All He Ever Needed

by Shannon Stacey

  He shrugged. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but Ed Grandmaison isn’t your biggest fan.”

  “We were nineteen. And she told me they’d broken up.”

  Josh shook his head. “You slept with his girlfriend. He’s not going to do a damn thing to help us.”

  Ryan pounded his fist on the table. “Well, you’re not doing a goddamn thing to help us, so what the hell are we supposed to do? Let the place go under?”

  “Yes,” Josh snapped. He struggled to his feet and grabbed his crutches. “Let it go under and then maybe I can have a fucking life, okay?”

  Mitch and Ryan were both stunned into silence, but Mitch recovered first. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Forget it.” Josh started turning away, but Mitch reached out and grabbed his crutches.

  “Sit down.”

  “Screw you.”

  Mitch shrugged and handed the crutches to Ryan, who leaned them against the wall behind him. “You can sit down or you can drag yourself across the floor and up the stairs, but you’re not getting the sticks back until you tell us what the hell is wrong with you.”

  He didn’t have much of a choice, so Josh sat. “You guys sweep in here with your grand plan to save the Northern Star Lodge. You’ll make a shitload of work and then you’ll leave again, just like you always have.”

  “We have businesses to run,” Ryan said. “And what’s this about you not having a life? You’re the keystone of the family. You run this place for all of us.”

  Josh snorted, shaking his head. “Because there was nobody else to do it. One by one you all went off to college and didn’t come back. What the hell was I supposed to do? Say, ‘Sorry, Dad, you’re on your own’? Somebody had to stay. And then he died and you all came home but, after the funeral, you all left again.”

  Mitch didn’t know what to say and, judging by the silence, Ryan didn’t either. Josh had always run the lodge with their old man, and he’d kept on running it after he died. He’d never said he didn’t want to, as far as Mitch could remember.

  “I think we should sell it,” Josh said.

  Sell the Northern Star Lodge? It was home—the one place that was always there, no matter where he roamed. Their great-grandfather had built it, their grandfather had re-envisioned it and their father had saved it. It was as much a part of who they were as their blue eyes, stubborn streaks and last name.

  And it was an albatross around Josh’s neck. An anchor dragging him under. Whatever stupid expression that meant his youngest brother had been stuck in Whitford, living a life he’d been stuck with by default, while the rest of them were free to choose their own paths.

  “It’s not a good time to sell,” Ryan said.

  Mitch jumped on the excuse to resist the idea with something more than being a selfish bastard who didn’t want anything to change. “Especially a commercial property like this that’s barely treading water.”

  “It doesn’t have to be commercial,” Josh argued. “Maybe somebody would just want to live in it.”

  Unlikely, though Mitch didn’t say so. It was too unwieldy and hard to manage for a single family unless they were loaded. And, if they were loaded, they wouldn’t want an old snowmobile lodge.

  “We’d be lucky to make a hundred bucks,” Ryan pushed on, but Mitch looked at Josh and knew it didn’t matter. It had nothing to do with profits or losses and everything to do with Josh being able to walk away.

  “Ryan’s right,” he said, and Josh’s whole body tensed. In order to sell, all of them had to agree and, if he thought it wasn’t going to happen, what was to stop Josh from saying screw it and walking away? “But, I get it now, Josh. We both get it and we’ll figure it out.”

  Josh’s muscles relaxed and he propped his elbows on the table to scrub his hands through his hair. “It’s been building a long time, I guess. I didn’t realize it had gotten so bad until Rosie told me Mitch was coming to take care of things for six weeks. For a few seconds I actually wondered what I’d do or where I’d go if I could leave this place for six weeks, but then I realized I couldn’t do jack shit with this cast on.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t just…up and go,” Ryan said.

