by Marie Force
“Three.”
“Well, at least your poor parents only had to deal with three teenage girls.” His gray eyes twinkled with glee at his own joke.
“Thanks a lot, Dad.”
“My parents would probably tell you their boys were far more of a handful than their girls.”
Ray raised a brow. “Is that right? You were a hellion, were you?”
“If enjoying all forms of extreme skiing, snowboarding, snowmobiling, mountain climbing and other such exploits make me a hellion, then I guess I was. Our form of trouble was more in the way of broken bones and stitches than anything illegal.”
“Hmpf,” Ray said. “You don’t plan to take my daughter on any of these extreme adventures, do you?”
“No, sir. The kinds of things we consider fun in the mountains are far too dangerous for a nice city girl like Lucy.”
“That’s a good answer.”
“However, I do think she might enjoy cold-weather camping, and I hope we get to do that sometime.”
“Oh boy,” she said dryly. “Can’t wait for that.”
Both men laughed at her obvious distress at the thought of camping in the cold.
“You’re feeling better, honey?” Ray asked his daughter.
“Much better. Colton was a saint. Thank goodness he was here last night. It got kind of ugly.”
“She was a trooper,” Colton added.
“When I wasn’t puking my guts up.”
“I heard you guys have Simone tonight. I can take her if you want.”
“We’re happy to do it,” Colton said. “She’s adorable.”
“Yes, she is,” Ray said, once again studying Colton with those shrewd eyes that seemed to see right through him.
The guy had a good penetrating stare. Colton would give him that. He did his best not to wilt until Ray looked away, his focus once again on his daughter. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“No, Dad. We’re good.”
“You’ll come home for dinner tomorrow night.” He glanced at Colton. “Both of you.”
“We’d love to,” Lucy said. “Thanks for the invite and for the soup, too.”
Ray got up and kissed Lucy’s cheek. “Glad you’re feeling better, honey. You gave me a scare when you didn’t answer your phone all night.”
“I guess I scared a few people by dropping off the radar.”
“Yes, you did,” Colton said as he shook hands with Ray. “Nice to meet you, Ray.”
“You, too. See you tomorrow.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Lock the doors behind me.”
“I will, Dad. Be careful going home.”
Ray waved as he headed down the stairs.
As instructed, Lucy closed and locked the door and set the deadbolt. She turned to him. “He liked you.”
“Really? I didn’t think he did.”
“No, he did. I can tell when he doesn’t like someone, and he liked you.”
“He seemed . . . I don’t know . . . Suspicious or something.”
Lucy took the containers of soup out of the bag, which also contained two crusty loaves of freshly baked bread. “He’s worried I’m going to move like Cameron did.”
“I take it you told him that’s not going to happen.”
“I did, but I’m not sure he believes me.”
Colton crossed the room to her, unable to stand being so close to her but not able to touch her. He slid his arms around her and enjoyed the way her satin robe clung to all her curves. “I have no desire to take you away from the people you love, Luce. You’d never be happy living that way, and I want you to be happy.”
“And you’d never be happy living away from your mountain or your family.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
She drew back from him, looking up at him tentatively. “What’re you saying?”
“That I’m not ruling anything out. My mind is wide open to the possibilities as long as those possibilities include you.”
“Are you thinking you might want to move? At some point, I mean. I’m not looking to put pressure on you to decide something I don’t even want to talk about.”
“Not ruling anything out at the moment.” He held her face in his hands, compelling her to look at him. “But I heard you when you said you can’t move, and after seeing you here with your family, I get it. I truly do, and I’m not going to suddenly expect you to change your mind. I promise.”
“That’s good to know, but you forget that I’ve seen you with your family and in your element on the mountain. I can’t imagine you happy anywhere else.”
“I’ve been really happy right here with you this weekend.”
“And I was puking for much of that time.”
“You just proved my point, Luce.” He kissed her. “I’m happiest when you’re in the room with me. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing. Although some things are a lot more fun than others.”
He made her laugh. He made her smile. He made her think. He made her mad and glad all in the same ten-minute period. He made her want like she’d never wanted anyone or anything before. More than anything, he made her happy.
“I’m happiest when I’m with you, too. I don’t care where we are.”
“I want you to remember that and stay focused on it. This isn’t going to be easy. It’s going to be challenging beyond belief at times. But if we both remember when we’re happiest, I think we can make it work.”
“You’re starting to make me a little hopeful.”
“It’s safe to be hopeful. I’ve been giving our situation a lot of thought, and I’m not quite ready to talk about it yet, but will you trust me for a little while longer?”
“I trust you, Colton. I’ve thought a lot about our situation, too. I feel like it’s all I think about lately when you’re not scrambling my brains with kisses and other such things.” She flattened her hands on his chest. “I’ve also thought about what you said about losing your brother-in-law and how you’ve tried to live in the moment ever since, to enjoy right now and not ruin that by obsessing about what might or might not happen. I’m trying to do that, too.”
