And sometimes, the reality was even better than the anticipation and he couldn’t wait to see her again. Alone.
Chapter Eleven
“You’re pretty chipper this morning.”
Paige winced and told herself to dial that down a notch or two. The last thing she needed was all of Whitford wondering why she was in such a good mood the morning after Mitch Kowalski had helped her with her plumbing. So to speak.
“My sink drains now,” she said. “It’s a good day when the water you used to rinse the toothpaste out of the sink isn’t going to still be sitting there when you get home from work.”
“The plumber give you that whisker burn, too?”
Paige reached up to her face, horrified. She hadn’t noticed it when she was getting ready for work, so it couldn’t be that bad. But if Katie could see it…
Katie laughed. “Busted. I knew you wouldn’t admit it straight out, but you slept with Mitch Kowalski last night.”
“You have a diabolical mind. So there’s no whisker burn?”
“No. The good people of Whitford will have no idea you were well and truly sullied by their golden boy last night. You were well and truly sullied, right?”
“You’ve heard the stories.”
“Are they true?”
“It’s not like we were doing reenactments, but based on last night I’m going to guess most of them are true.”
Katie propped her chin on her hand and sighed. “Details, woman. I need details.”
“Since the Benoits are about thirty seconds from walking in the door and I don’t think they want details, you’re out of luck. Not that I’d share, anyway.”
“And you say I’m diabolical.”
“Tell me what you want to eat so I can get your order in before the place starts filling up.”
A half hour later, the Trailside Diner was in full morning swing and Paige didn’t get a chance to do more than wave when Katie was ready to leave. She wanted to tell her friend not to tell anybody about their conversation because she didn’t want to be added to the story roster in town, but she’d have to take it on faith Katie wouldn’t spill. She might tell Mallory, though, and Mallory might tell…hell. There was a good chance everybody would know by the end of the day.
As busy as it was, though, Paige couldn’t stop herself from wondering if Mitch would stop in for breakfast. And, if he did, whether she’d be able to look at him without her face turning stoplight-red, which would definitely give her customers something to chew on besides their sausage links. Speculation was the lifeblood of the town, and Paige acting like a silly, besotted schoolgirl would be something they hadn’t already dissected to death.
He didn’t show, though, and while she knew she should be relieved, she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. He wasn’t a man accustomed to hearing the word no, so maybe now that she’d said yes, he’d lost interest in her.
And that would be fine, she told herself sternly as she carried a tray of juice glasses to a back table. She wasn’t going to fret about it and jump every time the door opened or the phone rang, like her mother would. It had been an exceptionally good time, but it was also temporary, like a trip to the bowling alley. A few hours of fun and then it was over. He wouldn’t call. He wouldn’t text. And neither would she.
After her shift was over, Paige grabbed her bag of books and walked to the library, just as she’d planned to do before Mitch had fixed her sink and then rocked her world. Nothing had changed in her life and today wasn’t any different from any other day. It was basically what she’d been looking for and what he’d told her she’d get.
As soon as she got to the circulation desk and saw Hailey’s face, she knew her fear that nothing so juicy as Mitch’s visit could stay a secret in Whitford was justified. “Hi, Hailey. How’re library things today?”
“Good. Very good, actually, now that I know the citizens of Whitford are safe from any violent sprees that might have been in your future.”
There was no sense in denying it, especially if Hailey had talked to Katie. “You’re all safe for a while longer.”
Hailey gave a dreamy sigh as she started checking in the returned books, and Paige realized it was a little weird for them to be having this conversation. Maybe that’s why Hailey didn’t ask for details—she already knew them—and it seemed as if there should be at least a little awkwardness between two women who’d slept with the same man, even if one of them had done so many years before.
“Are you going to see him again?” Hailey asked, and she rolled her eyes when Paige said she wasn’t sure. “That’s Mitch. He won’t commit to so much as a cup of coffee. He told you that, right?”
“That when he leaves he won’t call, write or text? Yeah. And that works for me.”
“Have you talked to him since?”
“Nope. And I’m not sitting by the phone, either.”
“Good for you.” Hailey looked around, as if to make sure there was nobody lurking in the nearby stacks, eavesdropping. Would have been nice if she’d thought to check that before bringing up Paige’s sex life. “Did you hear about Drew and Mallory?”
“No. I saw Katie this morning and she didn’t say anything.”
“I’m not sure many people know. But for the last two nights, Drew’s been sleeping at the police station.”
“That’s not a good sign.” Paige shook her head. “I keep hoping they’ll work it out, but it doesn’t look like it. It’s one thing to not talk to each other for a while, but not being able to sleep under the same roof is bad.”
They had to drop the conversation as another patron approached, so Paige grabbed a few paperbacks that looked good off the new-release display and then wandered to one of the back tables, where a three-thousand-piece puzzle was about a third of the way done. She sat and lost herself in the pieces for a while, working on a tough spot it looked like the other puzzle-doers of Whitford were avoiding.
