He wrapped her in his arms. “Oh, there’s lust involved.” Definitely lust. He wanted her. He wanted her naked, under him, on top of him, upside down and sideways. But he also wanted her happy. “We should head out, unless I can convince you to picnic right here.”
She pulled away. “We should go.” She gestured out the window. “Besides, it’s too nice a day to spend cooped up inside.”
He kissed her forehead, more than willing to give her all the time she needed. “Let’s go then.”
“Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nope, all taken care of. Do you want to bring Bella?”
“Where are we going?”
He winked. “A super, secret place very few people know exists.”
“Well, if you’re sure you won’t mind. She loves car rides.”
“Does she stay close?”
“Yes, she’s a good doggie.” She went to the bottom of the stairs and whistled. After Bella did her business, they all got into Mitch’s truck, with Bella sitting in the middle, tail wagging and a huge silly grin on her muzzle.
During the drive, Lotta tried to discover where they were headed, but Mitch wouldn’t divulge many details, the stubborn man. All she got out of him was more teasing.
They turned onto a gravel road that ran inland, and then onto a track, wide enough for only one vehicle. Eventually, they rounded a bend and drove into a clearing. The view stole her breath.
“Is this your camp?” The scene could be on a picture postcard it was so perfect. The one-storey cottage was surrounded by rhododendrons in full bloom and sat nestled among evergreen trees. A small patch of grass sloped down to a pebbled beach bordered on one side by a wooden dock. A red canoe lay upside down at the lake’s edge.
“My family’s. We all spend time here when we can. Dad built the place before I was born.” He climbed out of the truck and lifted the cooler from the back. Lotta let Bella off the leash and watched her run around like a maniac, even going a few paces into the water and splashing around. Silly dog had forgotten she didn’t like swimming.
“She’s acting like a puppy.” He set the cooler on the porch and fished a set of keys out of his pocket.
“She’s three but acts younger when I let her loose. This is absolutely stunning. Are there many camps on the lake?”
“Five, but we can see only one from the end of our dock.”
“It’s so quiet.” She heard at least a half dozen distinctive birdcalls, and then the mother of them all. “A loon!”
He grinned. “I guarantee all special visitors the chance at hearing a loon at least once.”
“You’ve brought many lady friends out here?”
“You’re the first.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.” He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. But they were interrupted a few seconds later by the arrival of Bella, shaking lake water off her fur. “Okay, I give up.” He laughed.
Darn Bella, why didn’t she mind her own business?
Mitch went into the cottage and returned with plates, napkins, cutlery, and two tumblers, on a tray.
“Can I help with anything?” Ninny! The poor guy had a broken leg, and she’s letting him do all the work while she breathes the fresh balsam-scented air and lets the sun warm her face.
“You can help by sitting at the table and looking pretty.”
She snorted and held her shirt away from her body. “I should have changed.” At least wear a shirt that didn’t have flour dusting the cuffs. Marcy would be horrified at her going on a date, a first date, wearing work clothes.
“Unnecessary. I like keeping it casual.”
“Do you keep everything casual?” Was that what this was? A casual fling? Because if that’s what he had in mind, she’d better pull back. She couldn’t do casual, not with anyone, and definitely not with him.
He uncorked a bottle of chilled Chardonnay, then met her gaze. “Not everything, no.”
Somehow she knew they were talking about the same thing. With a relieved smile she slid onto the bench and watched him unpack the cooler. Grapes, strawberries, cheese, sliced meats, rolls, a chopped salad, chocolates, sparkling water, potato chips – enough food for several people.
“You expecting other guests?” Maybe his parents were joining them.
“You’re not a guest, you’re my date. And no, no one else is coming. Wine?”
“Yes, please. I don’t normally drink at lunchtime, or at any time for that matter. I might get a little tipsy.”
He waggled his eyebrows and twirled an imaginary moustache. “I can have my evil way with you.”
“Maybe you can.” Dang, when would she outgrow blushing?
