A Match Made on Main Street

by Olivia Miles

  “Where are you going?” Rosemary’s voice pitched in alarm.

  “I’ll bring it inside.”

  “Oh, no. You don’t have time for that!” Rosemary snatched the bag from her hand and pulled the plastic bottle free. “Mark will be here any minute, and you don’t want to keep him waiting. Especially if there’s traffic…” She jammed the bottle into Anna’s handbag.

  Anna glanced down as Rosemary’s determined hand wedged the massage oil securely into place. Just under her armpit, the cap read KISS SAFE.

  Oh, for crying out loud!

  “There’s Mark now!” Rosemary trilled and turned to wave down the street. Sure enough, Mark’s black SUV sat at the stop sign. Anna’s heart began to beat a little faster.

  Rosemary flashed her a look, giving her the once-over. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  Anna looked down. There was a cocktail reception planned for this evening, but there would be time to change once they arrived. Jeans and a tank top seemed fitting for the occasion, because that’s what a ninety-minute car ride with Mark was: an occasion. An event she never in her wildest nightmares could have imagined she’d be doing. Though, perhaps, if she was honest, it had been one of her wildest dreams.

  “Yes,” she replied firmly.

  “Well, it will have to do,” Rosemary replied with a sigh. “It’s just that you have such pretty legs. A shame to hide them…”

  Anna opened her mouth to reply, but Mark was already out of the car, strolling up the path, his hands crammed into the pockets of his khakis, darting his eyes from Rosemary to Anna.

  Her breath caught, remembering the way it felt to hold him last night, to fold herself against that chest, feel the heat of his breath on her mouth, her neck. She licked her bottom lip and bit down hard. She couldn’t think this way, not with the contest tomorrow. Not… ever.

  “Perfect timing, Mark,” Rosemary said, hurrying to meet him. She gave her nephew a quick peck on the cheek. “I came to see you two off, but let’s not linger. Anna has her bags all packed and ready.” She glanced at Anna, seeming to send her a message with her widening eyes.

  Mark met her eyes and for a moment they exchanged a secret smile. Her heart skipped a beat on impact, and every argument she’d had with herself, every speech she’d firmly recited in the mirror that morning, was gone with the quirk of his mouth.

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Rosemary. Cedar Valley’s only sixty-five miles from here. We’ll be there long before sunset.”

  “Oh, Cedar Valley. Such a stunning resort, don’t you think?” Rosemary turned wistful. “Be sure to enjoy the scenery. Maybe take a stroll through the village, enjoy a glass of wine on the veranda…”

  “I think we’ll be fairly busy,” Mark said affably.

  Rosemary’s brow furrowed. “Now, Mark. Anna’s been through a lot these past few weeks. I’m counting on you to show her a good time.”

  Mark chuckled, a slow deep rumble that stole Anna’s breath. “Oh, I intend to.”

  Rosemary’s eyes sprang open, and her red-painted lips formed a little o of surprise. “Well, good!” she said when she’d collected herself. “Very good indeed!”

  Clasping her hands to her chest once more, she darted to her car, glancing back several times, her eyes flashing.

  “Sorry about that,” Mark said, turning to the porch. He slipped Anna a bashful grin. “She’s pretty excited about this contest.”

  “I just hope we don’t let her down,” Anna said, frowning. A flutter of nerves rushed through her stomach at the mere mention of the contest. This time tomorrow, they’d be tying on aprons. The day had arrived, and she suddenly felt unprepared and worried. If they didn’t win… She pressed a hand to her stomach to settle herself.

  Mark walked up the stairs, and she bent quickly to grab hold of her luggage handle, determined to avoid eye contact wherever she could.

  “Let me,” he said lightly, reaching out to slide his hand next to hers. A jolt ran up her arm, and her pulse began to race; she dropped the bags quickly. A flash of alarm sparked Mark’s dark eyes, but his grin widened.

  “Thank you,” she said tightly. Get a grip, Anna. It’s just Mark. So you kissed. You’ve done it before. He kisses all the girls… It’s who he is.

