McCormick's Creek Sweet Romance

by Jen Peters

  She helped Harriet narrow the choices on china and glassware, hunted antique shops online for furniture, and made list upon list of supplies they needed to buy.

  She worked in the flower shop, doing arrangements almost by rote while her mind played with marketing ideas. How many special dinners could they do for people who would tell their friends? What would Mitch’s friends be like? Could they do more than just a brochure in the Eugene and Salem tourist offices?

  Her cell phone chimed Thursday afternoon, and Mitch’s name appeared on the screen. “Hey there,” she answered, putting the greenery down. Her fluttering stomach was only general tension. Truly.

  “Hello, Ree. I just wanted to check in, see how things were going. Harriet didn’t answer.”

  The flutters left. If he had called Harriet first, it really was just business. She shouldn’t be surprised—she had known she’d need to ignore her feelings, and this should make it easier. She wouldn’t think about how much her heart had just dropped.

  “Everything’s fine,” she said. “We’ve got the china ordered, and the linens should be here next week.”

  It was so silent she could hear his pen scratching on paper. Finally he spoke again. “Still on schedule for opening?”

  “Of course,” she said automatically. She was still working out just what needed to be done, but she’d make sure the inn opened on time. “Do we have—”

  “Hold on a moment,” he broke in.

  Ree heard a woman’s voice in the background, then he said, “Sorry, something’s come up. Call me later.”

  And the call cut off. Keeping their contact at a professional level obviously wasn’t going to be a problem.

  She put her phone down and stabbed a few more carnations in the current bouquet. She’d said she was capable, and she was, but enthusiasm and schooling only took her so far. She needed information. She needed a resource list. She needed more hours in the day. She’d been spending all her mental energy on the inn and was getting behind in her college classes. She’d have to make time to study for exams, or she’d never graduate.

  Because even while she was wrapped up in the planning, the inn was only a stepping stone until she could go elsewhere. She was not going to stay in McCormick’s Creek the rest of her life.

  Back to work, she reminded herself, only to be interrupted by a knock on the back door. She’d be here all night at this rate. She sighed and clipped another carnation while someone fumbled with the doorknob. “Come on in,” she called.

  Robin entered, hands busy with a wriggling puppy. “Shh, Maggie, it’s okay,” she murmured to it.

  Ree smiled. “You need a job petting puppies all day.”

  “I’d take it! This is heaven as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Yeah, well, petting puppies won’t get you a new car, will it?" Ree paused while the door clicked shut, an idea taking hold. “Are you interested in a job that might?”

  Robin’s hand stilled on the puppy’s head. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been figuring out what needs to be done in the next six weeks. And with my classes and the flower shop, there’s no way I can do it all. I need an assistant.”

  Robin frowned. “I’m already working for Mom.”

  “I know,” Ree said. She put the clippers down and leaned forward. “But you could do this in your down time. A few hours a day, more when you’re off from the restaurant.”

  “Doing what?” Robin was wary, and Ree didn’t blame her. Robin had always been a little shy until she got to know someone, but the bullying episode in high school had left her wary of most people.

  “I need help making phone calls and organizing deliveries,” she explained. “I should visit tourism offices in person. And I have more online lists to get on and magazines to research for possible ads. Plus whatever else I haven’t thought of.”

  Ree waited a long moment until Robin finally said, “I can help with the ads and online stuff. I think I can do phone calls—it would be easier than taking orders at the restaurant, and I’ve had to get used to that. But don’t ask me to visit tourist centers and try to present something to strangers.”

  “I won’t, then." Ree hugged her friend, then mentioned a wage. “I’ll have to double check with Mitch, but I don’t think it will be a problem.”

  Robin grinned. “Check with Mitch, huh?” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “It’s only business” Ree said shortly. “He made that pretty clear today.”

  * * *

  After long days of work, dealing with the frustrations and eating Tums as if he owned stock in the company, Friday morning was over the top. Mitch kept his expression blank as his newest client talked.

  “I can’t afford to have competition so close to me, so I got some friends to post bad reviews online.” The smirk on Clive Bidwell’s face was enough to make Mitch vomit. “We’ve dropped our prices to about twenty percent less than theirs, and the two things combined are really draining them."

  “Can you sustain your low prices?” Mitch asked, keeping his voice bland.

  “Oh sure, for six months or so if we have to. Our finances are good, which is why I can come to you instead of our regular lawyer. I want to make sure nothing goes wrong when we get them to sell out.”

  Mitch seethed inwardly. Of all the careers out there, this was what he had chosen to do for a living? He hadn’t started out this way—it used to be larger corporations fighting it out, and even the occasional amicable mergers. But one small client had told another, and word got around. Somehow they were always assigned to him.

  Perhaps it was just a test, and someone else could handle these jerks when he made partner.

  Or not. You earned your way to partner with your reputation, and this was his.

  It was only noon when Mr. Bidwell left, but Mitch had had enough for the day. Billable hours were important, but at this point he really didn’t care. He could make them up later. Right now, he needed to get out of town.

