Stone Bridges

by Carla Neggers

  As she turned, he snapped a picture of her, capturing, he was sure, her look of love, hope and confusion. A heady mix it was, he thought. He lowered his camera. “What’s on your mind, Adrienne?”

  She glanced at the brook, one leaf hung up on a rock, the other still on its way to Quabbin. “I can’t fall for you as a way to belong here, be a part of this town.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “No. It’s not. It’s what I worry I’m doing.”

  He stepped close to her. “You don’t strike me as the worrying type.”

  She grinned suddenly, catching him by surprise. “You see? You know me well.”

  “And you like that?”

  “I like it a lot.” She nodded to the bridge. “How old is it?”

  “Mid-nineteenth century.”

  “So it was built after Olivia’s place.”

  “About the same time as the house that’s now just the cellar hole where Tyler, Aidan and Owen hid. Turns out a stonemason lived there. He built this bridge and the wall I repaired at Carriage Hill. It wasn’t original to the property. It was added later.” Adam looked up at the bridge with its carefully constructed, enduring stone arches. “Thomas Eaton was his name. He did a lot of the old stonework around town.”

  “What happened to him?” Adrienne asked.

  He heard the note of dread in her voice, and smiled. “He died at eighty-seven at home.”

  “For real?”

  “I got curious and looked up his obituary at the library the other day.”

  “That means he died in the house that used to stand where the boys hid from a moose they thought was a dinosaur.”

  Adam shook his head. “They never thought that moose was a dinosaur.”

  She laughed, and he snapped that photo, too.

  * * *

  The “golden hour” to grab decent photos had passed by the time they returned to Carriage Hill, and Olivia, Dylan and Buster had arrived. Adam left Adrienne with them and headed back to Echo Lake. He grabbed Violet and took her for a long walk. It was fully dark by the time they got back. He let her sleep by the fire while he walked up to the main house to check on a problem Vic had mentioned with the wine cellar. But it was fine.

  When he made his way upstairs to the kitchen, he found Adrienne opening a cupboard. She jumped, let out a yelp of surprise.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I’m trying out new breakfast menus for the inn. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to turn on the stove and faucet here. Get a change of scenery.”

  “Restless?”

  “I got to thinking about Vic. Do you think he could be in trouble?”

  “In danger, you mean?”

  She nodded and pulled a saucepan out of the cupboard.

  “If he is, he has good people looking after him.”

  “Like Brody and Greg,” she said.

  Adam watched as she placed the pan on the stove. He wasn’t convinced she had a real plan for her breakfast items. “You thought it’d help you to be here.”

  “Cooking’s a nice switch from getting templates and workflows in place. It’s Maggie’s territory, but she doesn’t mind—I’m the one who sets up breakfasts and we both like to experiment.”

  He leaned against the counter. “We’re not talking avocado toast, are we?”

  She grinned at him. “Homemade apple butter and oatmeal bread. Warm plum compote with local yogurt. Traditional quiche lorraine made with local ham and cheese.”

  “Now my mouth’s watering.”

  She laughed. “Mine, too.”

  Adam watched her dump a basket of small plums into the sink and turn on the faucet to rinse them. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Maybe when I get to the apples.” Her eyes on the plums, she took a breath. “Vic asked me once what’s my heart’s desire. I didn’t know what he was talking about.”

  “I wouldn’t have, either.”

  “It got me thinking. I’ve just gone from one thing to the next, one place to the next since college—but I’ve made great friends. I wasn’t running from anything. I was running to things. New adventures, I guess. Working on my blog and my consulting. Figuring out my life.”

  “Living your life,” Adam said.

  “Yeah.” She beamed a smile at him. “Thanks for that. What’s your heart’s desire, Adam? A place here at the lake with golden retrievers, bonfires with your brothers, get-togethers at the family homestead?”

  “Right now it’s kissing you.”

  His words took her by surprise. “Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then...” She placed her hand on the back of his neck. “Far be it from me to keep you from your heart’s desire.”

  He smiled, lowering his mouth to hers. Their kiss was deep, lending itself to more—her palms easing down his back to his waistband, his palms on her hips, lifting her onto him. He pressed himself into her, and she responded by tightening her hold, so her breasts were pushed against his chest.

  It took supreme self-control on his part to set her on the floor and stand back, but damned if he was going to make love to her in Vic’s kitchen. But that wasn’t the only thing on his mind. “You can’t let the town and Vic get between us—fall for me because of them, don’t fall for me because of them. What’s going on here is between us.”

  “I know.” She touched her fingertips to her lips, still feeling the effects of their kiss. “Just let my pulse return to normal first, okay?”

  He grinned at her and kissed her on the forehead. “Okay.” He stepped back and pulled open the back door. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Right. Yes.” She blew out a breath and smiled at him. “See you tomorrow.”

  Eighteen

  Adrienne cut up damson plums into the saucepan, added sugar and water and put them on to simmer. She washed the cutting board and paring knife. Apple butter would take longer. She could at least get it started. She grabbed her bag of Cortland apples.