  But was that who he was now? She wasn’t so sure anymore. She’d stayed up long into the night thinking of what Mark had told her, the way he was haunted by the abandonment of his father, the way he’d clung to hope for something that he probably knew deep down would never happen.

  Mark tipped his head toward the car. “Ready?”

  Anna nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and followed him down the porch, where he loaded her two bags into the trunk and slammed it shut. She let herself into the passenger seat, quickly fastening her seat belt and hugging her handbag to her chest. The KISS SAFE label stared back at her, and she furiously shoved it deeper into her bag. The last thing she needed was Mark getting any ideas or thinking that last night had meant anything to her. Because it hadn’t. It… couldn’t.

  “So,” he said, after he’d done a three-point turn and began driving back toward town. He glanced at her sidelong, causing her pulse to skip. “Nervous?”

  Anna startled. Was it that obvious?

  She turned her attention to the view ahead. “A little, I guess. How about you?”

  “I’m a wreck.” Mark grinned, and Anna felt her nerves subside a little.

  “I think we have a strong entry,” Anna said decidedly.

  “We do,” Mark agreed, accelerating as they reached a main road. He lazily drooped one wrist over the top of the steering wheel, sipping a thermos of what smelled like coffee with the other. She hated when he did that. It reminded her how reckless he could be.

  Catching her disapproving glare, Mark casually said, “I’m happy to share.”

  “No, thank you. I don’t drink coffee after noon. I get headaches.”

  Mark chuckled under his breath and slowly took another sip. “You have a lot of rules.”

  “No,” Anna said, feeling her defenses prickle. “I just have a certain way of doing things. I know what works for me and I know what doesn’t.”

  “Where does that leave us?” His hooded gaze bore through hers, forcing her pulse to race for the length of a red light. Anna wrapped a hand tighter around her handbag straps, feeling every muscle in her body tense. They’d only been in the car for all of five minutes, and if it kept going like this, she’d be shaking by the time they arrived at the resort. She couldn’t deal with this—with him—not now at least. She needed to think. She needed to focus. And she needed to win this damn contest.

  “Planning on following your rule to ignore me for another six years?” He laughed again, and she felt her shoulders relax. They’d cleared that bump, but it had sparked a new wave of questions. So far Mark hadn’t mentioned the kiss—not that she’d expected him to. But he raised a good point: Was there a place in her life for Mark going forward? And was that what he really even wanted? The contractors were working hard on Fireside, and it was scheduled to be partially operable by next week. After this weekend they wouldn’t have to spend time together. Unless they wanted to…

  “I’ll get back to you on that after the contest,” she said lightly. Living in silence had started to feel natural, easy. Now… it was all a mess. Were they supposed to be friends, or casual acquaintances? She wasn’t sure how she could stand it, pretending that everything was fine, when it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Not when he didn’t know what they’d shared and lost. The magnitude of it hit her again, as it often did when she dared to think of their past, and she looked out the window, at the pine trees that hugged the winding road.

  “You know, between you and me, I have more than one goal this weekend,” Mark said after a few minutes.

  Anna blinked. “Oh?” she asked weakly. It had been one kiss. Surely he hadn’t intended to take it further.

  “Personally, I’m rather looking forward to the opportunity to stick it to Frank
Piccolino.”

  Anna frowned. “Frank? But why?”

  Mark finally set his thermos back in the cup holder and brought his hand to the wheel. Anna heaved a breath and relaxed back against her seat. They were approaching the highway, and the mountain view in the distance held her attention. Nearly.

  “Because Frank Piccolino is the reason my father’s restaurant failed.”

  Anna stared at him. “Hothead Frank?”

  “Yes.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes trained on the road.

  Anna took the moment to let her gaze linger on his profile, on the strong Roman nose and the thick brow that capped his deep-set eyes. His blue and gray rugby shirt was rolled at the sleeves, revealing muscular forearms and strong hands. She lingered on them, remembering the way the way those fingers traced her body, exploring every curve, every crevice, every place she’d kept hidden since. She closed her eyes and turned away.

