Romance Grows in Arcadia Valley (Arcadia Valley Romance Book 0)

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  She fumbled in her pocket, pulled out her phone, and tried to punch in the numbers. When she asked him to repeat for the second time, he saw her rubbing pink fingers against the sides of her jeans. She was still cold.

  “Hey, sit down over here.” He pulled a stool over to the warmest spot in the kitchen, in between the big old oven and the heating vent. “I’ll call and see if I can get you a room.”

  But when he reached the Sweetwater and explained the woman’s situation, Chamu actually laughed. “We’re full up and then some,” she said. “Have you seen the roads?”

  Alex blew out a breath. “I guess I could take her to Veronica’s place.” His sister didn’t have a lot of space, but she’d gladly offer a couch.

  “You cannot go anywhere,” Chamu said. “One moment.” There were voices in the background, the sound of a TV turned up loud. “Yes, all the roads in the county are officially closed, except to emergency vehicles. There is black ice underneath all this snow.”

  “Wow. Okay, thanks. Be safe.” He ended the call and turned to Patricia, who was looking concerned. “You’ll have to stay here,” he said. “Actually, we’ll have to stay here.”

  She looked around the kitchen, distress obvious on her face. “Oh, I couldn’t...”

  “The alternative is to walk a mile to your car and freeze there. Roads are closed.” He offered a reassuring smile. “The restaurant’s warm, and I’m sure I can dig us up some blankets.”

  “You’re staying too?” She sounded appalled.

  “Well...” He looked around. “I could go sleep in your car.” And when she appeared to seriously consider the notion he waved his hand. “Joking! And I can’t sleep in my SUV, because I let my sister drive it home. Her compact is out in the parking lot, but this—” He gestured at his oversized self. “This body doesn’t fit into a tiny car, and I’m a total wimp about cold.”

  She frowned and looked around the restaurant.

  “This place is plenty big. You can have one dining room, and I’ll take the other.” He gestured toward the front of the restaurant. “I’d only ask that the dog be your roommate, not mine.”

  As he’d hoped, his gentle joking seemed to relax her.

  The dog, who’d been patiently chewing on his foot, let out a whine. Leaning close, Alex saw more blood. “If he’ll let me, I can try to bind that up.”

  “He’s really gentle. Thank you.”

  Fortunately, the kitchen’s first aid kit was well stocked, and Alex found gauze and tape and antibiotic cream. He cleaned the injury in a small bucket of water while Patricia held the dog, and then wrapped the injured paw in gauze. Then he applied a light pressure bandage, leaving the dog’s toes free.

  How many times had he bandaged himself or his teammates? This wasn’t so different. The momentary flashback to the camaraderie in the locker room or at the trainer gave him a pang.

  “Mmm, the aroma of wet dog,” Patricia joked, wrinkling her nose.

  That brought him out of his nostalgia. “Times ten. He has a lot of fur.”

  “Goldendoodles tend to.” As she held the dog’s head, trying to keep him from chewing its paw, Alex studied her. Her wavy red hair was drying into a wild tangle of curls, her green eyes framed by long lashes. And she wasn’t a stick, but a real woman with curves. Maravillosa.

  But he’d been proven an idiot before by trusting a beautiful woman. “You a sports fan?” he asked casually. “Been following the spring training news?” He watched her carefully for a guilty look.

  “No.” She looked down, her cheeks pink.

  Aha. He leaned closer. “You sure about that?”

  “I don’t really follow sports,” she admitted with an apologetic shrug. “I’ve tried, but I can’t seem to keep the rules in my head.”

  “You’re acting guilty.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Not you, too!”

  “Me too, what?”

  She blew out a breath. “Why does every single person have to follow sports? Is it a crime that I’d rather cook or knit or read?”

  Her answer sounded sincere. In fact, it sounded like there was a story there, and against his will, he felt curious. “I have no problem with that.” As a matter of fact, he found it refreshing.

  “Not everyone feels the way you do.” Her cheeks were still pink and she looked upset.

