by Denise Carbo
Frowning, I debate how to answer him. I don’t want to give him any more information than I already have. What if he meets Bobby?
The ramifications of a single lie are suddenly mind blowing.
“I’d rather not talk about this, okay? What do you care anyway? And please don’t tell anyone!”
“By that I take it he doesn’t know?”
I roll my eyes at him and scrub the counter with the mangled towel still clutched in my hands. “No genius, he doesn’t know, and I don’t want him to.”
“Why not? How are you going to find out if he returns your feelings, or if he’s even worthy of your interest?”
My hand stops in mid swipe. Worthy of my interest?
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends help each other out.”
What on earth did that mean?
Sally returns and I take that as a signal to escape. “I have stuff to do.” I scramble for the kitchen, fervently hoping absence will make him forget the subject forever.
No such luck.
He follows me into the kitchen. “I have an idea.”
I spin around and gawk at him. Why wouldn’t he drop this?
“You can’t be back here.”
Mitch looks around the kitchen. “Why not?”
My arms flap. “Because, it’s for employees only. Health code and all that. Shoo.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he rests a shoulder against a cooler. “I own the building, remember?”
Crap! How could I forget that?
“Listen to my plan and stop hyperventilating.”
I close my eyes and mouth and then waltz over to the sink to wash my hands. I wasn’t hyperventilating. Slightly panicking, maybe.
If I have to listen to whatever plan he has, then I will bake something. Baking soothes me. Besides, I am still working. Not all of us are so rich we can laze around coming up with ridiculous plans about nonexistent romantic interests.
Defensive much? Yes. I am.
“Friend that I am, I’m willing to help you catch the interest of this guy.”
God help me!
I gather ingredients to make a cake.
“Making a guy jealous is guaranteed to catch his interest.”
“Wait, what?”
“If he sees you’re attracted to someone else, then you’ll grab is attention.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Isn’t it? That doesn’t really work.
“Trust me.”
“And just who am I supposed to pretend to be interested in?”
“Me.” The measuring cup full of flour slips from my nerveless fingers and hits the counter with a smack sending up a cloud of white dust.
Oh God!
The room wavers and I slap my palms flat on the counter and wait for the vertigo to pass. I look up. He’s reclining against the cooler watching me.
I’ve been struck dumb. Did he just suggest I show an interest in him?
“You’ll be helping me out too.”
“I will?”
“Yeah, if people think we’re an item, then the women will stop trying to ambush me all the time. One followed me up to my apartment. I had to shut the door in her face, because she wouldn’t go away. I was half afraid she’d still be there the next morning.”
Ah, there’s the catch. He needs a make-believe girlfriend.
And he is choosing me?
Mitch saunters over to the opposite side of the counter I’m working at and places both his hands flat on the surface facing me. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know to catch this guy.”
I remeasure the flour and then the rest of the dry ingredients. “Like what?”
“I understand how guys think, obviously.”
Not so obvious. I’m a woman and I never know what other women are thinking.
“What’s the harm?”
Oh I don’t know, I will be in a fake relationship with a guy I used to believe I was in love with to make the guy I picked out of thin air interested in me. How could that possibly go wrong?
Chapter Eleven
As closing time approaches my gaze strays to the clock more and more. Mitch left this morning with the parting comment we would get together today after work to put our plan into action. Our plan? My plan is to avoid the humiliation of him finding out that Vanessa thought I was mooning over him. His plan is to avoid the multitudes of women chasing him around and help me make my imaginary crush jealous.
How do I let myself get into these messes?
Olivia wanders back into the kitchen and catches me staring at the clock. Her light blonde hair is secured in her customary ponytail. Not a stray hair in sight. I’ve just finished wrangling my hair back into submission, so I admire the way hers appears to effortlessly behave. She’s a year or two older than me, yet her fresh scrubbed face makes her easily pass for a teenager despite being the mother of twin school-age boys.
“It’s closing time. I flipped the sign and locked up.”
I nod and smile letting her believe I was watching the clock anticipating closing time, not dreading it with every fiber of my being. Okay, not every fiber; there are one or two that are anticipating being in Mitch’s company.
And that might be even scarier.
She looks around the clean kitchen. “Anything I can do to help clean up and get ready for tomorrow?”
One of the many things about Olivia that make her such a great employee, she is always willing to help out more. She doesn’t clock out when the clock strikes five o’clock even though she has things to do. Her mother babysits her sons for the hour from the time they get off the bus until she arrives home. They’re identical, and I still can’t tell them apart despite the multitude of times they’ve been to the bakery.
Besides, I already scrubbed the kitchen and prepared everything. Usually I linger for another hour or two after closing, enjoying the quiet time in my bakery, but not today. Today, I have everything done and now I am glancing at the back door instead of the clock.
“I’m all set. Thanks Olivia. Go enjoy those adorable twins of yours.”