“Right now is really, really good.”
“Yes.” She let her head fall to his chest. “It is.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “Right now is as close to perfect as perfect gets.”
“I want to hold on very tight to right now.”
“Hold on to me, Lucy. I won’t let you down. I promise.”
Because she wanted so badly to believe him, she held on as tight as she could.
* * *
On Monday morning, Colton took a cab uptown to the hotel where the trade show was being held. As he rode through rush-hour traffic, he thought about the weekend he’d spent with Lucy. Saturday night, they’d played pretty princess, watched movies and eaten popcorn with Simone until she fell asleep leaning against him. After settling her on the sofa, he and Lucy had gone to bed.
The next morning, he’d awakened to a little face looking down at him. He’d held his breath, waiting to hear what she had to say about finding him in bed with her aunt.
“What’s for breakfast?” she’d asked.
Colton had breathed a sigh of relief and got busy making pancakes for Simone and Lucy, who’d finally felt a lot better. After Emma came to pick up her daughter, he and Lucy had gone out for a long walk around her neighborhood. She’d taken him to the beer store, where she said he acted like a kid in a candy store. They’d had lunch at a sidewalk café and then returned to her place to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed before they left for dinner in Queens.
Colton had loved seeing the home where Lucy had grown up, and he’d enjoyed spending more time with Ray, who was gruff on the outside but warm and welcoming to Colton, which was a relief. Lucy had told him later that Ray had liked Colton a lot better after hearing Lucy say yet again that she wasn’t going to move to Vermont.
Leaving her to go their separate ways for a few
hours this morning had made him sad, which was ridiculous. He knew that. Still, he was bummed to have to spend any time away from her when they were in the same place at the same time. “You’d better get used to it,” he said softly to himself. They were looking at a possible future of more time apart than together, a thought that depressed him profoundly.
He was determined to figure out a way to make this work, however. And he had this week in the city to ponder their options while hoping she’d be able to come home with him to spend next week in Vermont before Hannah’s wedding. The thought of her back on his mountain made him smile.
“Here you go,” the cabbie said as he pulled up to a midtown hotel.
Colton realized he’d been so absorbed in his thoughts that he’d barely paid attention during the ride. Here he was in a new place full of things to see and experience, and all he was thinking about was how he could spend more time with Lucy. “Live in the moment, man,” he reminded himself on the way into the hotel, where signs directed him to a ballroom on the third floor.
He’d had good intentions about doing some preliminary work to prepare for the event, such as finding out where he might find the exhibitors his father wanted him to talk to. But with Lucy sick for most of the weekend and too many other things he’d rather do, he was walking in cold.
The first indication of what was to come was the security guard checking IDs to ensure attendees were over eighteen. Inside the bag he was given at registration were samples of things he’d enjoy looking at later with Lucy.
He proceeded into a massive exhibition hall that was packed to the gills with people. Other than the time he’d gone to a Rolling Stones concert in Boston, he’d never been in a room with so many people. Or penises. The penis seemed to be everywhere he looked, in a dazzling array of colors and textures and materials. And they were all big. Really, really big.
Choking back the need to laugh, he wished he had the nerve to whip out his phone and take some pictures. He and his brothers would have a field day with those photos. But the people around him were engaged in serious conversations—and demonstrations—so he reined in his inner fifteen-year-old and proceeded into the hall, determined to do what he’d been sent here to do and then get the hell out of here as quickly as he could.
A woman wearing a bustier with thigh-high stockings and spike heels approached him with a tray of cookies. Only these cookies were little penises wearing cock rings and breasts with clamps affixed to the nipples. Hiding his amusement from the server, he took one of each, wrapped them in a napkin, and stashed them carefully in his bag to share with Lucy later.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He continued down the aisle and happened upon an ongoing demonstration about the different types of lube. Fascinating. He’d had no idea there were types—or flavors for that matter. He hoped they’d included some of that strawberry stuff in his goodie bag.
Don’t think about what you might do with that. Not here and not now. Although in this room, another hard penis would be right at home. Lucy was correct. He was a fifteen-year-old boy pretending to be twenty-six. In fact, he was probably the worst possible person his father could’ve sent on this mission. No, Landon and Lucas would’ve been worse. And Max. They would’ve been totally ridiculous here—especially together.
Colton was the picture of maturity compared to the three of them. And then he tried to imagine Hunter here and nearly lost his shit laughing. He sent a text to Lucy. I’m traumatized.
She wrote right back. Is it crazy?
Pretending to text, he took a photo of a woman in an adjacent booth demonstrating the proper application of nipple clamps—on her own nipples—and sent it to Lucy.
OUCH! Bring me something—not that though.
I’ve got a whole goodie bag to share with you.
I like goodies. Don’t look at strange boobies. You’ll go blind.
For the first time in my life, I actually wish I were blind right now.
Hahahahaha. Wish I’d gone with you. Sounds like more fun than writing html.
