The timer dinged behind her. The bread she’d experimented with this morning while she was at class should now be fully risen and ready for the oven.
She hopped to her feet and dashed to the kitchen counter where the creamy white dough was puckered at the edges in her brand new copper-coated bread pan, the rising form’s rounded center smooth and cool to the touch like the flesh of virgin’s bottom. It would fall back down if she played with it any further, so she resisted the temptation to fondle its weight and texture. Into the oven it went.
She looked at herself in the mirror as she padded past the hallway back to her perch at the window sill, barefoot, her blue panties low on her hips, her bra barely keeping up with the good food she’d been sampling these past sixty days while she’d been eating her way here to this quaint little town. Derek had always said she was too skinny. He’d like this change, she thought as she felt how heavy her already enormous breasts felt.
Above the timid din of occasional traffic, the crickets chirped. They’d be doing so all night in the warm Indian summer of the northern California wine country.
Her phone rang. It was Miss Blake, one of the CCA’s guest chefs who’d attended today’s orientation session. One of the guys in class called her the “Meals On Wheels” lady. Truth was, Emerson Blake ran a little string of gourmet food carts that sported long lines all day long. They’d apparently attracted a food critic all the way from New York, they’d been told.
“Oh my God! Miss Blake. I’m so impressed. You really meant what you said in class today.” The guest lecturer had engaged her in conversation during a break and discovered she was new to the town.
“I always do. I know what it’s like to come to a new place away from home with everything so lonely and unfamiliar. Your story touched me. I was thinking perhaps you’d like to come out tonight with me and my fiancé, Dax, and meet some of the locals. Dax has a friend we think you should meet, not that that’s on your menu.”
“Holy cow. So this isn’t about food, then.”
“Not in a manner of speaking.” Miss Blake giggled. “Okay, I have to confess. Dax saw you coming out of class today, and he wanted me to fix you up with his buddy. I think he can spot a rare vintage a mile off.”
They shared a laugh. She was surprised Dax even remembered what she looked like. She’d seen him for only a second as she exited the old stone building. “He doesn’t happen to have a little lady at home wearing a ring or some rug rats does he?”
Miss Blake laughed easily. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Except that Remy was thinking a night of uncomplicated sex with someone she could not possibly have a future with might be a refreshing change of pace. She’d been used to either Mr. “Intensity-Personified-While-I’m-Grinding-You-All-The-Way-To-China,” or Miss “I’m-Going-To-Remain-Celibate”, the two characters in her personal novel she was doing dress rehearsals for. She’d give anything to see those two duking it out in a cage fighting event. Naked.
What’s with all the naked images today? This is like the third one. What was going on?
Oh yes! She’d been thinking about Derek. Not really Derek, but Derek’s biceps, Derek’s thigh muscles, Derek’s soft lips that could suck and swallow her tongue and she wouldn’t even care. Mr. Derek-Does-It-Hurt-Honey-You’re-So-Swollen-Let-Me-Just-Kiss-It-Again-Just-For-A-Second? That Derek.
Remy mulled over the idea. What had been her plans this evening she wondered as she bit her lip? Right! Watch a romantic movie on the Hallmark Channel and eat the entire loaf of sourdough bread she’d just popped into the oven, slathered of course with butter and some fresh strawberry preserves. Dinner and dessert all in one. She could cry her eyes out, go to bed with a comfortable sugar high and sleep naked until morning.
There it was again. That makes four times now.
“Where should I meet you?” Remy finally collected herself to ask. She hoped it wasn’t some place where she’d have to dress up and spend a wad of cash. She was being very careful until she could get a job.
“How about the Sweet and Savory Bistro? We can pick you up at say six or six-thirty. Does that work?”
This tickled Remy. “No need. I live over the Sugar Shack. That’s less than a block away.”
“Perfect. So we’ll see you there about seven-ish?”
“I’ll be there. I’ll even shower, if you like.”
