McCormick's Creek Sweet Romance

by Jen Peters

  “Huh?” He looked at the display poster in front of him—Cinderella’s castle with Mickey, Minnie, and Donald, plus a few princesses he couldn’t name, in the foreground. What in the world would he do with a trip to Disneyland?

  Judd shouldered him lightly and chortled. “Hey, Mitch, haven’t you just been dying to go see Donald Duck?”

  Mitch snorted. Not likely. On the other hand, he knew someone who would love it: Austin, the nine-year-old son of a single-parent secretary. He looked at the bids on the auction sheet and wrote a much higher number, imagining the look on Austin’s face if he managed to win.

  “Disneyland? Haven’t you outgrown that yet?” came Melanie’s sultry voice.

  Mitch glanced over his shoulder at her. “Never. You’re saying that you’re too stuffy for Mickey?”

  She hung her hand on his shoulder with a proprietary air. “Not if I’m with you, Mitch.”

  “Oh, brother,” Judd said, leaving quickly.

  Mitch moved out from under her hand and down the line of auction items, pausing before a piece of art and trying to ignore Melanie. Would Ree like the painting? He realized he didn’t know her tastes well enough to tell.

  “Oh, what an exquisite diamond anklet,” a woman said loudly. “That would make quite a gift for someone special.”

  Melanie squeezed his arm. “It would certainly make a statement. And look,” she said, “a trip to Hawaii.”

  “That would make the neighbors talk, wouldn’t it, Mel?” a passing acquaintance said.

  “Gifts don’t have to be outrageous,” Mitch murmured.

  “Oh, but what’s the point in them, then?” the acquaintance laughed.

  Mitch ran a hand through his hair and grit his teeth. His gaze passed over the next two prizes, but came to a stop on a gift basket from The Roastery. It overflowed with all sorts of locally roasted samples and exotic blends, plus chocolate, a small cake, and a pair of coffee mugs.

  Just the thing to share with Ree.

  He scribbled his name and a ridiculously high figure—Ree would be as excited about him winning it in an auction as the coffee basket itself.

  “An evening for two?” Melanie whispered in his ear. “How delightful.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then took her gently by the elbow. “Let’s step outside for a moment.”

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “Feeling a bit warm, Mitch?”

  “Something like that.”

  He nodded to Judd as they passed, then opened the door to the night air. It wasn’t particularly cool, even at nearly midnight, but at least it wasn’t as stuffy as inside. He was going to need all the oxygen he could get.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Melanie had her arms around his neck and was closing for a kiss. Mitch reached back and unclasped her arms. “That’s not what we’re out here for. Just the opposite, in fact.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “The opposite?”

  “You know we’ve had some nice evenings together, Mel,” he began. “You’re a delightful dinner companion when you want to be. But it was never going to be anything permanent, not even anything long term. And you knew that.”

  “No. I didn’t,” she countered, her courtroom voice coming out. “You took me on quite a few dates, and while they never went further, you never said that was all there would be.”

  Was she right? Had he been unclear? Unfair? “I’m sorry if that’s true. But either way, I’m making it clear now. There will be no more dinners at Primavera, no trips to Italian film festivals or elsewhere, no intimate evenings with any exotic coffees I might win. I can’t be more clear than that.”

  She looked up at him and smirked lightly. “Not even Disneyland? A chance to let your hair down?”

  “That wasn’t for me." He waited.

  Various expressions played across Melanie’s face, fascinating and intimidating at the same time, before she inhaled deeply. “All right then. I can accept defeat gracefully. But don’t be surprised if I file an appeal.”

  Mitch refrained from rolling his eyes. “Come on, let’s go inside and you can dance with Judd.”

  He held out his arm and she took it, quite serenely, he thought. Perhaps he had been unfair thinking that she’d create an unpleasant scene.

  “One more dance?” she said.

  “Sure.” He swept her into his arms and they moved across the floor, her steps as graceful as ever.

  When the music ended, the guest speaker was announced. Melanie started toward the seating area, but Mitch shook his head. “I’ve had enough tonight. I’m heading home.”

  Melanie kissed him on the cheek—he was sure she’d left her lipstick clearly imprinted on his skin—and waggled her fingers at him. “See you around.”

  He headed out with a smile. She had taken it all better than he’d expected.

  Chapter 11

  Mitch slept late Sunday morning, grateful to have ended any might-have-beens with Melanie so smoothly, but he still felt unsettled when he thought about his next consult with Mr. Bidwell Monday morning. He finally flipped the duvet back, downed some more antacids, and took off for McCormick’s Creek.

  The drive didn’t help, though. His thoughts stewed and stormed, and by the time he got off I-5 and headed up the highway, his mind was filled with the families whose companies had been taken over. He had tried not to keep track of them, but he knew that two were struggling to start new businesses and one had had to sell their big house and move into a 1950s cottage. Only one couple had come out with enough to retire closer to where their children lived.

  The turnoff to McCormick’s Creek came at last. Just the thought of the town relaxed him, made him feel like there were good people out there living good lives.

  Ree was sitting in new wicker furniture when he parked. It looked good, but she looked even better, and his heart lifted a bit.

