Romance Grows in Arcadia Valley (Arcadia Valley Romance Book 0)

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  Instead, he nodded as if that made all the sense in the world. “What do you like?”

  “Oh, nature. And kids. And dogs. The usual girl stuff.”

  “That’s not the usual girl stuff. Not all women...” He broke off, looked away, and then moved from his chair to poke at the fire. “Teaching, maybe?”

  “I’ve thought of that. Even... this is silly.”

  “Try me.”

  “I’ve thought about becoming a park ranger,” she said. “Working with kids.” Then she waited for his ridicule. That was one of the things that had set Carl off, laughing at how she’d look in a ranger’s uniform. Why had she told Alex? Her cheeks burned and she couldn’t even look at him.

  He turned away from the fire to smile up at her. “That’s refreshing. But how would kids fit in?”

  He wasn’t laughing. He wanted to know more. It was so far outside of her experience that she held onto the arms of her chair to anchor herself. “That’s the thing that got me thinking about the career. I saw this TV show about rangers doing programs for kids. It’s a whole sideline you can get into.”

  “Like, campfire programs? Or, I remember some kind of moonlight hike when my family went camping up north.”

  “That, and more.” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “This program was about how kids don’t get exposed to our natural resources and it’ll affect how they take care of the earth, how they protect the national parks and such in future generations. So they’re actually looking for people to dual-major in biology or environmental science and education.”

  “Cool. Do you have a degree?”

  “Most of one, in education. I’d have to finish that and take some extra classes in Earth Sciences, but there are tons of schools that offer that kind of classes, even online.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a plan. Good for you.”

  Wow. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. What would it be like to be with someone who was supportive and encouraging about her dreams?

  But what crazy thing was she thinking? Alex Quintana wasn’t going to be any such friend. He was just a kind person, helping a traveler passing through. “That’s enough about me. I want to hear about you. Have you always worked here at the restaurant?”

  He opened his mouth, shut it again, and went back to poking the fire. “I worked out of town for a little while.”

  “Doing what?”

  He still didn’t look at her. “Nothing important.”

  She looked at his bent head, puzzled. “Everything you do can lead you toward your role in life. Everything’s part of God’s plan.”

  He made some kind of noise in his throat. “I’m going to call the power company again.” He stood, slid his phone out of his back pocket, and walked off into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

  Patricia felt as deflated as a days-old party balloon. Here she’d gone off talking about her dreams, while Alex was probably just wishing she’d be quiet so he could go call his girlfriend. Of course he wouldn’t confide in her; why should he? She was just a stranger.

  An overweight, unattractive stranger he’d been kind enough to comfort. But not someone to share an in-depth, real conversation.

  She sighed and slid down on the floor to pet Bear, leaning close against him. She’d let herself get a little too excited talking to Alex, thinking he might care. It was fine to be motivated about her career idea and to stop worrying about the superficial issue of how she’d look in a ranger uniform. But no way could she trust a man to walk that road, or any road, beside her.

  Chapter 7

  Alex listened to the audio message from the power company, kicking himself inside.

  He should have just told Patricia what he’d done as a career. She seemed so different from all the shallow women who’d chased him, and the polar opposite of Tiffany.

  Or was she? She’d fallen for her last boyfriend, that Carl guy, because of his money and fame.

  And knowing someone had been famous, however marginally, changed the relationship. And he didn’t want that, not quite yet. He wanted to treasure this brief interlude with a woman who was both beautiful and real.

  After hearing that the power company was still working on the power outage, he surveyed the kitchen, shining his phone’s flashlight around.

  Dishes everywhere, nothing finished, everything a mess. His family would just shake their heads: that Alex, good for nothing but sports. Not smart or practical. Now that he’s done as an athlete, wonder what he’ll do.

  And now he was screwing up his grandmother’s party, too.

  Annoyed with himself for letting his feelings weaken him, he straightened his shoulders and walked back toward the fireplace.

  The lights flickered on, went off again, and then came on. Behind him in the kitchen, he heard the welcome hums and clicks of appliances powering up.

  Bear barked and Patricia stood up. “Hey, we’ve got electricity! And...” She checked her phone. “Twelve hours until your guests arrive. We’d better get cooking.”

  He laughed as she headed toward the kitchen, and when she passed him, he couldn’t resist putting an arm around her shoulder. “You’re the optimistic type, aren’t you? There are just the two of us. I don’t see how...”

  “Put yourself in my hands.” She put an arm around his waist for a quick squeeze and Alex lost his breath. “I’m known for being well organized.”

  Fortunately, she wasn’t paying attention. “Okay,” she said, “first things first. I’m going to mop this floor.”

  “No, you’re not.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re the brains of this operation, and I’m the brawn. I’ll mop, and you figure out what we can do to save this fiesta.”

  “Good idea.” She flashed a brilliant smile at him. “I don’t like mopping anyway.”

  So she sat on a stool with the notebook she’d started with while he filled the bucket for the second time that night and started to mop.

  “Okay, we’re doing the Mexican Beef Soup, if we can find some way to get some more beef,” she said. “What else? I’m assuming you want everything fairly traditional? Since she’s older generation?”

