Kurt’s brow creased in a frown. “You aren’t going to fall apart—that’s nonsense. I’ll talk to him.”
For Pete’s sake, she had enough trouble with her sons. She didn’t need anyone rocking the proverbial boat. “No, you won’t. I’m grateful you’ve taken an interest in Nathan, but I’ll do all the talking with Tyler. Butt out.”
Kurt’s frown turned into a grin. “Butt out? I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Neither can I. You’re corrupting me.”
She shook her head as he left.
Kurt Fullerton was a big teddy bear who didn’t know when to stop taking care of people. It might explain the underlying thread of exasperation she’d sensed in Sarah—she loved her dad and appreciated him wanting to help, but she was trying to be successful in her own right. Sometimes people just needed to do things for themselves.
Rosemary glanced at the desk where she’d put a photo of her husband. She’d let Richard make the decisions, and when he suddenly wasn’t there, she’d been lost. Tyler’s help had seemed like a lifeline at the time, but maybe she should have forced herself to take some responsibility.
* * *
THE NEXT EVENING, Sarah smiled at her dad across the restaurant table. “I realize you want to roll your sleeves up and start remodeling, but nothing can be decided right now.”
“All right, but the family will help with whatever needs doing. Don’t forget it benefits Poppy Gold, as much as it does you,” he added quickly.
“I know everyone wants to pitch in, but nothing is final. Tyler is taking a look at the situation. He’s offered to give me an opinion about what, if anything, can be done.”
Her father nodded. “I can’t get a handle on him.”
Sarah looked down at her cheese enchiladas. She was having the same trouble. For the most part, she’d only guessed at the emotion flickering in Tyler’s dark eyes. She kept telling herself it didn’t matter. Either way, he was the last man she should find compelling. And yet she did.
It had to be a simple case of hormones. Perhaps if she dated more, she would be able to dismiss her response.
“Sarah?” prompted her father.
“Um, I think Tyler is just private.”
“I prefer Nathan. Shame about his leg being so bad. While he hasn’t said it outright, I can tell he’s worried the army won’t let him return to active duty.”
“Rosemary has mentioned he’s a career soldier, just like you were.” Sarah clapped a hand over her mouth as she yawned. “Sorry.”
Kurt leaned forward. “You seem more tired than usual, kiddo. Is the remodeling thing bothering you? I realize it’s a pain, but we’ll manage whatever needs doing.”
“It isn’t that.” Sarah debated telling him about the calls and finally shrugged. “I was getting a bunch of silent phone calls that I thought were from a robocaller, then they started coming in the middle of the night. They stopped a few days ago, but my sleep patterns are still screwed up.”
Her father’s expression seemed worried. “Did you ever find out who complained about your kitchen? Maybe the two are connected.”
“How could they be?” she countered.
“I don’t know. But you mentioned that Tyler Prentiss wasn’t pleased about his mother working for you.”
“I’m sure he isn’t involved,” Sarah said instantly. She was embarrassed that the idea had occurred to her and didn’t want anyone else to think it now. However annoying and frustrating Tyler might be, he didn’t seem the type of person who would resort to petty revenge. “Besides, the calls started before he arrived in Glimmer Creek.”
“Then who could it be? Everybody adores you.”
She repressed a snicker. That was her dad, totally unbiased. “I’m sure the complaint was just a misunderstanding or a practical joke that misfired.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
Sarah reached over and squeezed his hand. “Dad, it’s fine. Tonight I’m going to bed early and getting a good night’s sleep. And thanks to you, I’m having a delicious dinner I didn’t have to cook.”
“Casa Maria sure makes a tasty chili colorado. Do you want flan for dessert or something else?”
Though dessert didn’t appeal after baking all day, she nodded. Her father loved fried sopaipillas with honey, but he wouldn’t order anything if she didn’t.
“Flan sounds good.”
They chatted about family the rest of the meal, and then he dropped her off at her house. Theo met her at the door from the garage, looking particularly pleased with himself, which made her suspicious.
“What have you been doing, Theo?”
He wound around her legs, oozing contentment. She understood when she found the toilet paper upstairs and down had been unrolled, the tissue dragged around and ripped to shreds.
“Got bored today, did you?” she asked as she gathered handfuls.
It was dark by the time she finished, and she promptly went to bed, already half-asleep.
She’d known the bakery would be hard work, but it hadn’t been too bad until Tessa had asked her to provide breakfasts for Poppy Gold. The catering needs had grown from there. Definitely, she had to get employees trained and promoted. It would cost more, but it was the only way to be sure she didn’t let Poppy Gold or her cousin down.
Sighing, Sarah turned on her side and listened to Theo’s purr. She was almost asleep when her cell phone rang. Groggily she slid her finger across the touch screen to answer the call.
“Hello.”
Silence.
Sarah bolted upright and looked at the display, a sick sensation growing when she saw the number was unavailable.
“Hello?” she said again, not wanting to believe the whole thing was starting over with her cell phone.
Still nothing.
