Sugar and Gold

by Brea Viragh

  “You make it sound like we’re going to be doing the naughty in here,” I said, my voice cracking. The tears threatened like a landlord for late payment. I was ashamed when they spilled over, and bit my lip to keep from further crying. This wasn’t me, teary-eyed and ready to break down. This was a stranger. A weak one, to boot.

  Isaac’s eyes darted to the desk as a grin spread across his features. I noticed then how exhausted he appeared, the shadows above his cheekbones and the deep creases beneath. “It’s a thought.” If he noticed—or cared—about the crying, he didn’t let on.

  “Please, get to the point.” I settled on the bare space on the desktop and wiped my eyes with the back of one hand.

  Without comment, Isaac strode forward, his hands scooping my face up to his and his mouth closing in. Instead of the demand I expected, his lips were coaxing and soft. They tasted the tension spreading through my limbs. They tasted the regret and the fear, the shame and the utter loss of control.

  Hard as I tried not to, I pressed closer. Even when there were too many doubts, too many questions. More than anything I wanted to know why he was here, why he’d gotten involved with me in the first place.

  His lips were warm. Firm to the touch. A sound drew from my throat and without further prompting I gave in to the stirring in my chest. My tongue traced the pattern of his lips while my fingers combed up through his hair.

  Isaac, for all he’d instigated the contact, waited for me to continue. There was tension in his body. Tension in the way he drew in each breath. I wrapped my arms around his waist and let myself sink deeper into the contact. Into the warmth, into those damnable firm lips, and the slow seduction he’d planned.

  The ride took me through highs and lows, over the shape of his mouth and the sensation of his tongue sliding across my own. My breasts pressed to his chest before I could demand them to stay still, nipples tingling and begging to be touched. Sensations clawed at my chest, all the emotions I’d stuffed down deep. They churned, swirling. The earth shook on its axis.

  Isaac eased away seconds before I opened my mouth to protest. I said nothing.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. His gaze dropped to my mouth and made it difficult to concentrate. “I had to get that out of my system before I said something stupid. Please, don’t cry.”

  My jaw dropped and I bumbled over all the words clogging my throat. “You have a lot of nerve.”

  One hand continued to knead my neck when he spoke again, the other brushing the tears still flowing down my cheeks. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing,” I insisted. “Just a stupid prank.”

  Hs eyes hardened. “The kind of prank you report to the police?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good. You did the best thing.” He nodded once, the gesture abrupt. “Hopefully they’ll start taking their job seriously.”

  I used the back of my sleeve to wipe away the last of the moisture from my face. “How did you find me?”

  “Shari told me you were here. She texted me and said we should talk. She’s worried.”

  “I don’t see why you’d need to talk to her.”

  “Not her. You,” Isaac clarified, looking at me like I was deliberately dense.

  “She doesn’t know when to keep her nose out of other people’s business.”

  “She’s a concerned friend. Didn’t like what she was hearing and told me to make it right.”

  “How odd.” I pushed back against his chest until Isaac moved a safe distance from me. “I think we’ve said what needs to be said.”

  “Oh, Es. It’s just beginning with us. I think you realize it.” He turned, and broke whatever spell he’d had me under. Good. The further he kept his sensual weapon of a mouth, the better. “I wouldn’t push so hard if you didn’t think about me, too.”

  I swiveled around to the other side of the desk, keeping it between us as a last line of defense. “You keep showing up. I’m not sure if you’re here to help or hinder.”

  “Probably a mix of both.” Isaac stuck his hands in his pockets and he scuffed a run in the carpet with the toe of his boot. “We didn’t report the tire slashing. In case you were wondering.”

  I hesitated before asking, “Why not?”

  “Too much bad publicity. I need some time to figure out what’s happening before I put it out in the open.”

  “What’s happening with what?” I asked dumbly.

  “Whoever...whatever...is targeting us. Oh, and I got a lead on a business proposition today.”

