Sideways

by Lisa Hughey

  Since they met, Colt had been a challenging presence in her daily life. There was an ease between them that she had never found with a lover or even many of her friends.

  She was always hiding things.

  But when he’d admitted to destructive patterns, she remembered the article she’d read about him. He never drank alcohol now even though he’d been spending a decent amount of time in the gastropub. And he’d admitted he’d given up smoking. Maybe those tabloid rumors had been accurate.

  A sudden despair overcame her.

  If he knew who she was, if he knew what kind of scrutiny his connection to her—and by association, her family—would bring upon him, he’d run screaming from the bed, from her life. But, she really liked him.

  He’d taken time out of his day to help her with laundry. Although since he was in bed with her maybe that wasn’t all altruistic. But he’d helped out Phoebe when she’d had a conflict. He’d met with Chuck and Lottie and been an active participant in discussing their menu for their fiftieth anniversary. He’d pushed past an understandable reluctance to get involved because someone else needed his help.

  He was a good person.

  His fall from grace clearly hadn’t crushed his giving spirit.

  His gruff, sometimes abrasive manner hid a generous and kind soul.

  The last thing he needed was to be connected to Tracy Thayer. The press and her family would eviscerate him. They would chew him up and spit him out. Dredging up all the hurts and negative news from his past and making him relive it all over again.

  She would not allow his association with her and her family to wound his spirit.

  Good thing this was just a fling.

  Her heart faltered because even though she believed it when she’d told him that she wasn’t looking for anything permanent or lasting, somewhere deep the recesses of her thirteen-year-old heart, there lived a hope that she would find her fairy tale.

  Someone who loved her in spite of the problems her family would bring to a relationship. Someone who she could be completely honest with and who would share their burdens with her too. Not just their burdens but their joy.

  But that really was a dream. She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t tell anyone about her family’s secrets. And she liked him too much to allow him to be hurt because she wanted a lover who would support her.

  She needed to shove him out of her bed and out of her heart.

  Good thing he was averse to starting a relationship.

  “You’re thinking awfully hard over there.” His voice rumbled from the smushed recesses of the pillow.

  “Yes,” she said regretfully.

  His impressive butt muscles flexed as he rolled over. He lazily skimmed his gaze over her naked body, and his cock began to harden. “Somehow I don’t think it’s about what to get for breakfast.”

  Before she could deny she was hungry, her stomach rumbled in response.

  “Personally, I’m thinking about a different kind of sustenance,” he teased.

  He tugged her back to bed and she let him pull her back down to the rough cotton sheets.

  His cock jutted between them as he trailed his fingers over the curve of her waist. Her skin pebbled in response. He had working hands so different from her softer ones. But his touch was tender and erotic and lit her up like the Boston Harbor on the Fourth of July.

  Even though she knew she was bad for him, that being in a relationship would be detrimental to his health and happiness, she let him pull her back to bed. There would be time to disentangle and leave him alone.

  No one was here in this room now but the two of them. Together they created an incendiary heat that she couldn’t ignore.

  A few hours later, she was still with Colt.

  She’d woken up the second time to the realization that her clothes were still in the washing machine. She pulled his Henley over her head, easier than her iron maiden sports bra, and grabbed her running shorts. She headed to the laundry room. Luckily no one else had been in here so she was able to dump everything in one dryer. She studied the dials with the concentration of a doctor about to perform brain surgery.

  He’d followed her wearing only his shorts, and the view was amazing. He had flat abs and sculpted shoulders with that rose vine tattoo climbing over his skin. Reminding her that the sex had been amazing.

  “Just put everything on low. You can’t go wrong with that.” Colt was amused.

  She’d been subtly trying to get rid of him. Of course, maybe she was sending mixed messages because she’d stolen his shirt. She didn’t want him to leave. She was bad for him. But she wanted him.

  Her stomach rumbled even louder.

  “Let’s get some food.” Colt cajoled her.

  “I can’t go out like this.” She hadn’t taken a shower. Her makeup was gone, burned off by a marathon of sex. Her hair was probably a complete nest. “My mother would have a heart attack.”

  He raised a brow. “Is your mother here?”

  She loved that he didn’t question the fact that she still listened to her mother. Sort of. Family was important to him. Tracy and her mother’s relationship had been strained for years but she still followed directions and toed the family line. And she loved her mother, even if she didn’t understand her choices.

  She flushed. “I need to take a shower first.” She did have a pair of linen pants and a silk short-sleeve shirt she could wear. Or the running shorts and sports bra.

  Maybe he’d grow impatient with her stalling and leave. Then she wouldn’t have to kick him out.

  “Just throw on a hat,” he said.

  She only had her wide-brimmed beach hat in the rental. And it wouldn’t go with her more casual workout clothes.

  He eyed her hair. “I have a baseball cap you can borrow.”

  Tracy winced. A baseball cap? Even when she attended Red Sox games, she didn’t wear a ball cap.

  Before she could decline, he asked, “What’s really going on?”

  “I don’t think I’m good for you,” Tracy replied miserably. Actually she knew she wasn’t. But kicking him out and cutting him loose when he’d been the bright spot in her days was incredibly hard.