  Wanting to take the pressure off her, he looked away, scanning the kitchen. And noticed the framed calligraphy print his mother had loved so much, from the book of Hebrews.

  No olvidéis la hospitalidad, porque por ésta algunos, sin saberlo, hospedaron ángeles.

  It was important to show hospitality to strangers, because you never knew when you might be entertaining angels.

  The rosy-cheeked, wide-eyed woman in front of him did have the look of an angel, come to think of it.

  And the memory of his mother, always so quick to offer food and drink to strangers, twisted at his heart.

  When had he gotten so far away from that family tradition? So suspicious, so self-absorbed?

  His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, half hoping Chamu was calling back with a miraculously-discovered room.

  When the caterer of his grandmother’s party appeared on the screen, he clicked into the call.

  A cascade of rapid Caribbean-style Spanish flooded his ears with sounds different than his traditional Mexican dialect. “Slow down, por favor.”

  Accident... snow... wreck... cannot come... the meaning of the words hit him like a sledgehammer. “Are you all right?”

  After getting assurance that yes, the man and his helpers were fine, Alex went on to the next most important issue. “You can’t cater the party?”

  Apologies tumbled over apologies, but the upshot was that it was true. There would be no caterer, no food from the fanciest Latin fusion restaurant in Twin Falls.

  He should have listened to Javier and done everything locally when he’d realized that their own restaurant couldn’t provide the caliber of party they wanted for their grandma’s birthday. But no, he’d had to go overboard for his abuela, show that, despite his absence when it had counted, despite all his flaws, he was a good member of the family.

  Managing the restaurant in Javier’s absence wasn’t achieving his goal of showing he could handle family responsibility.

  He listened to a few more minutes of apologies, assured the man that it was all right, then ended the call.

  His head sank into his hands. Maybe his family was right. Maybe he wasn’t practical; maybe he couldn’t succeed at anything but baseball.

  What was he going to do now?

  He checked the weather on his phone. Maybe they’d have to postpone the party. But, typical of spring around here, tomorrow’s highs were in the forties. The roads would be clear by early afternoon.

  Everyone would come, expecting a wonderful party. Most importantly, his grandmother.

  He ran through possible helpers in his mind. Javier was still in Mexico, helping with a family crisis; he wouldn’t be back until the party was in full swing. Their brother Daniel... No. Besides being a chiropractor and completely uninterested in the restaurant, he was recently widowed and struggling to keep things together for his twin daughters.

  Little Veronica — who’d balk at the name, being twenty-five, only a year his junior — was an amazing hostess and waiter, charming everyone who walked through the door. But she was hopeless as a cook.

  So that left the two cooks he’d sent home early tonight. Pablo was taking advantage of the fact that they’d closed the restaurant tomorrow, headed to visit his aunt and uncle in Portland as soon as the snow let up. And Maria had a party of her own to host; tomorrow was her baby’s first birthday, and, of course, her entire extended family was coming over to celebrate. She’d expected to stay up most of the night cooking, anyway, had been glad to catch a break and leave El Corazon early.

  He was just going to have to prepare the party food himself. No, he wasn’t much of a cook, but how hard could it
be, making enough food for thirty or forty people?

  “Are you okay?” Patricia asked, her voice hesitant and much closer than he’d expected.

  He looked up into sympathetic green eyes. “No.”

  “What’s wrong?” Her voice had a musical lilt and the sound of concern.

  “Oh, just a party for thirty-five tomorrow.” He cocked his head to one side and studied her. “Can you cook?”

  Chapter 2

  Patricia followed Alex into the storeroom off the kitchen, Bear limping along behind them. Alex was tall, with Latino-dark hair, warm brown eyes, and an athletic build. The man obviously worked out.

  He was super handsome — which wasn’t a plus in her book — and obviously one for making sexist assumptions. “Why do you want me to cook?” she asked. “Because I’m female?”

  “I’m just desperate.”

  “But you’re a cook, right? So why should I...?”