  “Just abandon the place? And leave Rosie?” Josh glared at him. “I deserve more credit than that.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Mitch sighed and looked at all his grand plans laid out on the table. “Before we can decide if we’re going to sell, somebody has to talk to Sean and Liz. And I think we should still go ahead with the preliminary legwork for getting connected to the ATV trails. If we decide to sell, being able to show prospective buyers that potential new revenue could make a big difference in the asking price.”

  Josh picked at the corner of a stack of papers. “But you’ll consider selling?”

  “We have to do something,” Mitch said. “Now that we know how you feel, we can’t just walk away and leave you here without a plan.”

  Ryan nodded. “It never occurred to me you didn’t want to run the Northern Star. I don’t think it occurred to any of us.”

  Mitch watched Josh lean back in his chair, realizing his youngest brother had the relieved look of a man who’d just unburdened himself of a long-held, dark secret. Jesus, had any of them ever thought about whether Josh might want to go out and see some of the world? He was ashamed to admit he hadn’t.

  But as happy as he was to know what was eating at his brother, Mitch felt a few sharp pangs of sorrow thinking about the lodge being sold. He didn’t get back to Whitford often and the town drove him nuts, but it was home. His real home, not just the apartment in the city he slept in between jobs. And now there was a good possibility the fourth generation of Kowalskis to own the property would be the last.

  “So who’s going to talk to Grandmaison?” Josh asked, pulling the rough sketch of land boundaries across the table to get a better look at it.

  Mitch grimaced. “I’ll do it. That way we’ll know right off from his reaction to me if this is even a possibility.”

  Ryan laughed. “Who would have guessed sleeping with a girl when you were a teenager would come back to bite you in the ass?”

  In this town, everything came back to bite you in the ass sooner or later.

  * * *

  Paige heard the low rumble of Mitch’s motorcycle in the distance and tried not to hope he turned in and parked in front of her trailer, but she was kidding herself. She wanted to see him and hadn’t thought about much except that fact all day, much to her customers’ dismay. White and wheat weren’t close enough when it was early in the morning—you had to get to work and you didn’t have time for the waitress to screw up your breakfast.

  Wednesday and Thursday hadn’t been bad, but for some reason she’d really missed him today. Maybe it was because her body had gotten used to closing out the day with an orgasm or a few, or maybe she just missed his laugh. Either way, the rumble made her pulse quicken.

  The bike turned in and she heard it come through the diner’s parking lot. Then, through the window, she watched him park it between her car and the house. While she appreciated the effort, it wasn’t much of a hiding place and this would be yet another nice, juicy tidbit for the town to chew on. And probably another phone call from Hailey.

  He took off his helmet and then sat for a while on the bike, looking tired and frustrated. She moved away from the window to give him some privacy and it was at least a full minute before she heard him climbing the steps and the knock on the door.

  When she opened it, the frustration and exhaustion were gone. His expression was clear and his lips were turned up in that charming smile of his. “Hey.”

  “Hey, you,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.

  “I’m going for a ride. Thought I’d see if you want to go.”

  She had paperwork to do for the diner—the endless, mind-numbing task of tracking what they were using, what needed ordering, what they’d ordered too much of and so on. It was her least favorite part of own
ing the diner, but it was a necessary evil and she was already behind.

  But, relaxed and inviting smile or not, Mitch had had a rough day and he’d come to her looking for company. The paperwork could wait. “I was just going to make a sandwich for dinner. Do you want one before we leave?”

  “I could eat.”

  “Do you like fried bologna sandwiches?” It was a little embarrassing to have to ask that, but she didn’t have a lot in the house.

  He gave her a startled look she couldn’t begin to decipher. “Yes, I do.”

  “Tomato and mayo?”

  “Of course. Can I help?”

  She laughed. “Thanks, but you already know the kitchen’s not really big enough for two. Grab a soda if you want and have a seat.”

  Once he was sitting at the small kitchen table, she pulled out a pan and plopped a dollop of butter in it. While that heated, she scored a few slices of bologna and, once the butter was sizzling, dropped them into the pan. While they seared, she sliced a tomato and, after flipping the bologna, slathered mayo onto bread. A few minutes later she set two paper plates on the table, one with a single sandwich for her and one with two for him. After tossing a bag of potato chips into the center of the table, she sat as he took his first bite.