  “Tavern on Main was the only real restaurant in Briar Creek for a long time, other than the diner, of course,” Mark continued. “It was considered the place to go. Good service, good food, great atmosphere. It was a success. For a while,” he added, his tone turning somber.

  Anna tried to remember when Piccolino’s had first opened. She was young, too young to really pay attention to those things. Her family didn’t go out to dinner much, and her parents certainly didn’t bring three girls to upscale restaurants. She was sad to admit she had never even been to Mark’s father’s restaurant, but Sharon had shown her photographs in an album she kept in a cabinet in her living room. She always smiled fondly at the pictures, perhaps with a hint of sadness in her eyes, but it was clear she had happy memories of the place and of Mark’s father, despite how everything had ended between them.

  Anna knew the feeling.

  She bit down on her thumbnail and then quickly snatched her hand back, remembering the manicure she’d squeezed in that morning. Working with her hands so much, she usually didn’t bother, but tonight’s party was on her mind almost as much as the contest tomorrow. Would they go together, or just mingle independently? See, this is where it was better to live in silence. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about how to interact.

  Mark took another sip of his coffee and set it back in place. “When Piccolino’s opened, competition started. Frank was offering a similar dining experience, but for a slightly lower price. I remember my mother arguing with my dad to change things, to give the customers what they wanted.”

  “And he wouldn’t?”

  Mark shook his head, his lips thinning. “He was stubborn. He wanted to cook his way. Wanted to run that restaurant for himself. In the end it cost him everything.”

  Anna knew exactly what he meant by everything. He meant himself. Their family.

  “Your mom’s told me some of the details of… the closing,” she said delicately.

  She saw Mark’s gaze narrow. “He got into debt, and instead of doing what he needed to do to get himself out of it, he put his pride first.” He shook his head. “Stubborn.”

  Dread coated her stomach. The mountains ahead were growing nearer. Soon they’d reach the resort, and their fate would be sealed. She hadn’t dared to think of what would happen if they didn’t win the contest. She was barely treading water, and without some assistance she would never be able to make the next payment on that loan.

  “Everything okay?” Mark glanced at her.

  “What? Oh, yeah. I was just thinking that it’s easy to get in over your head and not realize it until it’s too late.”

  “Are you referring to the bookstore?” he asked.

  Anna watched the trees go by. She was thinking about the store, of course. But she was also thinking about him.

  The sky had turned gray by the time they arrived at Cedar Valley Resort, nestled at the base of Cedar Mountain. Mark shook his thermos, frowning at its light weight, and set it back in the holder. The drive, though short, had made him tired, and far too much of it had been spent in silence.

  He knew Anna was probably waiting for him to mention the kiss, but he was hoping to avoid that subject for a bit, or at least until he knew better how to react to it. He’d kissed her, touched her, felt her lips on his, and damn if he didn’t want to do it again.

  He’d opened up to her. Revealed things to her he’d never told anyone—not his mother or brother, not even Luke. Years ago he’d promised himself not to let anyone get close. It gave them power. Power to turn on you, reject you, let you down.

  Anna, he knew, had never done any of those things. All she’d ever been was herself. Her sweet, honest self. She’d trusted him, even when he couldn’t trust her.

  He stole a look, noticing the way her honey blond hair fell over her face like a curtain, closing her off from him. He tightened his grip on the wheel and returned his eyes to the road as they drove through Cedar Valley Village, past the quaint shops and restaurants, and finally rounded the drive to the large resort, where a valet signaled for them to pull over.

  Mark let out a low whistle. “Nice place.”

  Anna was smiling as she leaned forward in her seat, eagerly craning her neck to stare through the windshield. “When Grace and Jane and I were younger, we thought this was a real castle.”

  Mark laughed, feeling the tension roll off him. “You’ve stayed here, then?”

  “No, we only came skiing for the day, but I always thought it would be the perfect weekend getaway. It’s just so… romantic.” Her smile turned wistful and Mark couldn’t resist grinning.

  Sure enough, her eyes sprang open, that pretty smile fell to an abrupt frown, and a flush of pink crawled up her neck and landed squarely on her cheeks.

