“Yup.” As if I’d say anything else.
He gives me one last look, waiting for me to change my mind, and when I don’t, we walk through the big doors of the bed-and-breakfast out into the cold afternoon. Before we cross over the covered patio, he takes my hand into his. Our arms swing together back and forth as we walk.
Normally, I want to stay inside and avoid the cold as much as possible, even on a rare afternoon off, but the last few days I’ve ventured out to spend time with Graham. You would think your body would get used to the sudden drop in temperature, your skin hardened against the bite of the cold wind. But it doesn’t. The air is as frigid for me today as it was yesterday. Possibly even colder. My skin still hurts and with each breath it feels as if my lungs are freezing, the water molecules crystallizing.
It’s a macabre thought pattern and I don’t keep it for long before we turn into the warm, well-lit, happy sight of the bakery.
The lights in the building cast away the gray skies we walked through to get here. It’s warm even though the fireplace is a fake. As usual the bakery smells like cooking sugar and cinnamon, like all those childhood Christmas memories from growing up. It’s better than any candle.
The bell above the door dings and everyone in the place turns to look at us. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if they all took the quick glance you do when someone walks in. Instead they continue to stare. That is until Graham scans his head giving each of them a silent look as they bow their heads and go back to their business.
It’s unsettling as if there’s some kind of secret bakery cult I haven’t been initiated into yet. I’m on the outside looking in at everybody else. It’s the ongoing story of my life.
A brown-haired woman behind the counter wearing the typical bright pink apron smiles widely while staring at the two of us. I try and shake off Graham’s hand but he won’t let me.
“The guys are in the back,” she says using her thumb to point at two swinging metal doors.
“Thanks, Tabitha.” Graham releases my hand and places a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be right back. Take a seat and get comfortable.”
He slips behind the counter and pushes open one of the metal doors before I have a chance to move. “Whatever she wants, it’s on me,” he yells before the door swings shut behind him. My tummy twists with the thought he’s left me to the wolves. Bright pink feisty wolves.
A woman as tall as the first but strikingly different in features steps out from the back kitchen on the other side of the swinging doors. “I’m Anessa,” she says.
I nod, already knowing her name. More than one guest of the bed-and-breakfast has commented about the woman who owns the bakery. It’s not all good. But she seems friendly and her eyes sparkle, her smile not quite as large as her friend’s.
“Well you heard the man, Tara, the case is yours.” She flings out her hand in front of the display case and I take the opportunity to focus on something sweet rather than the questions they must have about Graham and me together. It seems as if they’re waiting for the right millisecond to shout questions at me and expect truthful answers. Like my own firing squad, except rather than using bullets, it’ll be pinpointed questions.
I can’t figure out what the big deal is, anyway. I get he hasn’t been here a horribly long period of time, but is it weird to see him with a woman? Is he married? Did they meet his wife yesterday? My face pales. What if that is the problem?
“Um, just something chocolate like a brownie,” I say stumbling to a seat at the window and questioning everything I know about the man I shared a bed with a night ago.
Anessa brings a tiny plate and fork to the table where I sat and puts it down as if she can sense something has changed about my demeanor. She steps back and waits.
When another second passes and I don’t take a bite of the brownie, she finally asks. “Okay, what’s your story?”
My head pops up. “What?” My story? Is she asking why I would sleep with a married man? Because one — there’s girl code to follow. We have to stick together. If I accidentally stumbled upon this kind of situation, it would kill me. I’d never be the other woman.
But even as my head grapples with the thought, my heart refuses to accept it. There’s no way Graham — the man who swept me off my feet the last few days — is capable something like that. Not him and not now. I can’t put my finger on what it is or even give a name, but his character is too strong.
Tabitha leans against the lower part of the counter next to the register. “Mobsters looking for you? Found a large stash of mysterious money? Ex-boyfriend hunting you down?” The questions are short and peppered together just as I feared.
I shake my head no. “No.” Who has problems like mobsters and exes? Although a stash of money sounds good. I’m not sure how that would be an issue.
Tabitha’s eyes narrow. “Why are you with Graham? Where did you two meet?”
I swallow hard and cut into the brownie with my fork. “I work at the bed-and-breakfast.”
Anessa steps back, not turning around, as if she’s trying to read the honesty of my answers. “So, he’s not saving you from anything?”
“No… not that I’m aware of.”
“Because if he is, you can tell us. None of us are connected to the phone tree.” She points between her and Anessa.
“I promise we met at the bed-and-breakfast.”
The two of them share a look and somebody whispers the word “interesting.” It’s loud enough to hear but soft enough that I can’t pinpoint which woman it came from.
“What will you do when he leaves?” Tabitha asks still leaning across the counter.
What will I do when he goes? “I… don’t know.”
Anessa hits Tabitha on the shoulder, silently telling her to shut up.
“We haven’t discussed it.” I know he’s going to leave. He can’t live in the hotel forever, but we haven’t hit that part of our relationship where we are discussing our future plans.
Anessa shrugs. “Ridge could ask him to stay.”
It’s a simple enough suggestion, and for a beat my heart takes up the lie myself. What if Ridge did ask him to say?
