Only for You

by Barb Curtis

  Lunch was served in a warm-up cabin and consisted of pancakes, baked beans, and sausages drizzled with syrup. They gathered around a big wooden table and chatted with Bill and Connie about how they got their start in the maple syrup business.

  Emily took an instant liking to the couple and could tell that Tim had as well. They were in their mid-sixties, if she had to guess. Bill teased Connie about giving up the city life to tap trees, and she laughed and said that the moment she tried his syrup she never looked back. They entertained the crowd with maple trivia, and the four of them could have easily been old friends, sitting around a table sharing stories.

  In the afternoon, they gathered around the outdoor fireplace, where huge pots of sap were suspended over the fire and already boiling. Bill and Connie’s son Paul explained that similar to the tapping, the outdoor fireplace was really just for demonstration purposes. The real production took place inside the sugar shack.

  Tim reached for Emily’s hand as they moved on to the maple taffy station, just across from the main barn that housed the sugar shack. “Have you ever tasted maple taffy?”

  “I don’t think so. Not that I can remember, anyway.”

  He flashed a grin. “Oh, you’d remember, trust me.”

  Fragrant steam rose out of large stainless steel pots boiling on a propane camp stove. A woman stationed behind them briefed Emily and Tim on the making of taffy. “Basically we’re boiling maple syrup until it reaches a temperature of about 235 to 240 degrees.” She ladled long lines of it onto a big block of snow. “The snow instantly cools it down. Roll it onto a popsicle stick, and you’ve got yourself a lollipop to suck on.”

  She passed one to Emily and another to Tim.

  “That’s delicious,” Emily said, pointing hers at Tim. She lowered her voice. “We are definitely inviting her to set up a table at the festival. The kids would love it.”

  “The kids,” he repeated, licking his taffy. “Yes, we must do it for the children.”

  Snorting, she elbowed him playfully.

  Inside the sugar shack, they got to taste different types of maple syrup and learn about all of the maple products produced at the farm, from syrup to butter to vinaigrettes to mustards. Emily bit into a piece of fudge. “Thank goodness maple season only comes once a year. I don’t think my waistline could handle it otherwise.”

  Some of the staff convinced them to take part in an ax-throwing contest that was happening a short wagon ride away. They were given a demo from a bearded guy Emily could only describe as lumberjack chic. Tim’s laughter bellowed over the woodlot when she missed the target by a mile. He appeared to know what he was doing when he took his turn, though, actually making contact with the target. He declared that the Sapphire Springs festival was having an ax-throwing contest in town square.

  Whether Fuzzy went along with the ax throwing remained to be seen, but the mayor had been right. Ideas for the festival were snowballing faster than from any committee brainstorming session. As the festival was just a month away, they’d need to do a lot of work to pull it all off on time.

  Seeing Tim swing an ax again wasn’t the worst thing in the world, either.

  Before the evening meal was served, a band set up and began to entertain in the barn. Bill grabbed Connie’s hand and spun her into a little jig. Emily was clapping to the music and getting a kick out of them until Tim surprised her by pulling her up with them.

  Everyone was having a blast, and Lars stayed in the background, capturing it all, as Fuzzy promised. They gathered around the big table again for a meal of ham, garlic mashed potatoes, split pea soup, and local craft beer.

  Tim had a long chat with the brewer while Emily filled Connie in on the maple-infused treats she’d be offering during the festival.

  The day was filled with maple culture—a way of life Emily had never known anything about.

  After dinner they decided to take a break from the festivities and go for a little snowshoe along the path that looped through the woods behind the barn. The stars had begun to pop out, but the pathway was lit with little lights strung up to brighten the way.

  They chatted about the events of the day and pooled their ideas to take back to Fuzzy for the festival.

  “It’s nice to finally have some alone time,” Tim commented, glancing at her from across the path as they followed the sound of the music back toward the barn.

  “It is. The day has been incredible, though, hasn’t it? And the cameras weren’t too intimidating. I actually kind of forgot about them after a while.”

