by Leigh Duncan
Apparently not, he thought when her smile remained cool and impersonal.
He exhaled slowly when Charlie slid onto the seat.
“What?” He’d lost track of the conversation.
“I said I slept like a baby. I’ve never had a room so close to the ocean before. The sound of the waves put me right out. How ’bout you?” Charlie buckled her seat belt.
“Fine. Just fine,” he lied. Bothered by concerns for his aunt, he’d checked the clock every five minutes until three, when he guessed he’d finally drifted into a restless sleep. A few hours later, he’d woken—hard and aching—from a dream about Charlie. He hefted the beach bag he’d slipped from her shoulder without realizing it. “What do you have in here, rocks?” he joked, placing the bag on the floor behind her seat.
“Nothing so mundane.” Charlie grinned. “I ordered a few snacks from room service and added a couple of bottles of water.”
“Like minds,” he noted. “I brought wine and crackers and a surprise for later.”
“Will I like it?” She smiled up at him.
“You’ll have to wait and see.” Tempted to open the peanuts and feed them to her one by one, he backed away slowly. After retracing his steps around the car, he climbed in beside her. A sultry, floral scent filled the small space. He drew in a deep breath and savored it.
“I don’t think we’re in any danger of going hungry,” she said, aiming a thumb at the boxes and bags that crowded the backseat while Josh waited for guests in a golf cart to roll past before he put the car in gear. “Are you expecting Armageddon while we’re out? Or is there something else I should know about you?”
“I’ve given strict orders that the aliens cannot attack today and ruin our time together.” He relaxed at the sound of her quiet laughter. After a minute, he added, “I need to make a few deliveries while we’re out.” He hesitated. “You don’t mind, do you?” Tension rolled off his shoulders when his date gave the idea two thumbs up. He cleared his throat as she crossed her legs. “The agent sent over a list of places I want to check out. I thought we’d start out at the far end of the island and work our way back.”
“Sounds good.” Adjusting her sunglasses, she angled her body toward his. “What exactly are you looking for?”
Josh steered them through the gates of Casa Blanca. “I’m thinking about four, maybe five, acres to start. More if I get a good deal.” He’d need a third to a half of an acre for the store itself, the rest for a small vineyard.
“What about a house?”
“Nah.” He signaled for a turn toward the south end of the island. “I’m not planning to live there.”
“Tell me you don’t live with your mother.” Mock horror filled Charlie’s face. She held the look for a long second before she laughed.
“What if I did? Would that be a deal breaker?” he teased, wanting to string her along.
“Hmmm, it might be.” Charlie tapped one manicured finger against her chin as though weighing his answer.
“In that case, you can relax,” he said, glad he could put her qualms at ease. “My mom’s enjoying the good life in Key Biscayne these days. I have my own place.”
Several of them, in fact. Not that he intended to tell Charlie about everywhere he laid his head at night. He made it a policy to keep the details of his private life private. At least, he did until there was a real possibility he’d found the one. Which hadn’t ever happened. Not yet anyway. If and when it did, he’d open up every aspect of his life. From his primary residence—a converted loft in Atlanta—to the cabin in Vail. From the cottage in Napa Valley to the fully staffed lodge in the heart of France’s wine-growing country.
The traffic ahead cleared, giving him a chance to glance at Charlie. She struck him as open and aboveboard, but there was a lot he didn’t know about her. He intended to use their time together today to fill in some of the blanks.
“So, a Columbia grad, huh?” He steered around a slow-moving vehicle in the right lane. “What made you choose accounting?”
“Planning ahead,” she said, skimming her hand over her ponytail. “We didn’t have much when I was growing up. I knew if I wanted to better myself, I had to learn as much as I could about money—how to earn it, manage it, invest it. So, one day, I could provide for my own family.” She recrossed her slender legs. “What about you? Have you ever wanted to go to college? Maybe do something besides work at the Super Min?”
