Bountiful

by Sarina Bowen

  “Sure?” he said. “I hadn’t planned on staying, but I’m always happy to hang out with you.”

  “And Audrey invited you,” I reminded him, brushing aside his compliment. As if it didn’t light me up inside to hear him say it.

  “Let me zip you up,” he said.

  With my face warming, I turned to give him access to my back. The man must have zipped and unzipped a few hundred women in his life because he knew to hold the two sides of the fabric together to let the zipper run smoothly.

  I popped up off the bench. “Is everything where it ought to be?” I asked, looking down at myself as best I could with a toddler in my arms.

  Dave’s eyes heated. “Everything is exactly where it should be.”

  My pulse kicked up several notches. “Come on. Let’s find my mother, and then some food.”

  * * *

  We handed the sleepy baby off to Grandma, who thanked Dave politely and then took her home.

  In the catering tent, Dave and I fixed plates for ourselves and sat down at a table of familiar faces. This wasn’t the sort of wedding with assigned seats. Audrey had wanted to keep things casual.

  With us sat Zachariah, Lark, and May Shipley and her girlfriend Daniella. It was a good crowd. My friends would all be sweet to Dave. It was a typical Shipley gathering in many ways—good food and teasing. We were hard on Zach about the notecards in his pocket.

  “But I never give speeches!” he said. “This is my first one!”

  Of course it was.

  The only awkwardness at dinner came from Daniella. She was already tipsy, and she didn’t wear it very well. She dominated every conversation and gave out too many bold opinions. And generally made an ass of herself.

  “Professional hockey is a brutal sport,” she slurred. “It probably contributes to domestic violence. Society idolizes the masculine warrior. Long live the patriarchy.”

  “Uh-huh,” Dave said cheerfully. “Did you know there’s a pro hockey league for women now? They’re warriors, too.”

  But Daniella ranted on.

  Poor May gave me a weary smile as the band tuned up outside. “My brother has just tapped a keg for a toast,” she said, pointing to a table where Griffin stood passing out glasses. “Has Dave tried the cider, yet?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “You need to try this, since you helped paste labels onto a couple hundred bottles the other day.”

  He pushed his empty plate away and stood up. “I’m game. Shall I bring over six glasses?”

  “None for me,” May said, standing up, too. “But I’ll help you and grab a ginger ale for myself.”

  “May doesn’t drink,” Daniella sneered. “We weren’t together back when she was actually fun.”

  There was a long, awkward silence while we all cringed for May. Her family had been patiently waiting for her relationship with Daniella to end. But it was going on seven or eight months, now.

  “Well, I guess it’s showtime,” Zach said, rising to pull his notes from his pocket.

  After Dave and May brought back the drinks, Zachariah gave a short but funny speech about Griffin as a grumpy bachelor. There were several adorkable Star Wars references. And then everyone in the tent raised a glass to Griffin and Audrey.

  “Tonight, enjoy the music and the cider,” Zach urged. “Here’s to the only couple I’ve ever met who made their own hooch for the wedding!”

  There were cheers and catcalls as Audrey and Griffin kissed. But my eyes were on Dave as he tasted the cider. “Goddamn,” he said immediately. Then he took a second sip, his throat working. I used to suck on that neck…

  I cleared my throat and looked away. “I know, right? This cider is their prizewinner. It’s called ‘Audrey.’”

  “It’s amazing.” He put his nose over the glass and inhaled. “I may have underestimated your favorite farmer.”

  “Don’t tell him,” May said. “My brother’s ego is already unmanageable.”

  “It’ll only get worse,” Daniella slurred. “He got his wife pregnant. That’ll make ’im beat on his chest.”

  “Shhh!” May hissed.

  “Wow, already?” Dave said lightly, pretending to check his watch. “The man works fast.”

  I gave him a good-natured kick under the table, and he smiled at me over the rim of his glass. And that smile was potent. “You know,” I teased him. “This cider is rumored to have special powers.”

  “Mmh?” he asked.

  “What do you think it tastes like?”