  “Are you always this touchy?” He was shifting through the industrial-sized cans on the shelves, not looking at her and not sounding particularly bothered by her argument.

  And she wasn’t normally this touchy. Only when she’d recently been dumped by a guy who wanted her to cook for him while he watched football and then criticized the food she made... and warned her not to eat too much, so she wouldn’t gain weight.

  But handsome Alex shouldn’t have to pay for Carl’s sins, and given the worry lines crinkling his forehead and between his eyes, he really was being desperate. “So what’s the occasion?” she asked. “Whose party?” Probably a ditzy, blonde, girlfriend.

  “It’s for mi abuela, my grandma,” he explained. “Her eightieth birthday.”

  “Oh. That’s... cool.” Patricia didn’t remember her own grandparents, but she’d always gotten along well with her friends’ older relatives. For that matter, Carl’s grandparents were the ones she’d felt the most reluctant and guilty about leaving.

  “I can’t let her down. I don’t know how many more birthdays there might be.” His voice tightened on the last words.

  “Is she in poor health?”

  “Up and down.” He got very busy straightening jars and cans. “I haven’t been here enough. My brothers and sister have taken charge of this place for too long, and I haven’t pulled my share of the load. Now, I want to do a good job on this party.”

  His guilt was curious. “Your parents?” she asked although somehow, she already sensed the answer.

  He shook his head. “Dad died years back, but Mom just last year. I was away when she died.” Regret pierced his voice.

  “Away where?” She was starting to doubt that he’d been off cruising the Mediterranean or gambling in Vegas. He seemed awfully emotional and sincere.

  “Working,” he said evasively, and waved a hand, indicating that the topic was closed. “What about you and Mopsy, here? Where are you headed?”

  “His name’s Bear,” she reminded him to avoid the humiliating answer to his actual question. “And we’re headed east.”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “Where from?”

  From someone almost as handsome as you, and a whole lot richer, who decided I wasn’t good enough. “From out west.” She waved a hand, vaguely, toward what might be west.

  “And you’re sure you weren’t headed here on purpose?”

  “Here?” She stared at him. “Why would I come here?”

  “Why won’t you say where you came from?”

  “I did. I came from out west.”

  He studied her for a moment, and then one side of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “I thought I was good at non-answers, but you have me beat.”

  What secrets could someone like Alex have? Handsome, good family, solid job...

  He was standing close by her. Too close. She could see that he needed a shave. And she didn’t need to notice how well the dark stubble became him. She should keep her distance. Hastily, she turned away and surveyed the shelves of food. “What do you want to serve at this party?”

  He frowned like he’d never thought about it before. “I don’t know. Enchiladas? Cake? And she likes yellow rice.”

  Those answers sounded way too general. “She and everyone else in the world. Weren’t you in charge of hiring the caterers?”

  “Yeah.” He started pulling canned beans off the shelf, and then tall bags of corn tortillas. “I let them do their thing. I know how to delegate.” He winked at her.

  A wave of heat rose from her toes to the roots of her hair.

  He didn’t seem to notice, but shrugged and took a step back. “I should’ve been more involved, I guess. Since I don’t have a clue about what to replicate. But since I have to step up to the plate, I kinda need your help.” He smiled at her. “I’d ask even if you were a guy. Although I’m glad you’re not.”

  A flirt. And a good one, because even though he had to be faking, he looked and sounded sincere.

  She grabbed more giant cans of beans and followed him back into the kitchen. “Aren’t you going to include anything, well, fresh?”

  He looked at her blankly. “Fresh? Aside from lettuce, what do you need fresh?”

  Was he for real? “Let’s see what’s in the refrigerator.” Then she frowned back at him. “How come you seem like you don’t have a clue about cooking? You’re a cook, right?”

  He stared down at the counter for a moment and then turned and leaned back against it. “Did you ever see the movie Casablanca?”

  “Sure. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Let’s be like Rick and Ilse. No questions.”

  She let out a snort. “Look where that got the two of them.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, but they’ll always have Paris.”

