by L. A. Fiore
“Please.” Liam’s attention was on the recipes I had lying on the counter. “Are you a baker?”
“Yes. I just finished my first full week as the pastry chef for a restaurant in town.”
“You create those desserts that look like art?”
“I try, the combination of beauty and taste.”
“So you’re an artist of sugar.”
I couldn’t help the smile since I loved that analogy. “Exactly.”
“And how did you know you wanted to do that?”
“I love sweet things, love creating sweet things that morphed into imaging new sweet things.”
“How was your first week?”
A lump formed in my throat at this exchange because this man, who I just met, was showing more of an interest in my life than my own father. I forced the words past the ache, tried maybe a little too hard for happy. “It was a great week. I have a wonderful team who works well together. And outside of coordinating with the executive chef’s menu, I’m only limited by my imagination. It’s a dream job.”
The fact that he picked up on the change in me, evident in the way his eyes grew assessing, hurt too. He didn’t pry and instead said, “I’m in for a treat then.”
Rafe’s father, having met the son, shouldn’t have surprised me but instead of the hardened closed-off man I expected, after the life he’d led, he was surprisingly easy-going. And I found myself as interested in him as he appeared to be in me. Though, in fairness, the man likely was only interested in me since he’d been locked away for so long so any interaction was probably welcomed.
That knowledge didn’t stop me from asking. “If I’m out of line, I apologize, but your hesitation earlier…how has it been acclimating after being incarcerated for so long?”
“In some sense it’s been fucking incredible, as you can imagine. I have very few restrictions and outside of my parole office, I’m in charge of my life again. But in some ways it’s been difficult. You get used to life a certain way: told what to do, when and for how long, and as confining as that is, you get used to it. On the outside, you have to find your own way; no one is there to tell you what, when and how long. Not to mention you’re battling not just your own demons—like the insecurities that stem from your own doubts as to your ability to cope with life on the outside—but the prejudices of people who would prefer if you’d stayed behind bars. So even breathing air as a free man—a fucking fantastic thing—readjusting to the world when you have the stigma of being an ex-con is not an easy adjustment.”
My heart went out to him because I could imagine the difficulties, seeing how hard it had been for him to accept my invitation, but before I could comment he asked, “You mentioned Rafe was making a delivery, his furniture?”
“Yeah, have you seen his work?”
“No.” There was regret threaded through that reply.
“He made the tables in the living room and he restored this carriage house and the main house. There are pictures in the front room that show the before for this place.”
Liam walked to the pictures and studied them before taking in the space now. “He did this work by himself?”
“Yeah. He gave me the tour when I first moved in, explained how he’d been at it for years, but the results are so worth the effort. Wait until you see the main house.”
“I look forward to Rafe showing me. How long have you lived here?”
“A little over a month.”
He actually exhaled, like in relief. “I’m happy to hear that.”
“Why?”
“Because if you’d been here longer and my son hasn’t made his move, he clearly has something wrong with him.”
“He has a girlfriend.”
Liam had a thought on that and whether he intended to share or not, I’d never know because the timer on the oven went off. “Pie’s done.”
An hour later, Rafe still hadn’t returned and I had the sense that Liam didn’t want to over-stay his welcome. I walked with him to the front gates. “Thank you. I haven’t eaten something that incredible in far too long.”
“I enjoyed the company. I’ll let Rafe know you stopped by.”
He started down the drive, but stopped and looked back at me. “Is he happy?”
The genuine interest it seemed Liam had for the answer hit me hard because my dad had never once asked that question of Nat or me. “I don’t know him all that well, but I think so. Sometimes he seems a bit lonely.”
He nodded his head in acknowledgment of my words yet his thoughts were his own and then he said, “Thanks for keeping me company.”
