Becca lifted her shoulders sheepishly. “I could never snack when I was studying. I’d get too nervous before every test or exam or final to eat. Weird, I know. Most of the other girls were binging in the dorms.”
“I have a few minutes before I meet Annalisa at the theater for final fittings. Dress rehearsal is tomorrow night. Why don’t you come with me?”
Becca hesitated, but Cameron Elliott didn’t take no for an answer. She pulled Becca into the downstairs bathroom and opened her humongous purse, pulling out various zippered makeup bags. “Blue or red would go great with your long, dark hair and eyes . . .” her voice trailed off and she bit her lower lip, staring hard at Becca in the mirror.
Becca swallowed uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
“Don’t look so nervous! On first dates you need to look good, but casual. Interested, but not desperate.”
“Even if I am desperate?” Becca joked. Although, really, she wasn’t joking at all.
“No negative thoughts!”
Cameron snapped the rubber band out of Becca’s hair and brushed it out quickly. She added a bit of tease for fullness, a bit of hair spray, sweeping the long ends around her shoulders, and then coaxing out some wispy bangs. “Perfect. Add some funky, but not too big earrings. A light jacket if it gets cool, which it usually does in June in the evenings. Now.” Cameron put on her contemplative face again. She brushed a bit of color across Becca’s cheeks, powder that instantly covered up the little imperfections so it smoothed out her skin, a few dabs of mascara, and a light pink lip gloss.
“Subtle tones,” the young woman went on. “But wow, you look great, Rebecca. Doesn’t look like you have any makeup on, but these colors really bring out your smoky gray eyes. Now get dressed, drink some water – and have a blast! I hear Iron Stix puts on a great concert. The bass player is to die for—but he’s taken by some chick named Paisley.”
Pete Rodriguez’ truck pulled into the B&B driveway a few minutes later. He quickly showered to get rid of the forest fire smoke smell, and dressed in jeans and a soft blue buttoned down shirt within thirty minutes. His face was smooth after shaving the scruffy two-day old beard and he smelled fabulous, all smiles and friendliness.
A real date. With a real guy.
Becca felt her stomach tighten.
When she hugged Rayna, her aunt whispered, “Relax, it’s only a potluck and concert with ninety percent of Snow Valley—and a million kids.”
The evening was warmer than it had been since she’d arrived and Becca ended up tying her windbreaker around her waist, the sleeves dangling.
“You look ready to hike the mountain,” Pete said, casually taking her hand with his and then tucking Aunt Rayna’s enchiladas into the crook of his arm as they crossed the park to the picnic tables.
“Just give me a pitchfork and I’ll help fight the fire.”
“You’re on.” Pete’s green eyes crinkled adorably at the corners. He was quieter than when he’d been with the other guys that morning at breakfast fighting over the last piece of bacon.
“All you guys—the other firefighters,” Becca started. “You seem like brothers. Do you know them well?”
“We’re all from this county. Born and bred. Some full-time, some volunteer. Except Wade, of course.”
“What about him?” Becca couldn’t help asking. She also couldn’t help wishing it was Captain Wade holding her hand. Pete was very nice, but Wade was the one that truly sent her heart into orbit.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. When he was nearby, Becca found herself excited, but in a strange, shy sort of way. Nervous, self-conscious. Aware of Wade’s strong presence, the way his eyes followed her around the room. She had to be careful not to pay him too much attention. Not to be too quick to refill his glass or make sure he had enough syrup and hash browns.
Jeez, what was wrong with her? She was holding hands with one guy and daydreaming about another.
All of a sudden Becca gave a start, quickly pulling back from her silly reverie as she realized Pete was telling her about Wade going to training school in Billings to become captain last year. That took him right into talking about the rest of the team, how the fire was going, their strategies of building breaks and clearing the brush and deadwood to try to stop the fire.
“So dangerous,” Becca murmured.
Pete shrugged. “We’re often working up to half a mile away from the fire itself so it doesn’t always feel dangerous, but we’re constantly scouting out the direction it’s going, the wind speed, outside temperatures.”