  As he swallowed, he was giving her the strangest look. “Is it okay?”

  “It’s perfect.” He gestured at his plate. “Who taught you to make a fried bologna sandwich like this?”

  “I don’t know. I used to make them when I was a kid when my mom wasn’t around.”

  “So it wasn’t Rose?”

  She’d known he was in a weird mood, but now he was barely making sense. “I knew how to fry bologna long before I met Rose.”

  “Along with the perfect thickness for the tomato slices and just the right amount of mayo?”

  “If it doesn’t try to run down the side of your hand, it’s not good enough. Are you okay?”

  He blinked at his sandwich, then seemed to shake off whatever was bothering him about it. “I guess. Dealing with some stuff. The lodge. Brother stuff.”

  “Anything I can help with?” Probably not, but she asked anyway.

  “I have to take a ride out and visit Ed Grandmaison. You can come with me. Maybe be a witness if he tries to kick my ass.”

  “I don’t think I know him.”

  “His property abuts ours, but his house is actually on the far side, so he’s in the next town over. He doesn’t come to Whitford often.”

  “And he wants to kick your ass why?” She held up her hand. “Wait. Let me guess. A woman?”

  “We were nineteen and she told me they were broken up.”

  “One of the first things I learned when I moved to Vermont is how much New Englanders love holding a grudge.”

  “Will you come with me?”

  “Sure. Other than the part where a guy I don’t know might kick your ass for something you did when you were nineteen, it sounds like a good time.”

  He grinned at her, then set about devouring the fried bologna sandwiches. He cleaned up while she changed into jeans and threw on a light sweatshirt, and then they headed out of town.

  She could feel the tension in his back and she wondered if it had to do with the impending visit to Grandmaison or if it was lingering from whatever the “brother stuff” was he’d referred to. She’d wanted to poke at that a little—see if that was what was really bothering him—but it seemed like a very girlfriend thing to do, so she didn’t.

  Instead she was silent, enjoying the ride until Mitch put on his blinker and turned down a long dirt road. She held her breath, hating the sensation of a big Harley on dirt, but Mitch had no problem bringing the bike to a stop in front of an old, but impeccably kept, farmhouse.

  She followed him up the front steps because she wasn’t sure what else to do with herself, so she was close enough to hear the curses Ed Grandmaison muttered when he saw Mitch Kowalski on the other side of the screen door.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  “Hey, Ed. I, uh…” Mitch hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a rare display of anxiety. “I’ve come to ask you a favor.”

  “You slept with my wife.”

  “I did not sleep with your wife. I didn’t even technically sleep with your girlfriend, since you were broken up at the time.”

  “It was just a fight.”

  “We were nineteen.”

  Paige had to work hard to keep a straight face. Not because Ed Grandmaison could seriously hold a grudge, but because watching Mitch’s charm have absolutely no effect on somebody was a first.

  “What kind of favor are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything, but things are a little rough at the Northern Star right now,” Mitch said, which had to be tough for him to say to a man who hated him. “We were thinking, if we could connect to the ATV trails, we could have business year round instead of only when there’s snow on the ground. But to do that, we’d need your permission to cut in a small trail across the far corner of your property.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “It’s not just about the Northern Star Lodge,” Paige said quickly, stepping forward so she was next to Mitch. “If we can get the four-wheelers into Whitford, it would benefit the entire town. If visitors stay at the lodge so they can access the trail system, they’ll also get gas and eat and buy incidentals.”

  Ed looked at her, his mouth in a grim line. “Are you his girlfriend?”

  “I’m Paige Sullivan. I own the Trailside Diner.” She shook his hand without answering the question. “‘Trailside’ means the sled trails right now, but ATVs coming into town would benefit my business, as well as the Kowalskis’. And many other businesses as well.”

