Tart

by Lauren Dane

  But the zing? Well, she didn’t get any zing when she hung out with Mary’s brother Ryan, who was also gorgeous and who she’d known equally as long. Mary’s other brother Cal was a whole different story though.

  “For good.” He handed a mug to Jules. The day was crisp so the coffee was much appreciated. “Granddad and Grandma ran this place my whole life. I figured it wasn’t a bad thing to get into the family business.”

  Patrick gave a wheezy sort of laugh and patted Gideon’s knee. “That’s a pretty way of saying that since Clara’s death I’ve needed a little help. He’s good at saying things in pretty ways.”

  They had good energy, Gideon and his grandfather. Gideon seemed at ease, his body language relaxed and open. It was a choice he’d made happily, apparently, which Jules was glad of. And not just because if he was around on the regular, she could look into the zing a little closer.

  “I’m glad you’re back in town. I suppose, then, I need to talk to you both. I’m doing some expansion of Tart and part of that is a new, locally sourced line of baked goods. My partner Mary, she’s a caterer and she’d also be interested in local ingredients for her food. We thought it would be nice to have a notation on the menu for the local farms and dairies we buy our ingredients from.”

  “Really? That’s a great idea. Granddad and I were just talking about this earlier in the week. The cattle ranch I ran for years had some relationships with local restaurants. It’s win/win for both, and for the locals who are customers.”

  She liked that he seemed so engaged with the farm already.

  “That’s a big part of it. I really love the idea of eating and sourcing as much local ingredients and goods as I can. There’s so much around here that it’s not that difficult to create a menu with at least fifty percent local products. My aim, after a year, is to be up at sixty percent or higher. I like that it gets me in contact with local farmers and ranchers and that it gives my customers a new perspective on the businesses they use without even knowing it.”

  Gideon leaned closer, his eyes bright, body language engaged with her. She could smell him, which was entirely pleasant when a breeze kicked up from time to time.

  “I sure do like the idea of the family farm moving into the future this way. When I took over from my father we took our produce to market in an old truck.” Patrick snorted his amusement as he snuck another turnover, winking when he caught her eye.

  “We’re talking about doing a produce and honey stand from late spring into the fall.”

  “That’s a great idea. Have you thought about the farmer’s market?” She was considering it herself, maybe later on. She could work it out with some of her local suppliers to have some of their stuff at her stall so people could check them out too. Hm.

  They spent the next hour or so working on schedules for delivery, pricing, talking about the season for each product and those sorts of details. Patrick Carter knew his land. Knew what would be good when, and that helped a lot. Gideon knew these things as well, but he also had new ideas and seemed excited about what he could bring to Carter Farms.

  He was smart. Ambitious. Really hot in those jeans he had on. It warmed her to watch him with his granddad. A man who valued family was pretty irresistible.

  She really did need to get going. Even so, it took her another twenty minutes until she could finally work up the wherewithal to stand. “I really should head out. I appreciate the company, the coffee and the new business relationship.”

  Gideon stood as well. “I’ll walk you to your car.” Gideon hefted the flat of fruit she’d planned to take back to Tart.

  “Thanks! You’re handy.” She bent to kiss Patrick’s cheek. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “Course not. Though I do expect you to bring me sweet things. I need to supervise what’s going on with my product, after all.” He winked at her and she followed Gideon to her car.

  She might have looked at his long legs and perfect ass in those faded jeans a time or six. They were too nice not to look. Like art. It would have been disrespectful, like ignoring a fine painting. Or something. Anyway, he had a nice butt and she wanted to look.

  He loaded the tray and closed her rear door before standing straight again. Man, he was tall. She looked up and up some more and she wasn’t a short woman. Just standing next to him made her feel delicate.

  “Thanks for the heavy lifting.” Jules cocked her head and shaded her eyes as she looked up into his face. “I’ve been worrying over him being out here alone. It’s good you’re back.”

