The Café between Pumpkin and Pie

by Marina Adair

  “How much longer?” she asked while watching over his shoulder as he slid the individual racks inside all that glorious stainless steel. Who knew Stella had such good taste in commercial baking equipment? The sight of the four-stroke heating coil made Syd’s heart go pitter-patter. It was almost as good as the sight of Nick’s muscles bunching as he swung a hammer.

  “If you’d quit hovering, it would go a lot quicker.” He put the last rack in and started attaching the doors.

  “When you’re done, could we cordon off the area from the rest of the construction site with plastic sheeting?”

  He gritted his teeth. “How do you plan to get to the ovens then?”

  “Oh, good question.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ll make you a plastic door with some Velcro. But I still think it’s a bad idea.” He punctuated his opinion by making a show of staring at the tools and sawdust that littered the floor.

  “I’ll give it a good cleaning with the shop vac.”

  “You’re going to have to do it every day,” he said, then mumbled, “It’ll get old fast.”

  “I’m not breaking my promise to Nan. And the kitchen oven in the house is woefully inadequate for baking nine to ten dozen loaves a day.”

  “Don’t come crying to me if the health department catches wind of what you’re doing and shuts you down.”

  “Way to be a buzzkill. Call me when it’s done. I want to take a selfie of me with this bad boy.” She slapped the steel and headed to the house to make a few calls and check in on her crew at Bread & Cie.

  She left a message for Gage, thanking her lucky stars he hadn’t answered. He’d sent her a couple of urgent texts to call him. But his idea of urgent was running out of shampoo, so she wasn’t particularly worried. Syd got a daily status report from her head baker, who assured her that the bakery was running like a well-oiled machine.

  After a twenty-four-minute conversation with her business manager, Syd moved on to emails. Emily and Clay were home in Nugget after their tour of New England, and Emily was ready to pick up where she and Syd had left off on the cookbook. Syd responded to the other messages that needed her immediate attention but left the rest for later.

  She was too busy hoping Nick would take his lunch break in the house soon. It had become an unspoken routine for him to wander in about noon and for her to fix him something to eat. On most nights, they also shared supper. Syd had begun to watch the clock, counting the minutes to their cozy meals. Much to her wonder—and chagrin—she was getting attached.

  Soon she would meet with her grandmother’s estate lawyer and arrange to list the property come spring. Her work here would be done. Time to go home to San Francisco, where her business and condo waited. It wasn’t wise to grow too close to Nick. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself from spending as much time with him as possible.

  She tried to tell herself that she was merely bereaved and lonely and he was good company. But deep down inside she knew there was a chemistry between them that she hadn’t felt with a man in a long time. Perhaps ever. Not even with Gage, who had been fun and sexy but always a little distant. She’d never been able to talk to Gage the way she could with Nick.

  As if on cue, he came through the door exactly at noon and washed his hands in the mudroom’s laundry sink.

  “I made beef stew,” she called to him.

  “Sounds good.” He came into the kitchen and took her in from head to toe. He’d seen her only a couple of hours ago. Yet his hungry assessment made it seem as if it had been days or even weeks. The desire she saw in his eyes gave Syd goose bumps. She couldn’t help thinking about their kiss and wondering why he hadn’t tried again.

  Syd, never shy about being the aggressor, had held back with Nick. It was probably a great deal due to what had happened in high school.

  “What’ve you been up to?” he asked.

  “Catching up on work and phone calls.”

  “I imagine it’s not easy running a business long-distance.”

  “Nope, especially this time of year. All our retailers are doubling their orders for the holidays. I have good people, though. They’re clutch in a crunch.”

  He grinned at the sports reference, then wandered over to the stove, where he sniffed her pot of stew. “Smells good.”

  “It felt like a comfort food day.” She got two bowls down and dished them up good-size helpings. “I made a sourdough bread too. Given my grandmother’s oven, no guarantees on how good it is, though.” Syd thought the kitchen stove needed to be recalibrated. Everything took twice as long to cook as it should.

  Nick grabbed his usual spot at the table and she sat across from him. It had become their little domestic ritual.

  “You want to have dinner at my place?” he asked. “I could grab a pizza on the way home.”

  “Okay. But I could make us something here.”

  He gazed around the kitchen. “I figured you could use a change of scenery and a break from cooking.”

  “No argument from me.” She had been working on recipes all day and looked forward to getting out. And his place was rather cozy.

  “Besides, the chimney guy is at my place right now. And if all goes well, we can test run the fireplace. Or we can set my house on fire. Either way, I wouldn’t mind having a partner in crime.”

  “I’ll pick up a pie at the Corner Café. I have to stop by there to talk to Nan about her order.” She looked at him expectantly. “I’ll be able to use the ovens first thing in the morning, right?”

  He nodded his head. “Yeah. Good luck with navigating the mess in there. But I’ll get your plastic sheeting up before I punch out for the day.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned across the table and flashed him her most appreciative smile. “I’ll be out of your hair by the time you arrive tomorrow morning. Promise.”

  He gave her an acquiescent nod. While they finished their soup, she made a mental note of what she planned to wear to dinner, right down to her underwear.

