“Well, we can’t have you licking the jar. It’s just embarrassing,” Bellamy said. She pondered room service, but breakfast had been lackluster at best. Which was to say that it basically sucked.
“You’re one to talk, Bruiser.” Holly giggled, throwing a pillow across the common room toward the kitchenette.
The pillow missed by a mile, but the reminder of Bellamy’s faux pas and the kiss that went with it stung. “Just for that, I might consider not going to the grocery store in town for more snacks.” Bellamy arched a brow at her friend, noticing that it hurt a lot less than during previous attempts throughout the day.
Jenna tossed her the keys to her BMW without pause. “You will not, you big, fat foodie! The crappy room service has to be driving you bazoo. I don’t suppose you’ll get me a good old-fashioned bag of chips, huh?”
Bellamy wrinkled her nose as she slipped into her black wool peacoat and threw a knit hat over her tangle of curls to properly hide their disarray. “Since it’s your car, I guess I can hook you up,” she grumbled. Damn, she missed her car.
Nope. Not thinking about it. Not even a little bit.
“Okay, you brats. I’d say call me if you think of anything else, but, well, you know.” She rolled her eyes at the idea of her worthless cell phone as she hustled out the door. To be honest, as much as she knew she’d probably pay for it in the end, it had been kind of liberating not to worry about the stupid thing all day.
Bellamy made her way down the curvy mountain road at a snail’s pace. Part of her care came from the gut-clenching drop-off on the other side of the guardrail, but most of it was so she could take in the breathtaking view. Afternoon sun peeked through the high, thin clouds, bathing the tall, thick evergreens in sparkling light and smokelike shadows. The sky, a mix of watercolor blue and iron gray, was a perfect canvas overhead, and by the time Bellamy reached the grocery store, her mood had crossed the threshold of decent for the second time that day.
She parked Jenna’s BMW in front of Joe’s Grocery, squaring her shoulders before going inside. Bellamy didn’t have high hopes for what lay beyond the doors, but with a little luck, she’d be able to work some magic and do better than the surprisingly mediocre room service food at the resort.
“Okay, Joe. Let’s see what you’re made of, baby,” Bellamy murmured under her breath.
As soon as she stepped inside the grocery store, a warm pang erased every ounce of trepidation she’d carried in with her. This wasn’t your typical, institutional mega-mart, with fluorescent lighting and symmetrical stacks of ho-hum produce. No, Joe’s was set up like a cross between a country store and a cozy gourmet market, with buffed hardwood floors the color of warm honey, and large bushel baskets overflowing with gorgeous red apples and bottom-heavy, green pears at the height of ripeness. There were assorted cheeses in a refrigerated dairy case against one wall, and a counter boasting prepared salads, half a dozen kinds of fresh bread, and pastries arranged on mouth-watering platters, all right before her eyes at the front of the store.
No two ways about it. Bellamy had found her own personal version of the Promised Land.
“Afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?”
It took Bellamy a full minute to realize that the pleasant man behind the counter had been speaking to her. “Oh! Ah, I’m not sure. I think I’m a little overwhelmed. To be honest, I wasn’t really expecting . . .” Oh my God. Were those wheels of Brie in the cheese case? And figs in the basket next to it? Seriously?
The man laughed. “Not a whole lot of people do. In fairness, if you head back that way, you’ll find the normal stuff, too, so if you’re hankerin’ for Froot Loops, don’t fret.”
Bellamy blinked, unsure where to begin. “Oh, no. This will do just fine. Thank you.” When she saw the basket holding fresh avocados, it was all she could do to suppress a squeal. She could make guacamole like nobody’s business. How much more perfect for nighttime munchies could you get?
By the time she’d made her way from the brisk scent of the grapefruits and navel oranges to the impressive selection of cheeses and deli meats in the case along the wall, the basket draped over Bellamy’s arm was heavier than a stack of phone books. She had much more than she needed, but caring was the furthest thing from her mind. Her mood was lighter than it had been in days; hell, months. Enjoying it was her number one priority before she had to face reality in the form of a boss who could screech like a howler monkey and an insubordinate car that had stranded her at the foot of a mountain with nothing but an arrogant mechanic to show for her troubles.
