by Kristy Tate
“Nonsense,” Don boomed. “I’ve come to think of him as a son.”
Mia gave Don a glowing look that turned Penny’s stomach. She wanted to ask if Drake’s dad would be invited. Naturally he’d have to be, and that would make the Mia and Don mutual appreciation party a little awkward.
“Melinda wants to help, of course,” Don continued.
“Of course, she does,” Penny murmured. She wondered what use Melinda could be. Penny couldn’t see her in the kitchen preparing food or behind the bar mixing drinks.
“She said she’d be responsible for the invitations,” Mia told Penny.
Brilliant. Penny’s heart sank, and for a moment she wished she really were in Istanbul. Penny didn’t know any of Drake’s friends, so of course it made sense that someone who did would make the invitations, but by extending the invitations, it would seem to everyone that Melinda was throwing at the party.
“The only snafu is the location,” Mia said, clasping her hands in front of her and looking intently at Penny.
“What’s wrong with the beach?” Penny asked, her voice a surprised squeak.
“Well, it’s a long way to haul all the food and decorations. And think of the band.”
“The band?” Penny didn’t know if Drake liked Mariachi music. Everything she didn’t know about him seemed immense and overwhelming.
“It has to be at the house,” Don said.
Penny felt the party slipping away from her, which, when she thought about it, made sense. She couldn’t throw a party for Drake while posing to be his ex-wife. Some of his friends had to know or have seen photos of Magdalena, so how could Penny even go? She clearly didn’t think this through properly.
The party had seemed like such a good idea that provided exposure and an added boost of income for Andrea’s café, but while listening to Mia and Don, Penny realized that the party was a nail in her fake marriage’s coffin.
Chapter 34
At his words, the creature sank into the deep, leaving Hans alone on the ship. He was surrounded by his father’s men, but he was alone. Without Ingrid he would remain alone. A thousand stars lit the sky and the moon winked her secrets, but Hans felt nothing but the isolation of his aching heart.
From Hans and the Sunstone
Drake sat at the Bluebird Café counter, nursing his milkshake. “It’s been what, less than six months since my divorce?” He shook his head. “I feel like an idiot twenty times over for even considering another relationship.”
Andrea popped a chocolate into her mouth. “Can you even call your marriage a relationship? It was more of a fling.”
“Not according to the state of New York,” Drake mumbled.
“The divorce has been at least five times longer than your marriage,” Andrea told him.
Drake picked up a cherry cordial and bit into it. The sweet goo ran down his fingers, but he didn’t mind.
“I’m just saying that if you really like this one, you should tell her,” Andrea said.
“How can I? She’s—“ He waved his hands in the air searching for words. He gave up and picked up another chocolate. “I’m nothing.”
Andrea nudged him with her elbow. “Come on, professor, admit it. Twelve hundred Western Washington University coeds wouldn’t call you ‘nothing.’”
Drake sighed. “She’s rich.”
“So what?” Andrea sounded defensive.
Drake looked around at Andrea’s empty, failing café. He didn’t want to say it, he didn’t want to hurt her, but money mattered. His father had been preaching that to him all of his life and he didn’t think he could pretend for much longer that his father was wrong. Sure, he wanted to believe that all that really mattered were freshly cut pears or snowy woods on a dark evening. But when it came right down to it, the world ran on money, and Penny had plenty and he had none.
“I don’t see you falling for a material girl.”
“I didn’t say she was materialistic.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
“It’s too soon and too fast. I made that mistake with Magdalena, and I don’t want to make it again.”
Andrea frowned at him. “Maybe too soon and too fast is better than a slow and drawn out misery.”
An oppressive brain freeze, typical when eating ice cream, hit Drake, and he blinked away the sudden pain. “Did something…” he searched for the right thing to say, “change between you and Graham?”
Andrea nodded while studying a chocolate caramel. “He’s gone. He joined the military.”
“That’s not like joining the circus or the French Foreign Legion.”
“It might as well be.” Andrea nibbled on the caramel.
Drake shook his head. “I can’t believe that. You two have been together since when? High school?”
Andrea snorted and put down her candy. “Since kindergarten. I can’t remember not knowing him or loving him…until now.”
“That makes my relationship with Blair sound like a fling.”Drake wrapped his arm around Andrea’s slim waist and she laid her head on his shoulder. “We’re veterans. We loved and we lost, and we both know what Shakespeare said about that.”
“That we’re scarred, wounded, and gun shy,” Andrea said, leaning away from Drake. She picked up another chocolate and put it in her mouth. “And a little high on caffeine-rich chocolates. And maybe a little in love.”
“Not Graham?” Drake quirked an eyebrow at her.
She nodded. “So not Graham.”
“Well that’s great!” he said, but his voice sounded hollow and full of disbelief.
She shook her head. “He doesn’t know I exist. I’m just…he would never be attracted to someone like me.”
“Why would you say that?”
“He’s handsome, sophisticated, and rich.”
Drake groaned. “Oh, these richies.”
“And he doesn’t even notice me because he’s always with someone else. Someone like him, someone so obviously not from Rose Arbor.”