  “Ah well. He’d have been just fine here without me. He’s got a foreman who’s been with us for fifteen years. But”—he shrugged—“it was time to come back and do something with my life. I love the farm, I love my granddad and why not?”

  “Indeed. Though plenty would have found many reasons not to.”

  He took her hand. “I’m not them. And maybe they don’t have someone like my granddad.” He shrugged and she noted the faint blush on his neck and then wondered how his skin would taste. Like the hussy she was.

  “You’re not them at all. Which is a nice thing. Well, you know where I am if you get a hankering for something sweet. Or want to check out the product.” She fought a blush, which in and of itself made her a little giggly inside.

  Jules loved men. Most of them anyway. She wasn’t shy when she was attracted to someone—and they were available of course. So she wasn’t a stranger to flirting, but he made her . . . shy.

  He still had her hand in his. She couldn’t take her gaze from it. So big, his hand compared to hers. Big and callused, work-worn in places. It was the hand of a man who worked with his hands. Who made and managed things.

  It sent a shiver through her and when her gaze returned to his face, he was looking down at her, a hungry look on his features.

  Her breath caught a moment as he stood so close. There was something between them. She didn’t know what exactly, but certainly attraction. She could work with that.

  “I should go.”

  He let go of her hand before opening her door. “Drive safely, Jules. Maybe I’ll stop in to Tart this week.”

  She nodded after she slid into her seat and got her belt on. “I think you should.”

  He shut the door and stepped back, leaving her in total silence for a moment before she turned the engine over and The Chemical Brothers poured from the speakers. He stepped back and gave her a small wave and she pulled away.

  A new deal and an interesting man who made her warm and sort of, well, tingly. The sweetness of the beginnings of a maybe-something spiced the zing of the attraction between them.

  Possibility. She could totally get behind some of that.

  • • •

  Gideon watched her pull away and head back to town. His heart beat a little faster as he caught the subtle scent she wore. Low and sultry. He’d have pegged her for a brighter, more classical scent.

  But Jules Lamprey wasn’t all that she seemed on the surface.

  At first glance, Jules was brilliantly-blonde-girl-next-door beautiful. Sunny hair she wore in a high, sleeked-back ponytail. Her eyes were large and sky-blue. A wide, open smile. Her clothing flattered. She was friendly, funny, a little flirty. The pretty girl he’d grown up with.

  But another layer in? Well, that red-lipped mouth had a little cant up at the left. Like she had a secret. The turtleneck she wore was cashmere. And her perfume was rich and sexy. Like her laugh.

  He’d watched the way she drank her coffee. She’d held the cup, cradling it to take its warmth. Her first sip had been with her eyes closed and a happy sigh. She had enjoyed the hell out of the different fruits she’d tried when they’d been working over schedules.

  Jules Lamprey was a sensualist. There was something fairly irresistible about a woman who took pleasure in everything around her.

  On top of all that, she was articulate, successful and fair in her dealings with his granddad. Independent and intelligent too. The whole package.

  Unles
s he was sorely mistaken—and he didn’t think he was—she was attracted to him in equal measure.

  Gideon wanted a taste of the rather delicious Ms. Lamprey.

  With a pleased sigh, he sat back on the porch with his granddad. “Is she seeing anyone, do you know?”

  All around them was land his family had lived on and worked for generations. He’d been away from ranching for a while so it had taken a week or two to really get back into the life of a farmer. He wasn’t a stranger to farming, wasn’t a stranger to hard work with hands and body. And this was his in a way the Bar M never was.

  Even better, he’d done it at Patrick’s side, which had filled him with humility and pride. His grandfather trusted him to take Carter Farms into the next generation. It was a weight, but one he’d chosen freely.

  Patrick gave him a sly smile and an elbow nudge. “Don’t think so. She sure is a pretty one. All that pale hair and those big blue eyes. She’s like a soap ad from the old days.” Patrick chuckled. “Tart is always busy. She’s built it up from nothing. That diner her parents ran did all right, but I never much got the feeling they did it for love of it. You walk into Tart and you know someone who loves the place is running it. And she makes a mean cherry turnover. So really if you get sweet on her, that’s a win for me.”

