered floor.
“Are you alright?” A familiar voice asked. Trust Todd to show when she least expected it.
“Ah, sure,” Bree blushed with embarrassment. “I thought it was a nasty.”
“Ah,” Todd’s face split into a grin, “still scared of bugs, huh? And you’re still calling them ‘nasties’.”
Bree narrowed her eyes at him, “And you’re still so smug about it.” Bree thought she heard another scuttle and slowly, elegantly climbed up on the nearest, non-slippery surface.
Her response and climb was evidently hilarious to Todd because he broke into guffaws that had him gripping his stomach as tears streamed down his face.
“You’re being a jackass, Todd.” Bree’s voice dripped with venom, her eyes narrowed on a guy that knew her too well under certain circumstances. When that just made him laugh harder, she cut through it in frustration, “Well for Pete’s sake. Stop laughing like an idiot and help me look for granddad’s dirt.”
Well that got his attention she thought. Todd wiped his eyes and stood up straight, his lips curved broadly. “Sorry, honey,” he apologized, “I needed a good laugh.”
“Well I’m glad I could offer you your daily dose of comedy,” Bree replied disdainfully. “Now will you help before I kill you?”
“I always liked it when you got all prissy with me, honey,” Todd retorted. “It got the juices stirred up all good.”
“Todd…” Bree warned.
“Okay, okay,” Todd held up his hands as a sign of a truce. “What’s your granddad’s dirt look like.”
Bree rattled off the names her granddad had given her and watched Todd scratch around and locate the bags of mature, plant food, and organic pesticides. When he’d stacked them all by the door of the shed, he went to her and held out his hand. “Coming?” he asked.
Watching him carry the goods, as corny as it seemed, had been quite a turn-on; there was something quintessentially hot about a man who quietly and confidently went about his business. Oh, I’d like to be coming, she thought, and then shook her head, mentally reproaching herself for her lapse in judgment.
She took his hand and felt somewhat safer walking towards the door. With relief, she reached for the doorknob and turned. Rattling it, she turned back to Todd, who was bent over th
e bags and about to heft them over his shoulders. Darn but if that sight didn’t send tingles to her nether regions. And yet another sign, she mentally acknowledged, that she had to leave the shed.
Rattling the doorknob again, she spoke to Todd without risking another look. “Todd, I think the door’s stuck.”
“Can’t be,” he said, “Mr. Stewart may be getting on in years, but he’d never allow a stuck door situation.”
“Huh,” Bree looked at him puzzled. “Okay, regardless of Mr. Stewart’s handyman principles and practices, this darn door is stuck. Come see for yourself,” she indicated the door with a sweep of her hand and stepped away - but not too far into the shed.
Todd tried the doorknob and also did a fair bit of rattling. “It’s not stuck,” he said, “it’s locked.”
“Locked?” she questioned. “Why on earth would it be locked? It wasn’t locked before.”
“How would I know why it wasn’t locked,” he bit out irritatingly. “I just know that it’s locked now.”
“I can’t stay in here, Todd,” Bree felt panicked.
“Let’s just call Mrs. Stewart and ask her to open for us,” he offered.
“She’s losing her hearing, Todd I doubt she’d hear us.”
“I meant your phone. Call her on it.”
“I don’t have my phone,” Amber stated. “I left it on the counter in my handbag. Use yours.”
“I don’t have mine either,” Todd replied. “I came over quickly when Mrs. Stewart called to ask me to help you with the bags. Said that Mr. Stewart was at home sick and that she didn’t feel right having you carry them all by yourself.”
“Well aren’t you just the knight in shining armor,” Bree’s sarcasm was thick. “So, Mr. Knight, get us out of here.”
“I would if I could, Bree,” he responded. “In fact, I probably could if you’d stop nagging long enough so I could think.”
“Fine,” she huffed, sitting on top of the bags of her granddad’s dirt, closest to the door. “Think away, Einstein.”
Steaming with irritation, she watched Todd under veiled lids as he went around the room, inspecting it for a way out.
“You won’t believe this,” he came towards her, “but there aren’t any windows either.”
“So, we’re stuck here?”
“Looks like,” he nodded, sitting next to her on a neighboring stack of bags.
“Todd,” she said, worried, “it’s not a good idea to be stuck during winter.”
“I know, Bree. I’m hoping that the kids across the road will come by sometime or your granddad will realize we’re missing and come find us.”
Bree nodded bleakly. “Don’t you think that Mrs. Stewart would remember?”
“Maybe,” Todd replied, “but she’s been losing her memory lately. too.”
“The poor darling,” Bree stated sincerely. “It must be hard to change in that way, especially after having been such a strong, vital woman.”
Todd considered then shook his head. “Oh, I reckon that she’s still as strong, as vital, just in a different way.”
Bree’s lips curved in appreciation for his sensitivity. “That’s a sweet thing to say.”
“I have my moments,” Todd answered, looking down at her, his lips curved in response.
“Do you remember when we were stuck in the janitor’s room at school?” Todd asked, trying to prod her mind away from her fears.
Bree smiled at the recollection. “Yes. The end of senior year - your hockey buddies decided that we needed a bit of privacy. That was quite a fascinating study of janitorial equipment.”
Todd looked down at his crotch, “Is that what you call it?”
Bree laughed and nudged him in the ribs. “That was fun. They thought we’d come out fuming instead we’d looked like we’d a blast.”
“Yep,” Todd said, the smile dying, sincerity replacing it, “We always had a good time as long as we had each other.”