  “I think you were very, very bad for me.” He grinned, his teeth white in the sexy, joyful curve of his mouth.

  She snorted. But she was struck in this moment at how much younger he looked. How much freer he seemed. Had she done that?

  She was tempted by the idea that she had impacted him. That thought filled her with immense satisfaction.

  “It’s just breakfast. Not a lifetime commitment.” He threaded his fingers through hers so casually.

  It was just breakfast.

  And she wanted to spend just a little more time with him before she returned to her lonely life. She was in a holding pattern as far as research regarding the app and Esme. She was off at the Speakeasy today.

  “What’s your favorite breakfast?” He asked the question out of the blue.

  “Umm.” She normally had a cup of coffee and a protein bar. She wouldn’t say it was a favorite.

  “Wait. You don’t have a favorite?” He looked appalled. “I am seriously offended.”

  “I don’t really think that much about food.”

  “I don’t even know how to address that.” Colt looked at her as if she’d just admitted to being a serial killer. “I make—” He paused, swallowed. “Made a divine veggie hash with poached eggs in a cradle of diced root vegetables and black beans with the subtlest hint of smoked paprika and coriander.”

  She couldn’t interpret the look on his face. Maybe a hint of longing.

  That actually sounded pretty good—similar to the Breakfast for Dinner dish served at the Speakeasy.

  “It’s a great way to start the day,” Colt said quietly.

  “Coffee is my breakfast of choice.”

  He assessed her for a moment, then shook his head. “Coffee.”

  As far as she knew, the only breakfast-y place was the diner. But she guara
nteed their coffee wasn’t strong enough for her. The Gin Mill and the Speakeasy only served lunch and dinner. The Busy Bean was more coffee shop with pastries. As a matter of fact, the menu was…problematic for her. But the coffee was fabulous. “We can go to the Bean.”

  “Look at you being all local. Audrey makes some amazing pastries.”

  Once her clothes were dry, Tracy retrieved her laundry from the dryer and dumped it on the motel bed. She put on her running shorts and a clean tank top and her work shoes. She shuddered. Good thing no one she knew could see her.

  Colt led her to his truck. A beat-up old Chevy Silverado. The passenger door didn’t lock and the driver’s seat had a worn bowl from being used so much.

  He drove to the Busy Bean. They really did have the best coffee.

  At the last minute, she grabbed his ball cap from the back seat.

  The patrons of the coffee shop looked up when the bell over the door tinkled and they walked in.

  Normally, people looked up when the door opened, probably to see if it was someone they knew, and then retreated to their conversation once they realized she was no one of importance. But this morning, it was like she could feel the speculation swirl around the room. But was it because of Colt? Hopefully yes.

  While they waited in line to order their drinks, she started to worry. She didn’t think anyone was looking at her. But what if somehow, someone here recognized her? She felt raw, exposed.

  Crap. She should have thought ahead.

  In the Speakeasy, customers tended to ignore their waitstaff. In the past, she’d been guilty of the same thing—not really noting any personal characteristics of the person waiting on her unless she needed something from them. She was always polite. A Thayer never made a scene.

  But she couldn’t say that she’d ever considered her servers as more than someone there to wait on her.

  The rhetoric in the news had ramped up. Her father’s opponent in the upcoming election continued to keep the story alive and roiling with his claims of elitism and a politician out of touch with the regular guy. She’d hoped that the news would cycle to some new scandal but so far that hadn’t happened.

  Poor Yolanda was fielding all the business phone calls. The press had also been clamoring at her for an interview. So far the company had only put out a couple of statements, standing behind the integrity of their process and pointing to all the matches that they had facilitated over the past year. Tracy was going to have to give her a big raise.

  “What’s up?”

  He could sense her discomfort. Had anyone ever been as attuned to her as he was? She didn’t think so.

  “It’s pretty crowded in here.” Tracy shifted closer to him.

  A woman in a chair at the corner of the shop seemed to be surveying everyone with a speculative eye. But then the bell over the door rang and the woman waved at the young couple who came in.

  Tracy relaxed. She was glad she’d put on Colt’s John Deere cap. The two-toned white mesh and feathered green hat with the suede patch didn’t match her running shorts and yoga top, but it concealed her face. Tracy Thayer would never be caught dead in a ratty old ball cap. But Cee-Cee rather enjoyed it.

  “You want to get it to go and eat somewhere else?” Colt asked.

  “Where?”

  “Give me suggestions.”

  They could go back to her motel room, but Mrs. Beasley needed time to clean it. And she couldn’t guarantee that if she were back in that room that she wouldn’t jump him one more time.

  “Somewhere away.” If she was going to enjoy this time with him, she wanted to be away from everything where the real world couldn’t intrude.

  He nodded.

  She studied the specials board and found something she could eat. She ordered the cup of oatmeal with brown sugar and pecans while Colt ordered a biscuit with bacon and cheddar that sounded amazing. Except for all that gluten.

  Ten minutes later they were back in his truck. The tension that gripped her eased now that they were secluded in the intimacy of the front seat of his truck.

  “You want to come to my place?”