Miss. Blake gave a warm chuckle. “Judging by the look on Dax’ face, I don’t think his buddy will mind a bit what you come smelling like.”
After the two hung up, Remy was happy she’d at least brought her red cowboy boots. Because they took up so much space in her needle-thin closet, it was a considerable investment in real estate she now was happy she’d made. Her jeans were fitting a little tighter than before, but judging from the way the girls in St. Helena tended to be on the hefty side, more country-style, she figured she’d fit right in. She wore her red silk big shirt, combed out her hair and tied a red bandana in a bow at the top of her head, keeping her hair back.
With her pale complexion, her red aviator glasses and dark hair, she was looking a little ’40’s. She applied lots of red lipstick because she was in one of those moods and it filled out her look as well as her breasts filled her double D-Cup bra. She’d have to stay away from the alcohol tonight or that bra might have to go before she got home, and that would mean trouble.
Except that’s what she needed. Trouble. It was the right kind of medicine, and if this guy was half as good looking as Miss Blake’s fiancé, it was game on. She was going balls to the wall.
Even if she didn’t have any.
THE BISTRO USED to be a hardware store of some kind, she thought, country chic, with mismatched tables and chairs on heavily ridged old pine floors. Light Italian opera was playing in the background as she was greeted by a fresh-faced high school nymph with silky straight honey-brown hair, her young plump mouth well covered in scented lip gloss. She was clutching the burgundy plastic-coated menus to her own ample chest. Remy knew what that was like, being in high school with a chest like a porn star. It took her years to overcome the image of a laminated picture of her boobs—the picture she and her girlfriend dared to exchange by text—passed around so half the football team could jerk off to it in the shower after games. She’d gotten the clear description from one of her drunk dates back then, which was an unfortunate miscalculation on his tragic road to getting laid.
“I’m here to meet Emerson Blake and a couple others. Do you know them?” she asked the young hostess.
Her eyes got as huge as hard boiled eggs. “Of course! We love Emerson’s desserts and her Greek goodies from her food cart. We buy her things to serve here.”
Remy knew the story, just waiting for the girl to get hold of herself and remember she wasn’t there to strike up a conversation with her, but to meet some friends. No matter who they were.
“They’re over—”
“Remy! Great to see you.” Miss Blake was giving her a warm hug like they were sisters. Though she was a little uncomfortable at the quick display of affection, Remy knew there was something warm and natural about the genius food cart lady. And besides, some of the samples she’d brought into class were seriously world class.
She stepped back after the hug ended, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.
“So, this is Dax.”
Remy shook hands with a handsome, well-built military-looking man, and OMG she knew the type. A little painful, his vice grip revealed fingers permanently bent, one at an odd angle, just like Derek had. His palms were callused from doing the same sorts of things her ex did all the time.
“Nice to meet you Remy,” Dax said, being painfully careful not to check out her rack, which Remy appreciated. “And this is my friend—” Dax’s palm swept in the direction of their table, where another huge man with shoulders twice as wide and thick as hers, his back to her, was getting up from seated position. As he uncoiled himself to reveal his six-foot-something frame, he
turned and gave her a grin, exposing teeth too big for his kisser. The man’s enormous white pearlies, filed perfectly straight by an overzealous dentist, nearly blinded her. She immediately recognized him.
Simultaneously, Remy and Dax blurted out the gentleman’s name.
“Knudsen.”
CHAPTER 3
DEREK HAD SPENT the rest of the early morning tossing in bed, without really being able to fall deeply asleep. Shooting pain in his right thigh bothered him more than usual. Plus, the visions in his head, the sounds of her apparition moaning in his ear had his body responding as if she were right there next to him, wouldn’t leave him alone. As the early morning light began to filter through a window he’d forgotten to shutter, he tore himself out of bed, showered, and threw some things into a black nylon duty bag. Before zipping it up he hobbled back to his closet, searching the secret compartment under the carpet for weapons, fingering over his choices.