“Mostly back-breaking work with shovels and rakes, I imagine.”
“Not very glamorous like in the movies, that’s for sure.” Pete laughed and dropped her hand so they could fill their plates with food.
The entire town was there. After Sunday afternoon naps, kids were playing chase and screaming and laughing, Moms and Dads trying to keep them in tow. Blankets and chairs spread out across the freshly mowed lawns.
It was a scene of chaotic happiness.
“Do you know many people here?” Pete asked.
“I was just going to ask you the same thing!”
“A few, but not really. Do you think they mind us crashing their party?”
Becca laughed as they grabbed drinks and then turned to find a spot on the church grass to sit and eat. “I think Snow Valley wants the entire state to crash their 4th of July celebrations. The more the merrier.”
“Good for business, eh?”
“Something like that. We only have one empty room left if you don’t count Tent City outside. ”
Pete smiled wryly. “Yeah, sorry about us crashing in last night—literally.”
“There’s never a dull moment—at least not in the summer season.” Rebecca ate her barbecue chicken, glancing about the crowds. “I recognize a lot of people, but don’t remember a lot of names. It’s been two years since I was here. And the B&B being on the edge of town I only see folks when we’re shopping or at church—which often doesn’t happen either since we have breakfast guests and check-outs.”
“Just make them eat early on Sundays.”
“Yeah, right. Most of our patrons want to sleep in.” Suddenly, Becca had a vision of Sam and Lily, the newlyweds, and tried not to blush. She bent her head and dug into the thick slice of homemade chocolate cake dessert, the last thing on her plate. She probably shouldn’t have eaten with such gusto in front of a guy—but she’d never been very good at following the unspoken “rules” of dating and dieting. She worked hard and burned it off, right?
It occurred to her that she’d never even had that thought before when she was with Nick Walton. But then, she and Nick had never had a date. They were just buddies who hung out. They were like a brother and sister. Teasing, shoving, blurting out rude comments sometimes. Fighting over the last piece of pie in Aunt Rayna’s kitchen.
Becca sighed and Pete glanced at her. “Everything alright?”
“Oh, yes,” she quickly assured him. “Just thinking what a beautiful evening it is.”
“The band’s almost set up,” Pete said, picking up their plates to deposit them in the trash receptacles near the picnic table spread.
Indeed, Iron Stix was warming up now. Teasing the crowd with a few licks, adjusting the speakers. The Snow Valley audience cheered.
Dusk settled and people shifted their lawn chairs and blankets, choosing the best spots for listening.
Shadows flitted past. Becca heard a couple of dads hollering for their kids.
The first number opened big and loud and crashing and the audience screamed in excitement.
“Hey,” Pete said. “Why don’t you lean in against me? We’ll stay warmer, too.”
“Um, okay.”
It was a new experience sitting between a guy’s legs and leaning back into his chest. Pete was solid and didn’t even shift when Becca wiggled into position.
Oh, golly, she felt awkward. Not knowing how much pressure to use against him, whether to hold onto his
knees to steady herself, not wanting to appear too forward, or too timid.
But heck, she was timid and unsure and stupid, and why did she agree to do this?
Because she knew she had to start acting like a real girl and date and be normal. Honestly, she wanted to date. She wanted to find the right guy. She wanted that more than she wanted to study for the GRE and grad school.
Working in a lab could be fun, but she wanted more than an eight-to-five job. She liked helping Aunt Rayna cook and bake and keep the Starry Skies B&B unique and warm and welcoming.
The feminists at school would laugh at her, but what was wrong with wanting beauty all around her? A peaceful home with its pleasures and joys, good food, and good friends and children coming in and out?
That was probably what she’d enjoyed the most about tonight—and all the nights she’d been here over the years at the park and church and along Main Street Snow Valley. All the silly and adventurous activities during Snow Valley’s Founding Day week: the bake sales, the artists and craftsmen in their booths, the pioneer stories, hot air balloon rides, the carnival, softball tournament, children’s parade. It was all glorious and fun.