  "Do you mind if I join you?" He pulled out the other chair on the porch and sank into its cushion, thoughts of Bidwell and his ilk still lingering.

  “Long drive?" she asked with a warm smile, ruffling her papers with her finger.

  He shrugged. He’d rather just sit listening to the breeze through the pine needles. The fresh air filled his senses, as did the faint scent of her perfume. Or maybe it was just her shampoo.

  “What's up?" she asked.

  He didn’t answer, just looked out at the road. A group of teenagers on bikes and skateboards were shouting to each other, oblivious to all the bad things that could go on in the world.

  “Earth to Mitch,” Ree broke in, waving her hand in front of his eyes.

  “What? Sorry.”

  “So what brought you down today? I thought you weren’t coming until next weekend.”

  He met her eyes briefly. He could lose himself in them, just soaking up her lack of worldliness. “Just wanted to check up on things.”

  She gave a slight smile. “You can check up on things from Portland, and I’ll bet you even have assistants to make phone calls for you.” She paused. “What kind of a lawyer are you, anyway? Do you put bad guys away?”

  He snorted. “Hardly. I’m in Mergers and Acquisitions. We are the bad guys." He caught his breath at his words. He didn’t usually lose control like this. “Excuse me, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s been a rough week. ”

  Ree watched him. “What’s mergers and acquisitions anyway?”

  He pursed his lips. “When a company is vulnerable, another larger company tries to take them over. And my job is to help make it happen. Sometimes that’s through buying up shares before people realize what’s happening, sometimes it’s through a good purchase price." Mitch ran a hand through his hair. “Right now, there’s a small company in trouble and my client made a pretty hefty offer.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  He shrugged, trying not to notice the way the sun glinted off her hair, or the way one of those locks fell forward across her shoulder. “It can be. It was really emotional for the family in business, especially sin
ce my client caused most of the problems, but they finally accepted. And then we started manipulating things as usual, changing what we were offering…”

  “You can’t do that!"

  Mitch snorted. “Oh, believe me, we can. It’s my job to put loopholes all over the place—and I’m good at it—and if their attorney doesn’t see them, then my clients can take advantage of it. It’s legal, and it works. I have more clients clamoring for my services than I ever imagined.”

  When he looked at Ree again, she was leaning as far back in her seat as she could get. Her eyes had turned a dark, murky blue, and she looked at him like he was a snake in someone’s garden.

  When she finally spoke, her words were clipped. “So you take a client who ruined someone’s family business, just so you can go and make it worse? Why are you down here in a quiet town filled with family businesses, instead of back in Portland ruining someone else’s life?" She pushed her chair back, swept her papers up, and stalked into the inn.

  Mitch groaned. What had he been thinking? He usually tried to avoid specifics of what he did for a living, especially with how he was feeling about it now. And when it came bitterly out of his mouth—a direct result of how this week’s machinations had affected him—it was cold and heartless and he hadn’t admitted how he really felt about it.

  It was obvious how Ree felt, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Unless they worked in the corporate world, most people would be rather uncomfortable with his tactics. Which is why he didn’t mention them much.

  Mitch shook his head. Why should that matter? They had been growing close, but he needed to remind himself she was an employee. He shouldn’t be noticing the sunshine in her hair, or the softness of her lips, or the way her smile lit her eyes when she made plans for the inn. He shouldn’t care that she was kind and generous, quick with a soft word, imaginative in her job. Those should only matter in how good of a manager she was, right? In how they would affect the guests at the inn.

  Even if his heart said otherwise.

  What he needed to do was get his head screwed on straight. He needed to review Ree’s plans for the dinners. He needed to find a chef. And he needed to figure out what in the world he was going to do for a career if he gave up M&A.

  He stood, setting the chair back against the wall. It obviously wasn’t a good time to give the coffee basket to Ree, not until he figured out what to say. But he’d had too much time thinking about his situation already. He wanted to feel grounded in McCormick’s Creek today, and he could at least contact a few more leads regarding a chef. A cup of coffee would clear his head, too. He didn’t think Mrs. Cooper would mind if he used one of her restaurant tables as a temporary office.

  Two hours, two coffee pots and a multitude of texts and emails later, he had a possibility. Chef Paul LaSalle might be available. He hadn’t quite made the top tier of west coast chefs but had decent reviews. Despite Mitch’s questioning skills, he hadn’t been able to find out just why the chef was available, or why he was willing to work part time, but he would. He left a message on the chef’s voicemail. Now it was wait and see time.

  In the midst of all the contacts, he watched the restaurant. Mrs. Cooper had been cooking since dawn, he could tell. And yet no new cook came on shift to replace her.

  The waitress came by with another coffee refill. “It’s Robin, right?” he asked. “This is a family-run place, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Has been since I was a little girl.”

  “Of course, Ree said it was your mother’s restaurant.”

  “She’s the cook.”

  He poured cream into his coffee, just enough to take the black edge off it. “She does the morning shift?”

  Robin shrugged. “She does it all. There’ve been some…issues.”

  He raised his eyebrows again, but she concentrated on her coffee pot. “I’ve got to see to my other tables.”