Make that an arrogant mechanic who could make a girl forget she had knees with the heat of a single kiss, then saunter off like it was no big deal after he was done.
Bellamy turned toward the bushels of deep red Fuji apples, flushing to match their color as she forced herself to shove the thought aside. She’d forgotten about her wonder-ex, Derek, for God’s sake, and they’d kissed a hell of a lot more times than the whopping once she’d shared with Shane. Mentally ditching the image of one measly kiss should be a piece of cake. Except Derek’s kisses had never felt anything like that.
Come to think of it, nobody’s had.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second to block out the memory once and for all before swiping a couple of apples to top off her basket. Exhaling a slow breath, Bellamy turned toward the checkout line, leaving all thoughts of Shane Griffin in the dust.
Shane was taking the shortcut to the frozen dinner section in Joe’s Grocery when he caught sight of a fall of blond curls that could only belong to one woman. Great. He had to run into Bellamy at the grocery store, of all places. She couldn’t eat room service like everyone else up at the resort? And was that a wheel of Brie in her hand?
Christ. Kiss or no kiss, he sure had her pegged. He turned, intending to slink behind the tall stand of fresh cut flowers in order to avoid her. But the way she looked in profile made him stop, halfway hidden from where she stood, and stare.
Bellamy’s face was shrouded by a light blue hat that softened her features, and her fair hair spilled down her back in its trademark ringlets. Shane could see the bruise on her cheek, right by her eye, and he was shocked to see it was already starting to fade. Her green eyes glittered in the light pouring through the giant store windows, and she wore a smile that was as honest as a day’s worth of work.
What rooted him to the spot wasn’t any of those things, although each of them captured his attention. The thing that made him pause, watching surreptitiously from behind buckets of lilies and greenery, was the look on Bellamy’s face. She studied everything she touched with tender reverence, cradling the avocados carefully as she chose the ones she wanted, letting her fingers sweep over the pears like they were made of glass. The sight fascinated the hell out of Shane.
Right up until she turned around and caught him blatantly staring at her.
“Oh!” Bellamy gasped across the row of apple bushels, her eyes flying wide. “What are you doing here?”
The way Shane saw it, he only had two options. He could either stand there like the dumbass he currently was, or he could joke his way out of this mess.
And he’d never been too partial to looking like a dumbass.
“Well, it’s a little known secret, but we mechanics do eat.” He stopped to let out a half smile. “I’m grocery shopping. What are you doing?” Shane stepped away from the flowers and met her gaze head-on over the bins of produce. It wasn’t lost on him that Bellamy got kind of cute when she was unnerved, and he both hated and was turned on by how endearing it suddenly made her.
“Grocery shopping,” she said, as if she wished she had something more clever to say.
“Imagine that,” he bantered back. The edges of her lips curved upward into the barest hint of a smile.
Okay, that was hot.
Not quite sure how else to fill the silence, Shane figured he’d give polite conversation a go. “I, ah, managed to get your transmission out today. The parts should
be shipped first thing Monday, so it looks like you’re on track. Should be done by Friday afternoon as long as everything arrives on time.”
Bellamy’s smile made a full appearance then, and it prompted him to forget all of the fire and brimstone he’d seen from her yesterday.
She looked happy.
“Thanks. Although I have to say I hope you’re better at fixing cars than you are at grocery shopping,” she replied, nodding toward his empty basket.
Shane’s grin covered his face before he could rein it in. “I eat as well as the next guy,” he argued, and she crinkled her nose at him from across the produce display.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Damn, that little half smile thing was disarming! He wanted to make a courteous excuse, grab some Hungry Man dinners and get the hell over to Grady’s. He really did.
But then she laughed, and his legs made it clear that carrying him away from the spot where he stood wasn’t on the current menu of options.
“Okay, smarty-pants. What’ve you got in there that’s so good, then?” He made a show of peering over the low aisle and into her basket.