  This town, she thought. Adam Sloan. They went together. Belonged together. She wasn’t sure she did, but she loved Knights Bridge—and she was falling in love with him.

  And she knew what he was doing. Why he’d left the way he had. It wasn’t about patience or holding back this time. It was about intention and choice, and maybe a little foreplay, too.

  Maybe a lot of foreplay.

  The plums came to a boil and she turned them off. They could sit a while. The apples weren’t going anywhere, and it wouldn’t hurt to leave them on the counter. She could make apple butter later, or tomorrow—or never. She could buy locally-made apple butter at the country store. Then again, maybe Maggie would be making some.

  Adrienne tore open the back door and ran down the steps, kicking through fallen leaves as she made her way down to the guesthouse. She stopped hard by the lake. Pluck Adam out of Knights Bridge and plop him in California? Would he be the same man he was now? Would she be attracted to him in the same way? But it was a stupid hypothetical. He was here and he wasn’t going anywhere. She was the wild card on that score.

  He was on the deck with Violet. Adrienne ran up the stairs and stood in front of him. She was breathless, but she wasn’t changing her mind. She knew what she wanted, and when he settled those blue eyes of his on her, she knew she wanted it now.

  “I don’t want to see you tomorrow,” she told him.

  He smiled slightly, knowingly. “No, huh?”

  “No. I want to be with you now. Tonight.”

  “That’s good.” He moved closer to her. “Because I was wondering what my next move would be if you didn’t come down here.”

  “Make love on Vic’s porch?”

  “Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

  He slipped his arms around her and drew her to him, kissing her slowly, de
eply, even as he lifted her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into his chest. In a few swift steps, he carried her inside, into his bedroom. He laid her on the bed and smiled, still on his feet. “Let me tell Violet she’s not invited.” That amounted to shutting the door with his foot before returning to her. “Adrienne...”

  She heard the urgency in his voice. “I know. I can’t wait any longer, either.”

  But wait they did, because there was the matter of clothes. Layers of clothes, this being late fall in New England. She inhaled at the sexy warmth of his T-shirt under his canvas shirt, the tautness of his chest and shoulders, and then the feel of his bare skin. Her body filled with a thousand sensations that all cried out for him. He helped her with her practical thermal shirt. “I was freezing one morning and picked it up at the country store...”

  “It does the trick.” He skimmed his fingers across her breasts and smiled. “Definitely.”

  In the next instant, the shirt was on the floor, followed by her bra and then her pants—and his pants. He came to her, kissing her as she lay on her back. She stroked him from his hips to his shoulders, discovering a couple of scars she hadn’t known he had. She’d ask him about them sometime...not now. She could hardly catch her breath, never mind utter a coherent word. Then he lowered his mouth to her breasts, took a nipple in his lips and she moaned with a longing that further took her breath away. She felt the heat of his tongue, writhed under him even as he positioned himself between her legs. He was hard, ready. And she couldn’t wait.

  He rose up from her and locked eyes with her. She grabbed his hips, and he thrust into her, no hesitation, driving deep as she managed to cry out his name. He was making love to her. Finally. At last. She gave herself up to the feel of him inside her, let her longing take over and guide her, until her entire body exploded with a million sensations. She dug her fingers into him, but he didn’t stop, didn’t slacken his pace.

  They came together, in a shimmering, exquisite release that left them spent, sheets tangled, the cool night breeze rippling across their overheated bodies. She hadn’t realized he’d had a window cracked open. She smiled, brushing her fingertips across his chest. Only a Sloan would have a window open on a night like tonight.

  He caught her hand in his. “Cold?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “I’ll keep you warm.”

  “I know you will.” She did, too. She rolled on top of him. “We’ll keep each other warm.”

  * * *

  Adam left early to work on his big project in the village. Adrienne lingered in bed. He’d drawn the blankets over her before slipping out to have breakfast at Smith’s in the village, but he hadn’t shut the window. She could feel the clear, crisp early-morning air, and she could hear birds. A million birds, she thought, sitting up with the covers still around her. A flock of Canada geese had gathered on the lake, glistening in the sunlight. She smiled, taking in the perfection of this moment. She had no desire to be anywhere else.

  She eventually gathered up her clothes off the floor and got dressed. She’d take a shower and put on fresh clothes when she got back to the inn. Nothing about last night felt impulsive. She had no regrets. She was positive none would pop up later, when she’d had a chance to rouse herself from the glow of a night of incredible sex.

  It was quiet at Vic’s house. She missed seeing him on the porch or in front of the fire with his iPad. But that day would come.

  She made coffee and warmed up the plums and had them with yogurt. She’d told Maggie and Olivia she’d be up here to cook. It wasn’t a stretch to think she’d decided to spend the night. They’d know apple butter needed time to simmer.

  Adrienne walked out onto the porch. With the leaves off the trees, she could see even more of the lake. She didn’t have to be anywhere right away, but she did have to get back to Carriage Hill to meet with Felicity MacGregor about events through the holidays.

  It was hard to believe Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve were upon them.

  She didn’t linger at the lake and instead returned to Carriage Hill. She waved to Adam and his crew at work in the village, but no one was at the inn. She took a quick shower and put on fresh clothes.