Drake stared into his shake. “Don’t sell yourself or Rose Arbor short.”
Andrea’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t even really know him.”
“Then get to know him.” Drake gave her a sidewise glance. “If nothing else, maybe he can help you stop thinking about Graham.”
“That’s true.”
“Sure, think of him as a nicotine patch. If he’s not into, you what’s the harm? It’s not like you’re stringing him along or using him.”
Andrea sat up and squared her shoulders. “You are so right! I’ll just get to know him.”
“Exactly! Put yourself in his path, stalk him, woo him.”
Doubt flickered across Andrea’s features. “I don’t really get why he’s always with this other woman.”
“It doesn’t matter! He’s not a keeper. He’s a pit stop, a drive-through window.”
Andrea put her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her hand. “Is that what Penny is to you? A way to help you forget Blair and Magdalena?”
“Magdalena was a five foot ten, one hundred and twenty pound mistake,” Drake said firmly. “My mistake with Blair was…monumental stupidity.” He paused. “I’m not going to be stupid with Penny.”
Andrea smiled.
“What?” Drake asked. “You don’t think I’m smart?”
Andrea’s smile broadened. “Oh no, I just think it’s funny that someone so incredibly brilliant can sometimes be so incredibly dumb.”
“Thanks,” Drake said. “You’re right. I’m dumb when it comes to her. I really don’t know what to do next.”
“Blair loved you.”
“Yeah, and I blew that.”
“But before you blew it you must have been doing something right.”
Drake thought back to the early days when he loved Blair and she loved him. Before he met Magdalena at his sabbatical of stupidity. He didn’t know if he had ever loved Magdalena, or if she was a convenient excuse to distance himself from Blair, which allowed him to
avoid any real emotional attachment. As long as he had a dream of Magdalena then he couldn’t really love Blair, couldn’t commit, couldn’t start a marriage or take on the responsibility of a family. And Blair wanted a family. She wanted children. No wonder she didn’t want him back.
“What did you do to make Blair fall in love with you?” Andrea asked.
Drake frowned at Andrea. “We wrote poetry together.”
Andrea laughed. “I’m pretty sure Blair didn’t love you for your poetry.”
“What do you mean?”
Andrea looked away, fighting a smile and stifling her laughter. “I’m just pretty sure that Blair didn’t love your poetry.”
Drake bit his lip and looked out the window. Andrea must have realized how badly she’d hurt his feelings, because she rushed in with, “Okay, try it. Take Penny somewhere romantic—the beach at night or the old stone church—and ask her if she’d like to hear your poetry.”
“She doesn’t really like poetry. She reads Snivel Drivel.”
Andrea brightened. “I love Snivel Drivel!”
Drake nodded. “You’d probably love Penny. Everyone does.”
“Everyone loves Penny?”
“Everyone who knows her.” Including a crazed stalker, a million blog followers, and who knows how many television viewers.
“I think you’re exaggerating. She has to be a little unlovable.”
He thought of the dirty socks in the middle of the living room and shrugged. “I guess everyone has their flaws.”
Chapter 35
All berries have great antioxidant benefits. Blueberry supplements may be helpful in slowing cognitive decline and lowering the risk for Alzheimer's disease.
From Losing Penny and Pounds
“Tell me about Magdalena,” Penny took her eyes off the road for a nanosecond and tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
“Magdalena?” Drake raised his eyebrows. “Are we playing Truth again? Because if so, I should warn you, I’m going to get mean and dirty.”
Penny pulled onto the highway and pointed the Volkswagen toward town. “Your meanness and dirtiness don’t frighten me. And I wasn’t playing Truth. I think that if I’m pretending to be Magdalena I should know more about her.”
“Can’t we just focus on huckleberries?”
She shrugged, tempted to tell him about the party. What she wanted to say was “Drake, I’ve made an idiotic mistake. I planned a birthday party and it grew to mammoth proportions and now your mom is inviting all of your friends. Someone is bound to have known Magdalena, so I can’t possibly go, and how can I not go when everyone here knows we’re living together and thinks I’m your ex-wife?” Instead she said, “Huckleberries are boring.”
“Then why are we picking them?”
“This was your idea!”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”
“Come on, tell me about Maggie.”
Drake sucked in a long breath. “For one thing, I never heard anyone call her Maggie.”
Penny pressed her lips together. “She sounds as boring as huckleberries.”
Drake nodded. “Huckleberries don’t even come close to her boringness.”
“Is that why it didn’t last?” Penny tried picturing Drake and a Cuban beauty wandering through Central Park and feeding breadcrumbs to the pigeons, but for some reason Magdalena kept changing into someone with dark red curls. “What was she like?”
“Why don’t we talk about you? Tell me about your past lovers,” Drake said.
Penny smiled. “Oh that’s easy. Remember, I was…nonlover-like.”
“One point for me, or wait—don’t I automatically win because you lied?”
“I’m not lying, and we’re not playing.”
“Come on, there had to have been someone.”
“Sometimes…I mean, it’s not like I’ve never been kissed. There was the one guy in cooking school, Allen.”