  He began to call Ree, then stopped. He wanted to see her, but wasn’t ready to share his inner turmoil. He punched a different number into his phone. “Justin, it’s Mitchell Blake. I’m coming down. Any recommendations for something to give peace to a man’s soul?”

  Two hours later, he pulled Ree away from her studies, and they headed for the trail Justin had recommended.

  “He said it was up here somewhere,” Mitch said, looking past yet another moss-covered log. The ground felt soft under his feet, especially if they went off the path to check out a berry bush. The trees up here were incredible, not that he knew which were pine and which were fir. Some of them towered high into the sky, nearly as tall as his apartment building. Some sort of berry vines were growing near the path, little bumpy red things that didn’t look like raspberries. He didn’t know if they were edible, so he left them alone--better safe than sorry.

  “Not quite like Portland, huh?” Ree asked, a smile in her voice.

  “No, I’m more used to towering glass and steel than towering trees. There are some parks of course, especially one I like to run through, but nothing like this." He inhaled, the sharp tang of the forest filling his senses.

  “Hey, want to climb up there?” Ree pointed to a large log spanning the creek.

  Mitch looked at it dubiously. The creek tumbled over the rocks beneath. “Are you sure? It’s going to be slippery.”

  “It’s wide, and we can go slow. Come on!" She took his hand and led him up to the base. She clambered up quickly. He chose his foot placement carefully, reaching for a protruding branch for support.

  On top, he found she was right—it was wide. He didn’t have to do anything special to balance, just stand there. He took a few steps toward the middle of the span, braced his legs, and looked at the creek.

  The water splashed and sprayed along multicolored rocks, misting his face. He watched the water swirl around a boulder and create an eddy where leaves and twigs collected. The park he ran in was nice, but nothing as breathtaking as this
.

  Ree walked lightly across to the other side and back again. He shook his head at her questioning look and climbed down, offering her his hand when he was settled. She hesitated, but took it and hopped to the humus-covered ground.

  They continued on the path, still holding hands. He was surprised at how intimate such a casual gesture could feel. Her hand was soft and warm in his. Delicate, although he suspected she was anything but delicate. She was tough inside, unafraid of what the world might offer, determined to go after what she wanted. Except possibly when it came to her mother.

  They walked farther along the path, finally coming to a small pool, muddy on one side but lined with gravel and boulders on the other. He dipped his hand in. “I think this is it.”

  “Warm Springs,” Ree murmured. “I haven’t been here in years.”

  Mitch grinned. “What, you never had a boyfriend who brought you up to the local make-out place?”

  “Actually, that was the Lookout where we saw the hawk, and yeah, I might have spent an evening or two up there. A bunch of us came up here to Warm Springs my freshman year and, um, found a bunch of people nude. Total shock for fourteen-year-olds! We sort of stayed away after that. And the Lookout was easier to get to and seemed just as far from home.”

  They perched on boulders, dangling their legs in the warm water. It wasn’t hot-tub temperature, but he could easily take a long soak here.

  They sat quietly, a comfortable silence that didn’t need to be filled. A nice change from Portland business, Mitch thought. And a nice change from Melanie, too. So much of Ree was nicer than Melanie.

  A noise in the trees made him pull his legs out quickly. He whipped around, but nothing was there—only the crashing sounds an animal would make as it dashed through the underbrush.

  “Probably a deer,” Ree said. “We were quiet enough, but the movement probably scared her off.”

  Just a deer. Of course. Not like it was a bear or anything. “Uh, do you get any other wildlife around?”

  Ree shrugged. “Raccoons and squirrels obviously. Coyotes sometimes. The wolves are long gone, but…” Her mouth quirked up. “Besides the nudists, it may or may not have been reports of a bear that had us hanging out at the Lookout instead of here.”

  Mitch didn’t relax. “Bears, huh? A real incident or just parents’ scary stories?”

  “Oh they’re around. But now that I’m older, I realize they’re not going to just come up and attack you.”

  He sat back down, stuck his now-dirty feet back in the water, and relaxed. Mostly.

  They chatted about inconsequential things. He liked indie films, she liked rom-coms, and they both loved Avengers movies. She liked country music, and he’d listen to about anything except rap. Comfortable camaraderie, Mitch thought, plus a large portion of attraction.

  He finally stood. “We’d better get going if I’m going to get back to Portland tonight.” He pulled Ree up, they slid damp feet into sun-warmed shoes, and set off down the trail.

  They walked closely, bumping shoulders sometimes for fun. Again, he marveled at the feel of her hand in his. The smell of her shampoo suddenly filled him, driving out the forest scents. He longed to bend down and bury his face in her hair.

  She looked up at him, smiled, and started humming a jaunty tune.

  A warmth grew inside him. Happiness, contentment, joy…something. He was going to kiss her sometime. Not today, but sometime soon.

  Chapter 10

  Ree curled up in a blue wing chair in the parlor at the McCormick Inn, her computer in her lap while she waited for a furniture delivery. The browser was open to research for a paper on Cross-Cultural Marketing, but her mind kept wandering. When would Mitch come back? McCormick’s Creek seemed even smaller with him gone, but he never said when he was coming, he just showed up.

