The Other Twin

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The Other Twin Page 13

by Nan Dixon


  “You’re frowning again.”

  Cheryl chuckled. “You’re sure worried about my mood.”

  “Well, yeah.” Amy raised her eyebrows. “If you’re grumpy, how can I ask you for a favor?”

  Cheryl dried her hands. “What do you need?”

  “Marion scheduled me to serve for that wedding on the Fourth of July.” Amy rolled her eyes.

  Marion was the B and B’s head of housekeeping and had given Cheryl her first shot at a job. “Marion’s always fair.”

  “But this is a holiday. Who gets married on the Fourth of July?”

  “A patriotic couple?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Amy swallowed. “Could you sub for me?”

  “I’ll check with Abby and see if I’m cooking for the wedding.”

  “Would you?” Amy grabbed her hand. “My boyfriend wants us to go to South Carolina with his family. It’s the first time I’ll meet them.”

  “You make me feel old,” Cheryl blurted out.

  “You’re not old.”

  “I’m a widow and have a six-year-old.”

  “If you let me dress you, people wouldn’t think you were old.”

  Cheryl’s eyes went wide. “I dress old?”

  “Like my mother.” Amy slung an arm over her shoulder. “But I can help with that.”

  Cheryl looked at her polo shirt and shorts. “What’s wrong with these?”

  “You have great legs, but you wear shorts that come to your knees.”

  Cheryl shook her head. “I’m a mother. I guess it makes sense I’d look like one.”

  “We’ll shop.” Amy grinned. “And you’ll be a hot mama.”

  “Right.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll check with Abby about the Fourth of July.”

  Cheryl started working on the appetizers. She’d made the pesto and tapenade crostini plenty of times. Now, she took out her frustration at Nathan on the garlic, bashing the cloves with the flat side of her knife. She blended, added ingredients and tasted. “That’s good.”

  She set the bowl in the fridge and then worked on the tapenade. She hated to think what all these Kalamata olives cost. She’d priced them in her grocery store and they weren’t in her budget. She measured out the ingredients and squeezed fresh lemon juice over them, inhaling the wonderful scent. The food processor ground away, reducing everything to a paste. She tasted, seasoned and tasted again. She’d have to wait for Abby to see if there was anything missing.

  She finally took a break and grabbed the afternoon snack Abby had set out for Nathan’s crew.

  In the carriage house, a saw buzzed from behind the central staircase. She placed the container on the table. The tray from lunch was still here, but all the sandwiches were gone.

  “What kind of cookies do we have today?” Nathan’s voice carried from the back of the building.

  She checked. “Lemon bars.”

  Nathan stopped next to her, smelling like freshly sawed wood. She tried not to inhale, but she loved his scent too much.

  When no one else wandered over, she asked, “Are you the only crew?”

  “The crew was here this morning, but Jed and one of our helpers headed over to another site. Just me now.” He stuffed a bar into his mouth, closed his eyes and chewed. “I love lemon.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure. You smell like lemons today. Did you make the bars?”

  She sniffed her fingers. “I squeezed lemons for something else.”

  He caught her hand and pulled it close to his nose. So close, his stubble tickled her fingers. “You smell great.”

  “How can you flirt with me like this?” She spat the words at him.

  “Because...” He touched her cheek. “I like you.”

  “Don’t.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Do you flirt with every woman? Did you flirt with the stinky lady yesterday?” Her words were fast and clipped, not masking her hurt. Hurt she had no right to feel.

  His eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t flirting with anyone.”

  “You called her darlin’.”

  “What kind of lies does your kid tell you?” Nathan’s face darkened with anger.

  She’d seen that look on Levi’s face too many times. She scrambled back.

  “I won’t hurt you!” His hands formed lethal fists.

  She jumped, knocking over the table. The bar container slammed to the floor and she fell on her butt.

  He swore, kneeling in front of her. “Are you okay?”

  Everything inside her crumpled. She was acting like a...a fishwife. “Josh told me about last night.”

  “What was there to tell?”

  “You were drinking.” Her head snapped up and she looked him in the eye.

  “I had one beer before dinner. The others were after they went to bed.”

  “You left them alone in the apartment.”

  “How else could I get the pizza? Josh and Issy stayed in your apartment while the pizza guy came up the front steps.”

  She dropped her head into her hands. “I didn’t think about that.”

  Nathan sat next to her on the floor. “Your son doesn’t like me.”

  She shrugged helplessly. He was right.

  “You acted drunk when I came in to get Josh. And I couldn’t find him.” Her throat went dry. “You let him sleep in an empty apartment.”

  “He refused to sleep anywhere else. And I’m not drunk on two beers. Or even three.” He took her hand. “I was exhausted, that’s all. I’m having trouble getting Issy to sleep through the night. She keeps waking up screaming.”

  “Still?” She squeezed his fingers. “Has she said anything? Did you take her to the doctor?”

  “Yeah. There’s nothing physically wrong with her.” His arms hung down from his knees. His head drooped. “She gets scared if someone yells.”

