McCormick's Creek Sweet Romance

by Jen Peters

  Chapter 19

  While her mother was enjoying herself in the greenhouse, Ree had been toiling all morning on floral arrangements. For some reason everyone in town had picked today to order birthday and anniversary flowers, plus a couple bouquets for sick friends. But it had given her time to think about Mitch, about their delightful dinner, and about the memorial he wanted for his grandfather. Her need to lump him with the slimy Biali lawyer had receded a bit. She couldn’t deny what Mitch did for his job, but she couldn’t help feeling he was mostly a good guy.

  “Hey, Mom,” Ree said as her mother came back to the work area late in the morning. She clipped thorns off the last of the rose stems before she looked up. “I need some help with a project.”

  “Whatever I can do,” Mom said, perusing the flowers that Ree had picked. “Do you know how frustrating it is to only be able to watch? I’m itching to get back into it. And that’s not the only thing that’s itching!" She glared at her brace.

  Ree gave a rueful smile. “I’m itching for you to get back into it, too!" They chuckled, and Ree said, “I could use your talents in another way. I’d like to design a special garden for Mitch at the inn—his grandfather passed away and he wants to do a memorial for him.”

  “At the inn? Did his grandfather have any connection there?”

  Hmm. Ree hadn’t thought about that. Surely there was some place more important to his grandfather. Or at least where Mitch would at least see it more often. But no, this is what he’d said, and she suspected that when Mitch said something, he meant it. “I don’t know,” she said, “but he wants it here. He’s going to look for a sculpture, but I thought it would be a nice surprise to design a garden for it.”

  Her mother played with the discarded leaves Ree had cut off. “I could give you some general assistance with ideas, but you really need a landscape designer. I know flowers, not garden planning.”

  Ree frowned. “I don’t want to use the firm he has doing the inn’s landscaping—I’d like to keep this separate. Is there anybody else around?”

  “Hey, Ree, you back here?” The back door opened and Robin came in. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Swanson. What’s up?”

  Mom smiled. “Nothing much, slow out front and busy back here with orders. I’ll leave you two girls to chat." She used her arm to swipe Ree’s leavings into the large trash can and went out to the front.

  Robin told her about a dog she’d found limping by the side of the road.

  “Another one?” Ree said. “You really need to get out more.”

  “And what about you, Ms. Workaholic?”

  Ree grinned and told her about dinner with Mitch.

  “Swoony date, huh?” Robin said flippantly.

  “Not really. His grandfather just died,” Ree said, sliding one last eucalyptus stem in and turning the vase to check all sides. “I want to create a garden for the memorial sculpture Mitch is going to get, but I need some advice. And there’s nobody here to help.”

  “Well,” Robin mused, leaning on the workbench, “there’s always Luke Gallardo. You know, the guy Raine dated a bit that summer she came back?”

  “Luke. I hate the name Luke, no matter how it’s spelled.” Ree set her jaw as old memories came back. “And we don’t need to talk about Raine.”

  Robin remained silent. Ree checked the last order sheet and selected a sleek, modern vase. She began the grid of tape.

  “What Raine did was inexcusable, but I’m over it. Mostly,” Robin finally said. “But Luke, he does landscaping jobs around. I don’t know if he’s a designer or not, but maybe between him and your mom, you could come up with something special—regardless of his name." A teasing glint appeared in Robin’s eyes. “And you do want something special for Mitch, right? Did he kiss you last night?”

  “Robin!" Ree concentrated on her work. Then she shook her head. “Just a peck on the cheek when he dropped me off. But we’d been talking about his grandfather’s death, and his mood had changed.”

  “That’s really hard,” Robin commiserated. She paused for a minute, then perked up. “But you’d like him to? Kiss you, I mean?"

  Ree played with various flowers, then let her smile come out. “Yes,” she said, blushing. “Definitely.”

  Their eyes met and they burst into giggles like the sixth-graders they used to be. When they finally straightened up, Robin got even more serious. “Do you think this might go somewhere? Or do you think you’re just someone to be with when he’s down here?”