  * * *

  Nick had a roaring fire going when Syd arrived at his place that evening.

  “The house is still standing.” She knocked on the mantle. “So I guess everything is working okay.”

  “Yep, just years of soot buildup. But it’s all good now.” He set a bottle of wine in the center of the coffee table next to trays of veggies, charcuterie, and cheese and crackers. “It’s the best I could do for appetizers.”

  “Are you kidding? It looks great.” Syd handed him the pumpkin pie she’d gotten from Nan on the way over, and he took it to the kitchen.

  “I stuck the pizza in the oven to keep it warm,” he called over his shoulder, and returned a few minutes later with a bottle opener. “I guess I should’ve let the Chianti breathe before you got here.” He uncorked the bottle and poured them each a glass.

  “I wouldn’t know the difference.” She took a healthy sip. “Mmm, it’s delicious. See.”

  He laughed, then looked her up and down. The same hint of male appreciation he’d shown at lunch glinted in his eyes. “You look nice.”

  She’d worn a winter white fitted sweater dress with a plunging cowl neck and a pair of tall brown suede boots.

  “Thanks. So do you.” He’d changed out of his work clothes into fresh jeans and a flannel shirt that looked soft enough to curl up in, and his hair was wet. The faint scent of cologne settled around him. Whatever it was, it smelled woodsy and masculine. Syd wanted to eat him up.

  He shrugged like he hadn’t put any thought into his appearance. From the look of his carefully plated nibbles, Syd thought it more likely that he’d obsessed over the food.

  “Did you do all this?” She waved her hand over the spread.

  His expression turned sheepish and his shoulders gave a small hitch. “I called the deli at the market. Ginger did it for me.”

  Syd didn’t know Ginger, but she’d done a lovely job. “Everything looks great.”

  “You’re always cooking for me, so I wanted to do something ni
ce for you.”

  Now when had Gage ever said that? Syd was pretty sure never.

  She surveyed the table. “This is more than nice. It’s a veritable feast.”

  “I figured you wouldn’t die from store-bought food. As for my cooking, I make no promises.”

  “Your grilled steaks were fantastic.”

  “A barbecue I can manage.” He winked. “But I’ve got to tell you it’s intimidating cooking for a professional chef.”

  “I’m a baker, not a chef. But yeah, I get that a lot. Here’s my dirty little secret: I’m not that picky. Feed me and I’m happy.”

  “Yeah?” He sat next to her and sipped his wine. “What else makes you happy?”

  Him, sitting so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. For a second it took her back to high school, when her palms would break out in a sweat at the mere rumble of his deep voice. But she was older now, more experienced. So why did he still have that effect on her? Even though they spent most of their time bickering, she was more than a little infatuated with him. Okay, maybe a lot infatuated.

  “You ready for pizza?”

  “Sure,” she said, though they’d hardly touched any of his lovely appetizers. “You want help?”

  “Nah. Nothing to do but take it out of the oven. Should we eat it here or at the table?”

  “In front of the fire.” There was something incredibly romantic about eating in front of a roaring fireplace.

  “Okay . . . in here . . . then.” But he didn’t move and his eyes never left her lips.

  She stared back, hypnotized. He leaned in and ever so gently brushed her lips with his. Hesitant at first, Syd kissed him back. It was all the encouragement he needed, because he cupped the back of her head and went deeper, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth. He tasted delicious, like wine and heat. It was all she could do not to inhale him.

  He moved over her until she was flat on the couch. She gripped his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her. His weight felt glorious pressing against her. Syd arched into his arousal, grinding against him. He moaned and she felt him grow harder.

  Nick kissed her neck, and his hands roamed over her dress. She undid the top buttons of his flannel shirt. Impatient, he dragged the shirt over his head. A light dusting of hair covered his well-muscled chest. Swinging a hammer had paid off for him in more ways than one. Syd had never been with a man so ripped.

  Unable to resist, she pressed her palm against his abs. They were as hard as granite. It made her a little self-conscious about never going to the gym.

  He played with the hem of her dress, his work-rough hands skimming the inside of her thighs. “Can I take this off?”

  She sucked in a breath and whispered, “Yes.”

  He rucked the dress up over her head and tossed it on the floor near his shirt, leaving her in nothing but a white lace bra and a thong. Nick lifted himself on both elbows and gazed down at her, taking his time to look. His eyes shined. “Damn,” he said, a slow smile building. “I mean damn.”

  Her skin prickled with anticipation. She pulled him down again and tilted her head back, giving him full access.

  “The couch is a little tight.” His legs hung off the end. “Bedroom?”

  “Uh-huh,” she croaked, her throat suddenly dry. They were doing this. She and Nick Rossi, the boy of her high school fantasies.

  He scooped her off the sofa and carried her as if she weighed nothing through the hallway to the master. She hadn’t seen his bedroom on her last visit to his house and in the back of her mind was curious. But presently, the only thing she was focused on was getting Nick’s pants off.

  He laid her on his bed and came down with her. His kisses, hot and passionate, spurred her to desperation. In a frenzy, her hand moved to his belt buckle. When she struggled to get it undone, he impatiently pushed her hand away. In three seconds flat, he managed to unfasten his belt and shuck his jeans and underwear.