She wanted a home and family. Security. Someone who loved her for all her quirkiness and pie-in-the-sky dream of writing a real book one day.
Someone whom she could be completely comfortable with. Someone to trust completely. To adore. Could she be that type of person? Becca hoped so, but she had no idea how to make that happen.
A moment later, Pete wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her there in the dark park.
She sat, her back ramrod straight, wishing she could just lie back on a blanket and enjoy the stars and the moon and the music as she’d always done.
The loud, happy music was still echoing in her ears when Pete drove her home in the truck and they sneaked in the back kitchen door, past the men sleeping in their tents.
“Aunt Rayna got any leftovers?” Pete said in a loud whisper.
“Of course.” Becca inspected the counters. Someone had eaten all the sugar cookies from the jar. Briefly, she wondered if Cameron Elliott had sneaked them up into her room and she couldn’t help grinning.
“What are you smiling about, cute girl?” Pete asked, swinging her around and wrapping his arms around her.
“Pie! There’s pie in the fridge. An icebox lemon. I just remembered.”
Becca swung under his arm, released his fingers, and opened the doors. The refrigerator light was bright in the darkness, although there were always small lamps burning around the downstairs common rooms in case of roaming or hungry guests.
Quickly, she got plates and forks, cut the pie, and poured ice cold milk. They sat down in the kitchen nook to eat.
Becca felt herself getting hyper around Pete. She didn’t want him to slow her down, take her hand, make her look at him. Prepare her for a goodnight kiss. She felt it coming. But wasn’t a first date kiss a little fast? She barely knew him.
Despite her initial attraction to Pete Rodriguez, she was still thinking about Wade Kinsella, wondering what the evening would have been like with him. What would his arms have felt like holding her close during the concert?
The realization made her feel like a cheater. Like she’d lied to Pete, even though all she’d done was say yes to a date. A casual date on the church lawns for a potluck. She hadn’t said they were exclusive or getting engaged, for crying out loud.
Wasn’t that what dating was all about? Getting to know different guys to see who clicked?
She was so inexperienced. That was her whole problem. Maybe she needed to forget unattainable Captain Wade and let Pete help her learn how to be romantic. How to kiss. How to do all of this.
The kitchen grew quiet as she and Pete finished up the pie. One of those scent candles was burning near the stove, and the room smelled like lemon and spices.
He took a lock of her long hair and twirled it around his finger, scooting his chair closer, his eyes locked on hers. Pete Rodriguez was turning into just a big flirt. Or was this how dating worked? Her inexperience was showing in a big way, but her gut was making her question his constant touching.
“It’s almost midnight,” Becca said, her eyes darting to the clock. “My breakfast call is early—and so is your forest fire.”
“Yeah,” Pete said slowly. “But it’s not often you get to kiss a girl who tastes like lemons.” And before Becca could say a word, Pete Rodriguez pressed his lips against hers, holding her in place in her chair. She froze, not knowing quite what to do.
Pete pressed harder, slipping his hand around her neck to pull her closer.
She couldn’t breathe. She could feel his teeth. Smell milk on his breath.
She wondered irrationally if Wade Kinsella was watching them through his tent window as Pete finally broke away and grinned at her.
“Goodnight, Becca Dash,” Pete said quietly. “Sleep well.”
“Um, you too. Thanks for the—the park, the concert, and everything.”
He hugged her briefly, and then slipped out the door. She watched him climb into his truck to get something, an extra pillow?
When he turned to maneuver around the tents to his own, Becca quickly stepped backward so he wouldn’t see her at the window.
She blew out the candle and smoke curled into the air. She felt a little numb, not sure what to think about it all.
When Pete kissed her, she felt almost nothing. She couldn’t help feeling just a little bit disappointed. Was that all there was to kissing? Beca had always heard it was this wonderful, soaring, romantic, spine-tingling experience.
Maybe it was her.
She had nothing to compare it to, of course.
But kissing Pete Rodriguez almost felt like kissing her brother—and she didn’t even have a brother.