  Gideon did love his granddad’s sense of humor. Such a wily old guy. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me how it is you’ve survived all these years being so shy with your opinions.”

  “Good to have you around, boy. Your father and your aunt never did indulge me the way your grandmother did. And you do too. Man’s got something right when his grandson will laugh at his bad jokes.”

  Gideon agreed. It was good to be around. It fit. He wished his parents had come back to help, but his dad was an engineer, not a farmer. And his mother loved Patrick but she had a life in Oakland. They had offered to move Patrick down there and it had been a genuine offer. His aunt had done the same. But his grandfather belonged here on this land he’d raised children on, the land he and his wife had made into something special.

  Speaking of special, Jules had come back into his thoughts. “When I first met her she couldn’t have been more than five or so. Still has the freckles, I see. Even in middle school she was a tall, gangly girl. But the woman she’s turned into is amazing. Funny how that works with women.” Gideon snorted a laugh. “Can’t imagine why she hasn’t been claimed by someone.”

  “Jules is the kind of woman who can’t be claimed by anyone but the man she thinks is worthy. Everything else is a game. She’s smart that way.” Patrick pulled another turnover from the box and Gideon considered mentioning it was his third but decided against it.

  Patrick peered up at Gideon. “Question is, are you ready to date again?”

  “I’ve been divorced three years. It’s not like I haven’t dated since. I’ve been over Alana a long time.” Probably even before the ink had been dry on the divorce decree. Though it certainly hadn’t been any fun to see her with other men. Sadly that had been a fact of life until he’d finally just sold his half of the Bar M to his ex-brother-in-law and gotten the hell out of Wyoming.

  The longer he’d been away from Alana, the more he understood his own behavior. The more he knew he’d made the right choice to get away. It had all brought him back here anyway.

  Three years of making a new start. It was long overdue. But it had all led him to that very moment and he couldn’t help but think it was exactly what he should have been doing.

  • • •

  When Jules arrived back at Tart it was to find Daisy in the kitchen giving orders to a carpenter as he stretched to finish installing shelving on one of the far walls.

  “Hey you.” Daisy smiled quick and easy as Jules put the flat down on her worktable. “How’d it go?”

  “Really well. Patrick was pleased to do it. Oh and hey, did you know Gideon was there? He’s going to help Patrick run the place.”

  “The grandson, right? He’s blond like you? He and Cal were tight? I have vague memories of having a crush on him when I was eleven or twelve.”

  “Join the club.” Jules had a vivid memory of the two of them, Cal with his dark hair and olive skin, head back, laughing uproariously at something Gideon had said. They’d been cute teenage boys back in the day. “Yes. He and Cal used to run around a lot.”

  “Is he still cute?”

  Jules put her hands on her hips. “Girl, you have a hot man already. Don’t be greedy.”

  “Ha! Levi is more than enough for one woman to handle. But I have several single friends who are all awesome and gorgeous so it helps to know when a new, cute, single dude comes into the mix. Or even for that one gorgeous single friend who also likes boys as well as girls.”

  Jules tried very hard not to frown. If Cal and Gideon got together, it would suck. Mainly because she was tired of watching Cal date everyone but her over the years. But also because they were both so hot it would suck to know they were together and she wasn’t gettin’ any of it.

  “I really do think you should just make a move on Cal. God, you just frowned at the mere mention of him dating. You two should be together.”

  But they weren’t. And it was Cal’s choice. “It’s not up to me.” She muttered this as the carpenter used the drill to get the last screws and brackets in. “It’s stupid to even imagine there’s going to be anything between us. He kissed me once, back when I was fifteen. And apparently it was so horrible he never tried it again. It’s worse when he dates men because while I can work the being-a-woman thing pretty well when I put my mind to it, I can’t be a dude. I don’t have what he needs.”

