Theirs by Chance

by Karen Ann Dell

  Marjorie took out her list and ticked off the items in her shopping cart. Eggs, bacon, sausage, juice, coffee, tea, sodas, milk, water. She turned down the produce aisle and picked out two kinds of lettuce, fresh spinach, celery, radishes, carrots, lemons, limes, a whole watermelon, blueberries, cantaloupes, and strawberries.

  Just the thought of strawberries made her face heat, since that thought was immediately followed by visions of whipped cream. And that thought was followed by . . . Marjorie glanced around hoping anyone who noticed her bright pink cheeks chalked the color up to sunburn.

  She returned her attention to her list and concluded her shopping with a giant bag of dog food and a new rawhide chewy. Daisy could go through one of those large ones in less than a week.

  She steered her cart into the lane where Vanessa Jenkins manned the check out. Vanessa’s daughter, Molly, helped her out on weekends when the Inn was full. She straightened the bedrooms and tidied the baths while the guests were out—generally between ten and noon—and Marjorie would definitely need her this weekend.

  Waiting her turn, she had the unwelcome feeling she was being watched. She glanced around, but the store was packed with shoppers stocking up for the big holiday weekend, and she didn’t see anyone paying unusual attention to her.

  No wonder I’m skittish after telling Lance about my past. That reveal really amped up my paranoia quotient.

  She shrugged her shoulders to shake off the sensation, and began to unload her cart. “Hi, Vanessa, I bet you’re busy this week.”

  “You’ve got that right.” The woman eyed the amount of groceries Marjorie was piling onto the conveyor belt. “I see you plan on a busy weekend yourself.”

  “Yep. I’ll be full up. I hope Molly can spare a couple of hours on Saturday and Sunday mornings?”

  “I think so. She has plans with her friends, of course. But those start later in the day. She gripes that they get to sleep in while she has to work, but I’m sure she’ll be happy to make a few extra bucks to spend downtown.”

  “Oh good. I’ll be grateful for her help.”

  Vanessa totaled up the groceries and chuckled as Marjorie paid the bill. “You’ll get part of this money back. Molly loves your jewelry, and my guess is she’ll have another new pair of earrings before the weekend’s out.”

  “Molly shouldn’t buy them at Zoe’s gallery. I’d give her a discount or even a free pair—right from the source.”

  “I’ll tell her, Marjorie. Have a good weekend.”

  “You, as well, Vanessa.”

  As she packed the goods into her trunk, Marjorie felt that sensation between her shoulder blades again. She huffed at herself. Get a grip, girl. You’re worse than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

  She stopped in at Olivia’s bakery and put in an order for bread, rolls, breakfast pastries, and some delicious-smelling lemon tarts that caught her eye. She baked cookies and brownies and even a cake or two, but no one turned out breads like Olivia did, and her more elaborate desserts were way beyond Marjorie’s skill level. When she picked up her usual breakfast order on Friday morning, she’d get the rest of these goodies fresh from the oven.

  Home again, Marjorie popped the trunk and began unloading bags. She counted back. Take the package off the shelf and put it in her shopping cart, one. Take it out of the cart and put it on the checkout counter, two. Load the bagged groceries into her trunk, three. Haul them inside, four. Store them in the fridge or on her shelves, five. Right, she had to handle everything she bought five times before she even got to the actual preparations. Surely there should be a better option than this. If they can send a man to the moon, they ought to be able to get groceries to your house—

  Woof. Her leash unsnapped, Daisy raced up the driveway, tail at propeller speed, and did her happy dance around Marjorie’s knees.

  “Hi, Daisy.” She gave the big dog a hug and got a lick in return. “Did you have a good walk?”

  Daisy’s tongue hung out the side of her mouth in a doggie grin.

  “We did,” Lance answered for both of them, and gathered her in for a kiss.

  Although her tongue didn’t hang out, Marjorie had as big a grin as the dog. “Mmm, hi, Sir Lance, you’re right on time to help me unload the groceries.”

  “How about you go inside and get Daisy some water. I’ll bring the rest of this stuff in.”

  He grabbed four bags in each hand, and lifted them as though they were full of cotton candy. It was good to have a man around the house. Inside, she added fresh cool water to Daisy’s bowl and began to put things away.

  “Good grief, Red, you’ve got enough provisions here to feed a battalion.” He put the next set of bags on the table.

  “Hardly enough to feed the troops breakfast for the weekend, actually.”

  “You feed them too much, Red. They aren’t starving refugees.”

  “I don’t want them to think they have to ration themselves. When they see a buffet overflowing with lots of different options, they feel comfortable taking as much, or as little, as they want. And I get good word-of-mouth referrals for my abundant culinary delights.”

  “What’s this?” Lance asked, taking a carton of longnecks out of the last bag.

  “It’s for you, of course. What knight in shining armor doesn’t have a six-pack of Coronas in his treasure chest?”

  “You know you are the most perfect woman in the world, right?”

  Marjorie’s brows shot up. “Wow, that’s pretty high marks for six beers.”

  “It’s not the beers themselves, but the fact that you thought enough about me to buy them.” Suddenly serious, he leaned over and tilted her chin up for a kiss.