  “I noticed.” She couldn’t stand his dejection. She touched his arm. “Do you have next steps?”

  “Dr. Sanders gave me the name of a...” He waved his hand, as if he couldn’t remember the word.

  “Psychologist?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned against her shoulder. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Issy and me.”

  She nodded, her breath catching in her chest.

  “You’ve helped...lay out my blueprint for parenting.” He turned toward her. His eyes were as warm as melted chocolate. “You don’t know what that means to us. To me.”

  “You’re welcome.” This was the nicest conversation they’d had.

  He cupped her chin. “I really want to kiss you.” His voice came out in a rasp.

  Her body heated up like a pan on high flame.

  “I...” There were plenty of reasons why she shouldn’t kiss him. “I...” Her breath whispered out. She couldn’t think of one.

  He inched closer. And waited.

  Leaning in, she kissed him. Her forehead knocked off his hat.

  He pulled her against his chest. She laced her arms around his neck, her fingers burrowing into his hair.

  His tongue, flavored with sugar and lemon, brushed hers. His lips toured her face, stopping at her ear and trailing down her neck to her collarbone. She squirmed as desire bloomed in her every cell.

  He tugged her closer until she straddled his legs.

  “Ooh.” Her nipples tightened and her legs wanted to clasp his hips and never let go. Warmth rushed through her, filling and thawing body parts that had been frozen since Brad had died. Dizzy and unbalanced, she clung to Nathan.

  His tongue traced a path from her collarbone to her shirt. His stubble brushed the top of her breasts, sending fire down her spine. “The kids are in day care. Let’s go upstairs.”

  The kids. Josh. Her
job.

  She had responsibilities, to her son and to Fitzgerald House.

  Pushing on Nathan’s shoulders, Cheryl wiggled back.

  He groaned. “God, you feel good.”

  “Stop.” This wasn’t about feeling good. She had to put an end to this. “I have to get back to work. What if someone walked in?” Like one of the Fitzgeralds. Her face flushed with embarrassment and not the fire that Nathan had kindled in her body.

  “I’m really attracted to you.” The low growl in his voice sent shivers through her.

  “This can’t happen. You know that.” She scrambled off him, scooting on the dirty floor, and stood, locking her knees so she couldn’t crawl back to his lap.

  “Why not?” He pushed his hair back from his eyes. “Seemed like we were getting along just fine.”

  “I have responsibilities. This is stupid—”

  His gaze darkened. “You think I’m too stupid to date?”

  “No.” That wasn’t what she meant. “It’s the middle of the day. I have to work. You have to work.”

  “So, tonight?” He towered over her. “You want to get it on tonight? My place or yours? Or maybe neutral ground. The hallway?”

  His crudity was a slap in the face. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to kiss someone you think is stupid.”

  “I didn’t say that!” She threw her hands in the air. “Stop putting words in my mouth. It’s stupid for us—” she waved her hand between them “—to ignore our responsibilities.”

  He leaned down. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. I’m the irresponsible brother. If you’d wanted responsible, you should have hooked up with my twin.”

  Shaking, she backed away. “I can’t talk to you right now.”

  “Run away like you always do.”

  His voice was so soft, she wasn’t sure she heard him. But she ran.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  NATHAN SLAMMED THE hammer down, forcing the nail through the board with two strikes. Cheryl thought he was stupid. Sure, she’d backtracked, hemmed and hawed. But the word that had come out of her mouth was stupid.

  She was just like everyone else in his life. Why did he bother trying? No one thought he could succeed. He worked twice as hard as normal people to accomplish the same amount.

  At least she hadn’t changed their arrangements with the kids. Although the last three days of handoffs had been downright frigid.

  Hard to believe she’d been plastered to his body as they’d kissed. He closed his eyes. He was stupid. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than kiss.

  With the door frame finished, he tossed the hammer toward his toolbox. His father’s voice echoed in his head. Take care of your tools.

  “Jed, let’s lay out the kitchen. I want Abby to see her workspace.”

  Marking off where appliances and equipment would sit helped owners visualize their space. And he loved seeing the plans come to life.

  Since this was a two-man job, Jed measured and Nathan placed tape. Blue for the kitchen islands. Red for appliances. In the dining area, they measured out the wait station and the base of the bar.

  “How big of an overhang will the bar have?” Jed asked.

  “Abby wants a wood top.” He had a surprise for Abby. “How wide are the old carriage doors?”

  Jed measured and called out the number.

  “Let’s use a quarter of that width.”

  “You’re making the bar top out of the doors?” Jed asked as he measured.

  “I thought it would be a great combination of the old with the new.” Nathan grabbed a piece of paper and sketched out his idea.

  “You should have been a designer.” Jed grinned, his white teeth gleaming against his mocha-colored skin. “Miss Abby will love it.”

  “I’m a glorified carpenter.” But Jed’s comment soothed some of the tension Nathan was carrying from his fight with Cheryl.

  “You’re more than that. You pull this off, you’ll be an artist.”

  Artist? Nope. “Just don’t tell anyone.” Nathan rolled his shoulders. “It might not work.”

  “Sure thing.”