Bellamy tipped her head, and her curls tumbled across her shoulder as she looked down. “Oh, nothing really. I mean, we barely have a kitchen in our suite, so, you know. Just some stuff to tide us over. The room service at the resort is, um. Just okay.”
“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement,” Shane said, lifting a brow.
She bit her lip, which jacked Shane’s cute-o-meter up a little higher.
“Well, you said it, not me.” The look on her face suggested the room service was pretty bad.
Shane catalogued the contents of her basket in his head. “How many avocadoes does one girl need?” he queried, keeping his face as serious as possible. What a weird thing to have four of. You didn’t exactly eat them out of hand like apples.
Bellamy gave a nonchalant shrug. “When the girl in question is making guacamole for her two friends who will certainly hork it down after consuming way too much alcohol at a bonfire? You err on the side of caution.”
Shane’s mouth popped open in surprise. “You’re making guacamole? Doesn’t that stuff come in jars just like everything else?”
Bellamy’s wry laugh caught him right in the chest. “Shane, you took my freaking car apart. Do you really think making a little guac is rocket science in the face of all that?”
He stammered. “Well, I don’t know. At least I’m sure I won’t screw the tranny up. The guacamole, not so much.”
“Oh, it’s not hard,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Now homemade pasta, that’s a pain in the ass.”
“Okay, wait. You can make pasta? As in, the dried stuff in aisle three?” Shane tried to rope in his complete shock, but failed. She might as well have told him she was going to whip up a quick batch of butter.
Bellamy served up a look that suggested homemade pasta was the garage equivalent of a simple oil change. “Sure. It’s more time-consuming than difficult, which is what makes it a pain. Kind of a fun way to kill a Sunday afternoon, though. The results are definitely worth it.”
Boy, if that didn’t make watching a football game from the old recliner look downright lazy. Shane’s brows drew inward. “So are you a chef or something, then?”
She barked out a laugh. “Oh God, no. I just cook for fun.”
“What a coincidence. I eat for fun.” If Shane had known how freaking provocative her giggle was, he might’ve tried harder not to piss her off yesterday.
Don’t look now, but you’re flirting with the rich girl.
The thought jammed into Shane, freezing his blood in his veins. “You know, I should let you go.” Hell if this part of the conversation wasn’t ten minutes too late. “Your friends are probably waiting for you to go to that bonfire, and all. I don’t want to keep you.”
Bellamy’s laughter shorted out like a faulty fuse. “Oh. Well, it doesn’t start for another couple of hours, I guess, but yeah. Yeah, you should get on with your shopping, too.” She paused, chewing her lip. “Thanks for the update on the car. Have a good night.”
“Bellamy, wait,” Shane blurted, thinking only of the smile that had now faded from her lips. “Maybe I’ll see you. Later. I’m going to the bonfire with a buddy of mine.”
Her mouth lifted at the corners, the faint suggestion of her smile playing there for only an instant. “You are.” The words were the verbal equivalent of Switzerland, so neutral that Shane couldn’t read her tone at all. Still, something about that sexy laugh she’d given before spurred him on before he could think.
“Yup.”
I am now, anyway.
Chapter Eight
“Let me get this straight. You made a date with hot mechanic guy in the middle of the produce aisle and you didn’t even tell us?” Holly’s expression was an equal mixture of shock and wicked grin as she halted a steaming mug of Irish coffee halfway to her lips.
“A little louder, Holly. The people in the way back didn’t hear you,” Bellamy hissed through clenched teeth, her breath puffing into the frigid night air.
The bonfire had been roped off for safety, separated from the milling crowd by an eight-foot circumference of rope and resort staff. It still gave off a decent amount of heat and a hell of a lot of atmosphere, although the plunging nighttime temperatures could knock the breath right out of a girl.
Or maybe it was her recollection of the mechanic with a smirk so sexy it should be illegal that was doing the job all by itself.
Bellamy sighed. “And I didn’t make a date with anybody. I ran into Shane at the grocery store, and when I mentioned going to the bonfire, he said he might see me. I hardly think it’s a date if he was planning on being here anyway.”