His smile thinned. The conversation had ventured into treacherous territory. As guilty as he felt about it, he couldn’t tell Charlie everything about himself and still help his aunt save her business. Besides, he wanted to get to know Charlie better, and to do that, he had to keep his true identity under wraps for a little while longer. “I’ve always been a whiz at numbers,” he said, opting for an abbreviated version of the truth. His affinity for math had served him well in opening The Grape and establishing it as a national chain. Now, though, managing the overall business with an eye toward the big picture kept him too busy to handle the day-to-day details. For those, he turned to people he could trust.
“You have reached your destination,” his cell phone chirped, saving him from the need to say more. He pulled to the curb and stopped the car.
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Charlie leaned forward, the sun reflecting off her sunglasses as she peered through the windshield.
Josh stared straight ahead, his eyes narrowing. Following the prompts from his phone’s map app, he’d threaded his way through a crowded housing development to a vacant cul-de-sac. In the distance, makeshift soccer goals stood on either side of an immense field of sandspurs. He shifted, pulling up the list of properties on his phone.
“This is the address. But that”—he nodded toward a dust devil that swirled over the arid soil—“that’s sure not what I was picturing. I can see why the price is so reasonable.” When Charlie reached for her handle, he made a snap decision. “Don’t bother. This won’t work for me.” He didn’t need an ag degree to look at the property and know grapes would never thrive in the sandy soil.
“You’re sure?” Revealing doubt-filled green eyes, Charlie propped her sunglasses on the top of her head. “Some people would look at land like this and only see opportunity. They’d bring in truckloads of top soil, spread a ton or two of manure over the top and hope for the best.”
Certain she was talking about her dad, he chose his next words carefully. “I admire dreamers. They make the world a more interesting place. This particular piece of land, though—it isn’t suitable. There’s no water source. No drainage.” Lightening his tone, he pointed to toys that littered a nearby yard. “If, by some miracle, I did manage to raise a few grapes, the kids around here would strip the vines clean before I could harvest them.”
Someone else, someone who wasn’t quite as attuned to the beautiful woman sitting beside him, might have missed the clarity that came into her eyes, the slight easing of tension around her lips, the softening of her shoulders. He spotted it, though, and leaned toward her. Planting a kiss on Charlie’s nose, he gave her ponytail a quick tug. “Don’t worry. We still have two more places to see. Besides, whether we find a good spot or not, I’m glad we’re spending the day together.”
Her soft, “Me, too,” sent a warm shiver racing through his chest while the, “What’s next?” she added as she slid her sunglasses back into place kept him from doing something rash, like pulling her into his arms and never letting go. Instead, he started the car and headed on down the road.
“As long as we’re in the area, I need to drop some stuff off at Mrs. Yoder’s.” The elderly shut-in had called an order into the Super Min that morning.
“Door-to-door delivery?” Charlie’s eyebrows rose while questions formed in her green eyes. “That’s a service you don’t find every day.”
“It’s all part of living on Mimosa Key,” he explained. “People here look after their own. It’s something that stems from hurricane season. After a big storm, it might ta
ke days for help to arrive from the mainland, so we check on one another. The men break out chain saws and clear downed limbs off houses and roads. That feeling of camaraderie carries over to everyday life. There’s only one grocery store at the south end of the island. When one of us is incapacitated or simply can’t drive anymore, we make sure they don’t go without.”
“You really are one of the good guys, aren’t you?” The questions in Charlie’s eyes faded as she dazzled him with a smile. “Do you need a hand?”
“I’ve got it,” he said, halting the car in front of a well-kept house in the working-class neighborhood. “This shouldn’t take too long.” He consulted his list before he retrieved two large bags from the backseat.
“I’ll check my email while I wait.” Charlie pulled her phone from her purse.
He left her scrolling through messages while he strode up the walkway. At the door to the modest home, he waited, listening through the screened door to the soft scrape-bump of a walker accompanied by a quiet shuffle of elderly feet.