  She left, and Mitch glanced around. It was late afternoon, almost dinner time, but only one other person sat in the restaurant.

  The place reminded him of the company they were taking over right now. Family origins, small, having problems. He wouldn’t like to see it go under. He swirled his coffee and wondered what would it be like to help a business instead of creating heartache. The Cooper family could use some help with the restaurant, he was sure.

  If they could get a second cook, update the decor, maybe get a marketing consultant…

  Something shifted in his mind and thoughts began to click. The restaurant, the bowling alley, the bookkeeping service down the street…

  The whole town—his grandfather’s town—was filled with small businesses. With families who were struggling to stay afloat in a town without many jobs.

  What if there were something he could do to help? Something the firm could do to help?

  He put his puzzlement over Ree out of his mind. He had to get back to Portland and talk to his grandfather.

  Chapter 12

  Ree slammed through her front door and into the kitchen. She hadn’t spent an overabundance of time fantasizing about Mitchell Blake and his charm and good looks. Not at all. Or at least, not too much. But to find out he was the slimy kind of attorney, just like the guy who ruined her father? The dirtbag who, in the long run, ruined her parent’s marriage and left her mother a single parent raising a teenage daughter?

  Mister Blake—she wouldn’t call him Mitch again—had deceived them all. He’d been too helpful with the inn, too accommodating in hiring her, too nice to the people around for her to see him for what he really was. Too everything, despite his warm, strong hand and how easy it was to talk to him.

  How could he be so different from what she had thought? Could her judgement really be so far off?

  Well, yes. Luc was the obvious example of being overwhelmed by someone’s charisma. And she’d been taken in by a few supposed BFFs in the past, too, not the least of which was Raine, the “friend” who had hurt Robin so badly.

  But this…she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything after she stormed away from Mr. Mitchell Blake. All she had to show for her afternoon’s work were angry slashes on paper and the knowledge that there were exactly 284 roses in the hammered tin ceiling of the inn’s dining room.

  Coming home hadn’t done anything for her mood, although she was grateful she’d planned pasta for dinner instead of a salad—she’d probably stab something with the knife before she got any vegetables cut.

  She yanked the spaghetti pot from a low cabinet, pushed the faucet on high to fill it. The rushing water matched the turmoil inside her. She had finally gotten a job she wanted, a job she was excited about, and now she couldn’t stomach the thought of working for her new boss.

  What kind of man could do such a thing and enjoy it? It was one thing for a company to sell out for a decent price, and she knew lawyers were necessary to make that happen. But to specifically write contracts so the unsuspecting owners could get eaten up?

  Ree stared at the pot, willing it to boil, needing to see something else churn violently. She closed her eyes and pictured ocean water churning, sharks tearing a human apart.

  But as she inhaled the rising steam, she remembered that sharks tore their own kind apart, too. She supposed Survival of the Fittest applied in the legal world as well as nature. What would it be like to live in that world?

  Her thoughts swirled with the steam. You’d have to be pretty aggressive to be successful in a world like that. The TV shows she watched were overly dramatic, of course, but there had to be some basis in reality. The cutthroat tactics, jockeying for position, the race for billable hours all had to be there to begin with or they wouldn’t end up in shows, would they?

  What kind of real person thrived in a place like that? How did a man like Mitch do it?

  The water finally reached a rolling boil, but Ree’s thoughts had calmed some. She poured the penne in, added salt, and stared as the steam began to rise again.

  She pictured Mitchell Blake and realized his eyes we
ren’t cruel, not like she’d imagined someone like him would be. And he spoke of his grandfather fondly—wouldn’t a shark-type person be ready to take over and shove his grandfather out?

  Not necessarily. Even mafia hit-men loved their families.

  She sighed and took a deep breath of warm, moist air. What did she really know about him, anyway? She had never finished her internet search, but his own admission had been harsher than anything the internet would explain. So besides a story about not hitting free-throws in high school, what about his personal side?

  She had never seen his eyes piercing and hard, although they changed from focused to relaxed to determined in different situations. But Justin and Cat and Harriet all liked working for him. He was willing to give the inn time to become profitable, at Mr. McCormick’s request, of course. And he had petted Pumpkin that first day.

  But he was her boss, not a potential boyfriend, despite the wonderful walks they’d had. Her boss. And right now, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to work for him. She broke off her thoughts and stirred the penne.

  Foolish, she scolded herself. She had no business being interested in him, none at all. Nobody with any sense of honor and doing what was right would choose such a profession. And after Luc, after her father, honor was important to her.

  But still, he had petted her cat.

  Perhaps … perhaps she didn’t have to make a judgement now. Perhaps she should wait, should see what he was really like. See if he was all shark or if he really did have a softer side that petted cats.

  No, tigers don’t change their stripes, and all that. Luc hadn’t been willing to change his morals, and a slimy lawyer was still a slimy lawyer. A man who could choose that line of work wasn’t a man she wanted to be around.

  Mitch had vanished by the next day, gone back to Portland to work over another small company, Ree assumed. She forced herself to concentrate on inn business through the morning, then headed for the flower shop. All she found was a note on the front door: In the greenhouse. Call 326-7723 and I’ll be here in 5 minutes.