It was Liam who looked lonely now, his words coming back to me about the challenges of fitting back into society. All that time waiting to be free and then dropped in a world where many wanted you back behind bars. I didn’t know him, but seeing the pride he obviously felt for his son and his concern over Rafe’s happiness had the next words tumbling out. “Anytime. I mean that. You’re welcome to visit me whenever you want.”
“I’d like that.”
“Do you have a cell?”
He handed me his cell that he’d taken from his pocket. “I still haven’t gotten used to this. When I went away, cell phones were huge with antennas. These look like something out of Star Trek.”
“And every year they get smaller but are capable of doing more.”
“I can’t help but think of Terminator and the danger of too much automation—all your info just floating around in cyberspace. You can do electronic bill pay, right from your checking account. It’s a little too much for me.”
“I feel the same. I still use actual checks.” I punched my number into his phone. “Whenever you get a hankering for something sweet, call me.”
Reaching for his phone, his expression changed and his next words sounded almost dire. “Next time you see a stranger at the gate, don’t engage them. Keep driving and call Rafe. Promise me, Avery.”
A chill worked down my spine because the warning came out of left field. “Okay, I promise.”
And then he strolled away while I stood with Loki and watched until I couldn’t see him anymore.
“I agree with you, Loki, orange and chocolate are wonderful together, but I want something that’s not cake.”
Loki and I were lying, head-to-head, on the sofa while I worked out some ideas for new recipes. Since he seemed to respond when I included him in my thinking, I did it often. He liked me, always waiting at the front door for me to let him in, greeting me warmly when I came for him on the days I got home before Rafe. Loki and I had been for a walk earlier, after Liam had departed, and having exhausted Loki’s daily limit of exercise we lounged about.
“I’m toying with the idea of a chocolate tray, custom-made chocolates. Unique pairings, maybe even offering wine to complement the flavors.”
The knock at the door had my head peeking up over the sofa back to see Rafe filling the doorway. There was the strangest expression on his face. “Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen Loki?” Even his tone seemed off. I wondered if he had had a fight with Melody.
“Yeah, he’s right here. Come in.”
The screen door swung close as Rafe entered the living room, a space that seemed so much smaller with him in it. “You were just talking to Loki?”
I couldn’t tell if he was incredulous or humored by the thought of Loki and me engaging in conversation. “Yeah. He never answers though. We were tossing around dessert ideas.”
As I watched, the tension that had tightened his shoulders seemed to roll right off him, his demeanor changing from guarded to relaxed. I couldn’t help feeling slightly giddy because I had the distinct impression he thought I had a man over and even more unbelievable, he didn’t appear to like that idea in the least. And I liked that he didn’t like it.
“We?” There was definitely humor in that one word.
“You’ve never chatted with him?”
“No, I talk to him all the time, I’m just surprised you are.”
&nb
sp; “Why?”
He looked as if he was going to answer, but held back.
“You missed your dad.”
Surprise flashed over his face. “What?”
“He was here earlier to see you. He waited for a bit, I gave him pie, but he had to go so…”
“He was here?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, no I’m just sorry I missed him.”
“He was lovely and very interested in you, if you were happy. He loves what you’ve done with the carriage house and is eager for the tour of the main house.”
I was surprised by the look that swept his face at my words; he looked conflicted. “Are you okay, Rafe?”
“It’s just weird. It’s been so long. I kind of thought I outgrew wanting approval from my dad, but I guess not.”
“He said something else before he left. He told me the next time I see a stranger at the gate I shouldn’t engage him and call you. Any idea why he’d say that?”
Rafe’s demeanor changed instantly—fun-loving chased away by wary. “That was another reason why I stopped by. I wanted to mention that I’ve recently learned there are people interested in Dad and his part in the robbery.”
I wasn’t sure what I felt more, concerned or confused. Was that why he had changed the codes on the gates and main house? “It seems odd that there would still be interest so many years later.”
“Our thoughts exactly.”
“You mentioned before that the people who did the job with your dad were killed.”