  My eyes bulged. “You came here to talk to me about a job?” Despite myself, I felt pleasure at the simple statement. Why was he telling me?

  “I’m pulling part-time seasonal work at my parents’ greenhouse for the time being. Hauling pallets and whatnot.” His laugh was unexpected. “I’ll be getting a late start on my farmer’s tan.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I’m also scheduled for classes in kitchen management. I want to open a gastropub.”

  “Since when do you know the first thing about opening a restaurant?” I asked.

  “Since I have a partner who wants to realize his dream and doesn’t mind taking a chance on a hard worker with a rap sheet. I think it will be good for me. For the town.”

  “Well, I hope all your dreams come true.” The funny thing? I really did.

  Back again was the signature smirk. “I’ll have less time to be, what did you call me? Jailbird McGee.”

  “Give you less time to get into trouble is what I think you mean.” The simple joy in his voice brought an answering smile to my face.

  “There’s more,” he said cryptically.

  I sighed and pushed at my hair. “There always is.”

  “I know there have been other things happening to you. More than the car accident the other day. The tears were a confirmation, even though you won’t tell me the details.”

  I stiffened, a hand moving to the lump behind my left ear. “Did you hear something?”

  “People talk, and I put the pieces together,” he replied. “You’ve been busy.”

  There was no point in hiding it from him. Not when he’d already caught the tail end of whatever gossip was going around. “There was a threatening note inside my bakery,” I said, tears ready to resume full speed ahead. “The authorities are looking into it.”

  His features darkened and he stepped closer, placing his hands on the desk and leaning into me. “Tell me everything.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I’m going to let the boys in blue do their job.”

  “I’m worried about you and I want to know you’ll be able to keep your head up and watch for danger,” he said, brows drawing together.

  “With you preoccupied with your new restaurant, I’m sure I’ll stay out of trouble.” Ugh, that came out poorly. I quickly reworded. “I mean to say, I’ll have a lot less to worry about with you out of the picture.” Oh God, I should just shut up.

  Isaac leaned back and those treacherous thumbs now hooked on his pockets. “I did tell you to watch your back. But since you won’t take my advice, I have been watching your back. It’s glorious, I tell you.” He didn’t smile now, head tilted as he studied me. “I could spend hours watching.”

  “Cut it out.” Not what I wanted to hear right now. Still, my cheeks warmed in a sure sign the blush was back.

  “I won’t stop. I won’t take any of it back,” Isaac insisted. “I stand by my claim.”

  “About my tooter?”

  “About you needing to be more careful. You can’t keep letting things happen to you. Sooner or later someone is going to do you serious harm and I won’t always be around to help.”

  “You’ll do me harm!” I couldn’t help putting that out there.

  “Sugar, not me. Not by a long shot.”

  “I’m fine,” I retorted. Insisted, even.

  Isaac mimed tipping an imaginary hat. “I have a great interest in you, Miss Townsend. You and your...how did you
put it? Tooter?”

  “I would appreciate being left alone. I’m not looking for a knight in shining armor. Not anymore. The only knight I need is myself.”

  Isaac appeared to take great pleasure in my discomfort. “There are people out there, Essie, who want to do harm to others. Your need for control won’t be enough.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Now it was my turn to fire back and watch the emotions flash across his face. With revenge off the check list, there was one option left for his continued involvement. My lady business leapt at the possibility. “I will make myself clear now, Mr. Howard—” if he wanted formality, he would get it— “I am not some pretty filly for you to prance after. I’m not in the market for a tawdry sexual affair, and I don’t intend to shop anytime soon.” I straightened my shoulders, neck cricking side to side as I readjusted. “Stop following me.”

  “A tawdry sexual affair has merit.” Triumph flashed quickly and then disappeared.

  “I don’t want to talk anymore. My head feels like I’ve been run over by a tank and you’re not helping.” I pointed to the door, steam ready to rise from my ears. “I need chocolate and a glass of wine, and if you’re not providing either...”

  “Is this your way of asking me on a date? I’d be happy to get you an entire bottle of wine.”

