Spicing Things Up Read online

  He turned his back on her to talk to Cody. She took the hint and left.

  Cody stared at him. “Does that happen to you all the time?”

  Tyne laughed. “Not that, in particular, but don’t fool yourself. Size does matter, and Chantelle’s been wanting to do that for a long time.”

  Cody blushed. “My girlfriend doesn’t care about things like that.”

  Tyne snorted. “That just means she’s not disappointed.”

  Cody’s gaze drifted downward and Tyne’s grin broadened. “I don’t disappoint either, but Chantelle’s never going to find out.”

  Chapter 20

  The rain had stopped, but it was a gray, gloomy day. Daphne kept glancing out the back windows of her house on Saturday morning. She’d made a fresh pot of coffee and set out clean mugs. She’d put out the toaster and a loaf of raisin bread. Leaves blazed with color. She almost liked the vivid hues better against the moody background, a contrast to the sunny days they’d had for most of the month. Usually, she’d gaze in awe at nature’s beauty, but today wasn’t one of those moments. Where was he? Had he decided to hike deeper in the forest today? Maybe it was too dreary for him to tramp the trails. But finally, she spotted Tyne on the path that ran behind her property. Just as he approached her yard, she whipped on a sweater and stepped outside, leading Shadow on a leash.

  Tyne glanced over and waved, then came to see the kitten. “Well, look at you.” He opened the back gate and came to join them, frowning at the leash.

  “I’m trying to teach him the yard’s boundaries, so I can let him outside and not worry about him jumping the fence when he’s bigger.”

  “And the leash is working?”

  A bug flew past them and landed on her picket fence. The cat crouched to spring on it. Shadow leapt, and the leash jerked him back. Then he fussed and howled. Daphne sighed. “Not so well. It’s going to be a process.” She bent and released the clasp so that Shadow could run off. Right now, he couldn’t escape the fence, but she knew that time would come.

  When the bug flew away, Shadow scampered back to check out Tyne. Tyne scooped him up and rubbed under his chin. “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you.”

  The cat’s body went limp and he started purring.

  Daphne smiled. How cute was her pet? “It’s not safe for him to go into the forest, but he doesn’t want to stay in the house. Maybe if I got a privacy fence?”

  “That would ruin your view. You couldn’t see outside your yard.”

  “Then I need to train him. There are too many coyotes around here, and I heard an owl last night.” Daphne tilted her head, feigning surprise at seeing him. “I thought you’d hike deeper in the forest to see more leaves.”

  He gestured to the maples that bordered her yard. “Nothing beats the reds and yellows of these.”

  Shadow squirmed to get down to explore the yard. He pounced on every leaf that blew by. They stood, watching him, while Daphne admired how good Tyne looked in low-riding, shabby jeans and a thermal shirt. He wore an open, lightweight jacket, too.

  “I got warm hiking,” he explained. “It’s cool, but once you start moving, it’s comfortable enough.”

  She shivered. She’d tossed on a cardigan, but she should have worn her heavier sweater. “I made coffee. Want some?”

  They walked to the house together. When he stepped inside, he noticed the open door to her sewing room and the new quilt she was working on. “Do you mind?”

  She nodded for him to go look. He was still admiring it when she brought him a mug of black coffee. That’s how he liked it. No frills. “It’s for the community center,” she told him.

  “A tree.” He read the names on each branch that tilted off the trunk—families who lived in the area. Each leaf was a name of one of the family members. “Do you plan on listing every single person who lives in Mill Pond?”

  “No, just prominent people.” They bumped shoulders as she explained how she tried to match the fabric of each leaf to something about the family it represented. “Milk cans are on the fabric for the Evans family.” They made cheeses. Ducks waddled across bright swaths of material for the Danzas’ farm. “And boats are on Chase’s because he loves being on the lake.” There were cupcakes on the bright fabrics for Ian and Tessa’s leaves. Grams’s had little, steepled churches.

  Tyne bent to study some of the leaves she’d cut, but hadn’t sewn in place yet. He shook his head. “I’m impressed.”

