Rubbing her forehead, she rested her elbows on the desk and closed her eyes. She needed to start meditating again. Relaxing her muscles and releasing her mind worked to lower her stress. Marcy pooh-poohed the practice, claiming a long, hard run did the job better, but Lotta wasn’t a runner. Had never been a runner. Pounding the pavement in skimpy shorts, getting shin splints, and sore boobs from all that bouncing was silly. A good brisk walk made more sense and gave Bella the chance to stop and smell the roses and the pee of other dogs.
The door to the bakery closed. She sat up and smoothed her hair. She should go check on the work herself, but she really didn’t want to see all that mess.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Mitch leaned against the archway into the dining room, all manly and strong.
“It’s going.” She grinned, having no trouble maintaining a stiff upper lip. She was no wimpy damsel in distress, but she appreciated his asking. He truly wanted to know. It wasn’t a casual greeting. “Marcy dropped off the candied violets for her party favors, so I can get started on those.”
“I bet you’re going to miss her when she’s gone.”
“Well, it’s only for a couple weeks.”
“What do you mean?”
“Their honeymoon in Paris. I’m so jealous. I’ve always wanted to visit Paris, check out the bakeries – patisseries and boulangeries.” Ugh, her accent sucked. She did a mental eye roll.
“No, I was talking about Doug’s new job in Boston.”
“His what?” She jumped to her feet, toppling her chair in the process. What the living hell was he talking about? Doug had a job here, in his hometown. And Marcy had a fabulous job. She wouldn’t leave.
Mitch picked up the chair. “Shit—you don’t know?”
“No. No way.” Marcy would have told her if she was thinking of moving. She told her everything. Why, Lotta knew about her engagement before anyone else, even her family. She knew everything about her best friend. Marcy would have told her.
Wouldn’t she?
Mitch frowned, looking at her with what looked an awful lot like pity. He needed to stop doing that.
Lotta fished her cell from her back pocket, jabbed her favorites list, and jabbed the first number on the list. The phone rang four times.
“Hi, sweetie, what’s up?”
“You know what Mitch tried telling me? That you’re moving. But I told him there was no way I wouldn’t already know something so important.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Lotta jammed the phone back in her pocket and stomped out to the kitchen.
“What did she say?”
She plugged in her mixer, the normal sized one, and started making basic sandwich bread, a normal sized batch. “She’s coming over.” First, very warm water, then yeast, then honey, some softened butter. Impossible. Marcy would have told her and she wouldn’t have forgotten. Not news this big.
“Good.”
“You don’t need to stick around.” A couple teaspoons of salt, some dried milk powder. He must have misheard the news, or misunderstood. Confused the honeymoon flight from Boston with a move.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Yes.” She weighed the flour and dumped it into the bowl. “No.” She attached the dough hook and switched on the machine. “I don’t know.” What a mess. What a freaking mess. First, her bakery self-destructs, and then her best friend in the whole world moves away.
A car door slammed at the front of the house, and soon the tip tap of Marcy’s stilettos approached down the hall.
“Hey, Marcy. Can’t stay, gotta give Phil a hand.”
Lotta didn’t even feel like watching his sexy butt walk away. “It’s true?”
“It wasn’t a sure thing. I knew you’d be unhappy and I didn’t want to upset you unnecessarily.”
The knot in her stomach eased. “So it’s not for sure?”
“He got the job offer yesterday.”
“In Boston?”
“Yes. Only a few hours drive away. I’ll be back tons to visit. And you can stay with us, see the big city.”
The thought of all those people, all that noise, tightened her chest. “How long has Boston been a possibility?”
“A couple months.”
“Months?”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be sad since it wasn’t a sure thing.”
“I’m not a child, you know.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“I want you to be happy, and Doug, too. I figured you’d move away eventually.”
“Well, yeah, but even I wasn’t planning on it being next week.”
“Next week?” Before the wedding? Tears stung the backs of her eyes. So maybe she was a child.
“They’re putting us up in a hotel while we look for an apartment.”
“When do you leave?”
“We’re driving down Sunday.”
“And the wedding?”
“Oh, that’s going ahead as planned.”
“We’re supposed to make party favors next weekend.”
“I’ll return to work on that stuff.” She checked her watch. “Damn, I’m sorry, I’ve really got to run. That lunch with Doug’s mom. I’m really sorry.” She pulled Lotta into a hug. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Just a shock.” She smiled, another of those stiff upper lips that came in handy when she wasn’t sure how she felt. “Exciting times ahead for you. I guess I’m a little jealous, being left behind in the same old, same old.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I have a feeling things are changing for you, too.”
“You mean my business going tits-up?”
“Stop it. The bakery will be fixed, probably better than ever. I was talking about your personal life.” She winked and skipped out the door.
Lotta turned off the mixer, oiled a bowl, and plopped in the dough. Why had she made bread? She had bread coming out of her ears.