  “This is not an invitation, no.”

  “Try to calm down,” he said with a grin.

  He was enjoying this more than I wanted to admit. “I am calm! Don’t tell me to calm down,” I fired back. A growl rose from my throat and I whirled around from behind the desk. Isaac caught my arms, his voice reasonable.

  Had he caught me? Or had I made a beeline for those suckers?

  “All I can promise you,” he began, “is this. We’ll be seeing more of each other. It’s unavoidable in a small town. Quite frankly, I don’t want to avoid seeing you.”

  I straightened my shirt and shook him off. “Enough of this. I have things to do.”

  “Well, you go on and be your usual perky self.” Isaac made a show of opening the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “I would rather not,” I said haughtily.

  “We’ll make a date of it.” Nonplussed, he followed me down the hall and back into the brightly lit display area.

  I shot a look over my shoulder at Shari, who stared back with a slightly open mouth. With an attractive, if annoying, man at my heels, I kept my eyes on the sidewalk while I walked back to the rental car.

  “You take care of yourself now,” Isaac called when he stopped. He watched me remove the keys from my pocket. “And if you can’t, then just know that I’ll be watching.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Several days later, I stood in my mother’s kitchen, the knife in my hand slicing cleanly through a thick-skinned cucumber, plucked from the garden moments before. My stomach churned at the thought of food. Probably one of the only times in my life when the scent of baking cheese and party appetizers made me nauseated. I was too anxious to eat. To do much of anything besides worry my thoughts.

  “I don’t know why you want to do this,” I told my mother, shaking my head. “This is not a good time for a garden party. I need to focus on what I can do to get my bakery running again.”

  “And you will,” she assured me. “Right after today. You’ll be free to do whatever it is you do.”

  “Like run a business?” I gritted my teeth and continued to chop. “Yes, exactly that. Like try to get the local health inspector off my tail.” Another quill in my behind needing attention. More like a good plucking.

  “At least the pest people are on the job, and Mustachio agreed to meet with you.”

  Indeed, I’d been proactive, dialing Dubois the moment after I’d confirmed with the cleaning company. “Please, don’t call him Mustachio. With my luck, it will get around to him and he’ll tack on an extra month before I get my license back.”

  “If you say so, dear,” the woman answered with damnable calm.

  “Besides, it’s too hot for a party,” I continued to complain. “No one will want to come.”

  Amora Townsend chuckled in that odd way of hers, half exhalation and half smoker’s rasp though she hadn’t smoked a day in her life. “It’s been too long since we had an occasion to celebrate. Why not have a few people over to knock down the old barn? It seemed the perfect time for a get-together.”

  Knock down the old barn. I didn’t want to invite trouble inside, but it seemed like including myself in the demolition would be the right kind of summons. The way Murphy’s Law had tagged me for extra attention lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if something broke or burned. Hell, an earthquake wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities. Even on this part of the east coast.

  Was a tsunami out of the question?

  “Your great-aunt and -uncle are going to be here, making a trip all the way from Pineville,” Amora stated, wiping her hands on her jeans before attacking a bowl of punch. “You should be happy to see them.”

  “Ah, I’m sure the forty-minute drive will really cost them.”

  “Can you try not to be a pill today? The kids are running around like a group of hooligans, we have guests arriving, and I have too many things to worry about without you being one of them.”

  I don’t know. Maybe I could use a little extra worry on my behalf. Good thoughts only, please.

  I expelled a sharp breath before drawing in a fresh one, deep and cleansing. Count to ten, I reminded myself, and calm down. It sure beat saying something I may regret to my mother. She never took kindly to any of my interference, preferring to live her life without being beholden to anyone. She had a stubborn streak wider than the Atlantic.

  We stood side-by-side in the relative calm of the kitchen, with candles lining the windowsill and geraniums in neat, colorful pots on the counter. Straightening, I continued to slice and dice for the summer salad she insisted on serving. My mother was big on entertaining. The woman knew what she wanted and was bound and determined to act at the precise moment she desired. With a flair for party planning and a natural gift as hostess supreme, Amora wined and dined with the best of them. She had a large heart and a strong desire to show off the home she’d worked hard to complete.