“Yeah, a few days after the robbery. The case was never closed.” He stepped closer to me, but it was the concern coming off him, for me, that I liked…a lot. “Are you worried?”
“I’m not sure because whatever this is, someone was willing to kill for it. Maybe there’s reason to worry.”
Dangerous was how he looked in response. Fierce. “You’re safe here, but if you want me to help you find another place to—”
I didn’t let him finish that sentence; the thought of leaving was like taking a kick to the gut. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He seemed to like the idea of me leaving about as well as me since the scowl lifted from his expression at my insistence on staying. Had I been alone, I’d be doing that booty wiggle he liked so much.
“Besides, this place is like Fort Knox and we’ve got this incredible guard dog.”
And Loki, right on cue, snored loud and long.
Rafe chuckled. “Yep, he’s fierce.”
I was still grinning when I reached my workshop, Avery the cause. I’d never met anyone like her. That day in her bathroom was burned onto my brain. A robe, a thin layer of cotton had separated all of her from me. It took will to keep my hands at my sides and not reach for her, pushing the fabric off her shoulders and tasting her. God, I wanted her taste on my tongue. But what changed simple lust and craving into something a whole hell of a lot more was her compassion. Even knowing where Dad had spent the past twenty-five years, she hadn’t turned him away; she had made him feel at home. I was coming to learn there were many facets that made up Avery Collins and I liked every single one. And even knowing the attraction was mutual—the air damn near sizzled when we were together—getting involved with my tenant seemed like a really bad idea, but it was getting harder and harder for me to convince myself of that.
Moving deeper into the barn, to where I had a small weight room setup, I pulled off my tee and started working the punching bag that hung from one of the rafters. Dad’s warning to Avery concerned me, had someone approached him? The case file on the robbery was pretty vague because to the police it was exactly what it appeared to be, a robbery gone wrong. If Dad was right though and the robbery had been used to cover up the real crime, what or who had been the target? We needed to find out how Jeremy Paddington and his security box tied into all of this.
The knock on the barn door pulled me from my thoughts. Twisting my neck, Avery stood about twenty feet from me. She looked as if she was rooted to the floor. Her eyes were moving down my body, her thorough inspection had my dick growing hard.
“I’m sorry. I just…” she gestured to the plate she held. “…I was making lunch and thought you might like some. I’ll leave it over there.”
Her footing was a bit unsure and I couldn’t help the grin because it was nice seeing the confirmation that I wasn’t the only one harboring thoughts that would likely lead to trouble.
“Thanks, Avery.”
She looked back at me, but her gaze was on my chest, which turned my grin into a shit-eating smile. Her focus eventually reached my face, her cheeks turning red when she saw I’d read her thoughts.
“You’re welcome.” She managed before she hurried away as if the place was on fire. Turning back to the bag, I started hammering at it again but this time what I was working through was far more pleasant to ponder.
“Sorry I missed you earlier.” Dad and I sat at the bar at a local dive. The cold beer hit the spot after the long day I’d put in.
“Avery, she’s adorable and damn that woman knows how to bake a pie.”
“Yeah, she does.”
“She just invited me in. Didn’t know me, only that I was your father, but she opened up her home to me. Sweet, but that kind of innocence can get her in trouble.”
Something shifted in me, a stirring…a warning. “I know.”
“She gave me her cell number too, told me to stop by whenever I was in the mood for something sweet.”
“That sounds like Avery.”
“It’s refreshing and worrisome. The man who’s lucky enough to snag her will have more than his share of gray hair keeping that tender heart from getting squashed.”
I wanted that man to be me; the intensity of how badly surprised me. But now wasn’t the time to ponder the delectable Avery.
I changed the subject, “How are you doing?”
He didn’t immediately answer, studied me in that way he had, knew he saw far more than I wanted, but instead of prying he answered my question. “Some people have a really hard time adjusting to life after being away for so long, and there is some of that I’m not going to lie, but I love having the fucking window open, and getting to eat and piss whenever the hell I want. My apartment is shit, but it’s my shit, my place. I had McDonalds last night, a big Mac with cheese and goddamn was that good.”