  She and Felicity had agreed to meet for lunch in town. As Adrienne grabbed her keys in the kitchen, she checked her phone and saw she had an email from her mother. In Sophia Portale’s usual direct manner, she informed Adrienne that the corporate executive she’d been seeing for a few years had exited. I’m not upset. He’s not upset. Onward to...well, somewhere in Europe for starters.

  Wasn’t that typical of her mother? She was nothing if not resilient. Adrienne typed her response. Call me if you want to talk. I’m making apple butter. She grinned as she hit Send. Maybe her mother would surprise her and applaud the idea of her only daughter making apple butter in her quaint New England inn.

  As she headed out to her borrowed car, Adrienne realized she’d had a perfectly fine childhood, if nothing like a Sloan childhood. She was relieved her enterprising mother had her own business to absorb some of her achievement-oriented energy and not just a daughter. Her mother hadn’t planned on having a baby so soon. That was obvious now, but it would undoubtedly remain forever unspoken between them. And that was okay, Adrienne thought. It wasn’t really any of her business. Her mother had no regrets, and Adrienne, now that the shock had long worn off, had no complaints.

  Felicity was on a tear when Adrienne slid into a booth opposite her at Smith’s. “I am prying the Rawlings-Bennett wedding out of Samantha’s hands,” Felicity said. “I’m not really a wedding planner, but it’s going to be an unconventional wedding—and she’s not the person to be at the helm. It’s not a secret. I told her as much, and she said she’d pay me in pirate’s gold if I took it on.” Felicity dumped cream in her mug of coffee. “I wouldn’t put it past her to have pirate’s gold.”

  Adrienne wouldn’t, either. She ordered a turkey club with chips and planned on having pie.

  Felicity settled on the turkey vegetable soup. “Hungry, aren’t you?” But she didn’t wait for Adrienne to answer. “By the way, I stopped at Carriage Hill first thing this morning. You weren’t there.”

  “I spent the night at the lake.”

  “Uh-huh. Adam Sloan lives in Vic’s guesthouse, doesn’t he?”

  “Mm.”

  “You two...” Felicity sighed. “Never mind. I just dealt with town gossip when Gabe and I got together. It was all we could do to keep people from spying on us skinny-dipping at our old swimming hole on the river.”

  “Did you—”

  She grinned. “We did not skinny-dip. Everything else, though. And no spies. But it felt like it. I heard you and Adam waved to each other when you passed him this morning. People assume you were on the way back from the lake.”

  “People?”

  “Adam’s grandmother. Elly O’Dunn. Clare Farrell at the library.”

  “And you found this out how?”

  “People tell me things,” she said, matter-of-fact.

  “Well, it’s true. Adam and I are seeing each other.”

  Felicity beamed a smile across the table. “No way. Really?”

  Adrienne sighed at her teasing tone. “Everyone knows?”

  “Everyone. We’ve all just been waiting for one or both of you to admit it.”

  “There are no secrets in this town.”

  “There are, just not that one.”

  “Is it a problem?”

  Felicity frowned. “Problem for...?”

  “I don’t know. Anyone.”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it? I haven’t heard a single snarky word, but...” Felicity narrowed her gaze on Adrienne. “Did I blunder into a sensitive subject? It’s not the first time. I’ll shut up now.”

  Felicity was another one in town who didn’t mince words, something Ad
rienne appreciated. She smiled past her awkwardness. “No—no, you didn’t.”

  “You’re a private person. Adam’s a private person. I get it. Then there’s Ambassador Scarlatti.” Felicity paused as if debating what to say. “Never mind. Let’s go through your events and then order pie and talk about Greg Rawlings and Charlotte Bennett’s wedding at Red Clover Inn. You try planning something with those two.” She was obviously not the least put out. “We’re going to need Carriage Hill. Do you have plans yet for Thanksgiving?”

  “You mean like family coming in?” Adrienne shook her head. “No, nothing. I hope Vic will be back by then, but I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to join Gabe and me. We’re having his grandfather and Mark and Jess to our place on the river. But maybe you’ll end up doing Thanksgiving with the Sloans.” She held up a hand and grinned. “You do not need to respond. The wedding is Friday morning—I want to have everything ready so we can enjoy Thanksgiving.”

  “We can talk about the wedding now and do Carriage Hill over pie.”

  Felicity sighed. “I’d rather plan ten entrepreneurial boot camp weekends than one wedding. Greg and Charlotte are laid-back, at least about their wedding, and we’ve had plenty of time to plan. But they swore most of their family members wouldn’t attend. They invited everyone. And guess what?”

  “They’re all coming.”

  Felicity smiled. “Every last one of them.”

  Nineteen

  Adam stopped at Carriage Hill that evening and helped Adrienne finish the apple butter, easy enough since it mostly involved simmering with occasional stirring. That meant they could slip into her suite. She thought they might take their time, but they tore off each other’s clothes with the same urgency and abandon as last night. But she had to get the apple butter out of the oven and into jars, and that meant slipping out of her warm bed. She put on pajama pants and a tank top and went into the kitchen.