  It made me wonder how I got to be such a control freak. Not.

  “I don’t see why you insist on taking the barn down today, either,” I continued, eyes focused on the knife lest I cut off my fingers. “It’s like we’re in Amish country at a good old-fashioned barn razing. We’re not Amish. Why not have a professional come in with a machine and get it done in a jiffy? Come on, Mom.”

  There was the laugh again. One that told me I was being foolish. “It’s a wonder you never inherited my ability to be social. A butterfly you are not, my darling. Whatever show you put on in the bakery must be delightful to see.”

  To her, every stranger was a friend she hadn’t yet met. To me, I was lucky to make it through a day of being tolerably sociable without wanting to retreat to a back room and hibernate for an hour.

  “More like your father every day,” she continued, dragging a bowl of gooey cheese dip from the oven.

  “Hey, he’s personable! He has to be, he owns the grocery store.”

  My father and I both stood tall and lean, with a shock of dark hair bordering on black and deep-set almond eyes. I also enjoyed the strong chin and thanked him for it daily. While we both straddled the intro/extrovert line, Amora never understood why we couldn’t take the full plunge and join her in the land of the outgoing.

  “You’re avoiding the question. About the barn.” I finished the cucumber and shifted the pieces into a bowl, ready to be mixed. Ugh, yuck. My stomach complained even when I had no desire to sample. Yeah, tummy, I heard you the first time.

  Amora scrunched her nose into an ugly-kid face. “I didn’t hear any question, thank you. I’m the adult here, Essie, unless you’ve forgotten. If I want to have a party in the middle of the week, then so be it. Now be a good girl and finishing putting the s
alad together. Our guests will be arriving any minute.”

  “Your guests, Mom. I had nothing to do with the festivities.”

  I had no choice but to obey, the child in me jumping at the commanding tone of her voice. No matter how old I got, I would always do what my mother requested, within reason. When she called me up to ask a favor, in this case inviting the family to the farm for a party at precisely six o’clock, then I did as bid. And when she texted to make sure I’d come early to help her set up...I did so as well. Not like I had anything better to do until my grand reopening. Sometime in the next millennium.

  Leda was deftly handling the catering orders we couldn’t cancel from her own kitchen. And here I was with the remnants of my headache, getting nowhere. I felt useless.

  Now, clad in a worn-out dress and boot ensemble I affectionately dubbed Thursday-chic, I put the finishing touches on Amora’s platters of goodies and brought a couple of trays out to the makeshift picnic table buffet. The Townsends had outdone themselves this time, I thought, glancing around at the set-up. The deck boasted a variety of intimate spaces, with tiny bistro tables and red-painted chairs where couples and friends could sit back and enjoy each other’s company while watching the sun set. Lanterns hung across the pergola, and Mom had decorated the awnings with white fairy lights.

  “We’ll all help pull the damn thing down before we lose the light,” Amora explained, slipping beside me with her arms full. “Then we can use the wood for a great bonfire. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? I even bought marshmallows.”

  It sounded like I hadn’t dressed for the occasion and had forgotten to bring a change of clothes. I wouldn’t tell her, though. Maybe she’d let me sit out the wood chipping out. “Yes, wonderful,” I answered instead.

  “It’s a good idea for you to get out there. Meet people. Expand your reach. I know your great-aunt is dying to try your lemon tarts. I’m simply saying there is a lot more to life than the confines of your oven, and you need to get out and explore.” A pat on my arm cemented her point.

  It was another one of her tiny digs at my inability to leave town. I’d traveled during college, even going so far away as a few weeks in Brazil on vacation. For me, however, all roads led back to home. I was comfortable here, surrounded by people who understood this way of life and appreciated the quiet. The serenity. Why would I want to live anywhere else?