  Wow, that smile should probably be a controlled substance. “I’ll take happiness in the present day, rather than a bunch of old memories.”

  Interesting, that he didn’t want to admit to his profession. Was he ashamed of his own line of work? Or maybe he was out of work and embarrassed about it. She opened the refrigerator and looked inside. “Tomatoes, lettuce, that’s good. But there’s not much else.”

  Suddenly, there was pounding at the door. Bear woofed.

  She looked at Alex quickly. “You expecting company in this storm?” But, of course, he probably was. Probably had a girlfriend willing to hike through a blizzard to keep him company.

  “No clue.” He headed toward the restaurant’s front door, and she and Bear followed him.

  He reached it and turned to face her, ignoring the continued pounding. “Stay back.”

  Really? “I hardly think it’s the Boston Strangler out in this weather.”

  “People get nutty during storms.” He stood, arms crossed, obviously waiting for her to step back.

  He was a big guy. He could protect her, if it came to that. Rather than being the one from whom she needed protection. “Fine.” She took a large step back into the restaurant. “C’mon, Bear.”

  As she knelt on the floor and put her arms around Bear’s neck to keep him from leaping at whoever came in the door, she caught sight of the bedraggled bow he still wore around his neck. It brought back the acute embarrassment of the engagement party, the foolish excitement with which she’d tied it around Bear’s neck before going downstairs to discover that all her dreams were in ruins.

  Curious, though. Her main feeling was embarrassment. Not loss. She didn’t miss being with Carl.

  Alex opened the door and two snowy teenagers burst in, arguing.

  “We shouldn’t be here. We could have waited in the car,” the girl exclaimed, her voice shaky. “Everyone is going to find out!”

  “David?” Alex asked as he closed the door behind them. “And is that Dani with you? What are you doing out in this weather?”

  “Dani. We could’ve died out there.” The boy, who looked sixteen or seventeen, spoke firmly. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “You shouldn’t have called him,” the girl moaned. “I can’t believe you called him
.”

  Alex and the boy exchanged looks. “Who’d you call?” Alex asked.

  “Her dad.”

  “The police chief.” Alex whistled, and even Bear barked.

  “And when he didn’t answer,” the boy continued, “I left a message, and then we came here.”

  “That took guts,” he said, giving the boy a gentle punch on the arm. “Patricia, this is my cousin, David, and his friend Dani. Guys, Patricia.”

  Dani’s phone buzzed and she pulled it out and answered the call. From where she sat, Patricia could hear an angry, scolding male voice. The girl started to cry, and Bear went to stand next to her, wagging his tail.

  She squatted down beside the dog, put an arm around him. “It wasn’t my idea!” She listened a little longer. “No, Daddy, he didn’t hurt me!” She clicked off the phone and bent forward, covering her face and sobbing.

  “Come on, David. Let’s build a fire. We’ll bring in some wood.” Alex ushered the wide-eyed teenager out, casting a pleading look in Patricia’s direction and nodding his head sideways toward Dani.

  Men. Derailed by drama and a few tears. She went to Dani and patted her back. “Hey, come on. Let’s get you some tea. Take your coat off.” A little warmth and tea had taken Patricia from panicky to calm in a matter of minutes; maybe it would work for young Dani, too. “Come on into the kitchen.”

  As Dani grabbed napkins and blew her nose, Patricia looked around the small, adjoining dining rooms. The tile floors glowed, and colorful painted chairs made the room cheerful. Alex and David came back in, closing the door against the cold wind, and headed toward the brick fireplace. Alex spoke steadily in a quiet voice, probably scolding the boy, but gently.

  She led Dani back to the kitchen, poured her some tea, and sat her down on a stool. “Is it really so bad?”

  “My dad’s gonna kill me,” Dani moaned. “He’ll know exactly what we were doing out parking. I’m not...” She gulped and then continued. “I’m not supposed to be alone with David. Or any boy.”

  Patricia studied her. “Did David make you do anything against your will?”