He nodded. He was supposed to be working undercover at the hotel, but since his aunt had already put this meeting in motion, there was no point in denying their relationship.
"I thought you were a teenager. She said she was going to drop you off, that you were a sweet boy."
"I am a sweet boy," he said with a laugh.
"You haven't been a boy in a very long time, and sweet doesn't fit you, either. This is not what I agreed to."
"Hey, I'm as much in the dark as you are. I thought you were going to be a woman of my aunt's generation. Although, this is just like Aunt Ida; she enjoys setting me up with single, attractive women."
"I can't imagine why she'd want to set us up." Maggie's mouth tightened, and a new suspicious gleam appeared in her eyes. "Why did you come into the hotel like any other guest if you're the nephew of the owner? Why did your aunt let us give you the worst room in the hotel?"
"At least you admit it's the worst room."
"You didn't answer either of my questions."
"Aunt Ida told me to check in when I arrived. I'm sure she didn't anticipate me getting the worst room in the hotel."
"If you'd told me who you were, that wouldn't have happened."
"I don't like to drop names," he said, not able to tell her the real reason he hadn't used his aunt's name. "So, are you up for breakfast? Because I'm starving."
She hesitated. "I suppose. I just need to take a pie out of the oven. Why don't you come in for a minute?"
"Is it all right for us to leave Henry alone?" he teased.
She made a face at him. "I'm sure he'll be fine as soon as I get you out of my garden. Why didn't you just stop in the driveway?"
"I took the turn a little too fast. That truck blocked my vision."
"Sure. That sounds about right," she said dryly. "I bet you do everything a little too fast."
He smiled back at her. "I can go slow—with the right motivation."
Her cheeks warmed and she shook a finger at him. "You need to behave."
"Do I?"
She paused on the step in front of her door. "If you want to come in, you do."
"Fine, I'll be good." For now, he silently added.
Chapter Three
Despite Cole's promise to behave, Maggie felt a little unsettled by his presence in her small house. As they walked down the hall and into her kitchen, she was acutely aware of the fact that he towered over her by at least six inches, and there was a power and athleticism about his body that made her imagine a magnificent body under his jeans and light gray t-shirt.
She'd been right about the tattoo she realized, seeing a phoenix on his right bicep as she turned to ask him if he wanted some coffee.
He caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
She cleared her throat. "I just noticed your tattoo. Why did you choose a phoenix?"
"No reason, really," he said vaguely.
Seeing the shadows in his eyes, she didn't believe that for a second.
"So you've been doing some baking, I see." Cole swept his hand toward the mess of flour and dough on her kitchen island.
"I was testing out a new apple pie recipe. I'm going to enter the pie in the Harvest Festival as well as Henry. My mother used to make an incredible pie, but she died before I ever got the recipe, and I've been trying to recreate it. So far, I have not been successful." She opened the oven door and took her latest pie out and set it on the counter.
"It looks good," he said.
It did look pretty on the outside with the apple juice bubbling through the lattice crust, but the inside filling would be the true test. "We'll see. Do you want some coffee?"
"I'd love some. And I wouldn't mind a piece of that pie, either. Think of me as an objective judge."
She hesitated and then figured she might as well get another opinion. "Sure, why not? The plates are in the cupboard." She tipped her head to the cupboard by the sink.
While Cole cut himself a piece of pie, she filled two mugs with coffee and then met him by the island.
His first bite of pie was followed by a wry grimace. He chewed and then swallowed with some relief.
"What do you think?" she asked, seeing the truth in his eyes. "Not good?"
"Uh, it's different," he said carefully.
"You don't have to be polite. I need an honest opinion."
"Everyone wants honesty until they actually get it. Then it's a different story. I don't fall into that trap anymore."
"I can take it," she said. "I really do want to know. I can't enter a bad pie in the competition."
"Fine. The pie is terrible. I never imagined anything that looks this pretty could taste that bad." He picked up the coffee mug and took a long drink. "Now, I've hurt your feelings, haven't I?"