She settled into a chair and scratched at some dried frosting that still clung to the back of her hand. Her life was changing. She and Marcy could still text several times a day, like usual. And talk on the phone every day. But it would be different. Marcy would make new friends and a new life in her new home. And Lotta would be in Serenity Harbor doing what she’d always done.
Except no, she was writing a cookbook. And when it became a number one best seller, she’d have a full and exiting life, too. She curled her lip. Right, as soon as she won the New York marathon.
Chapter 12
Thursday, a half-hour later…
Mitch stood in the doorway watching Lotta type on her laptop. How was it that he hadn’t known she existed two days ago, and yet, now, her happiness was of the utmost importance to him?
He cleared his throat. She turned and he lost himself in her large, chocolate eyes. And then her gaze flicked along his body, his entire body. She was checking him out. A slow grin quirked his lips. She gave him an answering smile before moving to the sink to refill her glass. Dang, she was cute when she blushed.
“You okay?” He sauntered into the room and leaned against the counter.
“Sure.” She gestured toward her computer. “I finished another blog post.”
“So, is Marcy moving to Boston?”
“Yup, your source was correct. How did you hear about it anyway?”
“Doug’s bachelor party was a couple days ago. He was pretty pumped at the possibility.”
“You’ve been friends a long time.”
“Since the dawn of time. Went to school together, and went to the same college.”
“I thought you were a fisherman.”
He winked. “I’m an educated fisherman.”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Hey, I’m teasing.” He reached for her hand and threaded their fingers together.
“Um…what did you study?”
She had such delicate hands. But strong enough to handle all that dough and carry he
avy trays of baked goods. Short nails, so when she raked her fingers along his back—
“Economics and business.” Slow down, you idiot. You don’t want to scare her away.
“You didn’t like it?”
“On the contrary, I find business fascinating. But I hate being indoors all day. Dad needed help on the boat, so I use my smarts to invest and watch the market when I’m not hauling traps. And,” he lifted his injured leg, “when I’m not falling down a mountain.”
Her hand clenched his. “Did you really?”
“Took a tumble on the Knife Edge trail on Mount Katahdin.”
“Thank goodness you weren’t hurt worse.” Her fingers relaxed. “And I think it’s lovely you’re able to work with your father. You’ll do it for a while?”
“I plan to stick around.”
“I’m glad. I mean—that’s good, for your parents.”
“Dang, I was hoping you’d think it was good news too.” She blushed. He slid closer. “Since you’re Marcy’s best friend, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you at one of her many parties.”
“I arrive early and leave early. Running a bakery means early mornings.”
“Ah, that explains it. I arrive late and leave late.” He studied her slender hand, free of rings or ring tan lines. “I should have checked earlier, but you don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”
“No! I—uh—no.”
“Girlfriend?” Best to cover all bases.
She smiled. “No, I definitely like boys.”
“A particular sort of boy?” He untwined their fingers and twined them again. They still fit together perfectly.
“Well—heavens—it’s been a few—you’re embarrassing me.”
“Sorry, teasing again. Do you think you could like a guy who catches lobster for a living?”
She ducked her head and scratched at dried frosting on her shirt. She certainly did get involved in her baking. He wondered where else frosting might end up. And if she’d let him lick it off.
“I think so, yes.”
He smiled so big his face threatened to split. “Wait, I mean me, you know.”
She looked up and laughed. “Yes, I figured that out.”
“Great. That’s great.” Phew. He hadn’t been this nervous around a woman in years.
She eased her hand from his. “I should see what’s going on in the bakery.”
“I’ll walk over with you.” He held the door open and followed her along the hall, his gaze on her pert butt as it shimmied along. Hell, he hoped she wasn’t too shocked by what they’d done to her bakery.
She stepped into the large space and staggered. “Oh, God, it’s a shambles.”
Mitch put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She was the perfect height to rest her head on his shoulder. He watched as she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.
“Are you okay?”
“My prized, dreamt-of, longed for bakery.” She made a poor attempt at a smile. “Imagine how you’d feel if your boat sank.”
“Yeah, I get what you mean. But we’ll put it all back together, don’t worry.”
“In time for Marcy’s wedding in two weeks?”
He tapped her nose, her cute, freckle-dusted nose. “The ceremony won’t be in here, will it?”
She shrugged from his grasp. “I need this space and these ovens to bake The Cake.”
“Won’t the oven in your house work?”
“Not for the size of cake she wants. And it has to be perfect. For her, and for my reputation. I can’t serve a cake that isn’t fully cooked.”
“What about one of the restaurants in town. Maybe you can borrow—”
She shook her head and walked away, her shoulders slumped and one hand to her face. Like she was crying. Oh, hell.
He surveyed the damage. The place did look pretty bad. Bare studs, wires hanging all over, and a thick layer of dust covering everything.
“Hey, Phil, absolute earliest the bakery can be functional.”
“You want to sleep?”
“Not necessary.”
Phil rubbed his chin and did a pivot. “Well, I reckon the place will be dried out and I could have it wired in about a week, provided I don’t run into problems. You’ve got a bit of plumbing to straighten out. Connor, you and Buddy willing to put in some overtime?”
