Cooking Up Trouble Page 2

  “I’d like that.” He grinned. His grin was good. A girl could be swayed if she wasn’t careful.

  He sighed again when they walked through the arch into the kitchen. White cupboards lined three walls. One row had glass panels to show off the dishes, bowls, and crockery inside. Granite counter tops provided plenty of workspace. Oak floors gleamed in the sunlight spilling through the windows. He sniffed the air. “I wish Lily liked to cook.”

  “Lily?”

  He jammed his hands into his jeans pockets, embarrassed. “My fiancée. I came here to get things ready, and then she’s going to join me.”

  “Smart girl, she’ll miss all the dust and mess.”

  Ian frowned at her. “I should have told you about Lily sooner. I wasn’t thinking. If you cooked a meal to impress me . . .”

  Tessa snorted. “Sorry, I’m not looking. I invited you over because you’re my neighbor. I’m glad you’re engaged. Now we don’t have that awkward guy-girl thing to worry about.”

  Color tinged his cheeks. “I sounded like an ass, didn’t I? But girls have invited me for home-cooked meals before, hoping—”

  She cut him off. “I get it. No problem.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “We can be friends?”

  “That’s my limit these days.” She motioned him to a seat at the cherry table and went to carry the food over. “Why don’t you pour us some of that wine?”

  His gaze scanned the area, the French doors that led out to a three-season room and the white picket fence that bordered the small yard beyond that. Flowerbeds circled the fence, new shoots just beginning to sprout. An herb garden grew at the corner by the house. Beyond the private yard was a vista of gardens and trees, all leading to the lake.

  “Where’s your bakery?” he asked. “In town?”

  She dished chuck roast, potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery onto his plate, then filled her own, then passed him the sautéed green beans. “No, there’s a breezeway that leads to the garage. It blocks the view of the barn on that side of the property. That‘s where the farm stand and bakery are.”

  “So you never have to leave your property, if you don’t want to.”

  “I’m not very social, but being around people is nice now and then. It’s convenient having everything close, though. I spend a lot of time in the barn and gardens in good weather.”

  He looked up from his plate, frowning. “And in bad weather? What do you do then?”

  She grimaced. “I write.”

  He almost dropped his fork. “Sorry, you just surprised me. Mill Pond doesn’t look like a mecca of literary events.”

  She felt her eyebrow rise. Her Gramps used to call it her schoolteacher look, not that she’d ever taught. “What are you saying, that only big cities have people who read?”

  He gripped his fork and stumbled for a reply. “That didn’t come out right. But when I think of publishing, I guess I think of New York.”

  “Not every writer in the whole freaking country lives there.”

  He threw up a hand in surrender. He looked pretty darned attractive, contrite. “True. You’re a writer, and you live here. So what do you write?”

  She hesitated.

  He leaned forward, curious. “Porn?”

  “Oh, my God!”

  He leaned back in his chair and laughed. “I wish you could see your face. Priceless.”

  “You just said that to throw me.” She jabbed her fork at him. “You’re more evil than you look.”

  “I’ve heard that before. My big brother claims I was a terror. If you meet him, don’t believe him.” He cleared his throat, grew more serious. “I bet you’re a technical writer of some kind. I know, a master gardener. No, maybe a baker.” He clicked his fingers together. “Cookbooks! I bet you do cookbooks.”

  “Romances.”

  He coughed, took a sip of water, then stared. “Really? I got the impression you’re not fond of—”

  She interrupted. “I have lots of men friends.”

  “But that’s not romance, is it?” He blinked, trying to organize his thoughts. “Wait. I get it. You got hurt, didn’t you? And now you write about romance, because you can create your own happy endings.”

  She laid down her fork. Her throat dry, she looked away from him.

  “Oh, crap, I’m an idiot. I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I’m babbling about things I don’t know. Don’t pay any attention to me. Please. I’m not usually this stupid.”

  Tessa raised an eyebrow. “Gary happened a long time ago. I’m over it, but I’ve decided that fantasy is lots better than reality when it comes to relationships.”

