He looked around his mom’s kitchen, at the fridge covered with Kayleigh’s drawings and photos. As the only grandchild in the close-knit clan, she’d been spoiled by his folks as well as three sets of his aunts and uncles, not to mention his brother and six cousins. After months of mourning in self-imposed exile, those cousins rousted him from his room and made him face the world. His cousin Jack dragged him to every summer league baseball game. His cousin Logan showed up every Saturday morning to go fishing. And his cousin Brian signed Ed and Kayleigh both up for beginner tae-kwon-do lessons twice a week after school. Brian even sat in the dojo’s waiting room with the other parents for the first month, as if he didn’t trust Ed to get there on his own. Slowly, his life took on a new cadence without Laura.
He knew his parents would never ask him to move out, but maybe it was time. Not that one date should make him start planning a forever with Claire, but maybe it was enough that the date made him want to think about the future. And the possibilities it might hold.
He had one week to figure out if this… this thing between he and Claire was worth pursuing. If it all fizzled out tomorrow, they could part friends and Kayleigh would never have to know. She’d return from New York City on Saturday and regale him with stories of sightseeing and Broadway shows, and never have to hear anything about her father dating someone new. Or at least, not this someone new.
Regardless of the outcome with Claire, it was time to move out of his parents’ home.
Time to get on with life.
9
Tuesday, late afternoon
Indian Hill Road, Chatham
The kitchen timer echoed down the hall along with the delicious scent of Indian butter chicken cooking in the Instant Pot pressure cooker. She’d taken a cooking class back in Stamford, after her divorce. She thought it might be a good way to get out and meet new people, not realizing until she arrived the first night that it was a “couples class.” She’d been partnered with the instructor for eight weeks, an older woman with a dry sense of humor and a seemingly infinite number of interesting recipes and techniques. Halfway through the classes, Claire went out and purchased many of the tools she’d learned to use in class, including the Instant Pot and rice cooker Mrs. Hanover recommended. She’d never been much of a cook, her own mother being more inclined to make reservations than make a home-cooked meal.
Another of the things Dennis always chided her about. “How did I end up with the one wife in the world who doesn’t know the first thing about cooking?” Early in the marriage, the teasing was harmless, words spoken in jest at the fancy restaurants Dennis preferred to frequent. As the years progressed, the words grew barbs. Especially since Claire knew they were true.
With the instructor’s patient guidance, she learned that cooking didn’t have to be complicated. And it could be fun to follow new recipes, since Mrs. Hanover taught Claire how to read them, what to look for, and what the different techniques involved. Now her biggest problem was too many leftovers. None of her favorite recipes were created for one person, so she often ended up cooking once or twice a week and eating the same meal again and again. At least tonight’s dinner would be shared with a hungry guy. He’d mentioned how he enjoyed trying different cuisines, and offered to take her to Hyannis to try Cape Cod’s best – and only – authentic Indian restaurant. She hoped that meant he liked to eat Indian food.
Claire stood in front of the bedroom mirror, ignoring the insistent beep, eyeing her third change of clothes in the last thirty minutes. She’d already discarded a floral sundress she’d bought for a coworker’s wedding last summer and the pink plaid miniskirt she usually wore to work with opaque black tights. She didn’t want to look dressy and overeager when they were spending the night at home, nor did she want to dress like the teacher she was. Damn, why was it so hard to decide what to wear? It’s not like we’re even going out anywhere.
“Because you like this guy,” she answered herself out loud, her eyes on the discarded t-shirt lying on the bed. “You actually like this guy.”
When she’d agreed to go on the blind date Emily set up, she figured it was a good way to ease back into dating. Heck, all Emily promised was that she’d “be safe.” A promise that made sense now that she knew Ed was a local cop. But the fire running through her body last night on the beach had felt anything but safe. More like totally out of control. She could barely keep her hands off him on a public beach… Why in the world did she think it was a good idea to invite him over to the cottage for dinner? How would she ever keep her hands to herself in the privacy of her own home?
She’d woken up this morning alternating between excitement and self-doubt. Yes, the chemistry between her and Ed was off-the-charts hot. If his kisses were any indication… Was it a bad thing that she wanted to take things to the next level so quickly? The only other man she’d ever slept with was Dennis. And according to him, she wasn’t very good at it. So why were visions of s-e-x with the hot policeman rattling around in her brain, distracting her… all day long?
“Because you like this guy,” she repeated, staring at her reflection. That, and she couldn’t stop thinking about his hard length pressed against her when they kissed. She took a deep breath, her decision made. Whether this thing with Ed lasted one more date or much longer, she wanted him. All of him, including that long, hard cock. She was an adult. She could do this if she wanted to. Except for the insidious whisper in the back of her mind that sounded a little like Dennis. Okay, a lot like Dennis. The voice whispering that she wasn’t good enough. Not smart enough. Not pretty enough. Not sexy enough.