  “I’d have to talk to my wife,” he said, with a noticeable emphasis on the word “wife.”

  “Absolutely,” Mitch told him. “You’ll both have questions, and we’d put you in contact with the ATV club so they could explain how the insurance policy that would cover you works and all of that. But right now, I just need to know if you’ll at least consider the possibility.”

  Ed shrugged. “I’ll consider it. The economy sucks all over and I’d hate to put the screws to a whole town because you put the screws to my wife.”

  “I—” Mitch began, but Paige poked him in the back. “Thank you.”

  They left before the conversation could go downhill any further. Mitch kept a sedate pace on the dirt, but as soon as they hit the main road, he cracked the throttle and let the bike roar back toward Whitford.

  * * *

  The following day, the guys set to work emptying out the last few piles of crap in the barn so they could finally start work on the floor, while Mitch’s brain set to work on the puzzle of the fried bologna sandwiches.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence. Supposedly there was no such thing as a coincidence. And, if it had been most of the other women he’d casually dated in the past, he’d say it was somehow a deliberate ploy to get to his heart through his stomach by way of a sandwich that made him think of home, family and love.

  But Paige wasn’t like any of the women he’d casually dated in the past, and he couldn’t imagine her playing that kind of silly game. Which meant he was enjoying the company of—and having the best sex of his life with—a woman who also happened to make perfect fried bologna sandwiches.

  That wasn’t good at all.

  “Your girlfriend’s here.”

  Ryan’s words had Mitch picking his head up and looking before his brain could send out the message to play it cool. Sure enough, Paige’s car was pulling up the drive, and he grabbed the T-shirt he’d tossed on a pile to mop some of the sweat off his face as she parked next to Ryan’s truck.

  Once the initial boost his system got from seeing her faded, a low buzz of annoyance hummed through him. Showing up at his home unannounced crossed a boundary. The boundaries were fluid and he hadn’t spelled them out exactly, but he hadn’t tho
ught he needed to.

  She looked pretty, though, with her hair up in a ponytail and her Trailside Diner T-shirt hugging her curves in a way that made his hands itch to take its place. He walked out to meet her in the drive, and she smiled with her gaze firmly on his chest.

  “You’re all hot and sweaty,” she said.

  “Sorry.” That’s what happened when you dropped by uninvited while a guy was working.

  “Oh, I wasn’t complaining.” She walked around to the passenger side of her car and grabbed a basket out of the backseat.

  “Um…” If his “girlfriend” had brought him a picnic lunch, Ryan was never going to let him live it down.

  “Is Rose inside?”

  “What?”

  “Rose. Is she inside?” She held up the basket. “Mrs. Dozynski asked me to bring some plum pierogi up to her.”

  “Really? Plum?” He tried to peek under the cloth covering the top of the basket, but Paige slapped his hand.

  “Mrs. Dozynski said you can’t have any. And neither can Josh.”

  Now, that was just mean. “Mrs. D’s pierogies are almost worth firing Andy for.”

  “She said you’d say that and she also said it’s too late, so don’t bother.”

  She started to walk past him, but he hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around what was going on yet. “So you didn’t come to see me?”

  “I wasn’t even sure if you’d be here. I ran into Mrs. Dozynski at the library and she was upset because she made these special for Rose, but both Dozer and Lauren were too busy to drive them out to her, so I volunteered.”

  “Oh.” He stared after her as she carefully made her way up the stairs and went inside. So she wasn’t there to see him. That was a good thing.

  He went back to work, thankful but a little surprised that Ryan didn’t rib him about Paige showing up, and then blowing him off. Maybe hearing Lauren’s name was enough to shut him up. Sometime very soon he was going to have to get to the bottom of the Ryan and Lauren situation. Lauren had married Ryan’s best friend and had a kid and, at some point, Ryan had stopped coming home on a regular basis. Though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what, Mitch was pretty sure there was a connection there.