He decided to take his DDM4 300, short barrel, his DDMS .308 long gun, and his Sig Sauer P226. The latter pistol he quickly tucked in the clip holster behind his waistband.
WTF? He stiffened and rubbed his chin with his fingers. Wasn’t like he was readying himself for another deployment or special interim mission. But old habits were hard to break. Without firepower, he felt naked.
He made himself a quick protein shake, took his Ample supplements and meal replacement packets for on the road and longer, and left.
With his bag stowed under the seat behind him, he adjusted the music on his phone, attached his wireless necklace and ear bud, and commanded his spotless black Hummer to roar to life like he was doing a victory lap.
The long trip took him nearly ten hours with sporadic traffic he encountered in population centers near noon and then again at early commute times. At last, he branched off the freeway and headed west to Napa Valley, following the signs to St. Helena, just as the sun was getting low.
He was forced to make another pit stop as well as fill up the Hummer, which he did as soon as he got to town, cursing himself for not pulling over at one of the gas stations along the Interstate where gas was nearly fifty cents cheaper. Stepping aside while he waited for the nozzle to shut off, he rang Knudsen.
The phone went right to voicemail, which was odd.
With loud music blaring in the background, he could barely hear Knudsen’s canned voice, “You know what to do and how to do it, and yes, I’m an asshole so save your breath.’
“Dude,” Derek began. “You’ll never guess where I am.” He paused. “I’m filling my tank just outside your little town and where the hell are you, bro? ’Cause I’m crashing your party.”
He hung up as the hoseline clicked. Derek replaced his gas cap and checked his phone again. The screen was still silent, the warm blurry flesh tones of Remy’s backside alluring as his screensaver. He stared at it as if willing her body to come to life for him, which was ridiculous. He jumped when his phone began to buzz.
“Derek, you’re timing is incredible, man. Now I believe all those stories.”
Derek heard singing in the background, a cabaret or opera tune.
“You having dinner?”
“Oh yea, man. I’ve got a boner the size of Montana and it’s blocking me up, but I managed to drink a brew and get some breadsticks. We’re waiting for pizza.”
“We?”
“Yea, some locals I told you about. Nice folks. Family owns that winery, remember?”
“Of course I remember. So dude, where is this place?”
“You’re at the Gas-N-Go?”
“Yup.”
“So you head straight downtown. Place is on your right. It has a red awning with a little string of red, white and green twinkle lights buzzing like flies all over it. Called Sweet and Savory Bistro. Food smells great. Beer’s good. Company is to die for.”
“That good?”
“Oh yea. I got you fixed right up, buddy. You’re gonna thank me.”
“How the hell did you even know I was coming?”
“What kind of a question is that, after all we’ve been through? You said you’d come, and I believed you. Besides, I think I caught a whiff of you just a second or two ago.”
“I need to change? Just came from over ten hours on the freeway, man.”
“I’d reapply that deodorant. Maybe shave ’cause knowing you, there’s stubble there and a nice clean look might impress, if you know what I mean. A clean tee would help, but this isn’t fancy here, so if you look nice and smell great, they won’t notice what you’re wearing.”
“They?”
“Like I said, Faraway, I got you all fixed up. You won’t believe your eyes and how incredibly lucky you are.”
“Okay, give me five then. I’ll go shave and be right over.”
“You do that.”
Derek swung the Hummer into a parking space and rummaged through his duty bag for the shaving kit, retreating to the bathroom for the second time in minutes. He was looking like Frosty The Snowman when someone wanted to get into the men’s room.”
“In a minute. Shaving. Sorry,” he shouted and heard someone curse on the other side of the door. He finished, remembering to apply aftershave and taking careful aim at his part, laying his short hair down as best he could. As he examined his face in the mirror, part of his cowlick shot up like feathers. After it continued to be stubborn, even after applying water a second time, Derek gave up. He searched for evidence he’d cut himself, but was satisfied he’d done a relatively good job. His stomach began to lurch at the prospect of meeting someone new and perhaps being able to peel off the skin of remembrance he still carried. Time to move on. Prove to himself that he could, that he didn’t need her.