Becca sagged against the counter. Now that Pete had kissed her, what would happen next? Was she obligated to go out again? She knew in her gut he’d ask her.
It was completely irrational, but Becca hoped the forest fire burned hotter and wilder so Pete wouldn’t be around for a couple more days. She needed time to think.
Chapter 8
“I pull my hair out when I read Jane Austen—I just want them to kiss already!”
— Rebecca Dash, Author
Becca entered the kitchen the next morning, yawning so hard her jaw cracked. Irritability swept over her, due to a lack of solid sleep for the second night in a row.
She stopped stock-still when she saw Wade Kinsella perched on a bar stool at the high counter, chatting with Aunt Rayna who was giggling at his jokes. Good grief, she was practically an old lady.
Then Becca felt repentant for her unchristian thoughts. She must be very grumpy this morning. Calling Rayna old was like calling a cat a dog. Aunt Rayna would probably be young at heart and have purple streaks in her hair—or green streaks—when she was eighty.
In reality there was probably only eight or nine years between Wade and Rayna. They were old friends sharing a cup of coffee while she flipped the hotcakes and the homemade syrup simmered.
But Becca couldn’t help wishing she’d fixed her hair or had put on more of that great lipstick Cameron had let her borrow. At least she’d brushed her teeth and put on a decent top instead of her ragged cooking t-shirt.
Becca checked on all the various breakfast food items to make sure it would all be ready at the same time. She snatched up a big fat, juicy strawberry and popped it in her mouth when Wade came up behind Becca. His breath tickled her ear and she whirled, thinking it was Pete.
“Oh! It’s you!”
Wade grinned his beautiful smile. Oh, those white teeth. Those lips. Those eyes diving deep into hers, like they were swimming in the ocean. Wowza. “Who’d you expect?” he teased, glancing over at Pete who was grabbing the sack lunches.
“Um, nobody, exactly. Where’d Aunt Rayna go? She was right here a minute ago.”
“She ducked outside to roust up the boys to eat. And I’m taking the oppo
rtunity to talk to you for a minute.”
Oh, golly, Becca never expected this. Was he going to ask her out? Maybe a little rodeo, or hot air ballooning? A romantic walk in the woods with a picnic. Her palms grew damp with nerves. One finger slid along her hairline to fluff it.
“I heard you might be planning a surprise birthday party for Rayna this summer. The 10th of July, right?”
“How’d you know that?”
“She was joking around about this year being the big 4-0 and saying she was still as good as two twenty-year-olds.”
Becca laughed and then she covered her mouth and lowered her voice. “That sounds like Aunt Rayna. She has way too much fun for thirty-nine.”
“I think that woman has always pushed the envelope. She’s a round peg in the square hole of life.” Wade gave a chuckle, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he leaned against the counter. He looked fresh and way too perfect, his hair curling a bit around his ears from his shower. “She told me once about her first marriage.”
Becca’s eyes widened in surprise. “So you know about how she eloped at seventeen, the night of high school graduation?”
He nodded. “She confessed it one night at the end of a party with friends. We’d all been pretty silly. Playing Truth or Dare. With root beer floats.”
Becca choked on her laughter. “Sounds dangerous!”
“Yeah, high stakes.” Wade waggled his eyebrows. “There might have been brownies, too. We made up questions based on whether the brownies had nuts or no nuts.”
Becca lifted an eyebrow. “Surely this wasn’t recently . . . I can’t imagine older people being so goofy.” Instantly, she realized her error. “Not that you’re old, Captain Wade.” She blinked her eyes at him, trying to flirt and probably doing it all horribly, painfully wrong.
“I’m thirty-four. But this was several years back. Rayna and I met on the same bowling league. Then ended up joining the same book club, which went kaput about a year later.”
“Snow Valley is a small town. But I thought you just moved here from Idaho.”
“I went out-of-state for some different field experience and took some classes so I could try for a promotion. But Snow Valley kept pulling at me.”
Summer in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance Anthologies Book 2) Page 49