“See, I knew it. Tell me about Allen.”
“We don’t need to talk about Allen…talking about Magdalena makes more sense.”
“Not to me,” Drake said under his breath. “Turn here.”
Penny followed his pointing finger and pulled off the highway onto a dirt road. “Where are we going?”
“To the huckleberries, of course.”
The car bounced over empty potholes and pits of mud. Penny had to use both hands to keep the car headed straight on the path. “She must have been pretty.”
Drake slid a sideways glance at her. “She was…is.”
Penny’s hands clenched the steering wheel. “I think all Cuban girls are pretty. There must be something mandated in their country’s bylaws. All Cuban girls must look like Eva Mendes.”
“What did Allen look like?”
“Allen looked like a cooking school student, which he was, and so did I. Back then we matched. The problem was I didn’t want to match Allen.”
“We’re here,” Drake told her.
Penny nosed the car to the side of the road. Underbrush lined the tiny dirt road and the forest canopy towered over their heads. The air smelled mossy and sung with crickets. Through the trees Penny caught sight of a low wall circling a cemetery filled with headstones. Patchy grass and a smattering of dandelions and buttercups grew between the stones. With a wicker basket over her arm, she climbed from the car and followed Drake. The church was made of gray stone and had heavily carved wooden doors. Penny walked through the cemetery, entranced by the dark, stained markers.
“You’re telling me Allen looked like a Biggest Loser contestant?” Drake said.
“No, I’m not saying that. That wouldn’t be kind. And being unkind in such a quiet, almost reverent place would be wrong.” Penny took a deep breath and carefully chose her words. “I’m saying that when we were…friends, he wore a device that counted his caloric intake and expenditure.”
Drake raised his eyebrows and held out his hand to help Penny over the low wall.
“He was sweet.” Penny placed her hand in Drake’s and hoped he couldn’t feel her rising pulse.
“Why did he stop being your—” he paused dramatically, “friend?”
Penny thought about it. “I’m not sure. I started losing weight even before cooking school ended, and then the blog and the show…I just got really busy and we didn’t see each other as much. I guess it just sort of fizzled, and I didn’t have time for him anymore.” She kicked at a mossy rock. “That’s really sad.”
“Did you love him?” Drake asked.
“Heavens no.”
He smiled and looked pleased with her answer.
She squeezed his hand. “But you must have loved Magdalena. You wouldn’t marry someone you didn’t love, would you?”
Drake didn’t answer. Instead he led her down a path and then stopped in front of a bush. “These are huckleberries, by the way.”
“You’re deflecting.”
For an answer, Drake picked a handful of huckleberries and put a few in his mouth.
Penny frowned at him. “Are those safe?”
He laughed. “How can I be deflecting if we’re not playing?”
“Okay, we’re playing.”
Drake shook his head. “Not fair. I just learned about Fatty.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“I mean, Allen.”
“Do you want to play or not?”
“Are you going to grill me about Magdalena?”
Penny nodded. “And Blair and Vikings.”
“Then I don’t see how I can win.” He turned his attention to the huckleberry bush. “Although, I do have questions.”
She raised her eyebrows at him.
“What happens when the summer is over?” he asked.
Penny stopped picking berries.
He stood behind her, his face bent toward her hair. “I like living with you. I like having you around.”
“Even my socks?”
His breath tickled the back of her neck. “I’m just not seeing a happy ending here, and
I really want one.”
“I have a show to do.”
“And I have classes to teach.”
“Drake…”
He scowled and frustration settled across his face. “I know we’ve only just met, but living with you has put our relationship on hyper speed.”
“Not everything.” After all, there had only been one kiss. He must have read her mind, because he touched her cheek, took her hand, and slowly drew her toward him. His nearness almost hurt. She became breathless, her heart pounded, and her fingers tingled—all for want of a little kiss. She worried about how their relationship would work, but she soon stopped worrying when all of her attention swiftly and acutely focused on kissing. Right here, right now kissing.
Drake pulled away from her and rested his forehead on hers. “That was nice.”
“For being a literature professor, you’re completely inept when it comes to adjectives. ‘Nice’ in no way describes your kiss.”
“No? How about this?” He picked her up, carried her over to a fallen tree, sat down, and settled her on his lap. His mouth was warm and tasted like huckleberries. A niggling warning started somewhere deep inside, but she pushed it away.
“How was that? Better than nice?” he asked softly. His breath and the movement of his lips brushed against her throat. His lips found hers again and he laid her backwards and leaned over her.
“Delicious, divine,” Penny said, struggling to find her voice when his lips had returned to her throat. She held onto his shoulders. If he were to let her go she’d fall into the tall grass. His lips trailed down the side of her neck and stopped below her ear. Her nerves skittered.
“Cooking words,” Drake said.
“Not exactly true,” Penny said. “Cooking words are steaming, stirring, mix…Oh wait, those work, too.”
He laughed and pulled her up and onto an ancient looking stone bench that she hadn’t noticed before.
“I can’t wait to read your cookbook.”
She backed away from him and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It’s a very puritanical cookbook.”