  Ree sighed. “I don’t know. I try not to think about it, to just take it a day at a time. It’s too early for anything else." Right. She had told herself that as she lay daydreaming last night. She’d kept trying to remind herself that she didn’t know him well enough, that he still could be the snake she first thought he was, but she couldn’t get past the laughter and warm feelings they’d shared at dinner.

  “Earth to Ree?”

  “What? Oh, sorry.” Ree snipped the lower leaves off a carnation and stuck it in the vase. “I…I have no idea what’s going on, or what I want to be going on.”

  Robin leaned her elbows on the worktable, her chin in her hands. “Ye-es?”

  “It’s just…I like him. I really like him. But he’s an awful guy doing work I detest.”

  “What?”

  Ree looked at her friend. “Didn’t I tell you? He’s a corporate raider, or whatever they call them these days, only he doesn’t take over big companies, he goes after small ones. Or helps his clients to. And he uses dirty tactics, and he says he’s good at it." She dropped her eyes and played with the leaves scattered on the table. “He’s just like the slimy lawyer that ruined my dad’s business. Except my heart doesn’t feel that way.”

  There was no answer from Robin, but Ree suddenly felt her friend’s arms around her. The comfort almost sent Ree into tears, but she managed a few deep breaths instead. And then she gave a bitter laugh and pulled back.

  “Thanks, Robin. I needed that. But what does it mean when a hug from you reminds me that I want someone’s arms around me on a regular basis?”

  Robin held her eyes. “It means you have feelings, and that’s okay. But if Mitchell Blake isn’t someone you can trust and respect, then you’ve got to shut those particular feelings down. Ignore them until he’s done here and then find somebody else.”

  That sounded like the hardest thing Ree would ever have to do, but maybe she wouldn’t have to. Maybe Mitch was really a nice guy under his lawyer suit. “Right,” she said, ready to change the subject. “You wouldn’t know what company Luke Gallardo works for, would you?”

  And Robin blushed. “Um, I might have his number in my phone.”

  “What? Robin!”

  “We-ell, I sort of had a major crush on him last year." She pulled out her phone.

  Ree stopped her with a hand motion. “Do you still? You should do something about it! Call him. Meet him somewhere.”

  “No way. That was last year, and he’s going out with someone else now.”

  “Drat. I had hopes for someone who’s not four-legged and furry.”

  Robin shook her head adamantly. “Here, you call him about your garden." She texted the number to Ree.

  Ree saved it, and also saved the ideas bubbling in her brain. If her best friend had been crushing on a guy last year, maybe she'd be willing to go out with someone this year.

  Chapter 20

  It was hard to know what was needed in a place you’d only recently discovered, but a casual lunch with the McCormick’s Creek mayor helped Mitch feel like he had more of a handle on it. He wasn’t a town planner, though, and bringing businesses in was the mayor’s job. Besides, he remembered his grandfather’s advice not to makeover the town without their input. Right now, Mitch needed to focus on what was already here and what might be tied to the inn.

  Still, he knew they needed restaurants. They needed activities. And at least some shopping to start. Those first, and the others would come. But how could a boutique or restaurant stay in busine
ss until the others came? And why would businesses come unless there was a reason—unless there were tourists?

  Mitch was stymied. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, grateful to be jerked out of his thoughts. “Hi, Ree. What’s up?”

  “I just saw the ad, and it’s gorgeous,” came her excited voice.

  “In Northwest Travel? Any calls yet?”

  “Yes. No. I mean, yes, in Northwest Travel, and no, no calls. It just got delivered this morning! Nobody’s going to make reservations that fast.”

  He smiled at her excitement. “I know, I know. So you’re at the inn? Nothing to work on for your mother?”

  “Nope, did that all this morning. Did you find Mom in the greenhouse?”

  “Oh yes, we had a nice chat. Gave her some things to think about.”

  “Like what?” Ree asked.