  “Your turn.” He slid her thong down her legs. The scrape of the lace against her skin made her whimper.

  He unclasped her bra and fondled her breasts, weighing each one in his hand. “Ah, Syd. You’re so freaking beautiful.”

  She threw her head back as his mouth laved attention on her breasts and his hands explored her body. Everything about him felt so good that she lost her mind.

  “Nick . . . Nick, please.”

  Syd made it known exactly what she wanted. But instead of giving it to her, he continued to slowly torture her with exquisite foreplay. She arched up, silently begging him to fill her.

  Finally, he reached into the nightstand, found a condom, and sheathed himself.

  Within seconds he was moving inside her.

  “Good?” he whispered in her ear.

  “So good,” was all she could manage. It was more like transcendent. But she could barely see straight, let alone speak in full sentences.

  She touched him everywhere. His hair, his chest, his perfect backside. He kissed her again and again, never breaking stride, going faster, deeper, harder.

  And just like a hair trigger, she shattered, calling out his name. Leaving her no time to gather up a second wind, he increased his pace, heightening her pleasure all over again. She met him stroke for stroke, and before she knew it she was climaxing a second time, something she never did.

  Unable to hold on any longer, he threw his head back and reached his peak just as she was coming down. Afterward, they lay there together, tangled in each other’s arms, breathing hard.

  Nick rolled them to the side to take his weight off her and she burrowed her head against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat. The sweet sound of it along with the warmth of his body and the safety of his arms lulled her to sleep.

  She didn’t know how long she’d napped, but when she woke, Nick lay awake, gazing at her. He’d covered them both with a quilt from his bed.

  “What time is it?”

  “Only nine.” He reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

  Her messy bun had come loose and she was pretty sure she had crazy hair. But Nick was looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. The heat in his eyes was heady. No one had ever looked at her that way before. It made her wonder if she was seeing things that weren’t there, the way she had sixteen years ago.

  “I should probably get going,” she said because leaving now would be the safe thing to do.

  She had to be up at the crack of dawn to start baking before the Corner Café opened for breakfast. But Nick made her want to believe, and his warm bed made her want to stay.

  His phone rang, jolting them both.

  “Shit.” He fumbled around on the nightstand, took one look at the screen, and muttered an expletive. “Hang on a sec.”

  He took the phone into the other room, which signaled to Syd it wasn’t about a leak or some other construction emergency. It was personal.

  She strained to hear, grabbing snippets of the conversation, and quickly concluded that it was Jennifer. Of course it was. History repeating itself.

  Syd gathered up her underwear just as she realized that her dress was still somewhere on the living room floor. She didn’t want to walk through Nick’s house in her thong and bra, so she borrowed a shirt from his closet. It smelled like laundry soap and shame. Shame that she’d yet again been reeled in like a hungry fish.

  She crept into the living room to find Nick sitting on the couch. He motioned to the phone he held to his ear and gave an apologetic shrug, then mouthed, Give me five minutes. He waved his hand over the spread of mostly untouched food. They’d never gotten around to eating.

  She swiped her dress off the floor and went back to his bedroom, where she fully dressed, then went in search of her purse. It was on the hallway console. She grabbed it and let herself out. Nick, so absorbed in his conversation with Jen, didn’t even see her leave.

  Chapter 8

  Syd pulled out her last sheet of breads from the new ovens when sh
e heard Nick’s truck turn into the driveway. He’d tried to call her several times after she’d left his house the previous night. She’d let every call go to voicemail.

  In two weeks, she was going home, and as far as she was concerned, Nick Rossi was officially out of her system.

  She’d started for the house with her tray when he met her in the driveway. “Why didn’t you answer your phone last night?”

  Syd didn’t like his sharp tone. “You clearly have unfinished business with Jennifer, and I don’t want to be in the middle of it.”

  “There is no unfinished business. It’s finished. She and I are no longer together.”

  Syd shifted the tray to her other hand. “Really? Because it certainly didn’t feel that way last night.”

  He took the tray from her and put it on the hood of his truck. “Look, she’s been a part of my life since we were sixteen years old. She’s having trouble adjusting.”

  “What does that even mean? Trouble adjusting.” Syd held up her hand as Nick started to talk. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Yes, I do.” He tried to take her hand, but she wouldn’t let him. “Syd, I like you. A lot. Last night wasn’t just a . . . hookup. It was important to me. You’re important to me.” He scrubbed his hand through his dark hair. “Jeez, Syd, don’t you see? I’m falling for you.”

  Syd took a minute to let that sink in. She was falling for him too. But it was an impossible situation. In two weeks, she would be gone, back to San Francisco. Everything she’d worked for was there. And everything Nick had worked for was in Moonbright.

  “I can’t do this, Nick.” She picked up the tray and went inside the house, leaving him standing there alone.

  She boxed up her breads and drove them to the Corner Café with a promise from Nan for a full report on which ones were the top sellers. On her way home she got a call. Gage again. There was only so long she could avoid her business partner. She tapped Bluetooth.