“It’s going to be young adult mystery, but my heroine totally gets the guy in the end.”
“So a little bit of both your parents again?”
Vi’s eyes—the same dark blue as her father’s—narrowed in consideration. “Yeah, kinda.”
Laurel had never met a teenager quite like Violet. In just the day she’d known her, the girl had proven to be smart, funny and strong. Also, a little nutty, which meant it was somehow completely believable that she was not only going to write a novel but it’d be good enough that she’d need a pen name ready for when it was published. “I can’t wait to read it.”
“You could, like, beta read what I’ve written so far.” Violet’s grin was brilliant. “I have a few chapters.”
“I would love to.” Hey, Laurel liked a good mystery, and she had no problem with the heroine getting the guy at the end of a book. Sounded like a fun story.
“You can start with the part where she meets her future bae.”
“Her bay? Like…water?” Laurel felt her face scrunch in confusion.
“Not b-a-y, it’s b-a-e.” Violet seemed delighted to know something Laurel didn’t. “It’s like babe or boo or boyfriend/girlfriend.”
“Teenager—it’s a whole different language.” Neil returned with his coffee, clearly overhearing the last part. “I could make another fortune writing a Teen-English dictionary for parents.”
“It would change too fast.” Vi appeared dubious. “It’s not like we say the same thing all the time. Bae used to mean ‘before anyone else,’ but we flipped it.”
“Bae. I’ll remember that,” Laurel promised.
The three of them finished up their meals, and then Neil pushed back from the table. “I’m going to see if I can use the business center for a few minutes, check email, and print some documents. Did you want to come with me, Vi, or head back to the cabin by yourself?”
“Cabin. I need to shower.” Vi poked Laurel’s arm. “And use the magic comb.”
Keeping her voice as serious as possible, Laurel said, “I hear they work wonders, those magic combs.”
“Haha.” The teen stuck out her tongue, chugged her orange juice, and then carted her tray off to the clean-up area.
When Laurel turned back it was to find Neil’s assessing gaze pinning her in place. He had the kind of look that said she was some sort of odd creature he couldn’t quite figure out. She stiffened on reflex, far too used to a similar look from her parents. Her chin jutted and she folded her arms.
His eyebrows arched, but he didn’t comment on her defensive posture. “You’re really good with Violet. She’s not normally this friendly with people she’s just met.”
Well. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. A lopsided grin formed on her mouth. “I have that effect on some people.”
“You definitely have an effect on people,” he murmured. His expression went roguish, but he turned away before she could come up with a witty reply.
Maybe her flirting skills were even rustier than she’d suspected.
Well, she could practice more on Neil later. Practice made perfect, right? She picked up her tray and walked over to drop it and her dishes off. All right, then. Time to start the day.
She had one thing on her agenda that she needed to handle before she went back to her cabin to organize all her stuff. Being part of The Creative Enclave—whether you were an artist-in-residence or an aspiring artist—meant that you had to help in the communal kitchen. Everyone had to cook, clean and serve the buffet style meals twice a week. Once for lunch and once for dinner.
She wanted introduce herself to the chef. She had the first lunch shift on Monday, so it was best to find the person who’d make sure she didn’t give anyone food poisoning. Cooking wasn’t Laurel’s strong suit. She hadn’t killed anyone yet, but no one ever asked her for recipes either. Her idea of entertaining involved a nice bottle of wine and some really good cheese. Hey, it worked for her.
Slipping into the kitchen, she took in the gleaming stainless steel prep surfaces and industrial grade appliances. At a massive cutting board stood an imposing woman who was as round as she was tall, with scraped back salt-and-pepper hair, and smooth ebony skin that belied the gray bun. She turned to level a gimlet eye on Laurel, clearly establishing dominance. The look said, don’t fuck with me—I will kill you.
“What do you want?” she barked.
Laurel snapped to attention. “Hi, I’m Laurel Patton. I’m supposed to help make lunch on Monday.”