His eyes darkened. “Except I wouldn’t.”
“For some reason I knew that.”
“Must be my wholesome good looks.”
She squinted and studied his handsome face. “That must be it.” And then she laughed as a hint of pink darkened his cheeks.
“Shall I construct a sandwich for milady?”
“I would be honored.”
For a time, they concentrated on eating the delicious food while Mitch told stories about summers at the lake. Lotta switched to sparkling water after the one glass of wine. She was indeed tipsy, and though she was perfectly safe with Mitch, she wanted to enjoy what happened next. If anything happened.
When they were both stuffed, they wandered to the end of the dock, where Bella had parked herself and slept with one eye open.
“If I owned this place, I’d spend every free minute out here.”
“It’s a special place. My parents say us kids were both conceived here.” He linked their hands. “My sister got engaged here, and her kids learned to swim in this lake.”
“I’m not a good swimmer.”
“I can teach you, once I get this stupid cast off.”
She pictured him in swim trunks, his skin glistening with water droplets, his bronzed muscles rippling. She was suddenly eager for swim lessons. Maybe even skinny-dipping. “How much longer in the cast?”
“Four weeks.”
“Bummer.”
They stood holding hands for several minutes, watching the wind ripple the lake, listening to the splash of frogs. The loon called again, and was answered by another. She grinned. Well, he had guaranteed it. A feeling of peace unlike any she’d ever known settled over her. Sure, her bakery was in a shambles, and her best friend was moving away. But none of that seemed as earth shattering as it had earlier in the day. Must be the lingering effects of the wine.
She shivered. A few clouds had moved in as the sun headed west, and the wind picked up.
“So…we have a couple of options.” He turned, pulled her close, and rubbed his hands up and down her back, building up heat from friction and his proximity. “We can go inside, I’ll build a fire, and we’ll be cozy. Or we can head back to town. I know which way I’m leaning, but it’s your call.”
She was also leaning toward staying, which surprised the heck out of her. But it was too soon. Too fast. The last two days had been a whirlwind. She needed to sort her emotions.
“Um…”
“Let’s pack up the cooler.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Hey, don’t apologize.” He kissed her lightly on her lips. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
Chapter 15
Thursday, four glorious hours later…
Lotta stepped out of the shower and towelled off. What a day. First discovering Marcy was moving out of town, and then discovering—what? That she really, really liked Mitch? Could she be falling in love with him? Or already in love, like Marcy suggested?
Sure, thinking of his kisses made her toes curl. Heck, picturing his gorgeous face did strange and wonderful things to her entire body. Was that love? Or merely lust and attraction? The afternoon at the lake had been perfect. She hadn’t freaked out, even at those moments when she’d normally be uncomfortable. Or in full-blown panic mode.
She pulled on pajam
a pants and a long sleeved t-shirt, wrapping her wet hair in a towel before going to the kitchen. After that huge picnic, she wasn’t really hungry, but if she didn’t eat something now, she’d wake up too early from hunger. A bowl of cereal would hit the spot.
She fed Bella and then curled up on the sofa in her tiny living room.
A loud bang came from the bakery, bringing out the ferocious guard dog in Bella. “Shh, it’s okay, puppy.” The guys had left for the day, hadn’t they? Shit, was something else falling apart?
Her heart racing, she set her bowl on the coffee table and tiptoed to the kitchen, Bella at her heels. She held her breath. No other noises. Her ears rang with the effort of listening. Could an animal have gotten in? Grabbing Bella’s collar, she pushed the door to the bakery ajar and listened again.
Mumbling. The rasp of something dragging or sliding. Holy crap, what was going on? Her hand tightened on Bella’s collar. Then she heard Mitch saying quite distinctly, “Fuck!”