  When she glanced up at him, she realized how close they were to each other. Lips barely inches apart. Their gazes locked, and Daphne had never wanted a man to kiss her so badly. She ached with the need. He smelled of fresh air and musk. Of maleness. His gaze went to her lips, lingered there, then he turned away.

  No, no, no! What had Paula told her? That a man can’t survive without encouragement. But what was she supposed to do? Purse her lips? Smile more? The moment had passed. She settled on, “I was going to make some eggs for myself. Are you hungry?”

  His shoulders relaxed. Kitchens and food were his comfort zone. “Starving, I’ll take mine over easy.”

  She stared. She’d never made those before, only scrambled. But how hard could they be? You broke eggs in a pan and turned them over, right?

  She led him into the kitchen and poured him another mug of coffee. He fiddled with bread and the toaster while she started the eggs. She broke them into the pan and watched them cook. How dark did you let the edges get? Maybe dark meant they were burned. She got nervous and flipped them. Yolks ran. She gave a disappointed sound.

  Tyne came up behind her. He chuckled. “These aren’t so easy. Let me show you.”

  She dumped the eggs onto a paper plate for Shadow, and then Tyne showed her what to do, talked her through it. She was unjustifiably proud of herself when she slid them onto his plate. Then she quickly made her own.

  “I’ll have to fix eggs for you sometime,” he said. “You won’t believe how good they are with truffle butter.”

  She frowned. “Eggs and chocolate?”

  His crooked grin told her he was amused. “There are chocolate truffles, but I’m talking about the fungus variety. You can buy butter with truffles blended into it.”

  They sat at the small kitchen table to eat their late breakfast. Tyne was easy to talk to—asked questions and seemed interested in her answers. She found herself jabbering about the different stained-glass and quilt patterns she designed for each season. She finally bit her bottom lip and said, “I haven’t shut up. You haven’t had a chance to talk.”

  “I’ve enjoyed listening to you. You’re usually so private.”

  She frowned. “Am I?”

  “You can be.”

  “Well, enough about me. So you’re interested in owning your own restaurant someday. Do you have anything particular in mind?”

  He told her about his travels, the countries he’d visited, the cuisines he’d tried. “You know I like to do a lot of fusion cooking, combine the elements of the best of each place. Ian’s letting me experiment at the inn. I have a lot of freedom there.”

  She was surprised, later, when she glanced at the clock: Two hours had sped by. He seemed surprised, too.

  “I’ve got to go. I want to finish my hike before my shift starts. Your parents are still here tomorrow, right?”

  She nodded. Why hadn’t they left a day sooner? That way, she’d have Tyne to herself after he finished brunch at the inn on Sunday.

  I’d rather have supper with Tyne. She scolded herself for the thought. What had gotten into her lately? She wasn’t sure, but she’d better figure out a way to distract herself, or she’d moon about Tyne most of the day tomorrow. She decided to call Miriam and spend the day with her. Miriam could distract anyone when she took off on a subject. Any subject would do.

  Daphne walked Tyne to the door and waved him good-bye. It was pretty clear how things were between them. She couldn’t even compete with a nature trail. He’d rather see colored leaves than spend time with her. Sh
e couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t all that exciting, was she?

  Chapter 21

  Neither of them could cook their way out of a burlap bag. Kitchens weren’t their strong point. Miriam read the directions for the pasta sauce again. “It’s supposed to be a white sauce,” she said. “Why is ours brown?”

  Daphne’s stomach growled. “I don’t care what color it is. I’m starving.”

  “How long are we supposed to cook the fettucine?”

  Daphne read the instructions on the side of the box. “I think the water’s supposed to be boiling by now.”

  Miriam glanced at the burner under the pot and sighed. “I forgot and turned the heat off.”

  “What use is having an Aga cooker if you don’t know how to use it?”

  “I didn’t buy it to cook. I bought it because it’s pretty. It suits my cabin.”

  Daphne scooped out strands of firm pasta. They stuck together. “Want to eat some ice cream? I saw some in the freezer. I’ll help you clean up later.”

  “Will that be enough for lunch?” Miriam rummaged in her cupboards and shook her head. “No more pasta anyway.”

