by Ruth Langan
Grant watched as smoke wreathed his head. “This is a great place to work.”
“Yep.”
“Alex says you’ve been here for over fifty years.”
The old man nodded. “Watched this place grow from a private hunting lodge to a guest lodge. And got a chance to watch Alex grow from girl to woman.”
Grant looked across the clearing, where Alex, having removed all the dead limbs from nearby trees, was now oiling and cleaning the chainsaw. “She’s amazing. Is there anything she can’t do?”
Lem shook his head. “Can’t think of anything offhand. Except maybe enjoy herself at fancy parties. She’s more at home hiking up into the hills.”
The two men shared a laugh.
“I’m not much for fancy parties myself.” Grant idly drew off the gloves to examine his blisters.
“You have to go to many up there in the city?”
“A few.” He frowned. “Once or twice a year the mayor likes to toss celebrities and city employees together for award ceremonies. I’ve attended enough that I had to buy a tux.”
Lem peered at him through a haze of smoke, as a half-forgotten memory began to stir in his mind. “You one of those who got an award?”
“Yeah.” Grant spat the word as though it offended him.
“What for?”
“Nothing much.” Annoyed, he stood and drew on the gloves. “Think I’ll tackle a couple more logs.”
Lem watched in silence, then tapped the glowing tobacco from his pipe and ground it into the dirt with his booted heel before tucking the pipe into his pocket.
“Got some errands to run for Alex up in the village. After that I’ll be heading home. Going to call it a day.”
“See you tomorrow,” Grant called.
The old man nodded and made his way to the shed where Alex was stowing her tools. “Going into town now. I’ll pick up that fuel oil you wanted. Need anything else?”
She looked up. “No thanks, Lem. That’s all I need.”
He motioned toward Grant, who brought the ax down with such force the pieces flew through the air. “I’d say he’s determined to earn that cherry pie.”
“The pie.” She gave a pained expression. “I can’t believe I got suckered into that. Now I’m going to have to go inside and become a domestic goddess, like my sister, Lizbeth.”
The old man was grinning as he made his way to his truck. But once inside his smile faded. As he put the truck in gear, he began mulling over all Grant had revealed.
It took nearly two hours for Grant to work off his frustration. Just talking about the mayor’s party, and the presentation in front of hundreds of dignitaries, had unleashed all the demons. But now, as he made his way to the shed, he was relieved that his good nature had been restored. He hung the ax on a hook along one wall, before returning the padded gloves to their drawer. Once again he was struck by the simple order of things here at the lodge. Whether it was inside, with its padlocked rifle storage and thoroughly stocked pantry, or out here in the toolshed, with its perfect symmetry of hooks, shelves and drawers, everything had its place. And it was expected that everything would be returned to that place when the job was done. Grant glanced at the wooden sign hanging above the doorway. It was a source of pride for both Alex and Lem. Well-deserved pride, he thought.
He stepped out and latched the door before turning to stare at the lake. Darkness had begun to settle over the land, and the sunset was reflected in the still water.
There was such a natural order to life out here. Morning, with its chorus of birds and the mist rising off the lake as the sun came up. Afternoon, with that thin winter light easing the bite in the air. And at twilight, those last rays glinting behind the wooded peaks of the distant hills, casting the lodge and the surrounding low-lying area in shadow.
When he stepped into the lodge, he breathed in the mouthwatering fragrance of pot roast and began to salivate. As he made his way down the hall to his room, he found himself wondering if Alex had actually baked that cherry pie. He showered and dressed quickly, eager to find out.
When he passed the great room, he paused. In the glow of the fire he could see that the coffee table had been set with gleaming china, crystal and silver. When he stepped into the kitchen, he paused in the doorway to admire the view.
Alex was wearing a cheery red sweater and narrow black denims that displayed her slender form to its best advantage. She’d left her hair long and loose and it fell in a curtain over one eye as she bent to the oven to remove a tray of steaming rolls. As she set them on the counter, she caught sight of him and felt the familiar flutter around her heart.
Why did he have to look so handsome? His dark hair glistened with drops of water from the shower. The charcoal cords and sweater added to his rugged looks.
“Is that a cherry pie?”
She gave him a haughty look. “You mean you didn’t expect me to live up to my half of the bargain?”
“I just didn’t expect you to find the time.”
“Well, I had to let a few chores go. But it was worth it. From the looks of that woodpile, I’ll have enough firewood to last through next spring.” She motioned toward a bottle of wine. “Would you mind pouring?”
He lifted the bottle, read the label, and arched a brow. “Is this a celebration?”
“I thought this dinner deserved something special.”
He filled two tulip glasses and handed one to her. The touch of her hand brought the usual heat, and he itched to touch more. “Here’s to a very satisfying day.”
She smiled. “It was, wasn’t it?”
He tasted, nodded. “We got a lot done. And if a blizzard should come roaring through tonight, you won’t have to worry about any branches crashing through the roof.”
“Lem says the first big snowfall should happen within the week.”
He couldn’t help chuckling. “The old knee forecast, huh?”