  They finished and stepped back. “What do you think?”

  Jed scratched his head. “I’m good with houses and buildings, but I’ve never built a restaurant. Can’t quite picture how the tables and chairs will fit.”

  Nathan could. He was good at visualization thanks to his dyslexia. “Once we pull the doors, I think she’ll want to run tables along those windows.”

  “That, I can see.”

  “But I’ll suggest booths along the wall.”

  “You’ve got a good eye.”

  “Let’s see what Abby thinks.” He pulled off his cap, pushed back his hair and yanked the cap back down.

  He cut through the courtyard. Two couples sat near the frog fountain, sipping cold drinks. He’d better hydrate. The temperature and humidity were high enough to start worrying about heat stroke. That was Savannah for you.

  He knocked on the kitchen door and walked in, the cool air-conditioning shocking after the heat.

  Abby and Cheryl had their heads together. They turned at the slap of the door and Cheryl’s smile evaporated when she saw him.

  He wished he was surprised.

  Abby looked over and grinned. “Is my restaurant done?”

  He chuckled. She’d been asking the same question for two weeks. “Not quite. Wondering if you’ll take a look at the layout.”

  “I already approved the plans.”

  “You did. But Jed and I taped it off.” He shifted on his feet. “I’d like you to see the equipment layout before we drywall.”

  “Absolutely!” Abby pushed away from the table and grabbed Cheryl’s hand. “Let’s see what this looks like.”

  “I can start on what we discussed.” Cheryl didn’t look at him. Wouldn’t want to get too close, would she?

  “I want to see what it feels like with people on the line.” Abby pulled off her apron.

  Nathan held the door. Cheryl brushed by, giving him a whiff of her apple scent.

  Abby waved to the couples in the courtyard, but dragged Cheryl down the path. “I’m so excited.” She walked in the door and stopped, not saying a word.

  Nathan rubbed his neck. She hated it.

  “This is the bar?” Abby moved through the opening they’d left.

  “Yeah. That’s a pass-through.” He shrugged. “Unless you want to leave one end open.”

  She pretended to pour a beer and hand it to Jed as he stood on what would be the patron’s side of the bar.

  Jed toasted her with the make-believe mug. “This will go down nice today.”

  She grinned. “Cheryl, come back and help me serve.”

  Cheryl walked through the planned opening. The women moved back and forth.

  “How long can you leave the tape in the space?” Abby asked.

  “Until the electrician comes to lay the coils for the heated floors.” Nathan thought about the schedule. “Thursday.”

  Abby nodded. “It feels good to me, but I’d like one of the bartenders working the event tonight to swing by and tell me what they think.”

  She looked at the end of the bar. “Will we be able to get a stool here? It’s so close to the wall.”

  He stepped over. “I thought you could have a server station.”

  Cheryl inched away as he moved next to her. He gritted his teeth. Would she ever stop cringing near him?

  Abby spread her hands as if she was holding out a tray. “Will people run into the wall, Cheryl?”

  Cheryl skirted around Nathan, pretending to hold a tray. “They’d always have to turn left. It could
work. What if the bar was round here instead of squared off?”

  “We could try.” Nathan wasn’t sure if the old wood would take a curve. “Maybe the bar should stop here. We’d leave an opening without a pass-through on this end.” Nathan grabbed the dark blue tape and made the adjustments on the floor.

  “That’s better.” Abby tapped her lip.

  In the kitchen area, Abby walked around the marked-off spaces. “This is all flattop?”

  He nodded, pulling out the plans so she could match them with the space.

  “Cheryl, stand here,” Abby ordered. “Nathan and Jed, I need you, too.”

  He and Cheryl stood back to back.

  “Can you both bend over like you’re grabbing something from the shelf underneath?” Abby asked.

  He bent at the same time as Cheryl and they bumped butts. He’d had his hands on her tight cheeks just last week. Cheryl inhaled. Her gaze shot to his and she took a step sideways. “It’s tight.”

  “Too tight?” Abby chewed her lip and moved next to Cheryl. “I want all the work surface possible, but it makes the aisle really narrow.”

  She had them crowd around different spots in the kitchen.

  “What are you thinking?” Nathan asked.

  Abby and Cheryl sat on overturned buckets.

  “I think the space between the lines is too narrow.” Abby sighed. “I’ve worked in kitchens that packed their chefs in like sardines. I don’t want that, but I hate giving up table space.”

  “What if the dishwashing station was in the kitchen?” Cheryl asked.

  Abby grimaced. “I like the idea of keeping water away from a high-traffic floor.”

  “Let’s move everything a foot and see if the dining area’s too small.” Nathan headed back to the kitchen. “This is why we’re doing this, so you have the space you want.”

  Abby and Cheryl helped moved the tape over a foot. Then Abby had them go through the same bending exercises. Nathan missed the brush of Cheryl’s butt. She was probably ecstatic.

  “We could add tables so you could see that, too.” Nathan moved to the center of the dining area.

  “There are tables upstairs in the storage room, right?” Jed asked.

  “Yes,” he and Abby said together.

 

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