  Daphne shrugged. “I’m eating supper with my parents tonight. I’ll buy more deli sides and fill up.”

  They dug out scoops of Neapolitan, drizzled chocolate sauce over them, and settled in front of the living room’s fireplace for their lunch. The white walls and dark beams reminded Daphne of an old English tavern. All she needed was a tankard of ale. When Miriam had scrounged in the cupboards, she found half a bag of stale Oreo cookies she’d hidden so that she’d stop eating them. They dipped those in their ice cream.

  “What are you teaching now?” Daphne asked. She knew from experience that Miriam concentrated on different subjects every three or four weeks.

  Miriam rolled her eyes. “We’re reading Romeo and Juliet. It should be against the law to let high school students read Shakespeare out loud. They butcher iambic pentameter.”

  Daphne laughed. “I’m surprised you still teach that. I thought you’d go for modern literature now to hold the kids’ interest.”

  “What do you suggest? The Hunger Games?”

  “I wouldn’t have a clue. I’m not up on YA novels and authors.”

  Miriam tipped her bowl to drain the last of its contents. “It doesn’t hurt kids to know a few of the classics. I personally think they’d like Macbeth with its witches and murder better than romantic agonizing, but no one asked my opinion.”

  Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Romances are a bunch of sappy lies.”

  Miriam barked a laugh. “You? Who rereads Pride and Prejudice every few years and still has a crush on Mr. Darcy?”

  “I read that for the mannerisms and social norms of the times.”

  “Sure you do.” Miriam carried her bowl to the kitchen and Daphne followed with hers. “Do I take it you’ve given up on the male species altogether?”

  “The species is fine, but finding romance is a bunch of hooey.”

  Miriam turned to study her face. “Is this about the professor?” Daphne made a rude noise. “Patrick? He wouldn’t know romance

  if it bit him on the ass. Romance implies you care about someone other than yourself.”

  Miriam stared, then burst out laughing. “Patrick’s more a Wickham than a Darcy.”

  Daphne shrugged. “He’s not even that interesting. Wickham has him beat.”

  “What’s gotten into you today? Whatever it is, I want to order more of it. You’ve never been this catty. Maybe Shadow’s rubbing off on you.”

  Daphne thought of her kitten and grinned. “Shadow is naughty.”

  “So are you today. But we started out talking about romance. What male has earned this much ire?”

  Daphne made a face. “I thought for one second that Tyne might kiss me yesterday, but he didn’t.”

  Miriam’s blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. “You wanted him to?”

  “I could hardly stand not puckering up and planting one on him.”

  “Oh, my lord!” Miriam went to the refrigerator to pour them each a glass of wine. “This was supposed to go with our pasta, but it pairs great with ice cream, too. And gossip.”

  Daphne took a sip and gave an appreciative nod. “Tyne looked really good yesterday.”

  “When doesn’t he?” Miriam led them back to the sitting room, and they settled once again in the chairs close to the fireplace.

  Daphne frowned and shook her head. “You can’t make that man look bad.”

  “So what happened? Why didn’t he follow through?”

  “He wanted to finish his hike more than he wanted to make out with me. I have zero sex appeal, Miriam. Nada.”

  “You have it. You just hide it.” Miriam glanced down at her long, thin body. “At least, you’re feminine. Men look at me and run.”

  “Then they’re not all that smart, because you’d make them laugh all through life.”

  “Yeah, what every man wants, to marry a comedienne.”

  Daphne’s gaze went to the flames flickering in the fireplace. “I don’t know what men want, but I don’t seem to have it.”

  “To hell with men!” Miriam raised her wine glass in a toast. “To true friendship. You and I will never settle for less.”

  Daphne toasted to that. Never again. She’d gotten lucky when Patrick ditched her. She wouldn’t dodge that particular bullet again. She’d be smarter.

  Chapter 22

  Tyne cranked up the radio on his way to the inn on Sunday morning. “Old Time Rock ’n Roll” blasted inside the Jeep. The early shifts on Sundays and Mondays were always an adjustment after working nights the rest of the week, but they meant he had two evenings free. He rolled his window down a crack, letting the cool air hit him. Get yourself in gear, man. He needed a pep talk. There was something about gray skies that made him want to linger in bed.