  He closed his eyes. “I’m not sure. It’s musky and dark.”

  “Sexxx,” Daniella said. “Griff’s cider tastes like a long night of dirty sex.”

  Dave didn’t say anything. But the smile he gave me said, No wonder I like it so much.

  I drank deeply of my glass, too, enjoying its heady aroma. I wasn’t going to nurse again tonight, so I was free to enjoy a glass. It was, as always, delicious. But I couldn’t vouch for its aphrodisiac powers because I’d basically wanted to jump on Dave since the moment he’d appeared.

  Outside, a dance floor had been laid on the lawn. The band kicked into a swing tune. Guests began to clap as Griffin and Audrey took the first dance. No silly slow dance for them—Griffin whirled Audrey around, and I wondered how her stomach was holding up.

  “Wow,” Daniella said. “I wouldn’t have guessed Griff could dance.”

  “He used to be fun, too,” May said drily.

  More to the point, he used to be a football player before he became a farmer. The man could move. I knew this from ogling him at high school dances my whole life. The crowd cheered when he dipped his new bride. It was quite the spectacle.

  After their two minutes of solo fame, the music slowed by just a hair as other couples took the floor.

  “Let’s go!” May said to her girlfriend. “I love swing music.”

  Daniella wrinkled her nose. “You go ahead. I’m not feeling it.”

  May’s face fell, and I had to bite down on my tongue from wondering aloud who was the fun one in their relationship. I’d give Daniella a piece of my mind in a heartbeat, but I didn’t want to embarrass May.

  “Then I’ll dance with you,” Dave said, standing up and offering his hand to May.

  “Really?” She grinned up at him.

  “I love swing. Come on.”

  She took his hand with an apologetic glance at me. “Is it okay if I steal your date for a few minutes?”

  “Of course it’s okay. You kids have fun.” The chance to watch Dave swing dance? I’d pay cash money to see that any day of the week.

  And I wasn’t disappointed. Holy hell. The moment Dave stepped onto the makeshift dance floor, I couldn’t stop staring. His stance loosened as he took May’s hand, his hips beginning to move with the tempo. He gave my friend a nod and a smile and then guided her into a basic swing step.

  Maybe all athletes could dance?

  But no. Dave was spectacular. His feet moved quickly, his steps light. And even as he wowed me with his prowess on the dance floor, he and May chatted. When she gave him a nod, he spun her, picking up the pace, weaving in a circle around and through the other dancers on the floor.

  They were showing off, really. But who could hold it against them? May didn’t have quite as many moves as Dave, but she was a great sport, following his lead.

  Mine wasn’t the only head that turned to watch them. Which meant that everyone saw my brother Alec cutting in a moment later. He tapped a whirling Dave on the shoulder, a grumpy look on his face. Then he said something curt. Dave’s eyes widened at the interruption, but he stepped back immediately. The song changed just as Alec took May’s hand.

  I watched my brother begin to dance and cringed. He wasn’t terrible, but Dave was a tough act to follow.

  A moment later, Dave dropped into the seat beside me with a smile.

  “That was fun to watch,” I admitted.

  “Is it your turn?” He asked.

  “I’m
sorry to say that swing is not part of my repertoire. I’d trip over my feet.”

  “I doubt that,” Dave said kindly. “So I guess your brother has a thing for May?”

  “Nope.” I laughed. “To be honest, they’re not really even friends. Alec owns a bar, and May is a recovering alcoholic. Not a lot of overlap there.”

  Dave chuckled. “So your brother hates me enough that he feels the need to break up a swing dance with one of his acquaintances?”

  “I guess so. But don’t take it personally. He’s had two years to hate you and just a couple of weeks to think about getting past it.”

  Dave crossed his arms. “So I think you should dance with me. Consider it aversion therapy for your brother.”

  “I told you. I don’t swing.”

  Dave tapped his foot in silence for another minute, watching the dancers move. And when the song changed, he stood up and held out a hand to me. “Slow dance! On your feet, beautiful.”