  “Me too—mostly,” Tim agreed.

  As soon as the sun had gone down, the temperature dropped and the air turned crisp and cool. They unstrapped their snowshoes and leaned them against the side of the barn. Laughter and melodies trickled out through the rafters. Rather than move to go inside, Tim wandered over to lean his back against the rustic split-rail fence. Extending both his arms out to his sides, he stretched. A smile parted his lips, and he tilted his head a little—a silent come-hither gesture.

  “You’re still relieved to have a break from it all, though, huh?” She met him at the fence and nearly melted when his hands traveled up her back, warm even through her coat.

  “I’ve been wanting to have a minute alone with you all day.” He lowered his lips to hers, tasting her in long soft strokes, stirring her from within.

  Her arms circled his neck, and she wove her fingers through the curls of his hair. A soft sigh escaped when their lips parted.

  Tim rolled his lips together, as though he were trying to preserve the kiss. When he spoke, his voice was low. “You know this arrangement has shown me sides of you I never knew. And I thought we already knew each other pretty well.”

  She leaned on the fence and studied him. “What kind of sides?”

  He considered, biting on his lip. “You’ve got a heart of gold. You’re sensitive, caring. I think I’ve learned you’re more adventurous than I ever realized, too. You’re up for anything, and you always make it fun.”

  A smile pulled on her lips. “And is that a good thing?”

  “It’s a very good thing,” he grinned.

  Was there such a thing as too much fun, though? Part of her worried that’s all it was for him—that it wasn’t genuine. What if his feelings weren’t rooted the way hers were? After all, hers had had so much longer to take hold.

  Because they were on some kind of maple high, standing alone in a romantic setting, and it seemed like there would be no better time than now, she took a chance and asked the question weighing on her. “Tim…what are we doing?”

  He took his time responding.

  Emily wove her fingers together. Shit. Had her desperate need for clarification just blown everything? His silence all but ate her alive.

  “We’re getting closer, and getting used to this new version of us.” His eyes zeroed in on hers. “I don’t know what else to say at this point other than to tell you that I’m loving every minute of it.”

  Her heart swelled. Thank God. That answer would do just fine, at least for now. She rested her hands on his chest and rose up on her toes to kiss him again. “How much longer do you think we have to stick around this barn party before we can sneak back to our cabin?”

  He took her hand in his and pulled her toward the laughter and music drifting from the barn. “Let’s go on in for a final appearance and then call it a night.”

  The music grew louder when they pulled back the heavy door, and in the short time they’d been outside, the party had picked up. The band was in the middle of a lively rendition of a catchy Mumford & Sons song. Bill, Connie, and a bunch of other people were dancing along to the banjo solo. Tim ordered them each a beer, but before Emily could even take a sip, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her up onto the little platform that served as a stage.

  Paul, Connie and Bill’s son, passed her two spoons.

  “What am I supposed to do with those?” She yelled over the music.

  He placed the backs of the
m together and tapped them against his leg to the beat of the music. With a nervous giggle, she gave it a try, pleased when they rattled just like Paul’s demonstration.

  Tim craned his head back and laughed, the sound floating over the chatter and the music. She stayed on stage with the band for the rest of the song, but when it ended, she passed the spoons back to Paul. “You might want to leave this up to the professionals.”

  He offered her a high five. “You’re a good sport.”

  She was a few paces away from where Tim leaned his back against the bar when the band’s singer announced that Bill had made a special request—Connie’s favorite song, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.” Today was their anniversary.

  Connie teared up and met Bill on the dance floor. A bunch of other couples joined them, and Tim grinned, holding out his hand. “Wanna dance?”

  She followed him to the dance floor and swayed with him, loving the feel of his body against hers and his warm breath on her neck every time he whispered something in her ear. The rest of the crowd clapped along and the room seemed to swirl around them. She rose up on her toes toward his ear, to be heard over the music. “I love this song. I’d forgotten all about it.”