He gathered his things. He walked into the mini-market and bought an energy drink and some gum. The Indian clerk handled his transaction efficiently. Derek found a folded brochure in a plastic stand for the California Culinary Academy. The headline on the little pamphlet said, Serving The Community of Veterans Who Served Us All.
He flipped open the form, and found there was a program for returning veterans, which included financial aid. His low chuckle drew a puzzled expression from the attendant.
“Steven fuckin’ Seagal. They teach cook school here?”
The smooth-faced youth didn’t say a word, blankly staring back at him.
“We’re all gonna die,” Derek said, and allowed himself a good belly laugh this time. He folded the brochure, placing it in his back pocket, and left for the Hummer.
Derek pulled up beside Knudsen’s bright yellow Hummer, the entire second seat filled with cases of wine. He was hoping a few bottles would find their way to being opened during the next few days. He guessed Knudsen hadn’t arrived until recently since the engine was still warm and no way would he leave nice wine in the second seat of his truck on a warm August night.
He walked through the door and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He heard a titter of laughter and eyed several people in the corner. On closer inspection, he saw two women sitting with their backs to him, side by side, both in blue jeans. One he didn’t recognize, but the perfect heart-shaped ass on the other one got his ears buzzing.
Across the table, Knudsen was grinning like the Cheshire Cat in Alice In Wonderland, beginning to stand.
He watched as the lady’s long dark brown curls flipped to the side when her torso turned to take stock of the new arrival. The floppy red bow in her hair matched her bright red shirt. But he focused on her red lips that did not smile. They turned down in a worried look I was the kind of welcome he expected.
Remy!
What were the odds?
Now the man next to Knudsen stood as well and followed his best friend over to greet Derek, who was still in shock. How could this be happening? He wanted to punch something, someone, find blame anywhere but inside himself. He wanted to run, but didn’t dare. And besides, the sight of her with her pained expression was like a flame he was attracted to, just like a pathetic moth.
Knudsen was trying to make light of it, but was having way too much fun.
“—A pleasure to meet you. Knudsen here’s told me some wonderful things about you,” the other man said. Somehow Knudsen let it register his name was Decks, or Dark or something similar.
“Thanks, man,” he said reflexively, his hand shooting out for the bump. “You Rocket Ranger?”
“Ah, so Knudsen told you about me. Now I’m law enforcement.”
“Ah.” It was impressive to see someone go beyond their military job description, something Derek hadn’t grappled with yet. He was busying his mind, counting lights on the twinkle strand over the table, just so he didn’t have to think about or look at Remy. When he finally did sneak a peek, she’d softened. Her face in profile, with her silky red shirt showing shiny parts over her chest and shoulders, only made the situation room between his thighs worse, in spite of his attempt to visualize something dead so he wouldn’t have to think about how it made him feel to see her at last. And he’d seen a lot of dead things on his missions, but all he was coming up with was wilted carrots and rotting eggplant.
Knudsen had blocked his view, so he angled just slightly and discovered she’d turned around and was leaning into the other woman, whispering. That generated the examination by another set of unfamiliar female eyes, and this time, those eyes went from his face, down to his shoes and back up again, but more slowly on the uptake. The lady swallowed and didn’t say a word.
Good.
“Knudsen, this is kinda awkward,” Derek finally said.
“Shit, I know. Luck of the draw, man. Not like I was here to tell your life’s story, but we were just talking about how we knew each other when you called me. I got up to give us some privacy. But Derek, bro, I’m glad you’re here.”
St. Helena Vineyard Series: Love Me Tender, Love You Hard (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Cookin' With SEALs Book 1) Page 2