“Gloria,” the woman grunted in return, slamming a meat cleaver through a slab of beef. “I run the kitchen here. You one of those artsy fartsy people?”
“Yep.”
Stabbing the cleaver in Laurel’s direction, Gloria said, “I don’t give a damn how famous you are, you hear me? When you’re in my kitchen, you do as I say.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Laurel drawled, fighting a smile. She couldn’t help it; the situation struck her as funny all of the sudden.
The older woman’s eyes narrowed to danger slits. “I own many knives.”
“And know how to use them. I’m suitably intimidated.” Laurel gave up the struggle, offering a full-blown grin. She’d come here so excited to be respected—maybe slightly revered—for her craft and one of the first people she ran into didn’t give a flying rat’s ass. Ah, irony. “How about you just boss me around, and I let you, and we pretend you’re not tempted to carve me up for the soup pot?”
Gloria harrumphed. “I’ll consider it.”
“Thank you.” Laurel injected as much humble sincerity as possible into her tone.
“Grandma!” A little girl came rocketing through the door, skidding to a stop in front of Gloria.
“Ruth, I have told you not to run in my kitchen. I’ve got hot pots and sharp utensils in here. You could get hurt, and then I’ll never hear the end of it from your mother and father. Which means you’ll never hear the end of it from me.”
“Sorry, Grandma.” A gamine grin lit the kid’s face. She looked maybe eleven or twelve, still all awkward knees and elbows, but with feminine curves starting to form. She had the smooth complexion of her grandmother, though several shades lighter, with a riot of springy auburn curls, and brilliant celery green eyes. With that winsome smile and unique coloring, the girl was going to be a knockout in a couple of years. Laurel didn’t envy her parents when the boys starting banging down the door.
Gloria heaved a sigh. “Child, you’re going to be the death of me.”
“I love you.” Ruth threw her arms around her grandmother’s thick middle.
“I love you too.” The older woman’s voice went from indulgent to stern in the blink of an eye. “Now go play. Do not run indoors.”
“’Kay!” Ruth pirouetted, then strolled out of the room. As soon as she rounded the corner, the sound of her footsteps increased until she was clearly pelting across the lodge at top speed.
Shaking her head, Gloria sighed again, but then slanted a disgruntled glance at Laurel. “Her parents are off on a second honeymoon, so Ruthie’s spending her summer vacation with me.”
“She’s adorable.” Laurel didn’t have to feign her sincerity.
“Got me wrapped around her pinkie.” Gloria’s slid a fingertip along the edge of a wicked-sharp butcher knife lying on her cutting board. “Don’t think I’m that lenient with anyone but her.”
Keeping her expression suitably solemn, Laurel nodded. “I was under no such illusions.”
“Good. You’re not an idiot. Now, go away.” The older lady flicked her cleaver in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t need you here for another couple of days.”
“Yes, ma’am.” With that, Laurel executed a quick about-face and escaped while she still could.
Once she’d gotten outside—safely beyond Gloria’s hearing—she leaned back against the wall and laughed her ass off.
Damn, she was beautiful.
The thought slammed into Neil as he walked up to the lodge and the sound of her laughter lilted on the breeze. He’d gotten halfway to his cabin and realized he’d forgotten to pick up his paperwork from the printer, so he’d had to come back. Now, he mounted the porch stairs and the sight of her stopped him in his tracks. Last night, he’d thought her pretty, but her laugh, her pure joy, made her exquisite, breathtaking.
It was a dual punch to the chest and groin when she looked up and met his gaze. The mirth faded from her expression, and pure electric attraction sparked between them. His heart thudded against his ribs. Her tongue flicked out to slide along her lower lip, and his cock went rock hard.
Bam, zero to horny in two-point-five seconds.
It was starting to become his automatic response any time she was nearby.
Her voice was low and smoky when she spoke. “Neil.”