  “Me too,” he agreed, spinning her in a circle and singing along.

  He wasn’t kidding when he said he was a horrible singer. Not that she could carry a tune either, but any part of her that still preached cautionary warnings disappeared in that moment.

  By the last chorus, the entire room was singing and cheering, showering anniversary wishes on Connie and Bill.

  When the song ended they clapped with the rest of the crowd. “What do you say?” Tim asked, yelling over his clapping. “Wanna get out of here?”

  She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the big double doors.

  Thankfully somebody had the foresight to get a fire going earlier in the day, or the cabin would have been freezing. Tim opened the door of the woodstove and threw on another log, warming his hands in front of the crackling fire for a few seconds before securing the door again.

  After a few minutes exploring the rustic rooms and the loft upstairs where they’d be sleeping, Emily discovered the bathroom was outfitted with an old-fashioned claw-foot tub. I cannot spend the night here without having a bubble bath in that tub, she’d declared, so he ran a hot bath for her while she rummaged through her massive toiletry bag for a travel-sized bottle of bubble bath. He found a candle for her and opened the complimentary bottle of wine.

  He took pleasure in the fact that she was making the most of their night’s stay. He poured himself a glass of wine and sunk into the loveseat by the woodstove and tipped his head back to gaze at the cabin’s rafters. The day had exceeded any expectations he might’ve had when Fuzzy called that morning to say they were on for filming the episode. It had been a long day but so much fun, once he got used to Lars hovering over his shoulder.

  He caught himself watching Emily all day. Not in the way he usually did, like when he appreciated her backside in a pair of tight jeans or when she took forever to apply her lip gloss. No, the things he noticed today seemed much more minor, yet not.

  Like when she’d lifted the ax and hurled it toward the target, then laughed at herself for missing the mark by such a drastic distance. Or the way her eyes sparkled when she told Connie about her ideas for the festival. Or her goofy grin when he spun her around the dance floor in the barn.

  What are we doing?

  He’d had a difficult time answering her question, because he was falling for her, and since Melissa, Tim Fraser did not want to fall for anyone again. Ever.

  But his chest hurt when he kissed her outside earlier. It ached when they’d danced, and his heart swelled right now, anticipating her walking out of that bathroom.

  He had shit to figure out.

  His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating. Tim pulled it out of his back pocket. Melissa. What the hell? He hadn’t heard from her since New Year’s Day.

  I’m so sorry you’re getting dragged into all this drama.

  Please talk to me.

  I miss you.

  While Emily hummed in the bathroom, Tim’s jaw clenched and his grip tightened on his phone. Why couldn’t she just leave him alone? He clicked on her name and selected Block—something he should’ve done months ago, but it had seemed as though she’d finally gotten the hint.

  Sayonara, Melissa. With a click of a button, she was out of his life, and he didn’t even feel bad about it.

  With a burst of light in the hall, Emily emerged from the bathroom. A blend of vanilla and coconut wafted in her wake, immediately alleviating some of his tension. The smell of Emily. He could suffocate from it and die a happy man. She wore black leggings and a thin blue top that slipped off one shoulder. She set her wineglass down on the coffee table and settled beside him, curling her feet up under her.

  Her hair was piled high on her head, and he tucked a piece that had fallen out behind her ear. “How was your bath?”

  Soft little tendrils of damp hair curled at the nape of her neck. She gave a lazy stretch and shifted a little closer. “Amazing. I love those old tubs.” She ran her hand down the sleeve of his plaid shirt. “I can’t believe today was the first time in my life I’ve ever been to a sugar shack. I’ve seriously been missing out.”

  He loved feeling her hand on his arm. “It was a lot of fun, huh? I especially liked when you played the spoons.”

  Her light laugh floated over the room.

  There was that tightening in his chest again, harder than he’d ever felt it before.

  “I think I did all right for a rookie.”

