by Zoe York
She put the magazine down and picked up a newspaper instead.
“How do you feel about walking?” Catie asked when she was finished with her client. “It’s not that far, and it’s nice to stretch the legs. Even when I get tired from standing all day, it’s different to walk.”
“Sure. I haven’t been doing any regular exercise since I moved here.” They stepped outside and Catie locked up. Isla pointed across the street, where her hand painted sign cheerily decorated her front window. “I’ve been so focused on the bakery, everything else has fallen to the wayside. But if you want company on walks or anything else, let me know.”
“You used to be in the army, right?”
“Yep. For almost fifteen years.”
“Did you ever do any search and rescue activity?”
“Some. Sure, why?”
“I’ve been thinking about volunteering for the local search and rescue team, but I’m intimidated by their physical requirements entrance test. Do you know Tom Minelli?”
“Is he related to Olivia?”
“Her brother-in-law, yeah. He’s a park ranger, and he runs the team. He put out a call for women to join, specifically because they want to enter a provincial contest but their teams need to be mixed-gender. Would you be interested?”
Dark, wet rain slashed through Isla’s mind. She shivered. “I don’t know. I’m not really the competitive type anymore. Not like that. Now I just compete against myself.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. But if you have the requirements to join the team, I’d be happy to train with you.”
“That would be amazing. It’s stuff like rope climbing and chin-ups.”
“I can do that. Maybe not as fast or as easily as I used to, but it sounds like fun.” An excited, bubbly energy built inside Isla. “Are you thinking of starting this soon? Do you want to book something?”
“Could we maybe have a standing date? I’m closed on Monday, and you are, too, right? Or is that your time off with Adam?”
“He won’t mind,” she said with a smile. “Although this coming Monday I might need to help him with the bathroom if he’s not done by then.” She spent the rest of the walk to Mac’s telling Catie about the necessary renovations. “But it’s all for the best. This way he’ll—”
She cut herself off. She’d been about to say, he’ll have as nice a bathroom as I have, but that wasn’t a statement she could make out loud.
Luckily, they were at the restaurant. “Oh, we’re here.”
Inside, Catie waved at the waitress behind the counter and the cook visible through the pass-through window. They both waved back.
“When did you work here?”
“Twelve years ago,” Catie said breezily. “Before I moved away for school.”
“And then you came back?”
“I did.”
“And became a real estate agent and a hair stylist.”
“Well, the hair thing came first. The real estate gig…I’m still sort of searching for my true passion in life. Should we eat first? I can ask Frank to join us when he has some time.”
Isla took a seat at a booth while Catie disappeared briefly into the kitchen, then returned with two menus. “Is this place usually this self-service?”
Her new friend smiled. “No. You haven’t been in here yet?”
She shook her head. “Adam’s gotten takeout a few times. We’re both pretty busy with work. And the house.”
“Everyone loves the burgers, but personally, I’m a big fan of the loaded grilled cheese and tomato soup combo.”
“Yep, I want that now.” Isla’s stomach growled in agreement.
It didn’t take long for their lunch to arrive, and the cook himself came out to clear their empty plates when they finished.
“Frank, this is Isla Petersen.”
“The new owner of Anne’s cafe.”
“That’s right, sir, nice to meet you.” She stood up to shake his hand.
“Catie says you’re interested in that espresso machine that does me no good.”
“I am. Yep.”
“What’s your offer?”
She wasn’t going to name a price first. “What do you want for it?”
“Pie.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Right now, I buy pies from a couple of different places, but the quality is variable. People really like pecan. Can you manage that?”
“I sure can.” She wondered how the people of Pine Harbour would feel about a bit of bourbon in their pecan pie. Cranberries for the holidays. Or maybe no cranberries until she’d paid off her pie debt. “A fair exchange of pie for machinery?”
“Three kinds of pie, twice a week. Apple, pecan, and a seasonal one of your choice.”
“Deal.”
When Adam texted Isla and asked if she was going to be home for dinner, and he didn’t get a response right away—and then when she did, it was the digital equivalent of muttering about a problem—he knew he needed to take food to her.
Isla managed problems just fine as long as she was well fed. He’d figured that out quickly, and made it a private mission to ensure there was a regular supply of easy to grab and consume soups and sandwiches in the house—and at the bakery, as needed.
For a woman who spent all day making food for others, she wasn’t always great at remembering to fuel herself.
Enter, the husband delivery service. He made a couple of sandwiches and a double Thermos of coffee and headed to the bakery, where he found the lights on and the front door open.
Inside he saw Isla’s chef’s jacket slung over one of the two small tables she had for customers, and audible swearing was coming from the other side of the counter.
He set down his packed picnic dinner and peered around the side.
“What are you doing?” he asked her legs, which was all he could see.
“Installing my new espresso machine.”
He glanced back up, and sure enough, there was a big, shiny machine at the far end of the counter.
“It requires attaching a water line. Which meant drilling some holes and running some pipe.”