  “I get it. I really do.” He looked pained. “I’m guessing you’ve been told this over and over again, but you’re an awesome cook.”

  It was her turn to blink. What an unsubtle change of topic. But it worked for her. She inhaled a deep breath. “I’ve actually started a cookbook, but it’s mostly to entertain myself.”

  “Oh, you’d have a good one. And you have the credentials to go with the recipes. I could see yours being a success.”

  They went on to talk about his grandmother’s corned beef and cabbage, Irish recipes, and Midwest cooking.

  “But I thought McGregor would be Scottish,” Tessa said.

  Ian smiled. “My great-grandfather was Scottish, but my great-grandma was Irish.”

  Then they meandered into discussing her business and his dreams for Lakeview Stables. They both made an effort to keep the conversation steered to safe topics.

  After large slices of apple pie, she took him on a tour of her house and property. When she unlocked the barn and led him into its stainless steel, commercial kitchen, he let out a low whistle. “This looks pretty serious.”

  “It is serious. Grandma and I make a lot of pies and jams, pestos, pickled vegetables . . .” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Right up your alley. All kinds of baked goods. We make one specialty cake and pie a week, all year round. People buy them ahead to freeze.”

  He turned in a slow circle in the large, front sales room. A glass case lined one wall. Empty now, but filled with pies and cakes on weekends. Wood tables of different shapes and sizes, scattered here and there, held their jams and jellies, but his attention focused on the shelves on one entire wall that were dedicated to pickling—vegetables, sauerkraut, beets, and onions, as well as every way to pickle cucumbers she and Grams could think of.

  He blinked. “That’s a lot of pickles.”

  “Not close to enough. They’re one of our best sellers.”

  “Really.” The thought clearly amazed him. His gaze scanned the store. “Would you be interested in supplying anything for the lodge’s dining room once I get the business up and going?”

  “We can talk about that later. I’d have to hire someone else if you’d need a lot, but you can get a lot of artisan goods around here. Carl Gruber raises grass-fed beef.” She nodded to the property on the other side of hers. “Evan Meyers raises goats and is known for his milk and cheeses. The Danzas raise free-range chickens, ducks, and geese. Pheasants and rabbits, in season.”

  He stared. “I knew this area was known by foodies, but I didn’t know there were so many options.”

  “We offer a lot. There’s a vineyard on the north side of town.” She couldn’t help the note of pride that crept into her voice. Ian had lucked into a prime food area. As she led him back to the house and kitchen, he pointed to a small cabin that sat between her place and his. “What’s that?”

  “When my grandpa got older, he hired a farmhand, part-time, who worked for room and board. No one uses it now.”

  He studied it. “I’ve been thinking about building rental cabins close to the lake.”

  “It wouldn’t be that hard.” Once inside, she put their leftover supper in plastic containers to send home with him. She gave him a coffee cake from her freezer, too.

  He licked his lips. Sensual lips, she noticed, that curled up on the sides. “Streusel. I lov
e it.”

  “Good, then you should have a decent start tomorrow morning.” Tessa waved him off as his golf cart zipped down the road and turned, out of sight. Then she went to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. She felt restless, ill at ease. Ian had brought up memories and decisions she’d pushed aside for a later date. That date had never come. And Gary’s parents had stopped at Buck Krieger’s, asking about her. She didn’t let herself think about them, or Gary, or men. Now wasn’t the right time.

  Chapter 3

  Early every Thursday, Tessa’s grandmother drove to the farm to help bake. When Gramps died, Grams already had a plan. She signed the farm over to Tessa, gave a chunk of money to Tessa’s brother, Craig (who didn’t need it, he was rich enough), and Grams still had plenty of money to move into a ranch-style house in town. She didn’t miss the farm, but she did enjoy spending time with Tessa. And it was mutual. They spent the day in the barn, mixing up cake batters and rolling out pie dough.

  “Heard the new guy came to town.” Grams had to raise her voice to be heard over the food processor, as Tessa grated carrots for this week’s special. “Seen him yet?”