Being worried about Drew and Mal was a good excuse to call Mitch. Being friends with the police chief, he’d probably know if there was any truth to the rumors. Maybe he’d even have some ideas on how they could help. If he did, they could meet up somewhere for coffee and talk about it.
Paige tossed down a piece of cardboard foliage in disgust. Look at her, scheming up reasons to call Mitch—to see him again—and after only one night. It was just the kind of behavior she’d promised herself she was going to avoid when she’d made the decision to stay in Whitford. A couple hours with Mitch Kowalski and she was backsliding.
She waited until all was clear at the circulation desk and then went to check out her books.
“Not as many as usual,” Hailey observed. “Plan on doing something else with your free time?”
Paige felt a hot blush over her cheeks, but she kept her voice level so Hailey would assume it was from embarrassment and not annoyance with the thoughts that had been running through her head. “I’ve got a few projects lined up to get done, plus I need to catch up on some paperwork for the diner. Or maybe I’ll blow that all off and be back in two days for more books.”
Hailey laughed and then growled under her breath as the phone rang. “If you run into Mal, tell her to call me, okay?”
Paige nodded and dropped the paperbacks into her tote so she could be gone before the call ended. She needed to go home and get her head on straight. Spend a few minutes standing in front of her refrigerator, reading her motto out loud. Or, if that didn’t work, she could call her mother and get a reality check.
If Mitch Kowalski wanted to see her, he knew where to find her. If not, she had a bag of new books to keep her company.
* * *
Rose was tempted to ignore her cell phone when it rang. With all her free time, she’d discovered a channel that served up a regular TV diet of Criminal Minds repeats and, right now, she found the fictional FBI profilers better company than real people.
But very few people called her cell phone instead of the lodge’s landline, so she checked the
caller ID and saw that it was Liz. After hitting Mute on the TV remote, she answered. “Hello.”
“I hear you’re quite the lady of leisure now.”
Since she was sitting in her room in the middle of the day, knitting and watching television, she couldn’t really deny it. “Which one of your brothers complained?”
“Sean called Josh to see how his leg is doing and Josh told him about Andy Miller working there.”
“Did they really expect me to be happy about it?”
“They needed somebody who would do good work for short money. Plus, he was a friend of Dad’s.”
He’d been a friend of Earle’s, too, and look how that had worked out for Rose. “Be that as it may, he’s no friend of mine and I’m not cooking for him or cleaning up after him or so much as looking at him.”
A few seconds of silence followed, and Rose could imagine Liz trying to decide if she could push further on the issue or not. “That’s Josh’s problem, I guess. And Mitch’s, who’s the real reason I called. Sean said he’s hung up on the woman who reopened the old diner?”
“Sean lives in New Hampshire. How did he get to be such a know-it-all about the goings-on in Whitford?
“Josh told him. And he said Mitch is really into her.”
Rose sighed, unsure how to answer that. She’d have to agree Mitch seemed really into Paige, but she wasn’t sure he knew that quite yet. Having his siblings ragging on him wouldn’t help push him toward that awareness, but it might push him away.
“I know he’s been spending a lot of time at the diner,” Rose said. “He’s probably looking for a decent meal, since he’s not going to get one from me as long as he’s paying that man to be on the property.”
“Oh. That’s probably it.” Rose could hear the disappointment in Liz’s voice. “It doesn’t seem right that the two youngest of us are settled down and the three oldest aren’t. Especially Mitch and Josh. At least Ryan tried, even if it didn’t work out.”
“Are you really settled? Happily?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, even though she knew it meant Liz would come up with some flimsy excuse to end the call.
“Just because I’m not married doesn’t mean I’m not settled. I’ve been with Darren almost fifteen years.”
The fact Liz hadn’t addressed the “happy” part of the question didn’t escape Rose’s notice. “How’s work going, honey?”
“Busy. I’ve picked up a few extra shifts in the last couple of weeks, so I’m pretty beat.”
“And how many hours did Darren work?”
“Rose…” She heard Liz’s exasperated sigh—a sound Rose had never tolerated from her when Liz was a teenager. “I’ve told you a thousand times, art doesn’t work like that. It’s not a nine-to-five kind of job.”
“Okay. How many pieces has Darren sold this month?”
“Don’t.”
“This year?”
“He sold several pieces at an art show a couple of months ago and he’s working on a big commissioned piece right now.”
Rose swallowed her dislike of Darren and smiled so Liz would hear it in her voice. “That’s wonderful, sweetie. Congratulations.”
“I’ll tell him you said that.”
She meant it, even if it was for Liz’s sake and not Darren’s. Liz loved him, so what was good for him was good for her.
“I have to run,” Liz said. “Call me if anything comes of Mitch liking that woman, okay? I hate being all the way on the other side of the country sometimes.”
Not as much as Rose hated it. She’d much rather have all her chickens in New England. Sean was in New Hampshire and Ryan in Massachusetts, with Mitch only here temporarily, but at least she got regular visits from them. “I’ll call you if there’s anything juicy to report. Try to get some rest, okay?”