  He shrugged. “I was actually going for trendy, but you’re probably right. And at this point, I can’t be picky.”

  “It’s no problem. There was so much Mexican food in California and I loved it, so I learned to cook some. Plus, I had an apartment mate from Mexico City, and she taught me to make the best bean stew in town.”

  “You know how to make pozale de frijol? I think I’m in love.”

  She blushed and looked down at her list, and he focused on his mopping, but a smile continued to tug at his mouth. She was full of surprises, and so far, most of them were good.

  “Okay, so pozole de… bean stew.” She looked up, her expression unreadable, her voice businesslike. “And I’m assuming we need some kid-friendly dishes?”

  “Definitely. The great grandkids are all ages, and some are picky.”

  “Of course.” She jotted something down. “I hate to say it, but there’s a huge box of frozen chicken nuggets we could heat up. Although why you have those atrocities at a Mexican restaurant…”

  He laughed. “Believe it or not, sometimes families come in with kids who won’t eat real Mexican food. The parents are thrilled that we have chicken nuggets on the kids’ menu.”

  “Well,” she said, “just to be clear, it’ll probably horrify any foodie relatives you have.”

  He paused, leaning on his mop, thinking. “Let’s see. There’s my aunt Juana and her husband, they’re pretty particular about their food. Oh, and I have a cousin who’s vegetarian or vegan or something. Is that the same as being a foodie?”

  She laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made the hairs on Alex’s neck stand on end. “Not really. But that’s a good point, we need to make sure to keep some stuff vegan.” She frowned, tapping the pencil on her pad of paper. “Which means we need some fresh produce.”

  “We hav
e potatoes and onions. And the lettuce in the fridge, maybe a few tomatoes. That’s it.” Alex dunked the mop in clean rinse water.

  “It’s not enough. Are you friends with any of the other restaurant owners in town? Any other cooks? Farmers?”

  “Well.” He frowned as he ran the clean mop over the floor one more time. “There’s Benita’s Market, but I’m willing to bet she closed down for the storm. The farmers market isn’t open yet. Maybe someone else in the restaurant business. They’d probably charge an arm and a leg since we’re competitors, but I don’t mind.”

  “You shouldn’t go broke for this. Your grandma wouldn’t want that.” She was frowning, looking concerned.

  “Not an issue.” And then he saw how skeptically she was looking at him, looked at the situation through her eyes. As far as she knew, he was a lowly cook and resident janitor. She had no idea of his bank balance.

  And yet, she still seemed to like him. Was it possible?

  The dog came in and sniffed around the newly washed floor, whining a little and looking expectantly up at Alex. “Too bad, Señor Bear. I cleaned up all your meat juices. But here’s a little something for you.” He pulled a vanilla cookie from a paper tube on the shelf and dropped it for the dog, who wolfed it down in seconds.

  “Hey! Don’t feed him!”

  “It was just a cookie...”

  “He shouldn’t have any more junk. It’s not good for him.”

  Alex lifted his hands, palms out. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I know he’s a beggar.” She pushed aside her note pad, stood, and poured cake batter into pans. “I’m leaving it up to you to find us fresh produce. I can work with any kind of vegetables, but we especially need peppers.”

  He nodded and frowned. “I bet Morgan Taylor could help us out. She manages L’Aubergine and she’s an old friend.” More like a rival. L’Aubergine was doing insanely well, while El Corazon was just limping along.

  He sent a text, figuring Morgan would see it in the morning. But to his surprise, she called right back. “Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “What’s up?”

  He explained the situation, and even before he finished, Morgan started saying “yes” and “sure.”

  “So you can help?”

  “Of course. I’ve got veggies galore at my restaurant, only I can’t get to them. If we get plowed out tomorrow, when do you need them?”

  “Party starts at one,” he said.

  “Ooh, tough. You’re not cooking it, are you?”

  “What are you saying, chica?” He glanced at Patricia, and switched to Spanish. “Yo, no. Hay un ángel aqui que está cocinando.”

  “You’ve got an angel cooking? Oooh, put me on video call with her and I’ll talk about what we have.”

  “Okay, but...”

  “I’ll be businesslike, I won’t tell her you called her un ángel,” she said, laughing, and he put the phone on a video call and introduced the two women.

  Immediately, they started talking vegetables — what was the deal with the big focus on vegetables — while Alex rummaged around the pantry. He hauled out a giant bag of potatoes and held one up to Patricia. “How many should I peel?”

  “Excuse me,” she said to the phone. “Oh, about sixty or seventy.”

  “For real?”

  “There are a million things we can do with potatoes.” She sounded simply businesslike.

  He got into the work, daydreaming, half-listening to Patricia’s conversation with Morgan. Wait a second. He leaned in. They were speaking Spanish. She understood it?

  She knew he called her an angel.

  Chapter 8

  Patricia finished working out the details of which vegetables she could get from the fancy restaurant owner and then held out the phone to Alex. “Want to say bye?”

  While he did, she tried to pull herself together. Just because the woman was model-gorgeous, with cheekbones to die for, it was nothing to her. Why did it matter that she giggled and teased with Alex? She was surely the type of woman he was looking for. He’d never go for someone like Patricia.