She banged the door open and ran along the hall. She stepped into the brightly lit bakery and stopped dead. Mitch lay on his back on the floor. Oh God, oh God! She ran to his side, fell to her knees, pushed the exuberant dog aside, and pressed a hand to his firm, muscled chest. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I was an idiot, that’s what happened.” He pointed to a stepladder lying on its side.
“You fell off the ladder?” Her voice rose to a squeak. With a racing heart, she ran her hands over his limbs, checking for broken bones, even though she had no clue how to determine a broken bone.
“I don’t think anything is broken, but please don’t stop.”
She met his gaze and saw the heat and hunger aimed straight at her. Suddenly conscious of her semi-dressed state, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What were you doing working alone?”
“I wanted to dry-fit the new plumbing, make sure I had all the pieces I need. We have to get your bakery fixed.”
“Not at the risk of life and limb.” She swatted at his arm. “Why didn’t you ask me to help?”
“You have to get up at the crack of dawn—”
“That’s not the point. I won’t have you risking your life so I can bake The Cake.”
He grasped her hand. “It’s important to you.”
“So are you!” She covered her mouth and jumped to her feet. “I mean—you’re hurt—can you walk?” If her face got any hotter, smoke would rise.
He tucked his hands behind his head and smiled. “I’m comfortable. Go on with what you were saying.”
Putting her hands on her hips, she did her best to glower. This was not the time for teasing. “Where are you hurt?”
He sat up and flinched. “Believe it or not, I twisted my other ankle.”
“You’re kidding.” She tugged the leg of his jeans up, and the slight movement drew a hiss from his lips. “It looks swollen.” She gave it a slight squeeze.
“Jesus, that hurts!” His face had turned a few shades paler and was covered in sweat.
“I should call someone.”
He dug his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll call Dad.”
“Is he a paramedic?”
“No, he’s my dad. He can drive me home.”
“How will you get to his car?”
He frowned. “I’m sure I can walk that far.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “But you got mighty pale when I touched your ankle.”
“I was excited cuz you touched my leg.” He winked.
Well, his color was better.
“If you almost pass out at a touch on the leg, what happens when—um—call your dad.” Shut up, Lotta. She covered her flaming cheeks and looked everywhere but at him and his fine body lying at her feet.
“You keep stopping these interesting conversations just when we get to the good stuff.” He held the phone to his ear. “I’m eager to hear more—hey, Dad, you busy?...I did a bone-headed thing…no, I’m fine, but I don’t think I can drive…no, I’m not at the tavern…whoa, Dad, lemme get a word in…I twisted my good ankle…yeah, it’s very funny.” He made a face and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I’m at The Trellis Bakery on…yes, Lotta’s place. Can you come over?...cool, thanks.” He shoved his phone in his pocket. “Don’t be surprised if Mom comes along for the ride.”
Lotta gasped. She couldn’t meet her, them, while wearing pajamas. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get dressed, obviously.”
“You’ll leave me in my weakened condition?”
She stopped with her hand on the door. “I’m wise to your teasing, mister. You can’t put one over on me.”
Lotta ran up the stairs, threw on bra, panties, jeans and shirt. It’ll be a slight strain. It has to be. He’ll get back to work in a day or two. Not much of a delay. She pressed her hand against her ribs. He had to be fine, or maybe Jake’s flu was a mild case. Or one of his jobs could spare a plumber for half a day. Fixing the leak won’t take longer than that, surely. She didn’t have longer.
She glanced in the antique cheval mirror between the two windows. Ugh, her hair was still wrapped in a towel. And it wasn’t even one of her best towels. She whipped it off, dragged a comb through her damp hair, and put it up in a clip. That’s the best she could do. They’d have to accept that she was an extremely low maintenance woman.
She returned to the bakery as a vehicle pulled into the lot. “They’re here.” One car door slammed. She held the door open for the older man who jogged toward the building. “Hi—uh—Mr. Calhoun.”
“You call me Frank, young lady. Where’s—ah, how did you manage this?” He stood over his fallen son, a look of amused consternation on his face.