Jenna rolled her empty coffee mug between her gloved palms. “I don’t know. Was it a casual ‘maybe I’ll see you’?” she deadpanned, giving an off-the-cuff wave. “Or was it more hopeful, like ‘maybe I’ll see you’?” She added a waggle of her dark blond brows for emphasis.
“He said maybe he’d see me, like a normal person,” Bellamy insisted. “It’s not a date. He doesn’t even like me, for Pete’s sake.”
Holly scoffed at the protest. “I still think ‘maybe I’ll see you’ qualifies as a date. It implies intent,” she pressed, taking a long draw from her mug.
Bellamy arched a brow. “What are we, in court? A date involves phrases like ‘pick you up at seven’ and ‘are you up for sushi?’ ‘Maybe I’ll see you’ doesn’t count.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “Sell stupid somewhere else, sweetie. You tried on three different sweaters and you’ve got that sexy-tousled thing going on with your hair. This is such a date! And by the way, your hair looks fabulous,” she added.
Jenna nodded her approval, huddling closer for warmth. “You do look rather kittenish, darling,” she said, and both women dissolved in a fit of giggles.
“Screw you,” Bellamy muttered, although she couldn’t help but laugh, too. “How’s that for kittenish?”
“I don’t know what the big deal is. After the kiss he laid on you last night, a date seems like the next logical step,” Holly said, recovering from her laughter.
“That’s a little backward, don’t you think? People are supposed to kiss after a date, not before it. And this isn’t a date, anyway.”
Because if it was, Bellamy was on the precipice of getting stood up.
Jenna reached out to squeeze Bellamy’s arm. “Well, whatever it is, it looks kind of cute on you.”
“Thanks for the ego boost. The reason my hair looks decent is because I used those pricey samples from the spa, by the way. And Shane probably only said something about seeing me here because I mentioned that we were going. It was pretty causal, sorry to disappoint you.”
Except that when he’d looked at her with those dark eyes and that gut-stirring smile, she’d have sworn that he was hoping to see her.
And now she was the one who was disappointed.
Jenna rubb
ed her gloved hands together, deciding for the moment to let Bellamy out from beneath the date-orno-date microscope. “God, it’s cold out here. Another coffee would hit the spot. Or at least maybe help me feel my toes again.”
“Oooh, I’m game. Irish coffee is goooooood!” Holly said.
“That’s because you’ve had three, and we’ve only been here for an hour, you lush.” Jenna linked arms with Holly and nodded toward the lodge, with its inviting fireplaces and cozy armchairs. “Bellamy? Aren’t you coming?”
Bellamy shook her head. “Nah. After last night, I’ll pass. One night of alcohol-induced embarrassment is all this girl can take. I’ll wait for you guys here.”
“You sure?” Jenna hesitated.
“Yeah. But if you wimp out and stay inside to cozy up in one of those chairs by the fireplace, I’m coming in after you.”
As soon as they had turned toward the resort, Bellamy wrapped her arms around her ice blue down parka and rocked back on her heels to try and generate a little body heat. She let her eyes scan the crowd, flitting from face-to-face for a full minute before commanding herself to knock it off. Shane had definitely said maybe, and there were hundreds of people out here, huddled around. He’d probably just come up with something more interesting to do, that’s all.
Like that brunette from the bar last night.
“Oh, don’t be stupid,” she muttered, her breath escaping in puffy wisps.
“Ouch. I haven’t even said hello yet.”
Bellamy’s eyes flashed wide as she whirled toward the sound of a very male voice coming from right behind her.
As Shane walked through the east gate and onto the near-frozen grounds of the resort, his unease made an encore performance by way of tap dancing through his gut. It was cold as all get-out, there was a playoff game on that would’ve looked great from his nice, warm Barcalounger, and being at the resort made him want to break out in hives.
What was it, exactly, that had possessed him to shoot his mouth off like a two-dollar pistol and say he would do this?
Turn Up the Heat Page 7