The beeping from the kitchen finally penetrated and she decided her current outfit would have to be good enough, or else risk ruining the meal. Skinny black jeans and a black silk tank top that hugged her curves, topped with an oversized white eyelet blouse with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Without time to hunt for shoes to complete the outfit, she barreled down the stairs to the kitchen to stop the incessant timer before the repetitive noise drove her insane. As if I’m not there already. She hit the off-button on the Instant Pot before starting her search for the immersion blender. She knew it had to be in the kitchen somewhere. Her phone chimed with a text, and she tensed. Was Ed canceling their date? If he didn’t show up, she’d be eating Butter Chicken all week long.
Nope. Not him. She breathed a sigh of relief before cursing under her breath. The roofer she’d been waiting for all day long finally decided to let her know he wasn’t showing up. I kinda figured that out for myself.
She’d spent the day in limbo, waiting for the last of the three contractors to arrive to give her an estimate on replacing the roof on her grandmother’s cottage. The day before she’d had one guy give her a pretty decent quote in the morning, followed by an astronomical number from the team who arrived after lunch. She figured getting a third quote made sense in order to determine which one of the previous contractors was standing out in left field all alone. Then she could get on with her vacation week and not be tied to the house waiting on crews to show up. Or not show up, as was the case today.
She read the text from the contractor out loud. “Sorry for the no show. Emergency at another job site. Can we reschedule for tomorrow a.m.?” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as the contemplated his words. She couldn’t blame the guy for an emergency, right? And she really did want a third quote. Before she could change her mind, she typed back her assent, and continued her search for the blender.
Ed hesitated on the doorstep, taking in the tired cedar shingles and peeling paint on the shutters. Even though he was a cop, his dad ran a local contracting business. Ed knew his way around home repairs and could see how much work would be entailed to bring this cottage back to its former glory.
They’d spent a fair amount of last night discussing all the home improvement projects Claire had been busy with, yet there didn’t seem to be much evidence. Then again, it rained for the better part of the last month and a half. Perhaps all the painting she’d b
een talking about was on the inside of the house. Now that the weather was finally turning, it looked like she could use some help with the outside. He knew Kayleigh enjoyed helping paint the shutters for his brother’s new house the previous fall. Maybe next weekend they could all…
What am I doing? We’ve had one date so far and I’m thinking of introducing her to my daughter? He shook his head, trying to derail that train of thought. It was too much too soon and he ought to know better. As it was, he’d made the decision last night not to mention Kayleigh at all. The same way he’d decided not to mention his mother was the middle school principal. Some things were best left unsaid. At least, for now they were. Especially about Kayleigh. Claire thought it romantic that he’d married his high school sweetheart, but how would he explain an eleven-year-old? Claire was a teacher. She could obviously do the math. He didn’t want to explain how he’d given up his college dreams and football scholarship because he got Laura pregnant on prom night. Such a cliché.
None of that mattered at the moment. Right here, right now, he was a single guy going on a second date with a woman he might actually like. The rest could come in time.
Taking a deep breath, he rang the bell. Moments later, the door swung open and Claire’s smile flooded him with warmth. She had on tight black jeans that did fabulous things to her legs, making them look miles longer.
“You’re right on time.” She ushered him into the cottage and closed the door behind him. “After you showed up late yesterday, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect.”
“Sorry about that. Last night I got stuck at work finishing paperwork.” He followed her through the house, noting the fresh white paint in the hallway and a tasteful light grey on the walls in the living room. Delicious fragrances filled the air, making his mouth water. When she’d offered to cook, he had no idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the curry scents wafting from the kitchen. This woman seemed full of surprises, from the way she stirred his desire to initiating that first kiss on the beach last night, and everything in between.
“No paperwork today?”
“Oh, there’s still a pile on my desk I’ll need to finish in the morning. It’s a small department until the summer cops show up later this month. There’s always an excess of paperwork.”
She stopped at the kitchen island and turned to face him, a questioning look on her face.
He held up a hand, wanting to explain. “Yesterday, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. Finishing the work in front of me topped my priority list. But now that I’ve met you…” He stepped in to put his hands on her hips and tug her closer. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting. Especially knowing you planned to cook for me. Whatever you’ve got going on in here smells really, really good.”
Head tilted to one side, she bit her bottom lip. “You made me the priority today?”
Ed grinned, looking down into her upturned face, and seeing a need that echoed his own. “I did. And I’d like to make kissing you hello a priority now too, if that’s okay.”
She shrugged and slipped her hands around his middle, stepping closer. “I think that could be arranged.” She tipped her chin up to meet him, her mouth soft and welcoming. He brushed his lips against hers, teasing, tasting, but found it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy his increasing desire. When she sighed and pressed closer, his tongue caressed her lower lip before dipping and stroking slowly into her mouth. This. This is what I want.
Finally he found the strength to end the kiss, pulling away scant inches to rest his forehead against hers. Looking down into those eyes flecked with gold, he whispered, “Well, hello there.”
A snort escaped as she tried to suppress her giggle. “For such a smooth guy, you come out with a lot of cheese-ball lines.”
His hands slipped down to grab her ass cheeks, which perfectly filled his hands, tugging her until she was flush up against his body. He was rewarded with a surprised – and happy? – look on her face. “I might have mentioned last night, I haven’t dated anyone new since high school. Forgive me if my, umm, lines are a bit cliché.”