  Not a prelude to sex kiss, just a sweet brush of his lips over hers. She wanted to shout “I love you” so badly that holding it in actually hurt. Tuesday. When all the people are gone and we have the place to ourselves, I’ll tell him. I’ve been too scared to tell the truth but it’s time I put my big-girl panties on and began to live instead of simply existing.

  Chapter 14

  Thursday morning. Marjorie woke with an undefined sense of urgency. She reached for Lance and found only a cool pillow with the scent of his aftershave clinging to it. Of course. He was at work. He’d managed to slip out of bed without waking her. Again.

  She’d always thought she was a light sleeper. On the other hand, she hadn’t had mind-blowing, fantasy-fulfilling sex multiple times before she fell into an exhausted sleep in the past, either. Well, except for last night. And the night before that. Oh, lord.

  She stretched luxuriously. Ow. Some of her formerly little-used muscles had gotten a workout these past few days. But she wasn’t complaining. She scrunched his pillow up to her nose and inhaled deeply. God, she loved the smell of him.

  The sense of impending chaos descended on her again. D-Day. Or, in her case, C-Day—for check-in day. By tonight, her bed and breakfast would be full. She took a few seconds to savor the peace and quiet of her empty house. Then her business sense took over. “Get a move on, girl.” Marjorie flipped back the covers and snapped her fingers at Daisy. “We have a busy day ahead of us, Dais. Let’s get crackin’.”

  She grinned at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her smile muscles had been getting a lot of playtime lately, too. A hot shower and a cup of tea, and she’d be good to go.

  Check-in time was two p.m. but that never seemed to stop at least one guest from arriving early, ready to squeeze every minute from their weekend.

  Two couples, one with a three-year-old. The front guest room needed to have the unused outlets childproofed. She didn’t have a crib, so Marjorie hoped the rollaway bed would work for the little one. The other couple wasn’t actually a couple, just two former college roommates who planned a reunion over the holiday. They would probably require the least fussing over.<
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  Two singles. One was Mike Kovak’s mother. The WMES chief engineer lived in a room at a private home but wanted only the best for his mom. Marjorie was delighted that he saw the Blue Point Cove Inn as the nicest place to stay in town.

  Not that there was a lot of competition.

  And last but not least, a single man. Tom Northland. Not much to go on from his reservation. He was the CEO of his own company, Northland Construction, LLC. As her last-minute reservation, he would get Lance’s old room.

  All the rooms were clean and the beds freshly made up. This morning she’d add a colorful bouquet of fresh flowers from her garden and bottled water to each of them.

  This would be the last time she and Lance would breakfast alone together until next week. Suddenly that seemed like a very long time. He’d not be spending the evenings with her either. She didn’t feel comfortable, with guests in the house. No matter how discreet they’d try to be, someone would figure out there was a man in her room, and the jig would be up. One could never tell how outraged a client might be about unmarried couples sharing a bedroom. Guests might get away with it, but Marjorie felt owners were held to a higher standard.

  Of course, she could make up some excuse to visit his apartment. Marjorie grimaced. Scratch that. One step inside his room, and she’d be in his bed until it was time for him to leave for work. And, if a guest needed her for something during that time . . . So, no. She’d just have to wait to feel his body pressing her into her mattress, as his hands wandered from neck to— Okay, stop right there, woman, or you’ll have to shower again.

  Down in the kitchen, she turned on the oven and prepared to cook four pounds of bacon. She’d do the sausages ahead of time as well, which would make the breakfast buffets easier for the next few days. She got out the fixings for a ham and cheese omelet, whipped the eggs, and set them aside until she heard Lance’s car in the driveway.

  Daisy wolfed down her morning kibble and went to the door. Marjorie let her out, and reminded herself that she’d have yard clean-up to do before Monday afternoon’s garden party. There were some aspects to pet ownership that were less than appealing, but they were a small price to pay for the joy and companionship—and security—that Daisy gave her.

  She turned on the radio to Lance’s station and caught Neal Taylor’s morning weather report. The weekend would be hot and humid. No surprise there. She started scooping cantaloupe and honeydews into balls and hummed along with the song on the radio. Just knowing Lance worked where the music came from made her feel connected to him.

  Marjorie took the first broiler pans full of bacon out and transferred the strips to paper towels to drain. She reloaded the pans and slid them back in. Checked her watch. Lance should be pulling up the driveway any moment. She split an English muffin and put it in the toaster.

  Daisy’s joyous barks alerted her that Lance was home. Right on time. This was her favorite time of day. A final whisk to the eggs, and she filled the omelet pan with the golden liquid.

  One minute later, she was in Lance’s arms getting her first kiss of the day. She could so get used to this.

  “Good morning, Red. I see you’ve been up and at it early today.” He slipped an arm around her waist and glanced over her shoulder at the panorama of plastic containers waiting to be filled with sausage, bacon, and fruit.

  “It’s gonna be a busy one. Sit down and let me soften you up with a big breakfast before I ask you to help out.” She handed him a glass of orange juice and watched him swallow half of it in one gulp. “And you wonder why I buy so much food.”