She laughs as she removes her apron and smooths her navy-blue sundress sprinkled with tiny white flowers. “They’re adorable all right. They’re also a handful. I love them to pieces, but sometimes I want to hide in the closet from them. Then of course I’d have to deal with whatever mayhem they got into while I was hiding.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Feel free to come over sometime and witness them in action. We can sit on the back porch with a glass of wine and watch them wreak terror and destruction.”
The smile and shrug are ready to escape when I catch myself remembering Sally’s comments concerning hiding.
“You know, I’d enjoy that.”
Olivia’s surprise is clear by her widened eyes, and I wonder if I chose the wrong time to take a chance that someone is making a genuine offer of friendship rather than being polite.
A grin stretches across her face.
“How about today? Ryan is taking the boys to Little League practice tonight so we would have time to ourselves.”
Olivia and her ex-husband seem to have such an amicable relationship. I wondered if they might reconcile, but the divorce finalized over a year ago. They are one of the few divorced couples I know who remained friends.
“I can’t tonight. I have plans, but I would like to get together.” Afraid those plans were on the verge of pounding down the steps to knock on the back door any moment, I gaze between the door and Olivia. I’m not ready to come up with an explanation yet.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, that sounds great.”
“Perfect!” Olivia heads toward the back door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She glances over her shoulder as she turns the handle. “No canceling, I will hold you to it.”
Smiling, I hold a hand over my heart. “No canceling, I promise. You’ll have to tell me what treats to bring for them. They like those giant cookies, don’t they?”
“Yes
, they do, but we’ll save those for after dinner as a bribe to behave. Parenting is all about bribery and negotiation.” Poking her head back in the door, she holds a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell my mother, she would be appalled.”
I laugh as Olivia walks out the door. Her car is most likely parked in the parking lot down the street. I reserve the few spots in front for customers, and the building has no additional parking. It isn’t ideal, but to keep the small-town charm and the old building, you have to accept the lack of parking space nearby.
That’s one of the reasons I walk to work as often as possible. It takes a bit of time from my parents’ house on the other side of town, but it gives me exercise too. The sporting goods store next door and I, along with the tavern, and the souvenir shop all share the parking lot in front of the docks. The businesses across the street have their own parking lot behind the buildings.
The outside stairs creak. I freeze in place and then spin around, looking for something to do. I don’t want to appear as if I was just standing around waiting for him, even though that is exactly what I was doing.
I pace to the end of the counter and back and then twirl back, placing my palms flat on the smooth surface. Get a grip!
A single knock on the back door, the handle turns, and there he is.
Dark gray pants and a lavender polo show off his fit body and my palms itch to touch. I rub the outside of my thighs instead. Lavender is my favorite color.
I don’t have to look down to see my tan Capris and blue peasant blouse hardly compare to his stylishly put together appearance, but at least I’m not wearing borrowed sweatpants and a hoodie this time.
Removing my apron, I keep my gaze firmly planted at my feet. Nerves are clamoring inside me. This is insane. Should I come clean and tell him I am not interested in Bobby? Then what? Tell him who Vanessa was really talking about? Or come up with another lie and dig myself in even deeper?
“I thought we’d try dinner at the old renovated mill. I heard the food there is good, but if you’d prefer somewhere else, we can go there instead.”
“We’re going to dinner?”
A smile quirks his full lips and I drag my gaze back up to meet his.
“Yes, our plan, remember? You keep the women at bay, and I help you snag the interest of your Biff or Bud or whatever his name is.”
“Ah, right, I just didn’t realize it involved dinner.”
“How else are we going to let people know we’re an item if we’re not seen together in public?”
An item? Forget butterflies, elephants were dancing in my stomach.
Dial it back a notch, Francine. It’s all make-believe. And does he really believe this will fool anyone? No one will believe we’re an item. His last girlfriend was a supermodel.
My mood plummets into despair.
This is ridiculous. I have to come clean.
“You have something against dinner?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good, then let’s get going.”
Mitch walks over and grabs my hand. I nearly jump onto the counter in surprise.
He glances down at me with one dark eyebrow cocked up. “Problem?”
“No, no problem.” I shake my head and trail after him with my gaze glued on our entwined hands. Tell him the truth before this goes too far!
“Oh wait, I need my purse.” I let go of his hand, jog over to my desk, grab my small purse, and check to make sure my phone and keys are inside.
After locking the door, I peek up at him for direction. He takes ahold of my hand again and a pleasant warmth spreads through me.
I’m going straight to hell.
“Since it’s so close, I thought we’d walk, but if you prefer, we can drive. You’re probably tired after being on your feet all day.”
The Mill, appropriately named because of its former function, is only a couple blocks away on the river that feeds into the lake.
“I’m fine. I walk to and from work anyway, so I’m used to walking.”
We stroll along the alleyway hand in hand.
We’ll go to dinner and chat about old times a little, and then I’ll casually explain the mix up. Vanessa was just being her catty self and stirring up trouble, and I was embarrassed and panicked like I tend to do around her. No harm done. It was all a silly misunderstanding.