She smirked and pressed her lips to his in a quick drive-by of a kiss. “I’m enjoying the hell out of it, to be honest.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” She twisted out of his embrace, heading for the large pot on the countertop that had steam rising out of it. “But right now I need to finish getting dinner ready or we won’t get to enjoy the sunset with dinner.”
“Sunset?” Ed raised his gaze to the windows and took in the view for the first time. When he’d pulled off the dirt road and down Claire’s driveway, he didn’t take much notice of the water nestled beyond the trees. He knew he was too far inland for an ocean view, but Cape Cod was filled with ponds, cranberry bogs, and lakes like the one he could see outside Claire’s house.
“I didn’t realize there was such a large kettle hole in this neighborhood.” He moved beyond the kitchen island to the sliding doors and out onto the attached deck, noting the open slope down to a thin strip of sand along a wide expanse of water surrounded by trees. Other cottages like Claire’s dotted the surrounding hills. A white plastic table with four matching chairs sat to one side of the deck next to a Weber grill that had seen better days. A weathered railing ran around the edge of the deck, in dire need of some TLC. The sun had begun its slow descent behind the opposite hill, casting a golden glow over the whole scene, making the view seem almost magical.
He felt rather than heard Claire come up behind him. “I grew up spending every Fourth of July vacation week here at my grandmother’s and always thought it was a lake. What do you mean by kettle hole?”
“It is a lake, but it’s formed in a depression left by receding glaciers from back in the ice age. Instead of being fed by the ocean or a river, it’s fed by underground springs. They’re common on the Cape.” He turned to face her. “Growing up in town, we had a lot of natural ecology thrown into our school curriculum since day one.”
“Sooo… it’s still a lake?” Her brows creased in confusion.
Ed reached an arm around her waist to pull her into his side. She hesitated a moment before snuggling closer. He turned them both to face the peaceful view. “Yup. Still a lake. And it seems like a great summer place. I thought you said your grandmother rented it to summer workers? Those cottages that broke college students can afford don’t usually have lake access.”
Claire let out a snort. Ed laughed in surprise at her reaction and her eyebrows shot up, her hand covered her mouth as color filled her cheeks. “Sorry,” she mumbled from behind her fingers.
“No worries,” he reassured her, pulling her hand away from her face. Actually, he was glad she felt comfortable enough with him to give such a natural reaction. “About the rental thing…?”
“Yeah, Grandma trusted the rental company with the cleaning and maintenance, as well as vetting the renters. It took a few years, but when they realized she wasn’t coming north to check on the property any longer, they stopped being as careful. After a while, the only people the house was fit for were college students and twenty-somethings here to work, apparently.”
“And your grandmother didn’t notice the difference in the amounts she earned in rental income? I mean, a lake house should bring in more than a seasonal worker can afford.”
Claire shook her head. “There were shenanigans at that rental company for sure. They charged her for all kinds of supposed repairs that never got done. When she figured out something was up, she fired them. Now she wants to sell and be done with the place.”
The cop in Ed wanted to take names and track down the people that duped her grandmother. The other part of him was intrigued that a house like this was on the market. “You’re kidding, right? You told me last night about all the work you’ve put into this place. And she’s going to sell it?” His gaze slipped back over the landscape. “The lake is swimmable, right?”
She shrugged. “It was when I was a kid. One of the neighbors used to have a float
they’d anchor out there in the summertime.”
He easily envisioned a float twenty yards off the sandy shoreline, and a few kayaks pulled up on the beach. He could also picture a fire pit down there in the sand, like his parents had in their yard, with Adirondack chairs circled for evening fires with friends. What he wouldn’t give to buy a place like this. But even if it was beyond time for him to move out of his parents’ home, this wasn’t a place he could afford on his salary. He wondered if Claire was thinking of buying it for herself, but that seemed too forward a question for a second date.
“Are you ready to eat?”
Claire’s words pulled him out of his musing. He looked down into her upturned face and smiled. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
10
Later
“Everything was delicious,” Ed repeated, although Claire didn’t think she’d ever get tired of his praise. Dennis never had a good thing to say about anything she’d ever cooked. Or done. And… there she was, comparing Ed to Dennis again. She needed to stop thinking about her ex. Ed was nothing like him, not in any way, shape or form.
A few jar candles cast a flickering glow over the table and the remnants of their meal. A plethora of stars lit the night sky overhead. She poured the last of the red wine, some in his glass and some in hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t plan anything for dessert.”
“Don’t apologize,” Ed said with a smile. “I’m not sure I could fit anything else if I tried. That was the best Indian food I’ve had in a long, long time.”
“Thanks.” She tipped the last of her wine into her mouth, before standing and grabbing both dinner plates. Ed stood and gathered up the rest of the dishes, following her into the kitchen. She put the dishes in the sink and started to run hot water. “Give me a minute to rinse these and put them in the dishwasher.”
Ed's Blind Date Dilemma Page 7