“So what you’re saying is, I could have had you do the plumbing at home?” He chuckled as she swore again.
“I thought it would be simple! You made it look simple, and apparently…I should have called you, yes. That is the takeaway lesson here.” She shimmied out from under the counter and stood up. Her braid was coming undone and blond wisps of hair framed her face. They made her scowl almost angelic. “The two pieces of pipe should fit together tightly. They don’t. What am I doing wrong?”
He came around to have a look. “You need some plumbing tape. It’ll make that seal watertight. We have some at home, I’ll go get it. In the meantime, I brought you food.”
“Oh.” The scowl dropped away and a tired smile replaced it. She lifted one bare arm to swipe a strand of hair off her forehead, which made her breasts jiggle, which in turn made him realize she was only wearing a thin tank top.
Eyes up, Kincaid.
“That’s really sweet, thank you.”
He was feeling anything but sweet at the moment. “Can we make a deal? You sit and eat, I’ll go and get more supplies.”
“Or we can eat and walk? I’ll come with you. I could use some fresh air and a break from this place.”
She swapped her clogs for boots and pulled her parka on, then locked up.
As they walked home, she asked him about his day—his plumbing forays had gone better than hers, but he downplayed that fact—and devoured both of the sandwiches he’d made. That made him happy.
At home, he grabbed everything he thought they might need, and then they drove back in his truck.
“Apparently Catie’s going to sign up for the search and rescue team,” Isla said as she unlocked the bakery and turned the lights back on. “She wants my help to train for the physical entrance exam.”
“That sounds like fun. Did you know that Will is on the se
arch and rescue team?”
“Nope. But it doesn’t surprise me. It’s the Kincaid way.” She frowned in the direction of the espresso machine. “All right, you beast. Let’s get you tamed.”
“Where did you get this thing?”
“I got it from Frank, who has had it for at least fifteen years. He won it in some restauranteur event. So it’s old, but it’s never been used, and it’s a good brand.”
“And how did you get it here?” Adam really wanted to ask why she hadn’t asked him for help. Wasn’t it his job to be the big, strong husband?
But apparently that wasn’t necessary in Pine Harbour. Isla shrugged. “Frank asked some of his customers to bring it over. And he had a bunch of volunteers.”
“Were you there?”
“Yep. Catie and I were having lunch.”
He could just imagine Frank asking for volunteers to help carry something for two beautiful women. Adam swallowed back against a wave of misplaced jealousy.
She shrugged out of her coat, then bumped her shoulder against his. “I would have called you, but I knew you were working on the bathroom.”
That mollified him a bit. What he liked even more was that she could see he wanted to help. Well, he could still help now. He took off his coat as well, then opened up his toolbox and found the thread sealing tape for the joint, and a couple of different connectors for flexible water lines.
“Is the water turned off?” he asked Isla as they crawled under the counter together.
“Yep.”
He looked at the connection she had been working on first, and wrapped the tape around one end before re-threading them together. Then he moved on to the hose, which looked good. It was time to test. “Okay. Where’s the main water supply for the bakery?”
“In the back. Next to the alarm.”
“Hold tight.” He crawled out and jogged to the back. All the plumbing in this place was old and backwards. He turned the knob, then went back to the sink. Nothing came out.
“It’s not dripping down there, is it?”
“Nope.”
He tried the espresso machine, but it wasn’t drawing any water either. “Hang on.”
He went back into the kitchen and turned the water supply knob the other way again. Maybe she hadn’t actually turned it off. But just as he reached for the sink tap, Isla said, “Oh, wait—”
And he should have waited, but it landed in his brain a second too late, because she squeaked out a horrified gasp as he let the water run. He hit the tap off fast, but that wasn’t the problem.
Water sprayed in all directions from below the counter as Isla’s body twisted and thrashed, and then—with more cursing—it stopped, and she dragged herself out from beneath the counter.
“I turned it off here. The water. I turned it off here, and I should have realized why you were going to the main supply,” she gasped as she stood up.
The gloriously angelic strands of her hair were now plastered to her face, and fat wet drops of water dripped off her chin and landed on a very see-through tank top. She was laughing as she wrapped her arms around her body, laughing and shivering at the same time, and Adam was an absolute pervert for taking a split-second lusty look before he whipped off his sweater and handed it over. “Here, put this on.”
He growled it out, a demand as much as an offer, but she didn’t seem to notice.
She needed him to figure out where that line wasn’t tight. He couldn’t lose himself in how fucking touchable she was in that moment.
“I knew it seemed too easy,” she said as her head popped out the top of his sweater.
Even wrapped in heavy cable knit, she looked irresistible, and like a punch in the face he didn’t see coming, Adam suddenly couldn’t turn off the arousal he felt for his wife.
He thought he’d be able to control it. He could control it. But it would take a hell of a lot more effort than he thought it would a month ago.
Well, too late now. He’d convinced her to legally tie herself to this bakery for five years. He’d promised her it was no big deal that they had slept together.
It hadn’t been a big deal.
Past tense.
Now?