She sighed and grabbed her own fork. She scooped up a bite of pie and then grimaced at the clashing flavors. "You're right. It's terrible. I had a feeling the ingredients were off. I tasted the filling before I put it in the oven, but I thought it might get better with cooking. I'll have to try again." She paused. "If you don't want to go out to breakfast, I could make you some eggs here."
"Can you, Maggie?" he asked doubtfully.
She made a face at him. "The pie is not a true example of my cooking abilities. There's some ingredient that's evading my memory, and I keep trying new things to figure out what I'm missing. But scrambled eggs are a different story."
"I'd still rather go out. My aunt wants me to see downtown. Let's start with a good breakfast café."
"There is a nice place a few blocks away. We can walk."
"Or I can give you a ride."
"Can you, Cole?" she said with a teasing smile, echoing his earlier words. "I've seen your driving skills."
He grinned back at her. "I guess we haven't seen each other at our best yet. Let's walk into town and start over."
She liked the sound of that, especially the part where she got Cole out of her house.
After she grabbed her purse and a sweater, they headed out the door and down the street. It was a cool, sunny morning, and she was happy to put on the sweater over her jeans and knit top.
"Nice neighborhood," Cole commented. "Have you lived here long?"
"Almost a year. I love it. It's quiet, but it's also close to the action—the best of both worlds."
"I'm surprised someone your age is happy with quiet. You don't get bored?"
His question wasn't surprising. Every single one of her friends thought she was crazy to want to buy a house and live so far away from the city, but she knew what she wanted, because she'd wanted it for a very long time. "You can be bored anywhere. It's not about geography. I'm twenty-seven. I've done the big city. I lived in San Francisco for four years after college. It was too crowded and noisy for me. I much prefer this beautiful valley to the crowded, congested, urban streets."
"Where you can bake pies and grow pumpkins."
"And work at the Stratton, which is a lot of fun. I'm very social there. Sometimes, it's nice to get away from people."
"Now that I do understand."
"What about you, Cole? Where do you call home?"
"Los Angeles."
"So you're a Southern California guy. That seems right. You have a nice tan." She could picture him running on the beach, his hair blowing in the wind, his body glistening with sweat. Her heart beat a little too fast, and she took in a calming breath. "What do you do for a living?"
"I—freelance."
"Freelance what?"
"This and that," he said vaguely.
She raised an eyebrow as she cast a thoughtful look at him. "Why are you being so vague? Are you a spy? A criminal? A beach volleyball player?"
He laughed. "Are those my only choices?"
"No, I could go on. Do you want me to keep guessing?"
"That won't be necessary. I'm actually between jobs at the moment. I worked really hard for a long time and a few years ago, I decided to take some time off to travel and see what I'd been missing."
<
br /> "That sounds fun. What did you do before you were between jobs?" she pressed.
"You're a little nosy."
"And you're a little cagey, which makes me more curious."
He let out a sigh. "I'm not hiding an exciting secret. I was a venture capitalist. I worked for a large corporate firm that bought and sold companies all over the world."
"Really?" His answer surprised her. "I picture a venture capitalist in a dark suit with a silk tie, short hair styled at the best salon in town, a clean-shaven face, and definitely not a tattoo."
"You just described what I used to look like," he admitted.
"What happened?"
"I decided to make a change."
"Why?"
"I didn't like what I was doing, what I was becoming, so I quit."
"That sounds like the short version of a long story."
"The long version is boring."
She doubted that, and she had to admit she was intrigued. Her first impression of Cole Hastings had obviously not been completely accurate. She definitely hadn't pegged him for a venture capitalist. On the other hand, it didn't appear he was doing much of anything anymore, and that did fit with her first impression. "Does the phoenix tattoo represent your rebirth?"