  “I just meant in general. Not today. Just… you know what I mean.” Her eyes darted to the window.

  “Don’t worry. I know,” Mark said easily, and before she could react, he popped his seat belt and opened the door. They were dancing around each other, feeling the strain of the kiss; the prickle of it hung between them. Another boundary, another divider.

  But he wouldn’t take it back.

  It was cooler in the mountains, and the air felt fresher somehow, with a faint scent of pine. He looked up at the mountain, towering high above him, wondering what the weekend had in store for them. Cars were arriving behind them—other chefs no doubt—and a sense of anticipation filled him with energy. They’d give it their best, and their best just might be enough. Then Anna could get back on her feet. Then he would feel a sense of redemption for hurting her all those years ago.

  He could leave town a free man, open his new place with a clear conscience. When he came back to Briar Creek to visit, they might even grab a drink sometime. They could be friends.

  If he could push aside that part of him that wanted to kiss her again, that was.

  Anna came around to the front of the vehicle, keeping a healthy distance from him, he noted with disappointment. She shivered and rubbed her bare arms with her hands. Her top clung to her waist, and he felt his gaze drop to her curves.

  He swallowed hard, forcing his mind back to the issue at hand. Of course he was attracted to Anna. And he liked her, too. Maybe… maybe even loved her. But that didn’t mean they had a future. He should remember that. Especially now.

  Still, his gaze lingered on the sway of her hips as he followed her through the revolving door and into the palatial lobby, its grandeur in stark contrast with the rustic environment.

  Anna turned to him expectantly after she checked in, and then double-checked her key. “I’m in seven thirty-four. You?”

  Mark couldn’t resist the opportunity. “Seven thirty-four.”

  Her face blanched. “What? But… wait. What do you mean?”

  “Hey, money’s tight these days, right? I thought you’d be happy to share. Don’t worry, they got us a king, and I’ll stick to my side.” He meant to keep going with it, to follow her to her room, maybe even make a grand show of unpacking his suitcases, or throwing himself down onto her bed—his groi
n tightened at the thought—but a sputter of laughter escaped from his lips, low and deep, until fire blazed in Anna’s blue eyes and those pretty pink lips pinched tight.

  “Very funny,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “Lighten up, Anna,” he said, sobering himself. “Besides, would it have been so bad? You and me, alone in a room?”

  Anna gave him a level stare, but surprise lit her eyes. “I think that would be a recipe for disaster.”

  He knew he should be grateful, relieved that she was sparing him a giant mistake. But the disappointment square in his chest unnerved him.

  He wasn’t thinking clearly. They’d spent too much time together. Everything could go back to normal soon. She’d go back to Fireside and he’d be back at Hastings.

  His heart felt heavy at the thought of it. Anna was right. They had to win.

  They walked to the elevator in silence. Mark pressed the button and turned to her, deciding to clear the air. “About last night—”

  He felt her stiffen as the mirror-paneled doors drew closed. “Mark—we have a big day tomorrow. Do we really want to get into this now?”

  Mark regarded her for a moment, deciding she had a point. “Fair enough.” He paused outside the door of his room. “I’ll see you at the cocktail party?”

  Her face relaxed. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Hard to believe by this time tomorrow the competition will be nearly over,” he said, thinking of his plans, of the money he’d stashed, and the recipes he’d collected for years. That dream was in his grasp, the contest could change everything. But in a way, it already had.

  CHAPTER

  23

  The party was well under way when Mark stepped out of the elevator at ten past seven. People stood in groups, chatting and smiling and sipping drinks while hotel staff circled the room, passing hors d’oeuvres from silver trays. Mark snagged a mini egg roll and crammed it into his mouth, searching through the crowd for Anna.

  Not seeing her, he made his way to the bar and ordered a Scotch. He took a sip, feeling the liquid burn down his throat, and then leaned against the polished wood surface, surveying the crowd. There had to have been over a hundred people, all chatting and lively, their voices nearly drowning out the music coming from the piano at the end of the room. Everyone looked happy and relaxed. He wished he could say the same for himself.