  Tessa scraped the grated carrots into her cake batter and added cans of crushed pineapple. “I picked him up on the side of the road. He had a flat tire. Got the spare on for him, then had him follow me to Garth’s before I drove him to his place.”

  Grams stopped crumbling cold butter into flour for her piecrusts. She stared. “The man can’t change a tire?”

  “He grew up in New York. Doesn’t own a car. He’s looking for one this weekend. I recommended a pickup.”

  Grams cocked her head to one side. Some women grew softer with age. She wasn’t one of them. She grew leaner. With her steel gray hair, she didn’t look the cuddly sort. “Sounds like you’ve already gotten friendly.”

  “Ian didn’t have a car or any groceries when I drove him home, so I invited him for supper. He’s been coming every night this week until he settles in.”

  “Do you like him?” Grams always got straight to the point.

  “He’s going to make a good neighbor. And he’s engaged. Had you heard that?” Grams knew enough people, she was usually on top of every tidbit of information floating around Mill Pond.

  “Oh.” Her shoulders drooped. Obviously, she hadn’t heard. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been interested in anyone.”

  “It’s not gonna happen. I’m happy doing what I’m doing. I don’t need complications.”

  “Your grandpa was a complication, for sure.” A grin. “That man could annoy a saint, but Lord, I loved him.”

  “You two were perfect for each other.” Tessa turned on the mixer to start the cream cheese frosting. Maybe if there was enough noise, Grams would let the subject drop.

  “Not every man’s like Gary. Not all of them are rotters.”

  Tessa sighed. “I lost three years of my life playing at romance. I’m not wasting time on it again.”

  Grams divided her dough into slabs to wrap in plastic wrap. The first batch was already in the refrigerator, chilling. “Who said anything about romance? How about a little toss in the hay? Something to get the juices going again.”

  Tessa laughed. “My juices are just fine, thank you. Leave it alone. Give me some town dirt. You usually have something fun to talk about when we get together.”

  “Leona Jackson’s back in town. Have you heard?”

  “No.” Tessa turned the mixer off. Leona had kept the town in gossip for years before she ran off with a tourist four months ago. Everyone missed her. She was the best hairdresser in Mill Pond. “Tell me about it.”

  Grams gave a naughty smile. “It’s not like we’re just gossiping, you know. You can consider this research for your books.”

  That was stretching it, but if it made her feel better about spilling all the dirty details, Tessa would go with it. “Did her guy come back with her?”

  “What do you think? Who’d stay with that girl if he didn’t have to?”

  “Did she lose any clients this time?” Silly question. She was probably booked solid for a month so that everyone could hear the scoop. Leona could attract men, but she couldn’t keep them. Tessa winced. Maybe people said the same thing about her.

  As if reading her thoughts, Grams shook her head. “It’s not like that with you, kid. You had one disaster, and you quit. But life isn’t that easy.”

  “It is if you decide to stay single.” Tessa opened the doors on their four-story ovens and slid two, oversized cake pans into each one.

  “Have you heard from your mother? She’s thinking about coming for a visit in June.”

  Finally. A serious change of subject. “Is she planning on staying a while?”

  “You know your mom. She and your dad are stopping on their way out east. She thought she could squeeze us into a few days of their schedule, though.”

  Tessa laughed. That was her mom! Always on the go, always busy. No one could keep up with her. Since Grams had moved into a ranch house in town, she volunteered almost every day of the week, but Mom kept busy with one social event after another. As an aerobics and fitness instructor, she was well known at the tennis club, on the golf course, and at the country club. Lunches and committee meetings filled her calendar. Dad, an engineer, joked that he had to make an appointment with her, or he’d never see her.

  Their talk turned to friends and family. By the end of the day, when they loaded all of the glass shelves in the shop’s case, their feet hurt, and they were talked out.

  Grams pecked Tessa’s cheek when she turned to leave. “See you tomorrow. I expect we’ll be busy. The warmer the weather, the more people want to be out and about.”

  Tessa locked the barn up behind them and took her time, crossing to the house. Snowdrops were blooming in the bed under the flowering crabapple tree. Hints of green waited to burst open on the Norwegian maple. A black squirrel chattered at her from one of its branches. It wanted a peanut from the nearby hanger.