  Toying with her hair, he met her gaze. “You did. You were great.” He leaned closer, let her smell envelop him, and paused, their lips within an inch of each other. He took a moment to appreciate every shade of blue in her eyes before lowering his lids and kissing her, feeling those soft lips smiling against his. He stroked her cheek as he deepened the kiss, and her hand tightened around his forearm when she thrust her tongue a little harder.

  Without breaking the kiss, he pulled her on top of him so she straddled him and could feel for herself what she did to him.

  She unbuttoned his shirt and let her warm hands roam over his chest and ribs. He trailed kisses across her bare shoulder, pushing her top away as he went.

  “God, you smell good,” he managed on a haggard breath.

  He shifted her so he could stand up, then held his hand out to her.

  Her cheeks were flushed, and some of her hair had slipped out of the elastic. She took his hand, and he pulled her up onto her feet.

  When he scooped her into his arms, a yelp escaped her, followed by a giggle, and he carried her up the stairs.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In true sugar shack fashion, they ended their stay with a traditional lumberjack breakfast: the biggest stack of pancakes Emily had ever seen, eggs, bacon, roasted potatoes—all with a generous serving of maple syrup.

  After thanking Bill and Connie and making plans to get together for a drink during the festival, Tim and Emily drove away from the farm and back into town. They chatted about yesterday’s events and decided to hold a committee meeting as soon as possible so they could share all their new ideas with the group.

  When they arrived back at the shoe factory, they indulged in a long, lingering kiss in the cab of Tim’s truck before reluctantly parting ways so they could both take their stuff inside and make their way to work for the day.

  Harlow was chatting with Leyna at the front counter when Emily arrived at Tesoro. “Hey, boss, how was the tree tapping?”

  Emily caught Leyna’s eye. “It was great. We made a lot of contacts for the festival. Has the morning been busy?”

  Harlow shook her head. “Not overly. We got a few new online orders, but they’re for cakes a couple of months from now.” She pointed to the door. “You want coffee? I think I’m going to walk over to Jolt.”

  “Yes, I’d love one, thank you.
Lane? Do you want one?”

  Leyna responded by lifting the Jolt cup in her hand. When Harlow’s heels cleared the threshold, Leyna’s expression broke into a smile. “Well, you look rested.” She held out her phone toward Emily. There, on the screen, was a picture of Emily and Tim kissing last night outside the barn.

  The fact that some sneaky photographers lurked behind trees or buildings or wherever and snapped intimate moments between her and Tim was no longer a surprise. They’d practically come to expect it. Emily walked past her into the kitchen and stripped off her coat. “I am so screwed.”

  Leyna grinned around the lip of her coffee cup. “Don’t you mean you got so—”

  “No, no, no.” Emily stamped her shoe against the tile floor and began to pace. “This thing with Tim has gone way beyond blurred lines. I’m in love with him.”

  “What else is new?” Leyna shrugged. “You’ve been in love with him for years.”

  Shaking her head, Emily wandered to the window to peer out at Great Wide Open. “Not like this.” Whatever she’d thought she felt for Tim all those years had nothing on this.

  After a few seconds of silence, Leyna sat on a stool. “Okay, so you guys have come to a new place. That’s good, right? It’s not all just joking around and casual sex?”

  “I mean, yeah, it’s good, if we’re on the same page. And we’ve talked about it, so I think we are, but I also know Tim never planned on this.” She’d been present for enough of his I’m done with relationships declarations.

  Leyna inspected the toe of her black boot. “So maybe he’s just figuring it all out, same as you are. It’s only been, what, a couple of weeks you guys have been sleeping together? I don’t think you need to panic. I know he said he’d never do the relationship thing again, but give him a chance to come around to the idea.”

  Leyna was right. Tim’s views on relationships had been cemented for years before Melissa came onto the scene. He may have reconsidered them during their relationship, but getting cheated on by the one person he’d made an exception for had successfully reinstated everything he’d ever believed, and then some.