“I have your groceries, Mrs. Yoder,” he announced, then waited while a tiny, white-haired woman unlatched the screened door.
“Why, Josh. You’re a sight for these tired, old eyes.” Reversing her steps, Mrs. Yoder led the way through a living room where glass figurines crowded every imaginable surface. “I heard you were in town. Charity’s still on her cruise, I guess.”
“Yes, ma’am. She’ll be back Sunday. Until then, I’m filling in for her.” Delivering food and household products to the island’s shut-ins was one of several tasks his aunt had insisted he complete himself. “Where would you like these?”
“On the kitchen counter, if you don’t mind.” Mrs. Yoder frowned. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and that young woman you were seeing. Betty—no, Bessy.”
As Josh slowed his pace to match his elderly host’s, he wondered how a woman who rarely left her house knew about his love life. He didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
“Your aunt Charity said she was a piece o’ work. You just wait.” Mrs. Yoder stopped rambling long enough to nod firmly. “Someone right’ll come along soon.”
Wondering if she already had, he headed for the narrow shotgun kitchen off the living room. There, he carefully avoided the collection of miniature bottles that lined the backsplash while he eased the bags onto an otherwise pristine counter. “Let me put these things away for you,” he suggested. He didn’t wait for a response, but began pulling out cans of soup and tuna. “In the pantry, right?”
“Oh, you needn’t bother.” Mrs. Yoder waved a hand toward the closet at the far end of the kitchen. Slowly, she lowered herself into a kitchen chair. “Hear anything from your aunt? Has she figured out it was you who paid for the trip?”
Josh shot a stunned look over his shoulder. “How did you know?”
“Oh, Josh.” Mrs. Yoder slapped her knee. “I wish you could see your face. That expression—it’s priceless.” Mirth doubled the senior citizen’s wrinkles. “How did I know? I’ll never tell.”
“I should have known better than to think I could pull one over on you, Mrs. Yoder.
He turned, propping one hip against the counter to face her. “I’d sure appreciate it if you kept this between you and me, though. It’d make things…awkward…if Aunt Charity ever learned the truth.”
With a palsied movement, Mrs. Yoder zipped her lips. “Don’t worry. How you spend your money is your business. Your secret’s safe with me.”
That settled, Josh pulled open a bifold door and whistled. The neatly arranged canned goods and boxed staples already on the shelves would feed a small army. As he added to her supply, he mulled the possibility that the spry octogenarian who apparently kept her gnarled fingers on Mimosa Key’s pulse might have just the information he needed.
“We had the strangest thing happen the other day,” he began. “A customer came into the store claiming Charity had put the Super Min on the market. You haven’t heard anything about that, have you?” His pulse hammered in his ears as he waited for an answer.
“Aw, pshhh. You ought not believe everything you hear, Josh. Your aunt Charity would no more sell that store than she’d take up rock climbing.”
He chortled at the idea of his frizzy-haired aunt in mountaineering attire. “That’s what I thought.” The hard knot in his stomach loosened the tiniest bit. It didn’t matter who he asked, no one had heard one word of gossip about the sale of the Super Min. And in Mimosa Key, nothing of import happened without sending shock waves down the grapevine. He stacked the last of the canned goods, placed a quart of milk on the top shelf in the refrigerator and slipped a loaf of fresh bread into an empty bin near Mrs. Yoder’s toaster. When he turned, the life-long resident of Mimosa Key was on her feet, ready to escort him to the door.
“Who’s that young woman?” Her rheumy eyes tightening, Mrs. Yoder squinted through the screened door. “I don’t believe I know her.”
“Her name’s Charlotte Oak. She’s from Orlando.” Unwilling to feed Mrs. Yoder’s appetite for gossip, he refused to say more.
“Is she your new girlfriend, young man?” Brightening like someone who had a secret she was bursting to share, Mrs. Yoder swung toward him. “Does your aunt know about her?”