But the thought is quickly wiped away from the look Tabitha works hard to disguise but totally sucks at managing.
“What?” I ask.
Nobody answers.
Finally, Anessa taps Tabitha. “Just tell her something if you know. Girl deserves an answer.”
I smile even knowing I won’t like what Tabitha has to say. I’ve only known Anessa for a few minutes and she’s already using girl code.
Tabitha steps back, no longer leaning against the counter. “Ridge has asked him to stay. A few times.”
That’s not good. How many times is “a few times”? And what were his answers? And was this before or after we officially met one another? All of those are important details. Each one could spell success or doom for me in our relationship. Not that we have a relationship. But here at the bakery listening to two girls talk about Ridge’s ever-expanding force, I find myself imagining what it would be like if he did stay.
Would he continue to live at the bed-and-breakfast? Would we date? Would I find out he doesn’t like Beyoncé music and then have to break up with him? Can I love Graham even if he doesn’t like Beyoncé?
I shake my head clearing the thought. I can’t even consider the word love? We’ve known each other for like two hot minutes. We’ve only slept together twice. It was the hottest sex of my life, but what if it was a fluke?
“Well if he does go back to the Southwest, there are lots of hotels on the coast. You can find yourself a job at a spa. Maybe the mountains.” They both nod as though envisioning how wonderful place like that would be.
The images of following him to the mountains or warm beach don’t bring me thoughts of peace, more like panic. I’ve never followed a man so far away. But he’s told me himself it’s normally where he works. You don’t have a long-distance relationship with someone after know
ing them such a short time. I could never get enough time off to fly out and see him, and I can’t expect him to make the trip to see me continuously.
It’s looking more and more like whatever the two of us have shared will end sooner rather than later. It’s a sobering thought. I pile a big chunk of brownie into my mouth to mask the bitter taste of truth on my tongue.
“Think of all the free treatment you could get if you worked at the right spa,” Tabitha’s says longingly.
“It’s too soon for moving,” I counter when I finish chewing.
Tabitha laughs as if that’s the funniest thing she’s heard the entire year. Since it’s the middle of December, a year must be pretty darn boring.
“It’s never too soon for one of the hot guys.” Anessa joins in laughing, the two of them shaking their heads and sharing a private joke.
The door to the bakery opens, the bells wild with the force. A new woman who acts as if this place is her second home storms in, her face full of emotions. She scans the bakery, her eyes settling on me, and her shoulder tips her head to the side.
“Tara is with Graham,” Tabitha supplies.
The new woman nods, accepting the explanation, and then raises an eyebrow my direction. “Dangerous ex-boyfriend?”
Tabitha shakes her head. “No, she’s normal, Katy.”
Katy stares at me once again, acting like I’m growing a third arm out of my chest or something. Her mouth opens and with a nod of her head she slowly breezes out the word, “Wow.” Who are these women?
The other two wear similar expressions as I shove another piece of the brownie into my mouth.
Katy starts a conversation with the two women behind the counter, her voice ratcheting up with each sentence. The name Pierce is mentioned more than once. The hotter than heck city playboy and multimillionaire — hell, he might be a billionaire by now — is in the bed-and-breakfast more than once a week, but I’ve never seen a woman with him. At least not one under the age of fifty and certainly never this girl.
Who are these people? Obviously close friends and the owners of the town’s bakery, but they feel like more than that. Almost as if there’s a sisterhood to the group — one that I would long to have a connection with in my own life. My own three best friends to hang out with and dish about boys.
My introduction to the group is odd, but not unwelcoming. And something tells me the questions are more about the three of them that anything about me.
9
How did I find myself here again? Fully clothed and lying on top of the tightly made duvet of Graham’s bed in his hotel room?
Not that I’m complaining. When he asked if I wanted to watch an episode of TV in his bedroom, I gladly accepted. I mean who in their right mind would turn down time to lie in bed with a ridiculously hot guy and watch TV? Even a nun would be tempted.
Graham flips the channels, our hands precariously close to one another as they set on top of the bedspread, but yet we haven’t touched.
“Want to watch Jurassic Park again?” he asks with a laugh.
“Can we make it through?”
He grabs my hand, holding it in the space between us. “I’d be okay if we missed it again.” The big smile catches me off guard when I look. The way his eyes twinkle and happiness, the dark stubble on his cheek rough, I know that he’s been absolutely serious.
Nerves take up in my stomach. We’ve been here before, but there’s still a newness to it all. So much of our future is up for grabs. Do we even have a future? After today in the bakery, all signs point to no. But when was the last time I’ve fallen into bed, held hands, and watched TV with a guy?
Never.
I didn’t know what I was missing, but now it feels like years of my life should have been spent this way. Easy Sunday mornings and late Friday nights. When have I just spent time with a man? Time that wasn’t a date or sex? I’ve never even invited by a guy to a family Christmas. My love life is severely lacking.
“Okay, Tara, what’s wrong?” he asks as the movie begins.
“What? Nothing.” Surely, I can’t be that obvious to read.