  But when he did, oh how her heart warmed. There wasn’t truly anything between them, but the signs were there. He was the one taking her hand. He was the one suggesting outings. And he was interested in her—her as a person, not a conquest.

  For herself, Ree felt like a high schooler with a crush, despite her early resolutions. He was a good boss, helpful but not hovering, but she was more intrigued by how she felt around him. Her pulse pounded, her stomach fluttered, and she could feel her face light up when she saw him. He smelled oh-so-good when he leaned close over her shoulder to look at her paperwork. And she felt like she was someone important when she was with him.

  She really didn’t know much about him, though. Did he have a cat? A dog? Somehow she didn’t think he was that fond of animals. Did he have a girlfriend? Or maybe he was married!

  Her body tightened at the thought. Stupid, she scolded herself. Even if he was much more honorable than the detestable Luc, she needed to know more about him.

  Ree opened a new tab in her browser and began typing Mitch’s name, but closed the laptop when a truck drove in.

  Thirty minutes later, the wicker furniture was unloaded, unpacked, and arranged nicely on the porch. She was taking the last of the packing material to the dumpster in back when her phone buzzed—Mom at the shop.

  “Ree? I could use some help down here.”

  “I’m kind of busy, Mom.” She awkwardly heaved the cardboard up and in one-handed.

  “I really need you now, Ree. I’ve got a customer waiting for an arrangement and another who wants to pick one up in an hour.”

  Ree sighed. “I’ll be right there.”

  She worked through the afternoon, squeezing research in when she could, but mostly helping customers and creating bouquets. And watching her mom.

  The cheerful, determined mother she knew seemed absent. Instead, Mom spent a lot of time staring off into space, or dusting things that didn’t need dusting, or rearranging sale items that had just been arranged the day before. And rubbing her injured hand, lost in thought.

  Ree needed to talk to her about it, make sure she was doing her exercises, but there was no time. Closing time rolled around while Ree was still working on a late order, and then she had to cram on her paper.

  She snatched a sandwich for dinner, still researching, and managed to save and send her assignment at 11:59—a whole minute to spare. Bone-tired, she flopped back on the bed to rest for a moment before clearing things up.

  And woke up at four in the morning, still fully clothed and fuzzy-mouthed.

  She put the computer on her desk, crawled into bed for some decent sleep, and started the busy-ness all over again at eight. She didn’t have time for mooning over someone, even someone as charming and delicious to look at as Mitch. Any background research on him would have to wait.

  * * *

  A string quartet played at one end of the Black & White Gala ballroom, while the Tiffany’s House banner covered the opposite wall. Mitch smiled as he handed his ticket to the usher. He may not be thrilled with over-the-top social events right now, but Tiffany’s House helped teenage moms stay in school and was worth whatever it took. How could these girls make a life if they didn’t get an education?

  He talked to Judd, whose white dinner jacket looked like a lighthouse in a sea of black, and danced with a few social dowagers before wandering over to the raffle basket. He didn’t look closely at what it included, other than noticing some envelopes sticking up from the soaps and whatnot, but he bought a string of tickets and scrawled his name across them.

  “Good to see you, Mitch,” a senior partner at the firm said, slapping him on the back. “Great job with the Silva case.”

  “Thanks, it came together right at the end.”

  “Hah!” came the reply. “Only because of your magic touch.”

  Mitch shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the comment. If they saw him as having a magic touch, would he ever be able to change his career course?

  He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and glanced around the room. He really ought to talk to the organizers and Senator Hernandez at least. And Granddad would expect him to say hello to Judge Mil
ler.

  George Cushman from Jaeger & Cushman approached, a large drink in hand. “I hear you’re coming up for partner soon, Mitch.”

  “I don’t know about that, sir.”

  “Oh yes, heard it from the best sources. But you know…” the man leaned close and dropped his voice, “sometimes being in a family firm isn’t the best. People expect you to be a certain way just because of your name. If you ever want a change, we’d be glad to take you on with us. At a substantial increase in salary, of course.”

  Mitch worked to keep his face passive. Of all the changes he’d considered, leaving the firm wasn’t one of them. How could he? It was true that he was sometimes judged for his family connections, but he was more concerned about being pigeon-holed in his choices, like an actor who is forever cast as a villain.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cushman, you’re very kind. But I’m quite happy where I am.”

  “I thought you probably were,” the man said cheerily, “but it never hurts to put the idea out there.”

  Mitch nodded as Mrs. Kennedy asked him to dance. She was well over 50, quite plump, and wearing a backless dress that made him wonder where to put his hand.

  He schmoozed with fellow attorneys, made small talk with the judge and the senator, and danced with three ladies on the prowl, all dressed in glittering silver or black. When the last song finished, he made his excuses and headed for the silent auction tables.

  Artwork, jewelry, gift certificates…he just couldn’t concentrate on them. His mind kept flitting back to McCormick’s Creek and people who seemed a lot more down to earth. Honestly, one particular person who was more down to earth and real than any of the women at the Gala.

  He was lost in thought when Judd came up beside him. “Come on, Mitch. You know you want it.”