by LuAnn McLane
“All right, at least tell me more about Susan Quincy.”
“I actually took her to the senior prom.”
“What? Wait, did you date?”
“I wasn’t dating anyone at the time and I didn’t really care all that much about going. Like I mentioned, Mom is a friend of Susan’s mother and I asked Susan to go to the prom as a favor. Like I said, she was painfully shy, with a bit of a stutter, but I thought she was pretty and so I agreed.”
“You always win the nice guy award.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes it seems like nice guys finish last.”
“That’s bull but go on. This is interesting. Guess I was away at college when this went down.”
“Yeah.” Danny took a long pull of his ale. “You know, the funny thing is I had a great time at the prom with her.” He smiled at the memory. “Compared to the rest of the girls, Susan was dressed conservatively, but I kinda liked that. She was sweet and quiet but clever. And I remember a goodnight kiss that knocked my socks off.”
“So why didn’t you ask her out again?”
Danny raised one hand in the air. “I wanted to but she avoided me. After a while I gave up. I guessed the attraction was only on my end.”
Mason shook his head. “I find that kind of hard to believe. In all seriousness, you bring a lot to the table. You’ve got her number.” He picked up the mason jar. “And a reason to contact her.”
“I already thought of that.”
“Toss in some of the Mayfield charm. You’ll win her over.”
Danny laughed. “I hope you’re right.”
7
False Alarm
“Betsy, would you please head over to the deli?” asked Susan.
“Sure,” Betsy said with false cheer. She really didn’t want to face John.
“Great, I’d like a ham and Swiss on marble rye, lettuce and spicy mustard. Oh, and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, please.”
Betsy looked up from arranging hand-knitted scarves on a rack. “How can you like those chips? They make me pucker,” she said and demonstrated.
Susan shrugged. “I don’t know. I bought them by mistake last time and decided I liked them after about ten chips into the bag. Took me a while to decide. Some things just need a chance.”
“Like Danny Mayfield needs a chance?”
Susan straightened the stack of braided rugs. “Are you ever going to give up on that?”
“Never.” Betsy bent over and picked up another scarf knitted by residents of Whisper’s Edge, the Cricket Creek retirement community. “These are really pretty.”
“Oh I know.” Susan nodded. “I don’t take many items on consignment but the profits from the scarves go to Toys for Tots and Teens.”
“Is Pete Sully from Sully’s Tavern playing Santa this year?”
“I think his son Clint has taken over the job for good,” Susan replied.
“Handsome boy, that Clint. I’m so glad he moved back from California and married Ava Whimsy. Her toy store is such a delight. I love that everything in the shop runs on imagination and not on batteries. There’s way too many electronic gadgets out there for my liking.”
“Yeah, Ava grew up on a farm just down the road from me,” Susan said. “Times were tough for farmers then and so her father made all of the toys for Christmas. She used to babysit me on rare occasions when my parents would go into town for dinner. She plays Mrs. Claus every year. Which reminds me that we need to get some snacks for the upcoming Christmas Walk. I think I’ll have hot mulled apple cider.”
“Good, I know I’m staying away from spiked eggnog.”
“Speaking of … you need to head to the deli. I’m starving. Have you practiced your fake sneeze lately?”
Betsy groaned inwardly at the thought. “Susan, I don’t think I can pull it off. Would you be a sweetheart and get our lunch? I just can’t face John. Or better yet, I could walk down to Wine and Diner and pick up something,” she said hopefully. “How about some stone soup?”
“You can’t avoid John forever.”
“Really? You’re doing a pretty bang-up job of avoiding Danny Mayfield.”
“Danny doesn’t own the deli next door. Pull up your big girl panties and get over there.”
“I wear thongs.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Of course.” Betsy sighed. “Okay, I might as well get this over with,” she grumbled, and her heart started to race. With any luck Stephanie would take her order and she’d get out of the deli without seeing John.
“Take some money out of petty cash,” Susan said before heading over to help an older couple looking at an entertainment center converted into a liquor cabinet.