“You have the wrong number. Don’t call again or I’ll contact the police,” Sarah announced, trying to sound more confident than she actually felt. She disconnected and drew a calming breath. The call might be a coincidence. Or a gag that had gotten out of hand. The kids in town usually didn’t take things this far, but it was remotely possible.
She flipped on the light and saw Theo sitting on a corner of the bed with a disapproving expression. He didn’t enjoy being woken up any more than she did.
“Come here, baby,” she said, holding out her hand. He licked his paw and swiped it over his face before deigning to walk over and be petted.
With a sigh, Sarah leaned back. She couldn’t turn off both the landline and cell phone—she had to be available if there was an emergency.
Okay. In the morning she would contact the phone company and ask if it was possible to stop calls like this one. In the meantime...she went to her jewelry box and found the police whistle that Great-Uncle Milt had given her when she’d left for college. She’d kept it on her key ring until returning to Glimmer Creek.
Sarah tossed the whistle up and down, then put it next to her smartphone. She crawled back in bed and was asleep, almost the minute her head hit the pillow.
* * *
SHORTLY AFTER 1:00 A.M., Sarah woke to the cell phone ringing again...though technically it wasn’t a ring. One of her teenaged cousins had disapproved of her “boring” ringtone, so she’d downloaded the Star Wars theme song.
Sarah grabbed the phone and checked; as expected, no caller ID was displayed.
“Hello?” she answered.
When silence greeted her again, Sarah drew a deep breath and blew the whistle as hard as possible. A shriek sounded at the other end, but she couldn’t tell if it had come from a man or a woman...her own ears were ringing from the whistle. She could imagine how her annoying caller felt.
“Take that, you imperial scumbag,” Sarah said with satisfaction. “I told you not to call again.”
CHAPTER NINE
SARAH’S INTERNAL ALARM BELLS went off when she found a message on her home voice mail on Saturday afternoon, but it turned out to be Tyler Prentiss asking if they could talk about renovation ideas, rather than the anonymous caller.
Sarah rarely left the shop early, but she’d decided to let the shift supervisor take over for the afternoon. It would have been pleasant to have the time for herself, but she had to admit Tyler might come up with ideas that another architect wouldn’t consider.
He answered on the first ring. “Hello.”
“It’s Sarah. Your message said you wanted to get together. Where would you like to meet?”
“I’m sure the bakery is too busy, and there are people all over here at Poppy Gold. I’d rather not talk at the suite, so how about your place?”
She let out a breath, wishing she hadn’t given him the choice. On the other hand, summer was one of the most hectic periods in Glimmer Creek; visitors were everywhere, which meant her house was best.
“Uh, okay,” she agreed, petting Theo, who was ecstatic to have her home earlier than usual. She gave Tyler concise directions to the house.
“Sounds easy enough. I’ve got GPS on my phone if I get stuck. Is half an hour all right?”
“Sure.”
Sarah got up, quickly dusting the surfaces in her living room. She spent so little time at home that there was rarely much housekeeping required except when Theo got bored and made a mess.
The doorbell rang exactly a half hour later. It wasn’t a surprise; by all accounts, Tyler was a type A personality.
He has an amazing dream for his career, her conscience reminded her. When Tyler had talked about creating something that made eyes widen and hearts beat faster, she’d actually held her breath. People didn’t talk like that much any longer. It was as if idealism belonged to preachers and poets.
With that thought she opened the door, only to suppress a gasp. While she’d seen Tyler’s bruised face a few days earlier, it was still a shock.
“You...uh...”
“I know, I look like I’ve been brawling.”
“I don’t know about brawling, but you look like one of my cousins when he got whacked by a rake.”
“Who was on the other end of the rake?”
Sarah chuckled. “His foot. He stepped on the tines to swing it upward, thinking he wouldn’t have to lean over to pick it up. Russ could be lazy when he was a kid. Anyway, it popped up faster than he expected and nailed his face. Almost identical injuries, come to think of it.”
“You must have a family story for every situation.”
“Pretty much. My cousin Tessa is an only child like me, but most of my aunts and uncles have three or more kids. I saw it all growing up, good and bad. Do you want ice tea or coffee?” she asked.
“Coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Not a problem.”
Tyler followed her to the back of the house and sat at the table in the breakfast nook. “Where does Zach fit? You said he was your uncle Milt’s grandson, but surely that wouldn’t make him a cousin.”
“Uncle Milt is actually Great-Uncle Milt. Zach is Grandpa George’s great-nephew, which means Zach is technically a second cousin.” She put water in a kettle and flipped on the heat.
“I would have expected you to have a bigger kitchen,” Tyler commented, looking around. “But maybe you avoid cooking outside of the shop.”
“Absolutely not,” Sarah retorted. “This is where I prefer developing new recipes and cooking for family gatherings.”
* * *
TYLER NODDED. SARAH continually astonished him. Even her kitchen astonished him. It was fairly small and didn’t seem to be overloaded. He would have expected her to have every culinary invention on the planet.
The kettle whistled, and she made the coffee in a French press, pouring it into a mug printed with “World’s Best Kid.” It was the sort of down-home gift his family didn’t exchange. What would it have been like, growing up with parents who displayed their kids’ A-plus school papers on the refrigerator? Or a father who used the clay pen holder his son had made in kindergarten instead of throwing it out?