  He sat while she tended the stove, turning the sausages so they browned evenly, and filling containers with cooked bacon.

  “At least come sit and have a cup of tea with me before the chaos begins.”

  “Um-hm. Be right there. Let me just turn off the burners.” She snagged a piece of bacon for herself and poured her tea.

  “Here. Take these, please.” Marjorie dumped a pile of plastic doohickeys into Lance’s outstretched hands. “Make sure all of the unused outlets in the Oberon Room are filled, and the bathroom, too. If the guests have something they need to plug in, they can take them out easily enough, but until we see how well-behaved their child is, I want to cover all the bases.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lance said with a half-salute, “I’m on it.”

  When he first arrived, he had no idea the amount of planning and preparation Marjorie put into making her guests comfortable. Now he wondered how she managed before he was around to help out. She had, though. His admiration for her attention to detail and hard work had doubled—no, tripled—heck, it was off the charts compared with what he originally felt. “Should I get the rollaway bed in there, too?”

  “I did that yesterday. It’s all made up and ready to go.”

  Of course it is. The woman is a machine. He took the stairs two at a time and went toward the front of the house. This bedroom had three big windows that faced the town square and offered a view of the marina and the bay beyond. He remembered his first impression when Marjorie had offered it to him. Too big. Too bright. Too many windows and doors to secure adequately. She’d been surprised, and a little bit offended at his rejection of her prized suite, though it hadn’t dawned on him at the time.

  Man, six months sure made a difference in his outlook.

  Back downstairs, he took a deep breath. Mmm, cookies. Marjorie always made the giant chocolate chunk ones for the guests in the afternoons. He tiptoed down the hall to see if some of them were cooling on racks. He’d only snitch a couple.

  Marjorie met him at the doorway, a napkin holding three of the tasty treats in her hand, a smug smile on her lips. “These are for you, so you won’t be guilty of theft and have to confess to me later.”

  “Damned mind-reader,” he mumbled.

  But he took the cookies.

  “I’m going to the yard to cut flowers for the guest rooms. The next batch of cookies needs to come out of the oven in five minutes. I’m sure I can trust you to get them out before they burn.” She picked up scissors and two old buckets with several inches of water in the bottoms. “Don’t lock the door behind me, please. I’ll be back with my hands full in a few minutes, and meanwhile, you can hold off any marauding cookie thieves.” She winked. “Come on, Daisy.”

  He watched the sway of her hips as she walked toward the back of the yard, Daisy orbiting her like a furry satellite. She was tall and graceful and even with her camouflage of long skirt and loose top, he felt his pants get tight as she bent to her task. God, she was gorgeous.

  He was so engrossed in the view out the kitchen window, he almost forgot the cookies. He jerked the oven door open and nearly burned his hand on the cookie sheets. “Shit.” He scrambled for the oven mitt and thought about the ribbing he would take if his men could see him now.

  He’d followed Dev’s advice and told her about his last day in the desert. The therapy with Chris had made it easier to talk about it, but that conversation had been one of the toughest he’d ever had. He struggled with revealing his emotions at the death of his men. His sorrow was often overshadowed by the rage he harbored against the trainee who had blown himself up, and his culpability for missing that call. He laid himself bare that afternoon, while Marjorie sat across the kitchen table from him, the fingers of one hand laced through his as he spoke. She’d cried with him at the end of his story, sharing his grief while rejecting his guilt. Without a doubt he was a hero in her eyes, brave and steadfast, loyal and true. A man who had served his country with honor and fought his way back from the depths of the depression the tragic loss of his men had plunged him into. He certainly didn’t see himself in that light and was humbled by her belief in him.

  He missed those guys, their absence a permanent hole in his gut. But at least now he could think about them without spiraling down into a deep, dark, hole. While he
gave Chris Majewski a good deal of the credit for his newfound composure, he knew the beautiful woman gathering flowers had a hand in his recovery as well. She was his rock. The anchor he clung to when his dreams woke him, drenched in a cold sweat. How could he not love her?

  He wished he could fast-forward through this weekend to Tuesday afternoon, when he’d have her all to himself again. He had big plans for that afternoon.

  When she came back with an armload of blossoms, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Okay, Sir Lance, you’re released from service. Thank you for all your help, but you can finally catch a few Z’s before you need to get ready for your real job.”

  “With all this hustle and bustle, I’m too keyed up for sleep. I need something to help me relax first.” He tugged her up against him and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I can think of something that will do the trick, too.” He leaned down and kissed her.

  Marjorie gave a half-hearted shove against his shoulders that didn’t increase the distance between them one inch.

  “Come on, Red, I’ll be quick, and you’ll have a lovely blush on your cheeks when you greet your guests.” He kissed her again, longer and deeper, slipping a hand under her loose top.

  “No. No. Stand down, soldier. I don’t have time for this now. And I will not have a guest arrive early and find me . . .”

  “In dishabille?” He trailed kisses down her neck.

  “Exactly.” She pushed harder. “I mean it. You’ve got to stop. One of us has to exercise common sense.”

  Well, I’m fresh out. He backed her against the wall and tried to tug her skirt up.

  “What happened to Sir Lance, my knight in armor who would never force a woman against her will?”