  Even though he’d called her an angel to Morgan. He’d just meant she was getting him out of a tight spot. That was all.

  And anyway, Patricia didn’t want him to go for her. She didn’t care, and it was fine. She had to go forward on her own, not worrying about what men thought. Not worrying about her weight, she brushed a hand down her side to make sure her shirt was pulled down to cover her hips.

  She checked on the cakes in the oven, then tested them. They were ready. She grabbed hot pads and pulled them out of the oven.

  “How are they?” Alex was close behind her, closer than she’d expected.

  “They look good.”

  “But looks aren’t as important as taste.” He reached out and broke off a corner.

  “Hey! No getting into the cake!” But his comical expression as he popped it into his mouth made her laugh. “How is it?”

  “Hot!” He ran for a water bottle and took a big swallow. Then he took another bit of cake and held it in the air to let it cool.

  “It’s...” He swallowed and smiled. “It’s muy delicioso. You did perfect.” He pulled her into a hug, then kissed her lips, quick and devastating.

  Patricia pulled back and stared at him, her heart pounding like a rapper’s beat.

  His eyes crinkled a little at the corners, but he wasn’t smiling. He lifted his eyebrows and took a step back.

  Was that regret?

  They spent the next hour doing more prep work and then straightening up the kitchen, with minimal talk. Secretly, Patricia kept touching her lips with the back of her hand. Why did they still feel so tingly? More so than anytime Carl had ever kissed her.

  Alex was handsome and hardworking and fun — really fun — but she had to keep her head here. She was just off a bad engagement and was on the road in order to redefine herself, away from other people’s expectations. There was no way she could let herself fall for a handsome restaurant cook.

  “I think we’ll still need to sleep by the fire,” Alex said.

  “What?” Her voice went up in a high squeak.

  He gestured toward the front of the restaurant. “It’s not warmed up yet. We’ll make pads of those blankets I found, in front of the fire.”

  He sounded totally casual about it, as if he bedded down with women every day. Which, maybe he did. “Sure, fine.” She hoped her voice was a match to his cool, calm tone.

  But when they were laying out their bedding, she couldn’t stick to the program she’d set for herself. Her hands were shaking and her face was hot. She’d never so much as slept in the same room with a man. She couldn’t pretend it was nothing, and yet if she said it was something, she’d be putting ideas into his head that weren’t there. Not to mention that he was a gentleman and would offer to go sleep in the cold part of the restaurant.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked her.

  She said the first thing that came into her head. “Decorating. How’re you going to handle that?”

  He smacked his forehead with his hand. “My sister and her friend were supposed to come by tonight and do it, but of course, they couldn’t make it in the storm. I totally forgot about it.” He glanced at his phone. “Yep, she texted that she can’t get out of the driveway. Let’s see, it’s one thirty. Way too late to call, but I’ll text. She’s a night owl.”

  While he typed his message, Patricia passed the time by focusing on Bear, petting him, checking his foot, getting him a bowl of fresh water. Alex’s phone buzzed and he went into rapid-fire Spanish she could barely follow.

  “No, I can’t do it,” she was able to make out. Then a little laugh. “Stop.” He listened more.

  “I guess some of it can wait until tomorrow,” he said finally. “But we’d better not leave everything for the last minute.”

  A moment later, he rang off and sat on top of his blankets, arms crossed on his upraised knees, staring out at the empty restaurant.

 
“What’s the upshot?” she asked.

  “The upshot is, I have to do it.” He nodded and got to his feet. “I’ll do the main room tonight and this room tomorrow.”

  “Do you know how?” she asked.

  “No.” He crooked a gaze down at her. “But she says she dropped off some decorations here, in the storeroom.”

  “That’s good. Do you know...”

  “Look, I’d ask for your help. But I don’t want to make a sexist assumption.”

  She stood and patted his arm. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

  “No, Patricia.” He put a hand on her forearm and looked into her eyes. “You’ve done so much for me, you’ve been amazing. But this is my family and I don’t want to make you lose more sleep over our issues. None of this is your fault.” He gestured toward the pallets on the floor. “You and Bear get some rest.”

  “You’ve taken me in,” she said softly. “I might have frozen to death if you hadn’t. Besides, I’m not sleepy. Come on, let’s see what all your sister brought.”

  He studied her for a moment. “That Carl was an idiot to let you get away, you know?”

  “Because of my decorating abilities?”

  “Because you’re so kind and generous.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. Kind and generous were nice compliments, but sometimes a woman wanted to be attractive. Beautiful. Desirable.

  And it showed her values were pretty mixed up if she was focusing on how she looked. She needed to work on that.

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind,” Alex said, “it would be a relief. She told me the decorations were in the storeroom.”

  “I’ll put on some music.” She chose some quiet acoustic singing, her favorite. Then she sat back and savored the room’s warmth and color and the still-sweet fragrance of cake from the kitchen.

  She’d never have guessed, just forty-eight hours ago, that she’d be here in a Mexican restaurant helping a totally hot guy decorate for a party. Not only that, but she was handling it okay, even enjoying it.