  “You smug bastard.”

  He smiled, his palm waiting for me.

  I stood up slowly, suspecting this was a terrible idea. As my hand folded into his bigger one, I was sure it was.

  “Come on, everybody can slow dance,” he said, mistaking the reason for my hesitation. “Just pretend it’s a high school dance, and they’re playing ‘Stairway to Heaven.’”

  I followed him onto the dance floor, putting my hand on his shoulder. We were too close now. With his hand at my waist and the smooth scent of his aftershave enveloping me, wistfulness made me blurt out a trashy reply. “If this were a high school dance, we wouldn’t be dancing. I’d probably be blowing you under the bleachers.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “I knew I liked you.” He pulled me a little closer. I liked the feel of his hand wandering onto my back better than I cared to admit. But at the same time, I felt eyes on us.

  “People will talk,” I said, straightening slightly to put another inch of respectability between us.

  “And say what?” He grazed the shell of my ear with his lips.

  Goosebumps rose on my back. “I can’t decide if my scarlet letter dims or shines more brightly since you came to town. I have to live here after you go back to Brooklyn, you know.”

  “Sorry.” He was quiet for a second, guiding me around in a slow circle. “Respectability has never been my forte. But I don’t want to tarnish yours.”

  “It’s blackened already, I guess.”

  “What a pair we make.” Dave skimmed his lips over my eyebrow, then he pulled back an inch or two and gave me a potent smile.

  My defenses were weakened, damn him. So I didn’t look away. I just let his heated look shine all over me.

  It was a bit of foolishness on a summer night. Swaying to a love song under a Vermont sky that was turning purple, it was hard to deny that I wanted this—the dance and that dangerous smile. I wanted him. Before he’d showed up this month, I’d made my peace with never seeing him again. But now here he was.

  And I ached.

  The music swelled, and his eyes fell shut. He kissed my forehead so tenderly I wanted to die. Because moments like this didn’t last. The brew of music and sex-cider that had claimed my better judgement was obviously affecting his, too. I forgot to care about eyes on us. I put my head on his shoulder and let him pull me closer—just for a little minute. Maybe two.

  He turned his chin and kissed the corner of my mouth.

  That’s when reality set in. “You can’t kiss me here,” I said quickly.

  “Then where can I kiss you?” His voice was pure smoke, and my tummy tightened up instinctively.

  Thankfully, the song ended just then. I stepped back and lifted my chin, looking him straight in the eye. “I should go home. My mother has had a long day.” That was really just an excuse. My baby girl was undoubtedly asleep in her crib. My mom’s feet were probably up on the coffee table as she read one of her romance novels on Benito’s sofa.

  He raised his cayenne-pepper eyebrows. “You’re bailing on Audrey’s wedding before the cake is cut?”

  “You bet,” I said with more cheer than I felt inside. “I did my duty, and now I’m going to play the mom card and go home early.”

  “Then I’ll walk you to your car, since I’m the one who knows where it is.” Dave took my elbow and guided me off the dance floor. “But you’ll have to help me find my rental.”

  “Of course.” I let Dave steer me away from the festivities. I could feel Alec’s eyes boring a hole in my back as we walked past where he stood drinking a beer and talking to May.

  But I ignored him.

  By the time I found Audrey and Griff to wish them well, it was fully dark. “You’re parked over there,” I said to Dave. “I’ll show you.”

  “Uh-oh.” He pointed to his rental car beside the farmhouse. “Looks like that Rav4 is parking me in. Don’t suppose you know whose car that is?”

  “Oh, crap.” I had no idea. “Everyone in Vermont drives a Rav4. I’m so sorry.”

  I stopped and looked back at the wedding in full swing. The only way to sort it out would be to write down the license plate and ask the band’s front man to make an announcement. And I didn’t want to interrupt the festivities to announce my departure.

  “What if I drop you at home?” I asked instead. “Tomorrow morning I could get my brother to retrieve your car.” While I run the bakery single-handedly. The next ten days were going to be brutal.