“Laurel.” He took the last step up, joining her on the porch. There was still four feet between them, but he felt a magnetic draw toward her. He knew almost nothing about her, but suddenly he wanted to. He shouldn’t, because he suspected knowing more would make him desire her more, but he’d rarely experienced this instantaneous burn of craving for a woman, and never this intensely.
Added to that, she’d dealt with Violet and the awkward mom-just-died moment in a way that actually made his daughter laugh. That never happened. He wouldn’t have guessed it was possible. He’d tried to thank her last night, but there’d been no real way to do that without turning it into the awkward situation he was glad they’d avoided.
Then this morning, she’d gotten Violet to speak in coherent sentences before nine AM. It bordered on miraculous.
Everything about Laurel seemed designed to pique his interest.
She took a breath, lifting her breasts, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the effect. She wasn’t the most endowed woman he’d ever met, but his palms itched to cup the small, pert mounds.
“Honestly, I always thought Graves was a pseudonym to make you sound more horror-y.” She squinted and tilted her head. “Horror-ish?”
So far, he hadn’t been able to predict what might come out of her mouth, and she’d managed to catch him by surprise again.
“Horror-ish,” he replied after a beat of silence, injecting as much certainty into his voice as he could.
Her lips pursed. She sidled to the right, a little closer to him, and stood just in front of the screen door. “You’re sure?”
“I am the writer.” Now he went for wounded dignity. Yep, he was flirting. No, he really shouldn’t, for a million reasons, but she was pretty and funny and fascinating as hell.
“Uh-huh.” That thousand-watt smile of hers flashed. “That means you make shit up for a living.”
“Absolutely.” He winked.
She rocked back on her heels. “I bet Graves made it easy to pick a genre, huh?”
He chuckled and took a step forward. “I never had a publisher ask me to take on a penname, that’s for sure.”
The pounding of footsteps sounded, and then the door slammed open—right into Laurel’s back.
“Sorry!” A piping young voice came from inside. “I need out.”
“Whoops!” Laurel hopped forward to let the girl pass, tripped over a porch floorboard, twisted to try to catch herself, but tumbled against him anyway. She hit him hard enough to force a grunt out of him.
On reflex, he snapped his arms around her and they stumbled sideways a few steps. His butt hit the porch railing, stopping their momentum.
“Sorry again! Are you, like, okay and everything?”
“I’m fine,” Laurel replied. “Go play like your grandma said, Ruth.”
“’Kay…if you’re sure…laters!” After another moment’s hesitation, Ruth skipped around the corner of the lodge, gone in seconds.
Then he was left with an armful of soft, sexy woman. His body registered that fact before his brain did, and he went rock hard. After a moment of stunned silence, a snort of mirth burst out of her, but she froze when her hip shifted against his groin.
Yep, that’s a raging erection, sweetheart.
She wiggled a little, as if to make sure of what she was feeling. He bit back a groan, but her movements did nothing to help the situation. If anything, he grew even harder. Christ, he’d turned into a randy teenager.
Her head tipped back and their gazes collided. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, but the heat in her expression stopped his words. She bit her lip, and her palm settled against his chest. He stared at her lush mouth, wanting to taste her but holding back. They stood there in throbbing silence for long moments, neither moving, neither pushing away. With every breath, the sexual tension between them ratcheted up. His mind told him to let her go because kissing a woman he barely knew was an idiotic idea. His libido didn’t give a damn about the details—it just knew that he craved her with a sharp suddenness that was difficult to deny.
“Oh, what the hell?” A grin kicked up the corner of her mouth, she rose onto tiptoe and kissed him.
He’d been so busy battling with himself that she caught him off-guard. She flicked her tongue out, sliding along the seam of his lips. He groaned and let her in, dueling with her for control of the kiss. This was no tentative seeking, just hot possession. The flavor of her exploded over his taste buds—sweet woman and a hint of coffee. His hands clamped on her hips, turning her so she faced him squarely, and pulled her tight to his body. Their angles and curves fitted beautifully, and his cock pulsed with painful need. His let his palms glide up her back, enjoying the resilient warmth of her skin through her T-shirt.