Going to do what I came here for, and then I am out of here.
Stay strong, little scout. See you when you’re done.
I’m going to need you to hold me.
Any time. Xoxo
CHAPTER 29
Sugar content of sap: The range was 2.3 percent to 1.3 percent. Others reported a sweeter season than ours.
—Colton Abbott’s sugaring journal, after the boil
Smiling after the exchange with Lucy, Colton stashed the phone in his pocket and continued through the exhibit hall until he found the area he’d come to see. A woman wearing a tag with the name Joyce was overseeing the booth. She had blonde hair and wore a sharp red suit. When Colton arrived, she was talking to a couple about her product line and how it brought sizzle back into the love lives of postmenopausal women and their partners.
An image of his mother popped into his head, and he quickly suppressed it. Under no circumstances would he think about her right now. Or his aunts. Or any other over-fifty women he’d ever known in his life. While he waited his turn to talk to Joyce, Gertrude “Dude” Danforth’s face appeared in his mind, along with her “boyfriend,” Skeeter, who helped Nolan out at the garage. Make it stop, he said silently to his overactive imagination as he perused the line of vibrating devices, lubricants and personal “massagers.” Um, okay.
As his eyes wandered to the Kegel and prostate “exercising” devices, he reached his limit and stopped looking.
“Hi there. I’m Joyce. May I help you?”
“Colton Abbott from the Green Mountain Country Store in Butler, Vermont.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
“You have no idea . . .”
Joyce laughed at his response and the grimace that went along with it. “So what brings you to the show?”
“My dad and his big ideas about how products like yours would be a good fit for our store.”
“I take it you have a lot of customers who are over fifty?”
“We do.”
“In that case, I bet my products would fly off your shelves. Let me tell you all about them. All of our products are also adaptable to people with special needs,” she began.
Colton wanted to beg for mercy. But rather, he let Joyce lead him around the booth, filling his head with words and images that all the booze in Manhattan couldn’t erase.
He emerged from the hotel several hours later a changed man and in possession of things he’d never given a thought to before today. His brain was muddled and filled with thoughts that had his blood racing through his veins, all of it accumulating predictably in one place. He pulled on the collar of the shirt he’d ironed at Lucy’s apartment last night. It was some kind of hot in this city.
Colton pulled out his phone and called Lucy.
“Did you survive?”
“Just barely. How soon can you meet me at your place?”
“About an hour or so.”
“I should be able to make it until then.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll find out when you get home.”
“You’re sort of scaring me right now,” she said with a laugh.
“I’ve been scared all day.”
“How are you getting home?”
“I thought I might walk.”
“Don’t be crazy. It’s too hot to walk. Grab a cab. You’ve got the keys, right?”
“Yep. Hey, Luce?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you know the sex toy and novelty industry brings in fifteen billion dollars a year in this country?”
“Is that billion with a B?”
“Sure is. If you’re ever in the market for penis-themed bachelorette party products, I can hook you up.”
“That’s very good to know. You never know when you might need a good rubber penis.”
Her quick retort made him groan, among other reactions. “Don’t talk about penises. It ma
kes mine want you more than it already does.”
“You brought it up.”
“Don’t use the word up around him right now. He’s very fragile after the day we’ve had.”
She laughed so hard she went silent for a full minute. “Fragile my ass.”
“Great. Now I’m thinking about your ass. Get home, will you.”
“I’m coming.”
“Lucy!”
Her laughter made him smile as he continued to walk along busy, congested sidewalks. He wondered if his goofy grin would have people thinking he was strange, but no one paid any attention to him. They were all frantically moving toward their next destination, many of them wearing earbuds or walking with their noses to their phones.
He bought a hot dog and an icy-cold Coke from a sidewalk vendor with a thick New Yawk accent. It was the best hot dog Colton had ever had. He’d planned to get a cab but was still walking twenty blocks later when he came to a stop outside a gourmet shop. After checking his reflection in the window to make sure there was no leftover ketchup on his face, he stepped into the cool store.
It was the kind of place that carried a hundred different types of olive oil and another hundred kinds of vinegar. There were bins of coffee beans waiting to be ground to order, pasta and grains, homemade sauces, jams and breads of all kinds.
“Help you with something?” a male voice asked.
“Just looking,” Colton replied.
“Let me know if you see something that interests you.”
“I do have one question.”
“Sure.”
“Do you carry any kind of maple syrup?”
“I’m afraid we don’t.”
“Would you have any interest in stocking syrup made in Vermont? Perhaps under your own label?” The idea took hold as he said the words.
“How do you mean?”
“We make it, you carry it, and we put it in packaging that meshes with your corporate brand.” Colton hoped the guy couldn’t tell he was making this up as he went along.
“I’m intrigued. How would it work?”
Colton spent an hour talking to Stefano, who turned out to be the owner of the store, and when he emerged into the heat of the day, he’d landed a client in New York.