  His place? She was curious to see where he lived. He was a classically trained chef, he’d been to Paris, he’d worked in New York and Boston. What things did he surrounded himself with? What clues could she unearth that would reveal more of his personality?

  She shouldn’t spend more time with him, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Sure. It beats the Three Bears. Pretty sure Mrs. Beasley is looking out for a glimpse of your bare ass.”

  Of course it was a spectacular ass, so Tracy really couldn’t blame her.

  Colt

  Colt pulled into his grass driveway, following in the worn tire tracks, and drove toward his cabin. He was unexpectedly nervous. The slant roof, single-room cabin had a porch that ran the length of the small structure.

  She’d tried to cut him loose this morning. Some bullshit about not being good for him. But she clearly believed it.

  She might just be the best thing that had happened to him in months. He had laughed more in the past few days than he had for the entire past year. She’d made him forget his own troubles. The last time he remembered feeling this way, wanting to just spend time in a place, was when he had opened his first restaurant and he’d spent hours there alone. Absorbing the atmosphere and soaking up every detail about the space and how he felt. He’d never felt this way about a woman, about any person really, and he wanted to spend more time in her company.

  To see if it was just a fluke or if there was something more there.

  “Bring your breakfast up to the porch and I’ll get some plates.”

  “I can just eat from the—”

  He shot her a look. “Food is a sensual experience. It starts with your eyes.” Just because they got takeout didn’t mean they should treat the food as disposable. She followed him up onto the porch and he gestured to the rockers. “Have a seat and I’ll be right out.”

  Meals were meant to be savored. In a metal gardener’s basket, he carried out the table settings: heavy lapis Fiestaware plates and a bowl for her breakfast, bright yellow hand-thrown coffee mugs he’d picked up at a booth at the Colebury Farmers Market one day when his friends dragged him out of his reclusive existence, and cloth napkins and silverware.

  He gestured for her bag. She handed it over and he fished out her cup of oatmeal. He grimaced. All those excellent baked goods and she’d gone for the most bland, albeit healthy, item on the menu.

  He scooped the oatmeal into the bowl and placed her bowl on the cloth napkin, pale blue with buzzing yellow bees, then set the combo on top of the blue plate. He set the plate on the mini bistro table. He pulled a pair of shears from the gardening basket near the front door and loped down to the edge of the woods to snip some flowers. The cluster of daisies in purples and whites drooped with a goofy cheer.

  She sat in quiet bemusement as he plated their breakfast, poured their coffee into the ceramic mugs, and settled the daisies into a creamy milk-glass vase.

  “This is so gorgeous.” She pulled out her phone. “Can I take a picture—only of the food,” she clarified. “I’ll tag the Busy Bean and the town. You can never have too much good publicity.”

  He frowned at the phone. “Have you thought about just enjoying the moment?”

  “That’s difficult for me.” She snapped a few pictures and then tucked the phone away. “I don’t have time for enjoyment.”

  “You should make time.” Of course he couldn’t really judge. Until his forced retirement, he’d worked twenty hours a day and was always chasing the next accolade. He hadn’t relaxed for years.

  “I’ve got a lot of…responsibilities.” She shrugged, seeming far away and somewhat sad. “In theory, all publicity is good publicity.”

  He just shook his head. “Not in my world.”

  “Good point.”

  They ate their breakfast in silence. The song of the crickets and birds were background music. The air was thick with the
scents of roses and honeysuckle. His biscuit was really good. He’d chosen one with bacon, cheddar and green onion.

  The sun rose higher in the sky, bathing his garden in a brilliant light, highlighting the textures and the colors. The plot had grown over the summer. While he’d always understood the relationship between methods for growing food and preparing delicious meals, he hadn’t ever had his own garden. His mom had a small one when they’d been kids.

  They talked idly about the weather and the sunshine and the fact that his vegetable plants were lush with produce: The pale orange zucchini blossoms, the bright red cherry tomatoes, the thick green cucumbers, and the multi-colored bell peppers.

  That would make a really excellent salad with a warm bacon dressing and crumbles of local Vermont blue cheese.

  He was lost in composing the recipe when she took out her phone and snapped some more pictures of his garden.

  “I’ve got a challenge for you.” Colt shoved down the hit of annoyance. He didn’t have any right to be irritated with her. They were just hanging out enjoying a quiet summer morning. But he thought she needed the break more than he did.

  “Sure.”

  “Put your phone away for an hour.”

  The look on her face should have been a huge red flag.

  “You can’t do it.” He would take it as a personal challenge to get her to forsake her phone.

  “Of course I can.” She hesitated. “But what are we going to do?”

  The uncertainty of her reaction spurred him on. They could go inside and have more sex. He certainly wouldn’t turn that down. But he found himself wanting to play.

  “Apple picking.”

  “Apple picking?” she said slowly.

  “Yup.”

  “I haven’t been apple picking since college.”

  “It’s a little early but the Paula Reds and the Ginger Gold trees should have some ripe fruit by now.” He rubbed his hands together. “They’d be perfect for a cobbler maybe with a little cheddar and a drizzle of Lyon honey over the topping.”