by Gina Wilkins
She glanced at her watch and then motioned toward the tables. “We should get started again. Who would like to volunteer to be my assistant during this next segment?”
“I volunteer Paul.” Nora shot a mischievous grin at her only male classmate. “I think he’d look especially cute in an apron.”
If Nora had hoped to see him embarrassed, her teasing gambit failed. Paul accepted the challenge with alacrity. “I’d be happy to help,” he said, moving around the table to stand beside Bonnie.
Bonnie donned a red-and-white gingham, bib-style apron embroidered on the center pocket with the Bride Mountain Inn logo. She tied a loose bow behind her back, then smiled as she picked up a matching apron for Paul. “This will be a little short for you, but it will keep you from splashing oil or pesto on your clothes.”
While the rest of the class grinned appreciatively, he bent to allow her to slip the top loop over his head. His face was very close to hers as she did so, and she couldn’t resist looking at his mouth. He had such a nice mouth. His eyes met hers for a moment and the glint in them made her wonder uncomfortably if he had read her thoughts. But then he straightened and turned so she could secure the ties behind his back. His strong, straight back. With a firm, tight…
Clearing her throat abruptly, she turned back toward the demo table. “Fresh herbs, whether grown in your own kitchen garden or purchased from the market, are a must for any home chef,” she began, greatly relieved that her voice sounded reasonably normal to her ears.
Now if only she could get through the rest of this demonstration without making an utter fool of herself. Considering how distracting she found her handsome assistant, it was going to take all her concentration.
Paul hoped the handouts Bonnie had provided contained all the information he needed to glean from her class. As hard as he’d tried to pay attention to her lectures and demonstrations, he couldn’t guarantee he’d remember half of what she’d said. Not because the class hadn’t been interesting or because Bonnie wasn’t knowledgeable about her subject. Every time he tried to pay close attention to her words, he found himself noticing how soft and musical her voice was, how much he enjoyed just listening to her. And every time he focused intently on her face, he got lost in admiring her big blue eyes, her porcelain skin, the tiny dimple just at the right corner of her mouth.
So, just how long had it been since he’d even been on a date with a woman? Obviously too long, judging by his strong and decidedly physical reactions to Bonnie Carmichael’s many charms. He’d had a brief association with Michaela Havers close to a year ago, but that had lasted only a few months. They’d had different interests, different friends, different priorities. Outside the bedroom—where they’d gotten along well enough—their interactions had become awkward and forced, until by mutual agreement they’d called it off. He’d seen her at a party recently. She’d been with a new guy and had looked very happy. They’d chatted amiably for a few minutes, parting as friendly acquaintances, if not actually friends.
He seemed to have a knack for remaining on cordial terms with his exes, he thought wryly. He didn’t want to analyze too deeply what that said about his potential for long-term commitment, something that seemed less likely with each passing year. Since Michaela, there’d been a few pleasant evenings out with other women, but nothing serious, no uncomfortable expectations on either part. But it had been a while since he’d even done that.
He wasn’t sure he had any more in common with Bonnie Carmichael than he’d had with Michaela, yet still he buzzed like a live wire every time he was close to her. He didn’t want either of them to get burned by that electricity, but from what she’d said to Nora, it didn’t sound as though Bonnie was looking for anything serious right now, either. Made sense. She was young, busy and ambitious with her plans for the inn. She had plenty of time to think about starting a family in a couple of years, perhaps, once she was satisfied the inn was secure. At this point, she was probably just wishing for a little fun away from work sometimes.
He liked having fun, too. And if he and Bonnie could share some good times together, without either of them thinking wedding bells and baby booties, all the better.
Somehow, despite his wandering thoughts about the teacher, he made it through the demonstration without chopping his fingers along with the basil, or blowing up the food processor, or breaking any of the delicate little jars she’d provided for the pesto samples. To good-natured applause from his classmates, he took a bow at the conclusion of the session.
Dismissed by Bonnie with a reminder of the farmers’ market visit next Tuesday, the women gathered their belongings and moved toward the doorway, still talking and laughing. A garrulous group, but affable, he thought. They’d made him feel quite welcome this evening.
The friendliest member of the class lingered when the others departed. Her long, lean body nicely displayed in a formfitting summer dress, Jennifer took her time storing her pesto, class folder and cell phone in her canvas tote bag. “Looks like we’re the last ones,” she said to Paul, as if that were a surprise to her. “We can walk out together to our cars.”
He supposed he should be flattered by her attention. She was certainly attractive, though he noticed only in an objective, rather detached manner. He didn’t mind her blatant flirting. He wasn’t the type of man who thought the male should always be the instigator. He actually enjoyed being asked out—unless he wasn’t interested, in which case he always felt bad about declining. He wasn’t interested now, so he hoped he was wrong about Jennifer’s intentions.
He glanced at tiny, curvy Bonnie, and his pulse rate jumped in a way it hadn’t when Jennifer smiled at him. There was the primary explanation for his lack of interest in Jennifer. His gaze met Bonnie’s, and he saw what he thought was understanding cross her face.
“Paul isn’t leaving just yet,” she said with a smile for him. “He and I need to discuss something about his daughter’s upcoming wedding.”