Betsy took her time buttoning up her coat. She considered herself a bold and brave person but when she took a step out onto the sidewalk her damned knees were knocking. Why in the world had she blown a kiss at John Clark? “Well, here goes nothing,” she muttered, and pulled the door to the deli open.
Betsy inhaled a deep breath of yeast-scented air. The line to the counter was several customers deep so with any luck John would remain in the kitchen filling orders. The chalkboard advertised bean soup as the soup of the day and in spite of her nervousness her stomach rumbled at the thought of a hot bowl of soup with a slice of crusty bread for dipping into the savory broth. Being a single working mom had left her little time to make homemade soups and stews. She’d cooked simple dinners for Aubrey and any baking had been from a box. Cooking had been a necessity and Hamburger Helper and Manwich sloppy joes had been her go-to quick favorites.
Betsy’s phone pinged, giving her something to do rather than look for John. She smiled at the text from Aubrey: Cramming for finals. Can’t wait to get home for the holidays. Miss you, Mom. Betsy typed back: Miss you too! Good luck with your finals! I can’t wait to give you a huge hug. She added a smiley face and her eyes misted over. Missing Aubrey felt like an ache squeezing her heart. She put a hand to her chest and swallowed hard. She could not start crying right here in the damned deli! She took shallow breaths and moved forward with the line, thinking she should abort this mission. Her phone pinged again. Found some amazing recipes on Pinterest. We will try them out! Grinning, Betsy shook her head and typed back: You will try them out and I will eat them.
By some miracle that Betsy couldn’t comprehend, Aubrey had turned out to be an amazing cook, and when she got old enough she would have dinner waiting for Betsy when she got home after a long day. Aubrey simply had a knack—or maybe she’d grown weary of boxed dinners and slice and bake cookies. Betsy smiled, thinking that Aubrey was such a good kid. Even though Betsy’s marriage had ended in disaster, she wouldn’t change having her lovely daughter for the world. Aubrey sent another message: Deal! Love you!
Betsy stood there and read the message again, suddenly overcome with emotion. Sniffing, Betsy typed back: Love you a bushel and a peck!
A tear escaped from the corner of Betsy’s eye and she quickly swiped it away. Oh damn, she did not want to start full-on sobbing in John’s deli. Usually she wasn’t much of a crier, but menopause hormones were playing havoc with her moods. Okay, she seriously needed to make her escape. With a quick look over her shoulder, she saw that she was the last person in line. Two people remained in front of her. Maybe she could take slow steps backwards until she reached the door and then scurry outside. She swallowed hard, knowing it was decision time.
No … this was silly. She dropped her phone in her purse, thinking that she needed to get her sorry-ass self under control. The crying over Hallmark card commercials, pictures of puppies, and a text message from Aubrey needed to stop. Lifting her chin, Betsy inhaled a shaky breath. Now that she was next in line, she saw that Stephanie was behind the counter. She could see through the open window that John’s dark head was bent over a task. Good, so he hadn’t spotted her in line.
Oh, but just seeing him made her heart beat faster.
Oh God.
And then Betsy remembered the whole
fake sneeze she was supposed to perform to redeem herself from the kiss blowing incident. The memory of embarrassing herself so thoroughly brought a fresh wave of unwanted emotion bubbling up in her throat. Normally she was difficult to embarrass but Betsy felt a flash of heat travel from her cheeks to her toes. She loosened the knit scarf from around her neck and wished she could shed her coat. A hot flash coupled with humiliation packed quite a punch. Why oh why had she agreed to do this? When a pitiful moan escaped her throat, she disguised it with a cough.
Well, this really sucked.
Hit with sudden inspiration, Betsy pulled out her cell phone, thinking she could pretend to get a call and make a quick exit. Of course her phone decided to play hide and seek in the bottom of her big purse. She frantically dug around without success.
“Hi Betsy, what will you have today?”
Betsy blinked at Stephanie, drawing a blank. In a panic she looked up at the overhead menu and ordered the first two combos. “A number one and number two.”