“Now, Mrs. Yoder, don’t you go twisting your knickers.” Smiling, he patted an age-spotted arm. “I only met her yesterday. It’s too early to tell.”
“I don’t know,” came a mumbled reply as Charlie emerged from the car. “She looks like a keeper to me.”
“Only time will tell.” And it was far too soon for deep feelings to develop between him and Charlie, wasn’t it? He lifted two fingers to his forehead, saluting Mrs. Yoder on his way to the willowy blonde who stood with her head tilted to catch the sun’s rays.
He had to admit, part of him urged throwing caution to the wind and letting himself fall in love. And who better to fall in love with than Charlie? With her dreamy green eyes, sweet curves and kissable lips, it was pointless to deny how fast she got his motor running. But it was her bright intelligence and drive that really set her apart from the supermodels and celebrities he normally squired about town. He couldn’t imagine the young socialites from Atlanta’s in-crowd being content to run errands or deliver groceries with him. Yet, Charlie seemed as happy tackling those tasks as she’d been last night at Junonia. For the first time in a long time, he thought he’d found a girl who honestly liked him, just him. And not the size of his investment portfolio.
But he wasn’t sure where their relationship was headed, if it was headed anywhere. For one thing, he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about his true identity. Plus, there was still the little matter of her determination to buy the Super Min. Until they resolved those issues, it wouldn’t matter how hard or fast he fell for Charlie.
* * *
“What do you think?”
Charlie caught the proprietary gleam in Josh’s dark eyes before she scanned the grass-covered fields that stretched to the highest spot on Mimosa Key. It seemed to her that, after striking out at the other two properties, Josh had hit one out of the park. If not literally, then close enough. In the distance, the setting sun glinted off the Barefoot Bay Bucks stadium.
“I think if grapes can grow on Mimosa Key, this would be the spot,” she answered honestly. “The important thing is, do you like it?”
What she liked was the way his arm anchored her to his waist as if he’d never let go. She threaded her fingers through Josh’s. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed a man’s company as much as she enjoyed his. Laughing and talking, they’d driven from one end of the island to the other in their search for the right piece of property. From time to time, he’d stopped to make a delivery before they had lunch at a picnic table overlooking the bay. There, they’d lingered, watching the boats bob in the harbor while she’d entertained him by dredging up stories of her childhood. She’d been amazed, later, to see that hours had flown by while she told Josh things
she’d never told another soul about her past.
And, all the while, he hadn’t once resorted to the impress-the-girl tricks others had used to get a second date or a third. Rather than renting a limo for the day, he’d shown up in a car so ancient duct tape held the worn seats together. She had a hunch the wine they’d sipped at lunch had come straight off the shelf at the Super Min. She’d had a few qualms over the promised surprise, but that, too, had turned out better than okay. Now, waiting for his answer, she licked her lips, remembering the yummy goodness of the best boiled peanuts she’d ever tasted.
“I’d say it looks just about perfect to me.”
The deep rumble in Josh’s voice caught her attention, and she glanced up, surprised to find he’d lost interest in the acreage and was staring down at her instead. She pushed lightly on his chest. “The land, Josh. Do you like the land?”
His grin sheepish, he followed the gently slopping rise. “There’s water.” He pointed to a gurgling stream.
“The bluff will protect the vines from salt spray,” she offered. “It’ll also provide some shelter from the high winds when it storms.” An important detail, considering the hurricane season that stretched from midsummer through fall.
“There’s good access, too.” Josh pointed to the road that led from Casa Blanca to the baseball stadium. “In case I decide to sell a few grapes.”
Picturing him behind the counter of a roadside stand, surrounded by baskets filled with the fruit he’d raised and handpicked, she smiled. “I really think you could make this work.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He pulled her closer. Leaning down, he angled for a kiss.
The first brush of his lips across hers fanned the flames of the fire she’d carefully banked when he’d left her last night. His steady grip tightened around her waist. A move she was ever-so-grateful for when his touch sent so much heat scorching through her midsection that she melted against him.