  “Sure,” Dave said. “Bess has a rental car. She can just run me back here tomorrow.”

  “You guys have done so much already.” I sighed. Today I’d added Dave and Bess to the long list of people I owed. But, hey—what was two more?

  Because Dave had arrived after the ceremony, my car was literally the last one in a long line on the gravel road. He bleeped the locks, but then stalled in his tracks, his hand on my back. “Wow. See that?” His voice was full of awe. He’d lifted his chin skyward and was gazing at the stars.

  Of all the details I’d memorized about Dave, I’d somehow forgotten this—his love of the starry sky. Instead of looking at the stars, too, I watched him. Fascination softened his features. It was hard to keep up my cynical view of men in general and Dave specifically as I watched his gaze dance around the summer sky.

  Eventually he caught me staring. “What?” he whispered, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile.

  “You’re just…” I paused, because there was no way to finish that sentence that didn’t reveal the hold he still had on me.

  “I’m just what?” He squared his body toward mine and took my face in both of his hands.

  And maybe weddings did make people crazy. That’s the only excuse I could think of for why I leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth. Just a sweet little touch of my lips against his.

  He made a sexy grunt of surprise and pulled me in toward his body. When our chests collided, he angled his head and kissed me for real. His mouth was salty sweet and his kiss so tender that my heart expanded in my chest.

  Big hands spread out across my back, their grip possessive. He took over the kiss, his bossy tongue coming out to play with mine.

  Oh, damn. Why did I have to like it so much? Why?

  On a groan, I broke it off. But instead of stepping back, I put my cheek against his shoulder and sighed. And the bastard hugged me.

  Naturally, I liked that a whole lot, too.

  “Weddings make people crazy,” I mumbled into his collar. I thought he’d laugh, but he just ran a kind hand down my hair. He smelled wonderful. Like pine needles and clean shirts. “Time to go home,” I said a little more firmly.

  Some sort of self-preservation instinct kicked in, because I finally stepped away from him and fumbled my way into the car.

  Not well enough, though. By the time we were rolling down the road, I realized I was sitting in the passenger seat of my own car, while he drove. Dave’s kisses were obviously more mind-bending than strong liquor.

  My temporary incapacitati
on must have been pretty obvious, because he drove me to the Gin Mill building instead of to his cottage. When he pulled into a parking spot outside the bar and shut the engine off, I had to finally look him in the eye.

  “Beautiful,” he said in that smoky voice. “Let’s go upstairs and have a whole lot of sex.”

  What?

  I blinked at him for a long moment. “Who says that? It was just a kiss,” I managed eventually.

  “No.” He shook his head. “With you and me, it’s never just a kiss.”

  “What does that even mean?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  He sighed, then broke our gaze to look out the window. “I know you think everything is complicated. But when you look at me with those big, hungry eyes, it all seems pretty simple.”

  I didn’t want to have big hungry eyes, damn it. “We can’t. And the kiss was a mistake.”

  “You started it.” He turned to me again and smiled.

  Ungh. That smile was probably the reason I was a mother. This man’s sex appeal had probably been studied in a laboratory. And if it hadn’t been, it should be.

  “You keep that wolfish grin zipped up,” I said, scrambling for the door handle. “My mother is upstairs. You can’t just walk in with me, like, ‘Hey, Grandma! Just here for some more casual sex!’”

  He snorted and then laughed.

  “Go home, Dave.” With that as my parting shot, I hastily opened my car door to make my escape.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dave

  I was smiling up at her, a big old grin on my face. I was going to argue.

  But I lost my train of thought as Zara was suddenly illuminated. Her pale dress was brightly lit from the back, and her hair shone. Beautiful was my only thought just before my synapses fired rapidly enough to clue me in on what was happening.

  Those were headlights. And they were moving fast.

  I think I lunged even before I heard the squeal of tires. I thrust my body sideways, jamming the gearshift into my ribcage as I grabbed Zara’s body with both arms, yanking hard on her hips with all the torque I could muster.