  Childlike glee bubbled up in him, and his voice came out in a sing-song. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  “Mitch, you rat!” But she giggled. “Anyway, I’ve been working on the Welcome Hall. If you have a few minutes, can you come to the inn? I want to see what you think about something.”

  Ten minutes later, Mitch was shaking his head as Ree switched two paintings back and forth for his perusal. “I’m not the person to ask,” he said. “They’re both okay.”

  “Just okay? Neither one is great?” Her brow furrowed with concentration.

  “Actually, no. You could fill the space with either, but neither of them calls to me. Why’d Harriet pick them?”

  Ree shrugged. “I have no idea. They are sort of blah, aren’t they? But I do like the rest of what she chose.”

  Mitch looked at her. Something was off in her voice. “What’s really wrong, Ree?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Ree…”

  She sighed. “I know it’s childish, and I know I said no one would make reservations this soon, but I guess I was hoping for at least some questions about the inn. Having the Markov wedding before we even open…”

  “It’s early yet,” he reassured her. “Besides, not everyone jumps on an idea as quickly as you.” That was one of the things he liked about her—she didn’t stop to weigh all the personal ramifications of something.

  “I know, it’s just…” She put the painting down and strolled to the window. “I have this fear that no one will come. I mean, the inn is gorgeous, but why would anybody come up here? There’s nothing to do. Nothing but a podunk town where everything has stalled out.”

  “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." He turned her to face him. “So why don’t we brainstorm a bit and see what it would take to turn this place around?”

  Her face lit up, her blue eyes sparkling. He loved the way her ivory skin warmed with the sunlight. It would have been a perfect time to give her the coffee basket if he had won it, but someone had outbid his own ridiculously high price. Still, he ought to put one together himself sometime. When his new responsibilities gave him a chance to slow down.

  Ree tugged him by the hand until they were seated in comfortable wicker chairs on the porch. Then she dashed back inside and returned with a notepad and paper.

  “A bit excited, are you?” Excited and glowing and oh-so-attractive/enchanting. It was all he could do not to reach out and run his fingers through her hair.

  “Of course, aren’t you? I don’t know what we’ll come up with, but anything has to be better than what’s here now.”

  By the time the sun went down, they had talked about staging parties at the inn, possible events in town, and what shops their guests might look for.

  “But none of that will help us now,” Ree muttered.

  Mitch grasped her hand gently. “Remember Mr. McCormick is backing this place, and it doesn’t have to turn a profit for a while. It will be fine." He knew it would be, especially since he was “Mr. McCormick” now. Mostly, he liked the feel of her hand in his.

  “I know the inn will,” she said, lacing her fingers into his. “But that doesn’t help the rest of the town." She paused. “Is it all right if I order the inn’s flowers each week from my mother?”

  “Of course, you’re the manager. And you know we want to support local businesses." Why would she worry about that? Among other things, Swanson Florists was the only flower shop around—there was no place else to order from.

  * * *

  By Friday morning, Ree was dying of boredom. Mitch was back in Portland, Robin had been working double shifts at the restaurant, and Ree had done all the course work and flower orders she could stand. It was just the sort of day to escape the sleepy town and talk to the lady at the Lane County tourist office.

  A text from Mitch chimed as she finished putting her folders back in order. Just finalized. New chef is hired, Paul LaSalle. Will come this afternoon to check out the kitchen.

  What? Mitch hired a chef and didn’t even tell her? She was supposed to have some input on it! And so much for going to Eugene.

  Ree swiped her phone to open the internet and plugged LaSalle’s name in. A Google search connected him to The Salmon Run, a seafood restaurant in Newport, and Maxwell’s, an exclusive restaurant in Portland. She wondered why he wasn’t still at one of those, but Mitch would have figured that out. She browsed the menus, from duck confit to monkfish in shrimp and caper sauce.

  It sounded impressive, maybe more high end than McCormick’s Creek would support, but they could discuss that.