  She was just entering the back door when her cell phone buzzed. She glanced at the number and smiled. Ian. He was coming for an easy supper. They’d made it at seven since Tessa would be in the barn’s kitchen all day. He’d offered to take her out to eat for all of the meals she’d fed him, but she knew she’d be tired. All she wanted to do for half an hour was put her feet up and watch mindless TV.

  She answered the call. “Yes?”

  “Hey, Tessa, could you do me a favor and call a handyman to come to my house immediately?” Ian sounded frazzled, out of sorts. “I can’t get to a phone book, and I’m in a bit of a jam.”

  She waited. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine.” She doubted that. His voice was strained. Something was wrong. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Oh, boy, what had he gotten himself into? She knew he’d had a crew come to work on plumbing today. They were going to put up a new glass door for his shower. She frowned. What could go wrong with that? She tried to keep her tone light. “What do you need help with?”

  “A little heavy lifting.” She heard a loud grunt, followed by, “Gotta go!”

  She stared at the phone. What the hell? He was in trouble, but didn’t want to ask for her help. Why? But that grunt had sounded desperate. She dialed Luke’s number. No one picked up. She tried Garth. No one home. She grabbed the keys to her truck and drove to his place. When she knocked, no one answered. She pushed, and the door opened. She stuck her head in and called, “Is anyone home?”

  Nothing. But the golf cart was parked in the drive. He hadn’t gone anywhere. Had something fallen on him? Had he passed out? She walked farther into the house. “Ian?”

  A muffled noise came from the bathroom. Wasn’t that one of the rooms where the most home accidents happened? She hurried down the hallway. “Ian!”

  “I can’t hold it much longer.”

  “Hold what?” She knocked on the door, and it opened. Her jaw dropped, and she stared.

  “Oh, God,
close your eyes!” Poor Ian had his body pressed against the glass of the sliding shower doors, his knuckles white with the effort to hold the entire piece in place. One false move and the whole thing would crash to the floor and glass would go everywhere.

  She tore her gaze away from awesome nakedness and glanced at his clothes, folded on top of the toilet tank. His jeans hung half-on, half-off. He’d obviously reached for them, taken his cell phone from the pocket, and then lost his grip on the shower doors.

  She tried not to notice the tanned skin and taut muscles that strained against the glass. A six-pack, maybe eight. My, oh my. She especially tried not to let her gaze roam farther south, but she was only human. And oh goodness, every part of Ian was impressive, smashed against the glass. Lots better than her bakery showcase. She cleared her throat. “Can I help?”

  He jerked, and she was worried he’d lose his grip on the metal frame, but he tightened his fingers and said, “If you could slide a couple of chairs close to the tub, I think we can scoot the whole thing on those for support.”

  She ran to grab two kitchen chairs, and with some grunts and finagling, they got the doors balanced on them and leaned the glass unit against the sidewall. Ian grabbed a towel the minute he could let go of the doors and wrapped it snugly around his waist. Even then, the man’s body proved a distraction. How could he be so fit when he was clearly not an outdoorsman?

  He ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t mean for you to come. I didn’t want you to see . . . well, what you saw.”

  “I called around, but couldn’t get anybody.” Tessa should glue her eyes shut so her gaze didn’t roam to the gap the towel didn’t cover in back. Ian had a great ass.

  He sighed, frustrated. “The work crew came from out of town. The doors were supposed to be solid, but when I tried to get out of the tub, the whole thing started to fall on me. They’d have never gotten back in time. I can’t believe you had to see me buck naked.”

  Had to? She’d have paid the price of admission—even if she had to break her piggy bank. Tessa had to force her gaze to stay on his face. He was so upset, she felt sorry for him, but his muscular torso deserved another look. She shrugged, trying to play off the situation. “It’s no big deal.” Nervous laughter spilled out before she could stop it. “I’ve seen a naked man before. I have an older brother, and I was engaged for three years. I won’t die of shock.”