Now it was a big fucking deal, and he was in big fucking trouble.
Chapter Thirteen
“Did Dad ever have a muscle car?”
Owen frowned in concentration, thinking about Adam’s question. “Not that I remember. Will?”
Their brother lifted his head from under the hood of his beater. “Nope.”
“He didn’t own one, but he always read car magazines,” Josh said, crossing the bar of his garage with a tray of coffees from Isla’s shop. “Your wife asked why you sent me, by the way. She misses you.”
Adam felt his face heat up. Isla wouldn’t have meant it like that, but she’d accidentally sent him an indirect message: she’d noticed that he’d been dodging her. Crap.
He didn’t feel great about the distance, either. No, he downright missed her. But when Will had put out the bat call that he wanted to work on his car this weekend, and Adam happened to be off, he jumped at the reasonable excuse to get out of the house. His bathroom renovation was done, and he needed something, anything, to do with his hands that wasn’t touching his off-limits wife.
“I’ll see her in a couple of hours,” he muttered.
Owen took a coffee, and a marshmallow dream bar, too. “How’s she liking the new bathroom? Spending a lot of time having bubble baths now that it’s all nice in there?”
Jesus, his brothers were killing him in a hundred different ways. Now he was picturing Isla partially covered by pillowy white clouds of— “She’s more of a shower person.”
Because that was her bathroom and his was the one with the soaker tub. Their two wings of the house, and apparently she had noticed he’d started retreating to his corner a little too often.
It wasn’t fair. That wasn’t their deal, and he would stop it immediately. The grown-up thing to do would be to lock it down. He waved off the coffee from Josh. “You know what? I’m going up there right now. Will’s going to be tinkering for a bit. I’ll see you guys later.”
At the bakery, he waited his turn in line, watching Isla do her thing. She was charming with her customers, and observant, too. When Olivia Minelli’s toddler son demanded a cookie—loudly, and rudely, although Adam understood the tot’s urgency, the cookies did look amazing—Isla fetched two of them from the glass case, but didn’t hand them over. She gave his older sister a conspiratorial look, softened her tone, and asked the little girl if she would like a cookie as well.
“Yes, please,” Sofia said.
“Excellent manners,” praised Olivia.
Isla looked at the little boy. “Can you say, Please, may I have a cookie?”
He pouted. “Please.”
She held it almost all the way out to him. “Of course. Can you say thank you?”
Jesus, Adam’s insides pulled tight. It was not appropriate for him to imagine her perched on top of him, her tits dangling just out of reach of his mouth, making him be very polite before he could suck on her nipples.
She’d been having that effect on him lately, through no fault of her own. Whole scenes would pop into his head like that, from completely benign things she would say. Playful, teasing, courteous Isla, just going about her life in Pine Harbour, turned Adam on in ways that went completely against their deal.
The crush he was developing on his wife was layered, complicated, and entirely one-sided.
This was going to be harder than he thought.
When the Minellis were sorted, their cookies in hand and the rest of Olivia’s order boxed up, it was Adam’s turn.
“Hey stranger.” Isla beamed at him as he leaned against the counter. There wasn’t anyone behind him in line, so he didn’t need to rush. “Did you finish up with your brothers early? I thought you said you were going to be hanging out with them all day.”
“I changed my mind.”
“
Can I make you a coffee?”
“That’s why I’m here.” Not to perv on you, that would be wrong. “Double espresso?”
“Coming right up.” She gave him another wholesome smile that his brain immediately turned into sin. “Is everything okay with your brothers? They didn’t chase you away, did they?”
He shook his head. “I just realized I’d rather pop over here and say hi than sit around and wait for Will to finish whatever it was he was doing.”
“What was he doing?”
Adam laughed, because he hadn’t been paying attention. “I honestly couldn’t tell you.”
He’d been thinking about Isla instead.
Her smile softened as her gaze lingered on his face. “You’ve been juggling a lot lately. And it feels like we’ve been two ships in the night. Our schedules sometimes synch up nicely, and then sometimes…” She mimed an explosion. Then she passed him a perfectly pulled espresso.
He reached across the counter to grab her hand. “I’ll make a point to drop in more often, then.”
“Good. Because I miss you, you know?” She twisted her fingers around his and squeezed.
Fuck, the things her touch did to him now…
He dragged in a rough breath. “I miss you, too.”
Over the next few days, Isla noticed that Adam went out of his way to spend time with her, and as they settled into a new routine, she found she was sleeping better and working smarter. From his own accounting, it seemed the same was true for Adam, too, and in hindsight, she realized she’d been worried by his temporary retreat.
She had felt far too lonely in her first marriage, and didn’t like it in her second, either, no matter how unconventional their arrangement might be. On the other hand, she didn’t feel right asking too much of Adam, or projecting her baggage onto their unique situation, so she was grateful she didn’t need to spell any of that out.
But the peace in her heart didn’t last long, because one morning mid-week, out the front window of her shop, she caught sight of the last person she wanted to see: her ex-husband.