“And we didn’t inspect your equipment, as I recall,” Bree reminded him. “We got to second base and then found the janitor’s comic stash, his radio and all sorts of second home items. It looked like he lived in there whenever he could catch a break.”
“I remember,” Todd smiled. “That was the best time of my life until you brought Amber into it. Now, I’m having the best time of my life.”
The surety in his voice as he made that statement brought tears to Bree’s eyes. She found that she was relieved that he felt that way, touched that he, despite the way his daughter had come into his life, had put all possible nasty feelings aside, and focused on what was needed. In this case, it was pure fatherly love.
“Thank you for that, Todd,” Bree looked at him through misty eyes. “It means a lot to me that you’ve grown so close.”
“That’s the easy part,” he replied, “loving the way a parent should. Although I’ve missed most of her life thus far, I’m really glad you came home, Bree.” A tear slid down her cheek and he gently wiped it away. “Thank you.”
“Ditto, hun,” she responded drawing a grin from him, one that spoke of people who shared instinctively. She’d loved the movie, Ghost, and had made him watch it over and over. The most romantic line in that movie had been “ditto," Patrick Swayze’s response to “I love you” and they’d used it often with each other.
Feeling encouraged, Todd, took her chin in his hands, and tilted her face upwards, looking at it with a mix of familiarity and re-acquaintance. “I remember how beautiful you were.” His voice was thick, husky, and prickled her insides. “You’re more beautiful now,” he said, before swooping down for a kiss. Like before, the kiss was tentative, slowly savoring instead of devouring. Like rediscovering a favorite childhood candy in adulthood and relishing in the taste, and texture.
Bree moaned and leaned into the kiss, her body twisting towards him, her hands first slack at her sides then snaking along to glide up his well-formed chest. She heard his sharp intake of oxygen when she tweaked his nipples, the way he liked it. Smiling against his mouth, lost in memories of the past, she moved around, not breaking the kiss, and straddled him. His body had filled out, muscled-up but it still felt the same, felt just right. Just as his hands did, alternating between kneading and cupping her bottom.
The kiss grew hotter, headier and they began devouring, replenishing their suppressed, mutual thirst. Todd’s hands moved away from her bottom and inched up, discovering her warm flesh under the layers of clothing. Bree began moving against him, gently urged by his hands at the small of her back, giving into the kiss as desire overtook them both, sending them into that mindless abyss that only true lust can create.
The rattle of the doorknob jerked them apart. Panting and disheveled, they stared at each other, stupefied; reassessing if they’d woken up from a tantalizing dream of the past or an earth-shattering moment of intimacy in the now.
Mrs. Stewart’s voice cut through their stupor. “Bree? Todd? Are you in there?”
Bree found her voice first, quickly adjusting her clothing, “Yes, Mrs. Stewart.”
A head poked around the door and regarded them, “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you not to close the door.”
They looked at her in bafflement. Alaskans always closed building doors in winter. Not doing so was asking to freeze your behind off.
“With my son being sick, he hasn’t had time to fix it,” Mrs. Stewart explained. “He got stuck in here the other day and luckily I was waiting for a call from him and got worried. Joe next door came, checked it out, and found him. Else Lord knows what would’ve happened to my baby being stuck in here in the freezing cold.”
Bree cast a glance at Todd and nodded in agreement. There was no need to upset the poor woman further with more questions. “That’s okay, Mrs. Stewart,” Bree consoled. “Your son got out okay and so did we, thanks to you. So all’s well that ends well.”
“Bree, why don’t you go and make Mrs. Stewart a cup of tea?” Todd suggested. “I’ll start carting the bags to the truck
.” And you can give me a moment to let the bulge in my pants go down before I advertise what we’ve been doing to the town, he thought.
Realizing what he was getting at, Bree’s eyes flicked down to his crotch and widened. “Er…, okay,” she stammered. “That's a good idea.” Gently steering the older woman out the door, she stated, “Now, let’s go and get you inside and settled and we can have a nice, cozy chat. I bet there are loads you can tell me about what I’ve missed the last few years.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Mrs. Stewart said with such eagerness that Bree felt a twinge of guilt. Well, she’d make up for it by indulging Mrs. Stewart with an ear so she could natter on about seven years of saucy gossip.
Chuckling, Todd set to work on the sacks of hothouse supplies, feeling stirred up and glad to have something to put physical energy into. Hitting his home gym later would take some more of the edge off. The problem was that it just wasn’t going to be enough.
Chapter 8
“So,” Shelly leaned forward, elbows on the kitchen table and a mischievous gleam in her eye, “anymore steamy visions of our local hunk?”
Bree looked at her, a blush creeping up her neck and inflaming her cheeks. “That’s so random, Shelly.”
“Of course,” Shelly acknowledged indifferently with a flick of her hand. “But, that’s not the response I was looking for and your blush confirms your wicked thoughts.”
Bree’s cursed cheeks, blushed redder in response.
Cocking her head to the side, Shelly stared at Bree. “That’s also not a normal response from you.” Eyebrows lifting, she belted out, making Bree jump in her chair, “Uh-huh! You made the visions a reality! And it’s about darn time too!”
“Shoosh,” admonished Bree. “Don’t advertise it to everyone.”
“Who’s everyone?” inquired Shelly, with skepticism. “Your gran is upstairs with Amber and your granddad and with them being sick, they’re not likely to come walking in on this conversation.”
“This isn’t a conversation,” countered Bree, “this is an interrogation. And speaking of our two patients, thank you for looking after them. Gran needed to see to the farm and I didn’t like the idea of taking time off work when I’m so new.”
Home for Love (An Adult Contemporary Romance) Page 7