My promise is nothing by the look on his face. What have I done that would make Graham think there’s something wrong? Did he learn how to read people in spy school?
“You’ve been weird since we left the bakery,” he presses.
He is reading my mind! How can he possibly know when all I’ve done is replay the conversation over and over in my head? Why won’t Graham move to Pelican Bay? It’s a beautiful little city. What’s wrong with this town? Okay sometimes in the summer it smells a little fishy if it gets too warm and the wind hits just right off the water. And the people are nosy, but this time of year when the lights twinkle from all the trees and the snow falls every afternoon it’s beautiful. We’re living in our own little snow globe.
“Tabitha and Anessa seemed to like having you there. Did you not get along?”
“Yes, uh-huh. They were nice.” They were wonderful, if overly truthful.
He jerks on my hand a fraction. “Just tell me.”
Refusing to make eye contact, I stare at the stubble on his chin instead, wondering the last time he shaved. Has it been a day or a few hours? How quickly does chin hair grow back?
“Tara,” he pleads.
Ugh. Fine if he really wants to know how crazy I am, then so be it. “Why did you tell Ridge you won’t stay here? Pelican Bay is a great town.” Has he not heard about all the cute festivals and parades they do in the summer? And the ice cream shop?
I don’t need to be looking at his eyes to see his expression fall with my question. It’s written all over the curve of his jaw. I’ve asked a question he doesn’t want to answer.
“Ridge has offered me a permanent contract, but I would have to have my base here or his other location in San Francisco. I’ve toyed with the idea, but I’ve always been a wanderer.”
I nod trying to accept his answer. Now is not the time to turn into a blubbering mess. That would make me a psycho.
“I’m from the West and I can’t see myself living as far away from family,” like you he says without saying it outright. “I’ve considered taking a quick job in San Francisco to check the place out. The new branch is getting started, but I don’t know the head there. We’ve never had the chance to work together. I won’t sign up to work with someone I don’t respect.”
I hear all his objections, but my heart only focuses on one thing. San Francisco is close to my family. Well. As close as you can get and still be in California. As much as I was ready to run away from all the drama my siblings and mother presented in my lifetime goes on, I’ve missed them and I’ve yearned to go home and visit. But vacation time isn’t on the menu a lot in this industry.
No! What am I thinking? Graham isn’t moving to San Francisco and I’m not moving with him. That’s crazy. We’re two helpless souls who will have our meeting now and hope that maybe we can reconnect in another lifetime.
“That makes sense,” I say snuggling closer and letting him stick his arm underneath my shoulders when the movie starts. The chopper delivering the doctors to be dinosaur snacks on the island.
Graham places a soft kiss on my forehead. “If there ever was a woman to make me reconsider my life philosophy, you’d be it.”
I sigh and the way he draws me in tightly, I assume he sees it as a good thing. But the problem is I’ve never wanted to be a woman who made a man change his life philosophy. I want to fit in with someone else’s life. Carve out a new one for the both of us. My sister was always looking for a man she could tame, but I’ve never had that same desire. Changing someone sounds like a lot of work.
I relax into his warm embrace, a bit worried I won’t be able to stay awake for the whole movie when he cradles me in his arms. Protective and safe.
BOOM!
Graham’s body stiffens, freezing for an instant until he jumps off the bed.
“What the fuck was that?” he asks, sliding off the covers and frantically s
kipping to the door.
I’m not worried at all. “Don’t freak. Without many tourists, Dwight is cleaning out the root cellar. If he’s not dropping something, it’s the old mechanicals.” These old buildings are noisy.
I’ve asked him more than once because we definitely didn’t have these noises in the summer. With these heaters in the old buildings, when the pilot lights turn on and the pipes come to life, it can freak a lady out.
“In the root cellar?” Graham asks. “Is that what we were looking at the other night?”
“No, it’s not attached to the basement. It was done differently and you can only access it from outside.”
“Where? It’s not on any signs.”
“By the parking lot.” I point out the window. The door is hidden so guests don’t wander around it and get hurt.
Although I will have to talk to Dwight because he’s promised me that no guest would complain about the noise, but it’s obviously something they can hear on this side of the bed-and-breakfast as well. I was under the belief it only happened on my side of the building.
The room goes still, the only sounds those of the movie as the main characters receive their quick lesson on DNA in a contraption that reminds me of the best ride at Disney World. Carousel of Progress. No lines, air-conditioning, and comfy seats. It’s exactly the thing you want to do in the unbearable Florida heat.
“Are you sure?” he asks his eyes searching my face for more of an explanation.
I shrug, balancing on an elbow. “Dwight promised he’d have it all done by the spring when things pick up again.” As long as no one complains on Yelp, I don’t care what he does down there.
He might be weird and he definitely wants to take me out for coffee, but Dwight knows the ins and outs of the bed-and-breakfast. He’s been working here since he was sixteen.
The bed dips as Graham gets closer. Minutes ago his body was coiled and ready to be released, but now he hangs out almost playfully on his side of the bed. His hand moves against the comforter like a snake headed toward my body, and he runs fingers up my side and across my breast and then cups my chin ever so lightly.
Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology Page 293