Tyler pushed the thought away.
He didn’t believe his father had intended to be hurtful; he just hadn’t understood children. Nathan had been crushed to find the pen holder in the trash, so Tyler had said he’d like to have it. He still had the hideous thing; it was on his home office desk in Alexandria.
“Okay,” Sarah said, sitting down with a glass of ice tea for herself. “What did you want to discuss?”
Tyler pushed less pleasant thoughts away and unrolled the blueprints he’d drawn, trying to ignore how desirable she looked. Her blond hair was like spun gold slipping from its thick braid, her eyes were a luminous green, and she was dressed in a snug T-shirt and faded shorts that showcased her figure.
It didn’t make sense.
His preference was sophisticated brunettes, not slender blondes who ran around their house in bare feet. Of course, he had to admit that Sarah had very attractive feet. They were delicate, nicely proportioned, with slender toes and high arches. He’d never had a thing about a woman’s feet or legs—feet were feet—but she had a particularly nice pair.
He cleared his throat. “There’s a locked door here. Where does it go?” he asked, pointing to a spot on the diagram.
“That’s a staircase to the second floor, which covers around half of the building. It’s an apartment that hasn’t been updated since the 1940s, though the plumbing is usable.”
“I’d like to evaluate the floor plan. Moving the office upstairs would give you more space.”
Sarah scrunched her nose. “You can check, but the steps are horribly steep. Definitely not to code. I lived up there for a few months, and it’s hairy navigating the stairs.”
“I still want to take a look sometime, if that’s all right,” he said. “Oh, I just remembered—this was on your front step.” Tyler handed her the envelope he’d found tucked beneath the edge of her welcome mat.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, noticing a subtle shift in Sarah’s expression as she checked the contents.
“It’s just a coupon. One of my relatives probably thought I could use it. I’ll have to remind everyone I come in through the garage.” All at once Sarah frowned. “Is that the same bandage I put on you a few days ago?”
“Yeah, it’s stayed on well. Even in the shower.”
“You’ll be lucky if it isn’t infected” she said in an exasperated voice. “I’ll get a fresh one.”
With some women, Tyler might have wondered if she had ulterior motives, but not with Sarah. Anyhow, romance seemed to be the last thing on her mind. It wasn’t that he’d object to a night together, but she didn’t seem the type for recreational sex.
Sarah reappeared with a handful of supplies and removed the bandage she’d applied earlier in the week.
“This still looks nasty,” she commented. “Getting it stitched might have meant a smaller scar.”
“Scars don’t worry me. Do you think it’s infected?”
“I’m not a doctor, but I don’t see anything suspicious and the swelling has gone down.”
She carefully cleaned around the wound, giving Tyler a close-up view of her sweetly curved breasts and slim waist. His jeans grew tight and he restrained a groan.
For a woman who wasn’t trying to entice him, she was doing an excellent job of it. As for her perfume? It was vanilla, cinnamon and chocolate, spiced with a dash of fresh-baked bread. He’d never imagined something so homey could be so alluring—maybe because he didn’t associate fragrances like that with his childhood.
Almost as if Nathan was in the room with them, Tyler could his voice, you’re analyzing. Stop or your head will explode.
“Did I hurt you?” Sarah asked out of the blue, startling him. “You’re scowling.”
“Just thinking. My brother claims I analyze too much. He could be right. An ex-girlfriend called me an ice man and said she felt sorry for any woman I got involved with.”
“That’s harsh.”
“But accurate. I’m better with math and drafting tools than emotions. I didn’t mean to shut Wendy out, it just happened. That’s who I am.”
Sarah gave him a long appraisal. “I don’t know, you were pretty open with your emotions that day at the bakery.”
Tyler doubted he’d ever live that afternoon down. “It wasn’t my finest moment,” he admitted.
Sarah shrugged and carefully applied a new bandage. “You’re forgiven. By the way, did you get a concussion along with this?” She gestured to the scar at his hairline.
“Yeah. They weren’t happy when I checked out of the hospital and flew back to Italy. Well, after I met with a lawyer and hired him.”
Sarah began laughing. “Omigod, it must be genetic.”
“What?” Tyler demanded.
“Didn’t you hear yourself? You checked out against medical advice...just like Nathan.”
Damn. She was right.
A reluctant smile curved his lips. “You aren’t going to tell my mother, are you?”
Sarah sat down and shook her head. “First I’d have to tell her about Illinois, so the answer is no, however tempting it might be.”
“I appreciate that.” Tyler tapped the blueprints he’d brought. “Back to your building... I’m guessing it isn’t on the historic register.”
“Actually, it’s funny you mentioned that. Several weeks ago someone nominated Sarah’s Sweet Treats for the state register. The application was inaccurate from beginning to end and recounted all sorts of lurid, bloodcurdling events that never happened anywhere in Glimmer Creek. The wildest story was that Joaquin Murrieta was killed by law officials there, rather than what really happened.”
“Isn’t Joaquin Murrieta just a legend?”
Bachelor Protector Page 11