  Ree was surveying the property, making notes of where the lights would be needed, how to best bring the solid flooring down to the lawn, and where to put additional seating.

  A Maserati pulled up, distracting her. A lean, dark-haired man unfolded himself from the car and pulled himself up to an extraordinary height. He walked toward her with his chest out and his chin up. “You are ze manager?” he said in a French accent. “Mademoiselle Ree Swanson? I am Chef Paul LaSalle.”

  “Chef, it’s good to meet you." Ree reached to shake his hand, stifling her frustration with Mitch for not telling her.

  Instead, Chef LaSalle raised her hand to his lips. “Enchante. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Ree blushed and recovered. It was just business. “Mr. Blake told me you’d be coming by, Chef. Would you like to see your kitchen?”

  “Bien sur. After you." He motioned her ahead and followed closely behind all the way to the back door.

  Inside, he inspected the stainless steel counters, the six-burner gas stove, the double professional oven. He opened cabinets and fingered the pots and pans, then examined the utensil drawers. “Two ovens but only one range?”

  Ree stiffened. “It’s top quality, but yes, only one. This will be a small breakfast service, with some occasional evenings.”

  He frowned and poked into cupboards. “I will make it work. Here is my order of stock. You will please to fill it?”

  “But…we haven’t talked about menus yet,” Ree stammered. She perused his list and refrained from rolling her eyes. There were staples there, yes, but also quite a few exotic ingredients.

  “I create from the freshest ingredients only, and those will determine the menu for each morning.”

  Ree suddenly realized how arrogant he was. She fought to keep her tongue in check. Why hadn’t Mitch warned her about his demanding nature? Surely he must have known.

  She looked past him and focused on the clock on the wall while she counted to ten.

  Finally she looked back at the tall man who was doing his own inspection of her. She straightened her shoulders. “Your commitment to quality is admirable, Chef. I’m sure you have vendors you prefer, with whom you would like to discuss what is available each day. Perhaps it would be best if you ordered your supplies directly.”

  His eyes flashed, but he nodded. “The first dinner is Thursday, in six days, yes? I will return at eight that morning. I will have staples delivered ahead in the week, and fresh ingredients de bonne heure, early on the day." With that, he turned on his heel and exited the kitch
en.

  Ree didn’t relax until she heard his sports car start up. It didn’t quite peel out of the driveway, but close. What had Mitch gotten them into? She wasn’t sure she could work with this man on a daily basis.

  And she hadn’t even asked about his ideas for the dinners.

  Chapter 21

  Saturday was another long day, and Ree hadn’t heard from Mitch since the text about the chef. Restless, she flitted from TV to computer to staring out the window into the night before she finally dropped into bed.

  Sometime in the darkness, she bolted upright, covered in sweat, tangled in sheets. Her clock glowed 3:15 as she took deep breaths, trying to shake the dream. She had been dancing, her father’s face alternating with Mitch’s, with an incredibly sad overtone to it all. And then her father vanished and Mitch was cackling victoriously, predatory greed in every twisted smile.

  She threw the twisted covers off and opened the window, but even the air felt thick. Perhaps a summer thunderstorm was coming. Restless and unsettled, she turned all the lights on. It was only a dream.

  Or was it a warning? Not supernatural, but her subconscious telling her she was about to get hurt? Her thoughts tumbled around Mitch and all she knew and didn’t know about him. His kindness…his job…his laughter and the warmth of his hand…his comment about putting loopholes in contracts.

  She dozed off again with the lights still on.

  Ree dragged herself into the greenhouse the next morning, still thoroughly confused about Mitch. Sure, his grandfather had died and she was sorry for that. And sure, he had played Rhett Butler to her Scarlett, and they’d had some good laughs.

  Could that really negate everything he stood for? The satisfaction he must feel when he won for his client?

  She sighed, slipped her work apron over her t-shirt and shorts, and began to pull her mass of hair into a ponytail. With the shop closed on Sundays, it was a day to catch up, and her mother wanted help transplanting seedlings.