Rose left the television muted after the call ended, lost in thought. Liz had fallen head over heels for the young artist who’d called himself a sculptor because he was convinced rich people wanted pieces of scrap metal welded together to make “art.” And when he’d decided to go out West, where he felt people were more appreciative of his kind of art, Liz went with him, despite her family’s objections. Or maybe to spite them. The question was whether or not she still loved him or if she was too proud to come home.
Liz was like a daughter to Rose. While her own daughter was off running with the boys, Liz had baked cookies with Rose and learned to knit and let Rose put her hair up in rag rollers. Under the sweet curls and feminine ruffles, though, Liz was a Kowalski through and through. She’d strained against Rose’s maternal leash until she broke free.
Six kids—one of her own and five of her heart—and only one was happily married. Sean and Emma might have only six months under their belts, but Rose knew the real thing when she saw it, and they had it. Sadly, she’d never believed Ryan’s marriage would last and she’d been right.
Maybe she’d been going about this Paige thing all wrong. She’d been so focused on protecting Paige’s heart from Mitch she hadn’t realized Mitch might be losing his to her. If Josh thought his brother was interested enough in a woman to mention it to Sean, maybe Rose had been missing the signs while hanging out in her room with the fictional FBI team.
Maybe she had an opportunity to improve her record to 2–6.
* * *
Mitch managed a mere thirty-six hours. After leaving Paige’s bed Friday night, he made it through all of Saturday and Saturday night, but Sunday morning found him parking the pickup in front of the Trailside Diner.
There were a few full tables, but nobody at the counter, so he pulled up a stool and waited for Paige to notice him. A couple minutes later, the door from the kitchen swung open and she backed into the dining area carrying a bus pan full of cleaning supplies. She set it on the edge of the counter, then scanned her customers to see if they needed anything.
She must have caught sight of him through the corner of her eye, because she turned to him and smiled. “Didn’t expect to see you on a Sunday morning. How does Rose feel about you skipping out on her pancakes?”
“Rosie’s been sleeping in lately,” he said, then wondered if he’d said it too harshly when he saw the concern on her face.
“That doesn’t sound like Rose. Is she okay? She’s not sick or anything, is she?”
“The only thing wrong with that woman is a stubborn streak that borders on downright unreasonable.”
“Oh,” Paige said in a drawn-out way, as if a lightbulb had gone off in her head. “I heard something about that. She’s not making you breakfast because you hired Andy Miller.”
He gave her a sharp look. “You know about her problem with Andy?”
“Everybody knows she has a problem with him. But I don’t know what it is.”
“Nobody does.”
“That seems odd. For an incident to trigger a decades-long grudge, you’d think it would have been bad enough so half the town would know.”
He had to agree with her on that one, but he didn’t say so out loud, because he didn’t want her speculating any further. In his experience, the only thing that caused that kind of deep, secret animosity between a woman and a man was sex. He didn’t want to think about Rosie and Andy and sex. She was like a mother to him and he didn’t want to believe even for a second she’d cheated on her husband. He wouldn’t believe it.
“How’s Josh handling her being on strike?” Paige asked, dragging his mind back from those unpleasant thoughts.
He shrugged. “We’re grown men. We can take care of ourselves.”
“Out of clean laundry yet?”
He grinned. “Almost.”
“Are you going to fire Andy?”
“No. I’m going to do a few loads of laundry and then head to the grocery store and stock up on more microwavable dinners.”
Paige frowned, fiddling with the sugar packets. “You won’t fire Rose, will you?”
He laughed, trying to imagine how that conversation would go. “If I tried to fire Rosie, she�
��d kick my ass and send me to my room.”
He liked that he could see the relief on Paige’s face. He liked that she cared about a woman he loved. And he really liked the way she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the counter so he could see down her shirt. He couldn’t see much, but the hint of cleavage was enough to make him hard.
“You know,” she said, “I wouldn’t mind you coming over for dinner every once in a while. Save you a few microwave meals, at least.”
He’d been kidding about the microwavable dinners. He could cook well enough for himself. But he wasn’t fool enough to turn down an invitation to sit at Paige’s table, which, thanks to the size of her trailer, wasn’t too far from her bed. He’d been thinking about getting back in that bed since pretty much five minutes after he’d left it.
“I might even make you dessert,” she told him.
“I like desserts with whipped cream. Lots of whipped cream.”
The flush that spread across her neck and up into her cheeks made him want to take her out back right then and there and find a supply closet or something. “I just happened to buy some when I was at the market.”
So she’d heard that story, too. This town was a pain in the ass. “When?”
“Tonight?”
“I can get there by six.”
She smiled a flirty smile promising fun and all sorts of naughty things. “I’ll be waiting.”
So would he, because walking around with a raging hard-on until six o’clock was going to suck. But she was worth it.
Chapter Twelve
It was ridiculous to spend the entire meal distracted by the upcoming dessert, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the can of whipped cream sitting in her refrigerator. Maybe she should have bought two cans. One for the strawberry shortcake and one for all the things she’d spent the day imagining a man would do with a can of whipped cream and a naked woman.
All He Ever Needed Page 13