“Dessert? John just added a few dessert items to the menu. We’re offering a free sample of peach cobbler.”
“Oh … uh, sure.”
Stephanie smiled. “Coming right up.”
“Thanks.” Betsy attempted to smile back and watched Stephanie walk into the kitchen. So far John had failed to look up from his task and she could see him walking back and forth in the kitchen. Maybe she’d get lucky and go unnoticed. Oh, but then she wouldn’t get to fake sneeze. But then she saw John stop and put items in a bag. His back was to her so she inhaled a deep breath ready for her performance when her nose started to tickle. Oh no … seriously?
Betsy tried to hold the oncoming sneeze at bay because when she really sneezed it was super loud and usually two or three in a row. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she held her breath for so long that she felt lightheaded but successfully thwarted the sneeze. Thank God. She released her breath, blinked, and then let out a rip-roaring sneeze that rocked the rafters. And then she did it again. Of course she drew the attention of John and then remembered she was supposed to tip her hand forward as part of the sneeze. She did, but she’d paused, making the gesture look like another blow of a kiss.
Oh. Dear. God.
John’s eyes widened, as if wondering if he should return the gesture. He walked closer to the window. “God bless you.”
“Thank you.” Where was Stephanie when she needed her? “I sneezed.”
“I know. I don’t randomly say God bless you.” Grinning, John leaned his arms on the shelf where he placed the orders. Damn, he looked good in a snug blue T-shirt sporting the Ham Good Sandwich logo.
“No, I mean when I sneezed, I do this silly thing that looks like I’m blowing a … kiss. So I thought I should, you know, clarify.”
“Ah … interesting.”
Betsy shrugged. “Sometimes it gives the wrong person the … uh … wrong idea.” Wait, did she say that correctly?
“Or the right person the right idea.” He raised his eyebrows and held her gaze.
Betsy frowned, wondering how to respond. “Did Stephanie take a break?” Sometimes changing the subject was the only recourse. She learned this while raising Aubrey. Distraction was the key.
“She asked to take a break to go shopping. Lunch rush is over so I said she could go. I’ll have your order up in a minute.”
“Oh, good,” Betsy said, trying to remember what she’d ordered.
“I’ll bring it right out.”
“Thanks.” Betsy looked up to see what she’d be eating for lunch. Ham and roast beef double decker with Swiss cheese and a side of potato salad. A number two was ham salad on whole wheat with a potato pancake. Damn, she wanted bean soup and she’d gotten Susan’s order wrong. Oh well …
A moment later John came out with two white bags and placed them on the counter. “Here you go. Oh and I added dessert. Be honest and let me know what you think of the peach cobbler. It’s still warm.”
Betsy nodded. “Thanks.” She should turn away but she couldn’t stop looking at him.
“Anything else you need?”
A couple of non-food suggestions popped into her head. “I think I’m good.”
“I’m sure …” he said slowly. Was he staring at her mouth? Surely not.
“Sure about what?” tumbled out of her mouth, low and suggestive. She cleared her throat.
“I’m … I’m sure you want your lunch.” He pointed to the bags she’d forgotten to pick up.
“Oh …” She reached to pick up her food.
“Wait—would you like to come into the kitchen for a moment?”
Her heart hammered so hard she thought the big buttons on her peacoat would pop off. “Why?”
“I want to get your honest opinion on something.”
Betsy’s brain screamed no but she nodded. “Okay, but what if someone comes in?”
“A bell dings when the front door opens. We’re fine. Come on.” John came around and opened the door leading to the back of the deli. She followed him in and looked around at the spotless kitchen. Soup simmered on a six-burner stove, smelling homey and delicious. A big pan of cobbler cooled on a stainless steel table and to the left were two big slicers.
“Impressive.” Why was her voice so damned breathless?
“Thanks.” John smiled and then just looked at her for a long, heated moment. “This is where all of the magic is created.”
Betsy felt another rush of warmth and knew it wasn’t a hot flash. She tugged at her scarf, thinking it had to go. “It’s warm in here.” Her statement was meant as an observation but sounded suggestive again.