He glanced down at her as they paused at an intersection. "In a way. I wanted a reminder to live my own life, not someone else's." He gave her a lazy grin. "It hurt like a son of a bitch."
She laughed. "I wouldn't know. I'm not a big fan of needles. The most dangerous I ever got was a belly button ring, but I was eighteen and stupid at the time."
"Do you still have it?"
"No. I realized it was not me." She wondered if the tattoo was really him, but he was moving on.
"Let's talk about you, Maggie. Have you always worked in hotels?"
"Since I was in college," she said as they crossed the street. "I started as an intern and then after graduation, I got a job at a Holiday Inn in San Francisco. I was there two years and then moved on to a Marriott. The chains were okay; I learned a lot, but I really wanted to go more upscale. When I saw a job opening for the Stratton about a year ago, I took it. And I love working there. It's such a grand hotel and yet warm and cozy at the same time. It feels like a home away from home."
"My aunt should hire you to be her company spokesperson," Cole said dryly.
"That would be a fun job. I like working for your aunt. We missed her when she spent several months traveling through Europe and Asia. It's nice to have her back. I feel like she's going to continue to make positive changes at the hotel."
"What kind of changes would those be?"
She hesitated, not wanting to complain about the Stratton to a guest who was also the owner's nephew. "Oh, I don't know. Just small things here and there. I'm sure your aunt is aware of the problem areas."
"Would one of those problems be the uptight man who forced you to give me a bad room?"
"Mr. Stone is the manager of the hotel, and he can be a little rigid," she said carefully. "But you did deliberately cause a scene in the lobby, so you can't really blame him for paying you back the way he did."
"I wouldn't call kissing you making a scene. There were four people in the lobby, hardly a crowd."
"That didn't matter. Mr. Stone has very specific ideas about behavior in the hotel, especially from his employees. You put me in an awkward situation."
"Sorry about that. I really didn't think it was a big deal."
"Even though you were totally making up an imaginary woman named Kathy?" she challenged.
He laughed and flung her an unrepentant look. "The kiss was worth it."
Her lips tingled at the memory of that crazy kiss. "Maybe to you, but I got another black mark on my work record."
"I can explain to your boss that it was completely my fault."
She sighed. "No. I appreciate the offer, but it wouldn't make a difference. Mr. Stone is not a big fan of mine. He hovers behind me just waiting for me to screw up."
"Why would he do that?"
"I'm not really sure; I obviously did something to piss him off. But I'm doing my best to stay on his good side. I love working at the Stratton, and I need my job, so I try to do what I'm told."
They walked across the bridge, the Napa River flowing beneath, and she paused so he could take a better look.
"The river is low," he commented.
"We haven't had a good rain in a while. When the storms do come, the river sometimes overflows and spills into the downtown streets. We had some heavy flooding a couple of years ago about a mile from here. Some of the buildings were damaged beyond repair. The good news is that they're now developing the area into a beautiful open-air shopping mall that's going to be good for tourists and good for the Stratton."
"Is it open yet?"
"A few of the restaurants have begun service, but most of the mall will be open next year. Have you been to Napa before?"
"Not for at least ten years. I'm sure a lot has changed."
"Probably. But despite the progress of recent years, the town works hard to keep its charm."
They walked over the bridge, and she took him down a side street to the Hummingbird Café, her favorite place for breakfast. The restaurant was busy, as was usual on the weekends, but they were lucky enough to get a corner booth within a few moments.
"The blueberry waffles are the house specialty," Maggie told Cole as they sat down. Her stomach grumbled as she opened the menu. She'd been so consumed with getting a pie baked before Ida's mysterious nephew appeared that she hadn't had anything to eat except that one awful bite of her failed pie.
"I'm putting waffles at the top of the list," Cole said, putting down the menu. When the waitress came, he added in scrambled eggs, hash browns, and bacon to his list.
Maggie ordered a vegetable omelet and fruit as well as a cup of coffee. Then she said, "So why aren't you having breakfast with your aunt?"