“Yes. And I put more faith in that than in our weathercasters.” She handed him her glass. “If you’ll carry this to the other room, I’ll just put those rolls in a basket and bring in dinner.”
“I’ll get the cart.”
“Not tonight. I’m going to serve you. Not that I intend to do it more than once. But I want you to know that I always pay my debts.”
He grinned. “A guy could get used to this.”
“Don’t worry. You might never see it again. So enjoy.”
He was still smiling as he picked up the bottle of wine and walked to the great room. While he topped off their glasses, Alex wheeled the serving cart to the coffee table and began to serve their plates.
After just one bite Grant sighed with pure pleasure. “I haven’t tasted pot roast this tender since I was a kid and my grandmother used to make it every Sunday.”
“My grandmother used to ask the chef to prepare prime rib for special Sunday dinners.”
He chuckled. “See how much we have in common?”
They both roared with laughter.
“Actually…” He took another bite and closed his eyes in enjoyment.
“Actually what?”
He chewed, swallowed. “I don’t think you can take credit for this. Didn’t Bren say she’d get it started?”
“That’s right. But I was the one who peeled the potatoes, and added carrots and little pearl onions and my favorite vegetable, turnips.”
He glanced at the side dish with a look of disdain. “You’re kidding. Nobody likes turnips.”
“Aha. I see you haven’t tasted mine. Here. One bite and you’ll be hooked.”
He dipped a fork into something that resembled mashed potatoes. He tasted, swallowed, then gave her a look of complete surprise. “This is wonderful. But I don’t believe it’s turnips. What’s really in it?”
“I mash turnips with butter and garlic, a little salt and pepper. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” He helped himself to more while she merely smiled.
“See there? Another convert. It happens eve
ry time.” She picked up her wine and sipped while he polished off everything on his plate and went back for seconds.
He glanced at her plate. “You’re through?”
She nodded. “While you were showering I cheated and nibbled the whole time I was getting everything ready. Now I’m paying the price.”
He merely laughed. “More for me.”
“Was that an oink I heard?”
“Yeah. But I worked up a mean appetite cutting all that wood.” He lifted the wine bottle and re-filled their glasses, then leaned back, satisfied. “I was noticing how peaceful and still the lake gets just at sundown. It’s really a picture. Especially with a flock of geese flying overhead.”
She nodded. “You should see it in the dead of winter, when the lake freezes and everything is covered with snow. The air is so cold it hurts to breathe it in. And you can hike for miles without seeing another human footprint.”
He watched her as she turned to stare into the firelight, and wondered if she knew just how beautiful she was.
“I once sat on a stump and saw a herd of deer step into the clearing. They passed by close enough to touch, and completely ignored me as they foraged. It was such a special moment I was moved to tears. And I found myself wishing there was someone there to share it with me.” She ducked her head and looked down into her glass when she realized what she’d just revealed.
Until this moment, it had never occurred to her that she missed having someone to share such moments. Until Grant’s arrival, she’d never before had anyone here during her off-season. And though she valued her privacy, there had often been little twinges of loneliness. There had been books she’d read, that she’d wanted to share. Moments of beauty, or sadness or happiness that would have meant more if there’d been someone there to experience them with her.
She’d expected to resent having him here. Instead, she found herself looking forward to the start of each new day.
She scrambled to her feet. “I promised you cherry pie.”
While she was gone, Grant stared at the fire without really seeing it. All he could think of was the wistful tone of her voice when she’d spoken of her loneliness. It had touched something inside him. Something he’d been fighting for such a long time.
Alex returned with two slices of pie, still warm from the oven and topped with vanilla ice cream.
Grant took the first bite, then set down his fork and turned to her with a look of ecstasy. “Miss Sullivan, I think I have to marry you.”
“Of course you do. All the men say that.” She took her first bite and nodded with satisfaction. “Not half bad.”
“You mean you’ve done better?”
“Many times. But that’s why I’ll have to refuse your generous offer of marriage, Mr. Grant. I can’t allow my extraordinary skills in the kitchen to lure you into my trap. You see, besides all my many talents, I have some terrible flaws that you ought to be aware of.”
“You mean you’re an ax murderer?”
“Worse.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m a lousy speller. I never could remember when it was e before i, and i before e. And history. I hated memorizing all those dates of battles and the names of generals.”
He polished off his pie and picked up his wine. “All right. As long as we’re playing truth or dare, I have a confession of my own to make. I was a prodigy. Absolutely brilliant. But I did have trouble with calculus.”
“Calculus. That’s all?”
“Uh-huh. Everything else was a snap.”
She could see the laughter lurking in those dark eyes and decided to play along. “All right, Mr. Genius. Calculate this. If one person can clear away the dishes in half an hour, how much time will it take two people, working side by side, to do the same job?”
“Exactly five minutes.”
“And how did you arrive at that?”
“I’m going to load everything onto this serving cart and put the dishes in the washer in the fastest time possible, while you cut a second slice of that fabulous pie.”
“I should have known there would be food involved in this equation.”