  Now it was Daisy’s turn to frown, and of course she looked just as adorable as she did when she smiled. “Just because he likes it doesn’t mean he needs it. He needs someone who will love him for him, who will understand how close he is to his family, how important all his charity work is to him. So far I’ve seen him parade around with men and women who don’t seem to get it. And it makes me wonder, Jules.”

  Jules braced herself, knowing Daisy would call it like she saw it. “Wonder what?”

  “If he chooses people he’ll never end up with permanently because there’s one person he’s wanted all along but is too shy to just finally make that move and grab your ass and take you to bed and give it to you the way he so clearly wants to.”

  Jules laughed and hugged Daisy. “You know I love you, right? Thank God you’re here today. But I’ve been amenable to being jumped for years now and he’s never made a move. We have a great, close friendship. I have to be happy with it and move on. So Gideon is totally cute and I think I may need to put some of my attention his way. One look at the way he moves, sort of slow and lanky, and you know he’d make a girl all boneless and sweaty between the sheets.”

  “Always one of my favorite qualities in a man. And it’s been a while, if I recall and you know I do, since you’ve had a man in your bed. So tick tock, time’s a running. Grab this Gideon while the getting’s good.”

  They laughed and Jules began to sketch out tomorrow’s menu. But Jules thought Daisy’s advice was pretty darned good and planned to give it a go. Getting some Gideon sounded like just the thing.

  2

  Just two days later, Jules looked up from wiping her counters down to find Gideon Carter standing in the doorway.

  He strolled in as her mouth dried up. He had a way of moving, slow and sensual, his long strides eating up the space between them.

  He was like an ad from a magazine, though instead of a cowboy hat, he wore a black wool watch cap and when he pulled it off to stick it in the pocket of his jacket, his hair still managed to look awesomely sexy. But tousled. Like sex tousled. And an image flashed through her brain. Gideon below her, spread out on her bed, naked and sweaty, grinning up at her, that hair of his in disarray around his face.

  She swallowed hard and fought the flush at that image. “You really do that cowboy thing justice. Just sayin’. What can I get yo
u?”

  He bent a little to look in the cases and she had to stifle her hum of satisfaction at the slice of bare skin that showed at his waist as he did.

  “Did I get here too late? I notice you’re closing soon.”

  “I’m closing up now, but you’re more than welcome to stay. How about a latte? Are you hungry?” Being alone with him was far better than dealing with customers any day of the week anyway.

  He smiled, slow and sexy, and it sent a shiver through her. “You mean I get you all to myself?”

  She couldn’t help but smile in response. Relief too that he seemed as interested in her as she was in him. “Why yes, is that all right with you?”

  “More than all right. Yes on the latte and how about one of those bacon cheddar scones? Please and thank you. That should hit the spot.”

  Who’d have thought manners could be an aphrodisiac? Damn. If he pulled his hat out and held it in his hands nervously and . . . okay, it was really necessary to stop making up fuck fantasies about him right at that moment. She could go home that night and remember the aw-shucks-ma’am thing when she was alone. Mmmm.

  “Nice choice. Go sit and I’ll bring it out when I finish.” It would enable her to check out his butt too. Win/win.

  He pushed a ten across the counter.

  “No. Consider it my treat in honor of our new business deal.”

  He nodded and put the ten in the tip jar anyway before ambling off to a nearby table where he stretched long-as-sin legs and she noticed the boots. Good gracious, when did this cowboy fetish start? Didn’t matter ’cause she sure had one now.

  She turned to make his latte and took it over a few minutes later. “Hang on, I’m going to lock the front doors or we’ll get stragglers.” She flipped the closed sign and locked up.

  He stood and held a chair out. “Sit with me, Juliet. That is if you have the time. I know sometimes it’s busier cleaning up than anything else.”

  Flattered and surprised, she sat. “I have a few minutes. I’m already done with everything but the espresso machine. Mary often likes to have some when she comes in so I leave it for her.”