Mitch saw dollar signs flash in their eyes as they agreed.
Mitch returned to the house but couldn’t find Lotta in the kitchen, or anywhere on the ground floor. He didn’t feel right tramping through her house searching for her. It was almost picnic time anyway, so he’d go to the deli for the stuff he’d ordered and see if anyone hanging around wanted a few hours of light construction work. She’d be okay while he was gone. It wouldn’t be for long. She’d be fine. He hoped.
Chapter 13
Thursday, five minutes later…
Lotta sat on her bed after she heard Mitch leave. God, she was such a cow. He’d been so helpful and supportive, and she’d stomped off like a sulky teenager.
It would have been too easy to stay in his arms. She’d never experienced anything like this before. Like they’d known each other for years, not merely two days. Heavens, he was handsome, kind, and considerate. And he liked to tease. She’d have to get used to that.
Hang on, maybe not. He might only be flirting, filling the time until his cast came off. He might not like her as much as she liked him. And she did really like him.
Okay, what did she know about Mitch Calhoun. He’d lived in Serenity Harbor all his life, he studied business in college, he lobstered with his dad, and he seemed to be friends with everyone.
And he was a heck of kisser.
She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling, the aged plaster laced with a network of miniscule cracks. She hadn’t been kissed like that since—had she ever been kissed like that? Certainly, her only serious boyfriend, in college, had kissed her plenty. They’d all but lived together for a year, before he went away for work, and she never heard from him again.
But even at his most passionate, he’d never made her heart race, or her skin tingle. And she’d definitely never floated.
Mitch’s kiss made her feel light as air.
The sound of the front door closing had her on her feet in a flash. Had Mitch returned?
“Lotta? You upstairs?”
Bella gave a small woof and went back to sleep. Crazy dog. At least she woke up enough to screen the visitor. Rolling her eyes, Lotta said, “Good dog.”
As she redid her ponytail, she yelled, “I’ll be right down, Marcy.”
A minute later she joined her friend in the kitchen.
“Are you sure we’re okay?” Marcy put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m really sorry you had to hear the news from someone else.”
“Yes, really, I’m fine. I was surprised, is all. Tea?” She filled the kettle and plugged it in.
“I’d love a cup, thanks. So what’s the word on the repairs?”
“Not good. I honestly don’t see how—” She broke off as Mitch stepped into the room.
“Hey, Marcy. Looks like we’re both regulars here.”
“I’m Lotta’s oldest friend. Why are you here?”
“I’m Lotta’s newest friend.” He winked at Lotta. Her cheeks flamed. Marcy raised a brow.
“A couple more guys from Jake’s crew can help out. And they’ve got big trucks, so we can start moving trash to the dump.” He snagged a cupcake, kissed her nose, and hobbled to the bakery.
Marcy spun on her four-inch heel, her face lit with surprise and curiosity. “You sly dog. I knew it! How long has this been going on?”
Lotta glanced at the clock. “About three hours.”
Marcy grabbed her hand and made her sit. Then, she filled two porcelain cups with tea and joined her. “Okay, spill, all the details.”
“I honestly don’t understand what’s happening. I discovered the leak and stuff, called Jake, and he sent over Mitch. Even though he looke
d familiar, I don’t think we’ve ever actually met. But I feel like I’ve known him for years. And being in the same room—I don’t know—the sun is brighter, and the air is fresher.”
“Holy wow, it really happens.”
“What does?”
“Love at first sight.”
Lotta snorted. “Please. Who said anything about lurve?”
“You did. All that sunshine and fresh air stuff. That’s exactly how I feel about Doug. We dated for a few months, and survived a break up before I felt it, though.”
“You’re being silly. It’s pheromones, or the alignment of the planets.” She left her tea unfinished, too edgy from all this love talk. Ridiculous.
After Marcy left to sell more houses, she got to work on a batch of whole grain Kaiser rolls, the next day’s order for the deli.
Love at first sight – pfft, only in fairy tales. She started humming that song about keeping someone’s picture in your old jeans and thought about the picnic that afternoon. She couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
Chapter 14
Thursday, forty-five minutes later…
Mitch ground his teeth. He was used to hard work, getting his hands dirty. But the stupid cast on his stupid leg meant he was limited to playing a supervisory role. And he hated it.
At least the mess had been mostly cleaned up. The pipe must have been leaking for some time to produce that much mold. He’d located two industrial sized dehumidifiers and set them at full power, then positioned several fans around the space. The sooner they got the framing dry, the sooner they could put the bakery back together.
He glanced toward the connecting door for the umpteenth time. It seemed like days since he’d last seen Lotta. He’d successfully ignored the urge to check on her for half an hour.
But now it was time for their picnic.
He went through to the house. “Marcy left?”
“Yes, she had a showing.”
“I hope what I did was okay, kissing you in front of her.”
Her cheeks got that lovely shade of pink. “Yes, it was okay.”
“Not sure how you feel about public displays of affection.”
“Affection? Not lust?”
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