"Apparently, there's some convention at the hotel, and she didn't think I'd fit in."
"That's true, but I doubt you care much about fitting in."
He smiled as he sipped his coffee. Now that he'd removed his sunglasses, she was struck by how dark and intense his eyes were. As her gaze ran down the rest of his face, taking in the scruffy beard, the strong jaw, and the firm, demanding mouth that had been on hers not too long ago, she cleared her throat and reached for her water glass. She needed something to cool her down.
"I used to care about fitting in. I don't anymore. It's quite freeing not to give a damn about what other people think. You might want to try it."
"I don't care all that much about what people think," she said defensively.
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? I saw the way you rolled over for your boss."
"I didn't stand up to my boss because I need my job, not because I'm afraid to speak up. I'm trying to buy a house, and I need three more paychecks to make the down payment. Until then, whatever Mr. Stone wants me to do, I do."
Cole gave her a thoughtful and somewhat surprised look. "You're going to buy a house?"
"Yes. I have a lease with an option to buy, but my landlord can only give me two more months to come up with the cash before he puts the house on the market. It's really expensive here, so this kind of deal is my best shot at owning a home."
"But why buy a house now? You're young and single. Why tie yourself down and become a slave to a mortgage payment?"
"Because I want a home." She could see the doubt in his eyes and wanted to explain. "I'm an Army brat, Cole. I spent my childhood following my father around the world. I went to three elementary schools, two middle schools and two high schools. I hated always being the new kid, the one who didn't have friends from kindergarten on, the one who didn't quite fit in. And when I would make friends, we would have to move again. I hated being constantly uprooted."
"That makes sense," Cole said with a nod. "I guess I can see why you'd want roots, but you're still young. What if you meet someone and the
y don't want to live in Napa?"
"Then they probably wouldn't be the right person for me."
"You'd choose your house over a person who loved you?" he challenged.
There was a glint of anger in his eyes now, and she sensed that he wasn't talking about her anymore. "I don't know that it has to come to that," she said carefully. "And it's not like I have someone in my life right now to factor in to the decision. I have to take care of myself, make my own home."
"Where's your family now?"
"My father is in Germany. He's a two-star general in the Army. My two brothers are also in the Army; they followed in my dad's footsteps. One is deployed to the Middle East and the other is in North Carolina. We're all spread out."
"And your mom?"
His words sent a stabbing pain through her body. "She died when I was seventeen. It was a freak accident. She was at the grocery store shopping for dinner, and someone driving into the parking lot had a heart attack and drove through the store windows. Two people were injured and my mom was killed instantly."
Shock filled Cole's eyes. He reached across the table and put his hand over hers where it rested on the table. "I'm sorry, Maggie. That's awful."
Her throat tightened. "It was really bad. My world shattered into a thousand pieces."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry I asked."
"Don't be. I miss her, but I like to think about her and to talk about her." She paused. "My mom was my only anchor in a life of constant changes. No matter where we went, she was there. No matter how hard the days at a new school were, I knew she would be waiting with a smile when I got home. I was the youngest, so after the boys enlisted, it was just my mom and me in the house. We had a good time together," she said with a sad smile. "She was loving, kind, and funny. I could tell her anything. She wouldn't judge; she'd just listen."
"She sounds great," Cole said.
"She was amazing. I was so angry after she died. It seemed unfair and wrong to me. Not that I wanted anything to happen to my father, but my dad was the one I was supposed to worry about and then my brothers. They were the ones in danger. But she was the one to die." She drew in a breath. "My dad got leave to come home while I finished my last month of high school. But as soon as I went off to college, he returned to his career. It felt strange, like we never really mourned my mom as a family unit for more than a few weeks. I guess everyone did it in their own way, but aside from the funeral, we weren't able to spend any time together just talking about her." She paused, giving him an apologetic smile. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this."
Falling Into You (Bachelors & Bridesmaids Book 5) Page 3