“It sure is. Why don’t you take off your coat? There’s a hook right over there on the wall.”
“Good idea.” She removed her peacoat, wishing she’d worn something more stylish than a plain red sweater and black jeans today. She needed to give her boring wardrobe a serious overhaul.
“The reason it’s hot is because the oven is on. Excuse me, I’ve got to check something.” He walked to the stove, bent over, and opened the door.
Wow, he wore his jeans well. “Well, if you can’t stand the heat get out of the kitchen, right?”
John nodded slowly. “True.”
“I’m guessing you can stand the heat.” Betsy noticed how blue his eyes were, thinking it wasn’t fair that he looked so delicious in a simple T-shirt and dark denim Levis.
“You would be right.” His dark wavy hair appeared a bit rumpled, as if he’d recently run fingers through it, and Betsy wanted to protest that she could take over that particular job for him. The dark stubble shadowing his cheeks and jaw had just a hint of silver. She felt a strong pull of desire and swallowed hard.
“So … what did you want my opinion about?” Betsy knew she was playing with fire by being alone with him but at the moment she didn’t care. Her pulse raced and she felt a sense of anticipation that made her feel young and alive … almost reckless. She remembered her toast with Susan about not being a scaredy-cat. Fear took a flying leap out the window and she took a bold step toward him. She knew he couldn’t be interested in a relationship with her but it was about damned time she lived in the moment.
“Did you mean it when you blew me the kiss yesterday?”
“I …” Betsy nibbled on her bottom lip. “Might have had a wee bit of spiked eggnog.” She put her thumb and index an inch apart.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
She winced. “Do I have to?”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I sure wish I’d gotten that memo a long time ago.”
John tipped his head back and laughed. Betsy liked the deep, rich sound.
“Would you believe it was a sneeze that looked like I was blowing you a kiss?”
John laughed harder. “No … Wait a minute. Was that seriously your plan to throw me off?”
“No. It was Susan Quincy’s plan, also fueled by spiked eggnog, I might add. Why I decided to go
through with it is a complete mystery. I was about to abort the misguided mission when my nose betrayed me and I sneezed for real. And if you repeat this to anyone I just might have to kill you.”
John’s laughter died down and he looked at her. “I’m glad.”
Betsy felt her heart turn over. “About what?”
“I’m glad that I chose the moment to look out the window when you and Susan were twirling around catching snowflakes. The scene was quite … enchanting.” He bestowed her with a warm smile. “And so was the unexpected kiss.”
“Enchanting?” No one had referred to her in such a romantic way and it caused her heart to flutter.
“Absolutely.”
Betsy shook her head. “John, I was a single mom who taught driver’s ed to reckless teenagers. I wore khaki pants and a blue polo shirt to work every single day. I’m a no frills kind of girl, not a princess,” she said, thinking of the young socialite he’d been married to. What the hell was she doing back here in his kitchen? Living in the moment was a really bad idea. She inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “I can’t do this.” But when she turned to walk away, John stepped forward and put gentle hands on her shoulders.
“Can’t do what?”
At the touch of his hands Betsy felt a long pull of desire that made her want to walk into his arms. Strong arms that tested the short sleeves of his shirt. The look on his face seemed sincere and the wall around her heart cracked just a little bit. She looked down so he wouldn’t see the vulnerability, the longing in her eyes. “This …” she whispered.
“I really do find you enchanting.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Give me a chance, Betsy. That’s all I’m asking.”
Betsy swallowed hard, knowing it was a risk getting involved with John Clark. A risk she didn’t know if she should take. “If you’re playing me, I’ll snap you like a twig.”
When John chuckled softly she dared to look up at him. He had her by nearly a foot and it made her feel dainty and feminine. “Is that so?”
“Hey, I might be a little thing but don’t underestimate me.”
“Oh believe me, I don’t.” Before she could verbalize a protest … okay she wasn’t going to protest, John pulled her closer. Having her body pressed against his broad chest brought another long wave of desire throbbing through her veins.