“Climbing down a ladder. Mom’s not with you?”
“She’s got the knitters over. What the devil were you doing up a ladder?”
“I needed to get some work done so the bakery can reopen.”
Frank shot her a look that made her insides quake. She gulped.
“Hey, it’s not her fault. She didn’t even know I was here.” Mitch gave her a reassuring wink.
“My apologies. I should have known. The dang fool always finds trouble.”
“How about we save the reminiscing for later?’
“Right.” Frank reached down and helped Mitch to his feet for all of two seconds before he collapsed onto his hands and knees, his face pale and sweaty.
“I’ve got your crutches in the car.” Frank trotted out the door.
“Shit, that hurts.”
She leaned over, rubbing small circles on his back. “How much weight are you allowed on your broken leg?”
“Not much.”
Frank came back. “Okay, son, let’s take it slow and easy this time. Lotta, you get his other arm.” Working as a team, they got Mitch onto his feet—well, his one foot. “Easy does it.”
They were both out of breath by the time they got Mitch settled in his dad’s car.
“Will you be okay?” She crouched next to the open car door and squeezed his arm.
He opened his mouth, but his dad got there first. “We’ll swing by the clinic, have the doc check him out.”
“Come on, Dad, it’s only—”
“No arguments. Your mom will insist, and so do I.”
Lotta gave his arm one last squeeze, hating that he was in such pain and there was nothing she could do. She shut the door and watched until the car was out of sight.
Now what? Back in the bakery, she righted the ladder and turned off all the work lights. In the house, her cereal had become a bowl of unappetizing mush. Bella sat at her feet, her tail thumping the floor. “Well, Miss Bella, looks like I’m screwed. Our plumber is grounded.” Getting the bakery fixed in time for the wedding might not happen.
She trudged into the kitchen, tempted to brew a pot of coffee. A shot of energy would help get her stuff done, but she couldn’t afford a night of poor sleep. Instead, she rummaged in her fridge and located a wrinkled apple,
scientifically proven to be a better pick-me-up than coffee. She bit off a chunk, and sucked in a deep breath. No sense ruminating on what she couldn’t do and instead focus on what she could. She finished the apple and loaded the mixer for a dozen loaves of whole grain bread.
Once the dough was portioned and resting comfortably in her fridge, she dug out her seldom used town phone book. The time had come to be an adult and do something, regardless of how much she hated, loathed, and abhorred the idea. Time to call a stranger and ask for help.
She glanced at the clock. Well, the restaurants were smack dab in the middle of service – not the best time to call. And the deli was closed. Thanks to those convenient excuses, she could delay the calls until morning. Her shoulders edged away from her ears as she closed the phone book.
Chapter 16
Friday, obscenely early…
Lotta dreamt of bells ringing, wedding bells. No, bicycle bells. They rang, and rang, and rang…
She sat up in bed, her heart pounding. The blasted bells were still ringing.
You ninny, it’s your phone.
She grabbed it from the bedside table. “Hullo?” The blasted thing kept ringing. She jabbed the green button. “What?”
“Sorry to wake you.”
“Hi, how’s your ankle?” She checked the time on her phone. Her alarm was set to ring in six minutes. “Almost time to get up anyway.”
“Fishermen and bakers keep similar hours. Another thing we have in common.”
She smiled. Even over the phone he made her heart all aflutter. “Your ankle?”
“Sprained, badly. Taped up and no walking for several days.”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry. This is all—”
“My fault. Entirely my fault. Phil warned me about the ladder, but I’m a stubborn man, and it cost me.”
“How will you get around?”
“I won’t. I can manage with the crutches, but the doctor wants me to limit weight on the broken leg. So lots of sitting doing nothing.”
“Bummer. That’s frustrating.”
“Well, you’ve got to get baking, but I wanted you to know. I’ll call Phil in an hour. Maybe he knows a plumber.”
“Is Jake still booked up?”
Welcome to Serenity Harbor Page 17