Of course, it makes me sound like a total twit.
He’s bound to ask why I lied. Why I didn’t just say she was mistaken?
Ugh!
No wonder my love life is nonexistent. I suck at dating. Hell, I am a complete failure.
During my freshman year of college, I went on a date with a boy named Johnny. We had been assigned to the same study team for class. I thought he was interested in me, but it turned out he was interested in a lot of girls and seeing how many he could get into bed.
My sophomore year my roommate cajoled me into a double date with her, her boyfriend, and his brother by telling me how wonderful he was. What she didn’t tell me was she asked me because she knew I wasn’t his type. She wanted him for herself. I walked into the dorm room to find them in bed together. I dropped out of college not long after to attend culinary school.
Then there was a blind date my mother pressured me into with an acquaintance’s son. A very pleasant evening with a nice man who preferred other men.
After that final fiasco, I concentrated all my efforts on my bakery.
Turning right onto the sidewalk, we head towards the center of the village. We will need to cross the street and take a left to get to the restaurant.
I expect someone to stop us any moment asking me what I am doing with Mitch or better yet what he is doing with me, but other than the occasional stare no one pays us any mind. We pause on the bridge spanning the narrow river which flows into the lake to let a group of people pass by. A mama duck and her babies are bobbing in the water. I smile at the adorable sight.
“We’ll have to bring bread back with us from dinner.”
Nodding, I gaze up at him with a smile. There’s a sign over by the docks that warns against feeding the ducks, but people ignore it mostly.
Arriving at the restaurant, the poor hostess almost trips over her own feet when she spots Mitch. I can relate and smile to reassure her, but she’s not paying me any attention. Her dazzled gaze is stuck on Mitch. She escorts us to a quiet table next to a large window with a view of the river without any incidents.
The sound of water trickling over the working water wheel outside the building provides a soothing background. Half walls and tall potted plants give the illusion of privacy around the room filled with square tables adorned in black tablecloths. A flickering flame dances inside the narrow hurricane lamp in the center of the table.
“The rustic charm of this restaurant reminds me of a place I visited in Croatia. It was in a tiny village up in the mountains. Did you ever get a chance to travel like you talked about?”
Glancing down at the menu, I shake my head. “No, I’ve never ventured out of the United States.” Actually, I’ve never been out of New England, but I am not volunteering that tidbit. “You must have traveled all over the world.”
“I’ve done a fair amount going on location or promoting a movie. There are still plenty of places I’d like to see.”
“What are some of your favorites?”
“I was in this film in Italy. I got to travel all over the country, from Rome, Florence, Venice, and the Amalfi coast. Beautiful architecture and scenery everywhere.”
“You enjoy architecture, don’t you? You talked about it during the tour of your house too.”
“In another life I might have been an architect. Every place I’ve visited I’ve taken a tour of the landmark buildings or if one wasn’t available, I’ve bought tour books and guided myself.”
The waiter stops at our table and introduces himself. If he recognizes Mitch, he doesn’t mention it or let it show. I order a chicken and rice dish while Mitch orders a steak and baked potato.
“You witnessed my prowess with the kayak. You really think I should attempt learning to sail?”
His grin widens as he laughs out loud. Heads turn to stare and linger.
Our conversation is interrupted a few times by people stopping at the table for an autograph or picture, or just to say hello. Each time Mitch handles it well with a genuine smile and a charming quip while he poses for the picture or signs a napkin.
The meals arrive and the conversation naturally segues into his career after talking with fans of his movies. I learn a lot about the amount of work that goes on behind the scenes to accomplish the couple of hours that are actually seen. It is clear he prefers being behind the camera rather than in front of it.
When the waiter brings the bill, I wait until he walks away, then I lean over and whisper, “I insist on paying.”
“No.” Mitch ignores me and slides his credit card into the folder.
“Mitch.” It seems only fair I pay for the meal. It is my turn. He bought the pizza. At the very least, we should split the bill. It’s not a real date.
He leans over to me, so we are nose to nose. “We’re supposed to be dating, remember? Are you trying to damage my reputation by letting people think I’m a cheapskate?”
I hear his words, but I am having a tough time processing them. His eyes are inches from mine and so is his mouth.
Swallowing hard, I lean back in my chair.
The waiter arrives and takes the folder with the bill and Mitch’s credit card. I gulp a few swallows of my water and look anywhere but at Mitch.
By the time the waiter returns with his card, I calm my jumping pulse and hopefully not give away how his nearness affected me.
Obviously, I need to get out more. It’s an integral part of my new me plan for a reason. Part of having a social life is dating. I’m only reacting to Mitch because…well he’s gorgeous, yes, and we have a history.
I’d probably react to any handsome guy that paid me a little attention right now. If I don’t find someone soon, I’ll be relegated into spinsterhood.
Maybe I should let Mitch teach me about dating.