Jennifer blinked slowly a couple of times as she looked at Paul again. “Your, um, daughter?”
He nodded. “Cassie’s having her wedding here at the inn in just over a month. Bonnie’s been a tremendous help to us.”
“I see. Well, I’m sure that’s been keeping you very busy lately.”
Paul laughed lightly. “Cassie’s been keeping me busy for the past twenty-one years.”
“Do you have any other kids?”
“No, just the one. In just a few weeks, I’ll be a contented empty-nester.”
Jennifer looked somewhat speculatively from him to Bonnie and back again, then gave a little shrug. “I’m off, then. See you both next week. Great class tonight, Bonnie.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Bonnie waited until Jennifer had let herself out before turning to Paul. “I hope I read the look you gave me correctly. You did want an excuse to stay a few minutes longer, didn’t you?”
“I did,” he confessed. Maybe he had misinterpreted, but he thought he’d seen the expression on Jennifer’s face before—recently divorced single mom looking to fill a position he had no interest in auditioning for. He hoped she’d gotten that message, if he’d been right about her initial interest in him. “She seems very nice, but…”
Bonnie merely nodded and started gathering the supplies from the class. He knew she was much too ethical to discuss one of her other students with him. To justify staying behind, he helped her clean up.
“How are the wedding arrangements coming along?” Bonnie asked as they carried the supplies into the kitchen. “Do you know of anything Cassie needs from us at the moment?”
He wasn’t sure if she was simply making small talk or keeping him honest about his excuse to stay a bit longer. He was amused by his suspicion that it was mostly the latter. “As far as I can determine, everything’s on track. She told me her dress is almost finished and all the decisions have been
made and orders have been placed. Now it’s just a matter of getting through all the showers and parties scheduled for the next few weeks—and she still has four and a half weeks of school to complete.”
The last of those showers would actually take place here at the inn, he remembered. Cassie had mentioned that her bridesmaids had met with Bonnie and Kinley and booked the dining room for the first Sunday afternoon in August, a week and six days before the big event. Somewhat late for a shower, Holly had said with typical disapproval at the lack of efficient organization, but Cassie had only laughed and said her friends were all busy young professionals and students and they’d booked the only day they could manage. Besides, she had reminded her mom, she hadn’t exactly given everyone a lot of notice. Cassie and Mike hadn’t even chosen a wedding date until mid-May, only three months before the event.
“I’m so impressed that she’s actually making her own dress from her own design,” Bonnie marveled.
“Oh, yeah, she’s a whiz with a sewing machine.”
“Sounds like a busy time for her. How’s she holding up?”
He chuckled. “My Cassie is not easy to rattle. She goes with the flow. She’d consider a wedding disaster just another great story to tell her kids someday.”
“Oh, how I wish more brides had that attitude,” Bonnie said as she closed a cabinet door.
“I suppose you’ve seen your share of meltdowns.”
Her smile was wry. “A few, and I’m sure I’ll see many more in the future.”
She was optimistic about the long-term success of her establishment, he noted. An admirable attitude, reminding him how very attached she was to the inn. How deeply she’d planted her roots here.
“Cassie made all her friends promise that if they saw even a glimmer of ‘Bridezilla’ making an appearance in her, they were to give her a swift kick in the butt.”
Bonnie laughed softly. “That’s cute. So many brides act like one little glitch in their obsessively detailed plans will ruin their lives forever.”
She bit her lip suddenly, looking as though she wasn’t sure if she’d stepped over a professional line. “Of course, we do our best here to make sure all our events go as smoothly as our clients desire,” she assured him.
Trying to hide his amusement, he nodded solemnly. “Surely you don’t get blamed for things that are out of your control.”
Forgetting herself again, she rolled her eyes. “A bride once threatened to sue us because it rained on her wedding day.”
“You’re kidding.”
Shaking her head with a pained sigh, she said, “I wish I was. She also blamed her groom, her mother and God, in that order after us, and spent an hour crying in the ladies’ room before we could coax her out after the brief rain shower ended. She ended up having a very nice, if a bit damp, wedding.”
“So that’s why you spell out in your contract that you aren’t responsible for weather or other acts of nature. Cassie thought that was funny.”
“More like a necessity. Can you put this container on that shelf, please? The top one?”
Obligingly, he slid the lidded plastic box easily onto a shelf well above Bonnie’s head.
“Thank you. You saved me from having to pull out the stepladder.”
Glancing at the high cabinets lining the no-wasted-space kitchen, he smiled. He was unable to resist patting the top of her blond head, which came just about level with his shoulder. “I have a feeling you spend a lot of time with that stepladder.”
She grinned up at him. “Are you kidding? If I ever get married, it’ll be one of my attendants.”
Even though it was only a joke, her reference to marriage made him automatically drop his hand and take a half step back from her. He tried to cover his foolish reaction by opening the second basket for unpacking. “Are there any other high shelves I can reach for you before I go?”
“As a matter of fact…” Seemingly oblivious to his awkward moment, she had him store several more items.
“I hope this gets me extra points in the class.”
Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, she smiled. “You know I’m not grading the class.”
That fleeting little dimple at the corner of her mouth could make a man’s mouth go dry. He swallowed before murmuring, “Still…”
Draping the towel over a rack, she pushed back her hair and said, “I think it’s safe for you to go now. The parking lot should be empty. Thank you for your help.”
“I wasn’t afraid to go out with the class,” he said with exaggerated male dignity. “I just, uh, thought you could use a hand.”
As he’d hoped, she laughed again. She had such a pretty laugh, soft and musical. His lips quirked automatically upward in response and he bade her good-night with a smile. If he fantasized about parting with a kiss—well, he assured himself as he headed for his car, that was only natural considering his attraction to her. Because he sensed the attraction wasn’t entirely one-sided, he hoped maybe someday soon that fantasy could come true.
Darkness had settled fully over the grounds by the time Bonnie headed out of the inn that night. After class she’d checked on the guests playing board games in the shared front parlor, and did some prep for breakfast the next morning. Finally deciding to call it a day, she slipped out a back door onto the long wooden deck where an older couple who were staying a few days to celebrate their fifty-first wedding anniversary sat in rockers, sipping tea and enjoying the moonlight. She exchanged good-nights with them, but didn’t linger, leaving them to their quiet companionship.
Rather than heading straight into her half basement apartment, she turned at the foot of the stairs and walked along one of the graveled paths toward the back of the gardens. She needed a few minutes of fresh air to clear her head before turning in for the night. The lighting was sufficient to safely guide her steps, but not so bright as to dim the beauty of the star-studded sky overhead. Not that she needed lighting at all. She could walk every inch of the inn’s grounds with her eyes closed.
The gardens spreading around the gray-painted, white-trimmed Queen-Anne style inn had been designed to be inviting, peaceful and reasonably low-maintenance with well-tended pathways winding through the flower beds. A large, three-tier fountain was the central attraction, with a white-painted wedding gazebo at the east side of the grounds. The east side lawn had been leveled, providing space for tents or tables and chairs for outdoor parties and receptions. Stone steps and a wheelchair ramp led down from that lawn to the lower gardens.
As she walked, Bonnie saw both the beauty of the grounds and the many backbreaking, blister-raising, sweat-drenching hours of manual labor she and her siblings had put into the restoration. They had helped their uncle Leo as often as they could, but they’d been busy establishing careers in Tennessee, so there’d been a lot of work to do when they’d officially inherited the place. Bonnie regretted none of it, and she was confident Kinley and Logan felt the same.
She paused at the back of the grounds, just before the trailhead of a hiking path that led through dense woods to the peak of Bride Mountain. They eventually planned to do a bit more development here, hoping to create a quiet meditation garden complete with a koi pond.
Movement to her right made her turn. A massive dark shape separated from the shadows to bump against her, a low rumble issuing from its throat. The dog’s head came higher than her waist, so she didn’t even have to bend to give him an affectionate pat on the head. He growled louder when she rubbed his ears, a sound that she’d always thought of as Ninja’s version of a purr. The dog almost never barked, but he made this sound frequently, leading some wary observers to think he was growling at them.
“I thought you and Ninja had already made your rounds for the evening,” she said to her brother.
His hard-carved face mostly in shadow, Logan Carmichael would probably have appeared inti
midating to anyone who didn’t love him as much as his younger sister did. “Guess we’re both restless tonight. Nothing good on TV.”
“You want to come in for cake and tea? I have a little left of that coconut cake I made for dinner last night.”
“Thanks, but not tonight. Ninja and I are just going to walk the trail a bit.”
Looking up from the dog, she raised an eyebrow at her brother. “Hiking in the dark?”
“Not a hike. Just a short walk. There’s enough moonlight to guide us. And I’ve got a flashlight if needed.”
“Still…”
He chuckled and lightly flicked the end of her nose. “Afraid your ghost will get me?”
She rolled her eyes. Her brother and sister had always teased her about being the only one in the family who believed the more-than-a-century-old legend that a ghostly bride was occasionally seen on the grounds of the inn, almost always glimpsed by couples on the verge of committing to happily-ever-after. Uncle Leo swore that he and Aunt Helen had seen the bride the night he proposed. They had enjoyed a blissfully happy marriage until her death had parted them.
Since Kinley had tumbled into love recently with travel writer Dan Phelan, she had been quieter on the subject of the ghost bride, about whom she’d once had very strong—and somewhat negative—opinions. Kinley had been concerned that having a ghost legend attached to their newly reopened inn would be a negative factor, garnering the wrong sort of attention or discouraging the wedding clientele they hoped to attract. Now she merely got a funny look on her face on the infrequent occasion when the bride was mentioned. But characteristically gruff and pragmatic Logan still managed to get in a few cynical jabs toward Bonnie’s admitted romanticism.
Refusing to take the bait this time, Bonnie simply shrugged and retorted, “I’m more concerned about you becoming the next ghost to haunt the inn. Don’t fall off any embankments and break your neck while you’re out walking off your restlessness, okay?”
“I won’t. And if I do, I promise to haunt you only on your birthdays and Christmas.”