I didn’t need a lifetime locked away to think McDonalds was good. “Any luck with finding a job.”
“Not yet, but my parole officer has a few contacts he’s reaching out to.”
“Earlier you gave Avery a warning.”
“Yeah, shouldn’t I have?”
“No, it’s fine but has anyone approached you since you’ve been out?”
“No, just wanted her to be cautious. Being the way she is, she could welcome trouble and not even know it.”
A shiver worked down my spine at the idea of Avery in trouble. Not on my fucking watch. Speaking of which, “I asked a PI to look into your case. You were right, Lucas was after something, wanted access to a security box belonging to a Jeremy Paddington.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“My question exactly. Josh is looking deeper into it.”
“So there had been more to that job. Son of a bitch.” And even pissed he seemed to move from that with ease to ask, “So what is the deal with Avery?”
He was like a dog with a bone. “Meaning?”
“You seriously aren’t going to explore that?”
“She’s my tenant.”
“So what. She’s beautiful, sweet and bakes like an angel. I’m surprised you haven’t already.”
Not for a lack of wanting to. “You’re playing matchmaker? You’ve been out for like a week.”
“Hey, I’ve learned the hard way to appreciate what you’ve got, to grab for what you want.”
“Avery’s great, but I just recently ended a relationship. Plus, she’s my tenant. I think it’d be wise to keep it just business.”
&nb
sp; I felt his stare as I took a pull from my beer. Turning my head to him he seemed to be grinning at a joke aimed at me. A suspicion confirmed when he said, “A sexy and incredibly sweet woman, who bakes like a goddess, lives right outside your back door and you’re going to keep the relationship all business.” He took a pull from his beer before adding, “Well, good luck with that.”
And even as I formed my protest, deep down I knew Dad was right, Avery was just too tempting.
“Honestly, Loki, you could have totally caught that. You didn’t even try.” Glaring down at the big goof, sitting under the tree, I swear he was grinning at me. And why not, he failed to catch a perfectly good pass and now I was up in a tree retrieving his Frisbee. I seriously wanted to come back as a dog like Loki. Lucky bastard.
“I’m going to fall out of this tree and crack my skull and then you’re going to feel guilty. I promise you Loki, you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
Reaching the Frisbee, I looked down to toss it and realized for the first time just how far up I’d climbed. I couldn’t deny, I was thrilled with my very nimble, monkey-like ways, but being stuck high up in a tree was not the best time to learn you were afraid of heights. Curling my fingers around the tree branch, I closed my eyes on a wave of dizziness. I was in a pickle because I couldn’t get myself to move. It was like my entire body just froze in place, too terrified to shift even slightly for fear I’d lose my footing and crash down in a bone-breaking fall.
I shouldn’t have climbed the tree when Rafe wasn’t home. I had thought that, right before I climbed the tree, how I shouldn’t climb the tree in case something should happen. But I didn’t listen to myself and climbed the damn tree anyway. Taking a few deep breaths I forced myself to stop panicking. I climbed up this high; surely, I could climb back down and yet my body refused to listen to the instructions from my brain.
I’m not sure how long I stood in the tree, frozen in place, losing blood in my fingers with how tightly I held onto the branch; I’d probably lose them or the whole hand. It would serve me right, climbing a damn tree when no one was home. And then Loki barked at the same time I heard the front gates opening. Joy and relief hit first, but following just after was chagrin—Nat would be proud of my ever-growing vocabulary. This was the fourth time Rafe had to rescue me. Maybe I should just stay up in this tree. I had read once an adult human body took eight to twelve years to completely decompose. They’d find me when my bones started falling out of the tree. Would Rafe even remember who I was: the crazy chick that had lived in his carriage house for all of a month and a half before disappearing without a trace?