She arched against him, nipping at his upper lip. He jolted at the sensation, pure lust roaring through his veins. His fingers dove down to curl around her backside, the lush curves filling his hands. So fucking perfect. His breathing sped to ragged gasps, and little mewls broke from her throat. Dear God, she was like pure fire twisting in his arms. He slid his thigh between hers, pulling her tighter against him. She moved on him, grinding down on his leg. He could feel the heat of her through his khakis and her shorts, and it was almost enough to make his head explode.
One part of him couldn’t believe he was dry humping a woman on a porch, where anyone could walk up and see them. Another part of him didn’t want to let her go. Not yet. He mated his tongue with hers, the rhythm matching the thrust and slide of their hips. The friction was too good, too much, and he was embarrassingly close to coming in his pants. When her fingertips circled his nipple, then tweaked the nub, he had to pull back. Otherwise he was going to drag her to the wood floor and take her then and there.
“That was…” She made a little humming noise. “Awesome.”
“I wasn’t expecting…” A rough exhalation spilled out of him. He had no idea how to finish that sentence without insulting her or looking like an utter fool.
“This? Me, neither.” She eased out of his arms and forked her fingers through her teal-streaked hair. “I always love a nice surprise. Don’t you?”
“I can’t complain.” Only a moron would. A kiss that good? Damn. Then again, that hadn’t been just a kiss, had it? He’d been a half-second away from fucking her. Just thinking about it made his still-hard dick pulse.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Violet’s voice cut through their conversation.
“Hey, Dad! I just met the chef’s granddaughter. She’s here all summer too.” Violet mounted the stairs, the same girl who’d slammed into Laurel right on Vi’s heels. “This is Ruth.”
“We bumped into each other,” Laurel replied drily.
“I really am sorry.” The younger girl gave a bashful shrug. “I go everywhere at a run. My dad says I need to, like, join the track and field team when I start middle school next year.”
“That’s awesome.” Vi shrugged. “I’m so not sporty at
all.”
“You don’t have to run with me.” Ruth’s pale green eyes twinkled good-naturedly. “Want me to show you the lake? Did you bring your bathing suit?”
“Yes and yes.” Violet brightened. “I love swimming.”
“Sweet. Go change and I’ll meet you back here. Ten minutes?”
She turned to Neil. “Is that cool, Dad?”
“Sure.” It had been a long time since his daughter had done anything spontaneous. Even this residency had been researched to death. Ruth might be a wrecking ball on two legs, but she seemed to tempt Vi into throwing caution aside. He resisted the urge to ask questions about lifeguards or insist on promises to be careful. It was Violet—she’d be far more careful than he would have at her age. “Be in the dining room at noon for lunch.”
“KK!”
He waved them off, and the girls headed in different directions. And that left him alone with Laurel. Should he bring up the kiss again? Let it go and chalk it up to momentary insanity? He knew the second option was the best one, but he didn’t like it. Still, he was an adult and he had responsibilities. Making out with a pretty woman wasn’t on his to-do list. Though he really wished it was. It sounded a hell of a lot more fun than editing a manuscript.
He swallowed. “I…uh…left some paperwork in the business center.”
After a moment of silence, she shook herself. “Oh. Okay.”
There was a hint of disappointment to her words, but her expression was difficult to read. A stab of guilt hit him. He was being an ass, acting as if that crazy kiss hadn’t happened. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t figure out if he was coming or going any time she was near. He opened his mouth to say something, but she quickly descended the porch stairs.
“I’ll see you around, Graves.” She paused to glance back at him. “If you decide you want to spend the next few hours necking while the kids are occupied, I’ll be sitting under the tree behind my cabin, sketching the scenery. I wouldn’t mind the right kind of interruption.”
Rockies Retreat: Destination: Desire, Book 5 Page 4