  Sunday brunch was a big deal. Both he and Paula were there. He always started the huge ham in the morning. Then they worked together on the waffle batter and toppings. Steph took charge of the lemon crepes with blueberry sauce, and Tyne moved on to the potato pancakes with smoked trout while Paula made the fruit salad and fillings for the omelet station.

  Guests always left happy. Ian swore the inn offered the best brunch for a hundred-mile radius, and as easygoing as Ian was, he took the inn very seriously. Had to. It was his baby, wasn’t it? Best brunch, though? Tyne didn’t know about that. How close was Indy? Their small staff couldn’t compete with the big hotels and restaurants, couldn’t even sneeze at the country clubs. But guests came here for the laid-back atmosphere. They wanted great food, but they didn’t expect full menus. The dining room stayed open from eleven to one, and the guests lingered until he and Paula started cleaning up the buffet. A good sign that they’d enjoyed themselves.

  After cleanup, Paula took off to spend time with Chase and her kids before she came back for the supper shift. Tyne didn’t grump that he and Steph had to stay to start on his part of the supper buffet. As far as he was concerned, working split shifts was the worst. He’d done it before, but it felt like all you did was work with a small break in the middle of your day.

  For supper tonight, he and Steph whipped up fifty wine-braised short ribs to serve over mascarpone polenta. Paula was going for an Italian theme, and the short ribs would blend with the veal parmesan she was serving. The kitchen smelled of sautéed onions and garlic, oregano and red wine. Even if you’d just eaten, the aromas would make your mouth water.

  Gladys, who came in early on Sundays to work the front desk, stuck her head inside and asked, “What is that? You’re killing me out here.” She handed Tyne her empty plate from the sample of brunch items he’d dished up for her.

  “Short ribs. They won’t be tender for another few hours. They’re a low-and-slow type food.”

  She patted her stomach. “I can wait. Everything on that plate was delicious.”

  Tyne rinsed the plate and added it to the stack to get washed. When their entré
e was finished, he and Steph high-fived each other and headed for the door.

  “What are you up today?” he asked on their way out.

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “Ben’s waiting for me at home.”

  “What? No family get-together?”

  Steph gave him a look. “I love Ben’s family. You know I do, but his mom’s sick right now. Caught the flu from one of the grandkids. No one wants to risk hanging out at their place.”

  Tyne could understand that. He’d watched whole families tumble down like dominoes when kids’ germs struck. He raised an eyebrow at Steph. “Hope you put something in the slow cooker. You’re going to be too weak to cook tonight.”

  She laughed. “I made a big pot of stew yesterday to heat up.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “You?”

  “I’m hanging out with Harley and Kathy at the winery. Harley and I are going to tinker on his motorcycle together.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “My afternoon sounds like more fun.”

  He thought about that on the drive to his apartment. He remembered a small town in South America that completely shut down every Sabbath. He and a female bartender who worked in the same café used to spend most of their Sundays in bed. She was going to marry a man much older than she was in a few months, and she told Tyne that she wanted to enjoy every pleasure she could before she said her vows and became a dutiful wife to Eduardo.

  “Does Eduardo know?” Tyne had asked.

  “Yes, we have no secrets. He gave me this time for myself before I devote my life to him.”

  The trade-off had amazed Tyne. He’d balked at first, but then he’d come to terms with it. Eduardo understood the needs of his younger soon-to-be wife, and she respected him for that. Tyne’s mind drifted from those pleasant memories to seeing Daphne yesterday. When she’d been so close, almost within reach, he’d wanted to kiss her. Really wanted to kiss her, but that wouldn’t be fair. She trusted him, and unlike his former lover she was the type who played for keeps. He wasn’t. He’d moved on from South America, traveling to Thailand. He preferred monogamy more than meaningless affairs, but only if it was temporary. The last thing Daphne needed was another hit-and-run. The prof had done enough collateral damage.