“Exactly.” He shocked her by dragging her close and pressing his mouth to hers in a hard fast kiss that spun crazily through her mind, wiping away every coherent thought.
His eyes narrowed as he watched hers widen in surprise. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first walked into the kitchen tonight.” And a whole lot more. But he’d satisfy himself with a kiss for now.
She was forced to hold on to him so she wouldn’t fall. “So why did you wait so long?”
“I wanted to be fortified with pot roast first. And now that I’m feeling…” he lowered his voice to an imitation of Boris Badinoff “…strong like bull, I think I’d like to try that again.”
He was trying to keep the moment light. But this time, he framed her face and kept his eyes steady on hers as he drew her close and kissed her, long and slow and deep. She couldn’t think. Could barely breathe as he drew out every taste, every flavor. It was, she thought, the same pleasure he took from eating. Except that he magnified it a hundred times or more. She could feel his lips brushing hers. Soft. So soft. And yet, despite the softness, her blood heated and her heartbeat began to pulse at her temples.
He drew her closer, until their bodies were brushing. Just enough that her breasts tingled from the contact. And still he kept his mouth light on hers. Teasing. Feathering her lips until she wanted to drag him to her and feast. But she couldn’t move. All she could do was stand there, helpless as his teeth scraped lightly over her lower lip.
She couldn’t stop the sound that escaped her throat. A purr of pleasure as his tongue traced the outline of her mouth before dipping inside to taste.
She was so sweet. It was a sweetness he’d never hoped to find. And now that he had, he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to fill himself with her. He had the insane idea that if he were to fill himself with all this goodness, all this light, it could push aside all the darkness that had been festering for so long in his soul.
He loved feeling her melt into him. Loved the way her skin seemed to soften and warm under his touch. The way her heartbeat thundered inside her chest, matching his own. If he could, he’d go on holding her like this, kissing her like this, until they were both beyond stopping.
It was the little moan of distress that had him lifting his head and taking a step back.
“Sorry.” He kept his hands on her shoulders, though he wasn’t certain if he did it for her sake or his. “I keep forgetting that we weren’t going to do that.”
“Yeah.” The single word was breathy.
“Sure you wouldn’t like to try again?”
She forced a smile as she pushed away. She needed to escape before she did something foolish. Like beg him to take her right here. Right now. They were traveling a very slippery slope that was bound to knock them both off balance. “No seconds on my kisses.”
“Just my luck. Okay. I’ll just have to settle for pie. And then we’re going to polish off the last of this wine while the fire burns low. And if you’re very lucky, I’ll amaze you with my…math skills.”
Her laughter, smooth as velvet, washed over him and wrapped itself around his heart.
“I can hardly wait.” She helped him load the cart, and was surprised that she could continue to function even though she was still vibrating with need.
Chapter 9
Grant lay a minute listening to the sounds of the morning. It had been such a long time since he’d been able to sleep through the night and wake feeling rested and refreshed.
He and Alex had talked until nearly midnight. And though there had been several times when he’d had to wage a terrible battle within himself, he’d managed considerable restraint.
What he found most amazing was the fun they’d had together, even though they’d done nothing more than talk and laugh. Along with a good bit of teasing.
He heard the door to her room open and close; heard the sound of
her footsteps along the hall. He slipped out of bed, looking forward to the day.
Suddenly he stopped in midstride. How long had it been since he’d looked forward instead of backward? He was definitely making progress.
“’Morning.” Lem was standing in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of coffee. “How’re the hands?”
“Fine.” Grant glanced at his palms. “A few blisters, but that’s to be expected.”
“Blisters? Why didn’t you tell me this last night?” Alex turned from the pantry where she was sorting through the cereals. “I keep a complete first aid kit stocked for my guests. Let me get it.”
“There’s no need…” His words faded as she hurried from the room with a look of concern.
He glanced at Lem, who shrugged. “When you’re my age, son, you’ll realize there’s no sense arguing with a female bent on doing what she thinks is best for you.”
“Whether you need it or not?”
“Doesn’t matter.” The old man grinned. “It’s what’s best for her.”
Minutes later Alex returned and set a plastic container on the table. After rummaging through it, she held up a vial. “It says on the label that this ointment will have your blisters healed within twenty-four hours.”
Grant couldn’t resist teasing. “If it can’t do the job in twenty-three hours, I’m not interested.”
“Oh, yes you are. Hold still.” She squeezed the ointment onto his palms. “This will only burn for a minute.”
“Burn?” Too late he yanked his hands away and swore under his breath.
“Excuse me.” She returned the vial to the kit and arched one haughty brow as she turned to look at him. “Did you say something?”
He glowered at her. “You did that on purpose.”
“Did what?”
“Poured acid on my flesh.”
“Stop acting like a baby. It’s just a little salve. I warned you it would burn.”
“For a minute. You said a minute.” He looked at Lem. “You heard her, didn’t you?”
The old man was watching them with such intensity, it took him a moment to answer. It occurred to him that these two were acting a lot like an old married couple.