Spicing Things Up Page 3

  He stared. She was a menace. She was lucky she’d never burned down her house. But he tried to be patient. “Okay, new rule. Never leave the kitchen when you have something on the heat.”

  She shook her head when he turned off the burners.

  “Let’s eat.”

  “Already?” She glanced at the clock. “It only took half an hour.”

  “Most of the meals I cook at home are fast.” Soon they were eating chicken curry over rice at the teak table.

  “Mmm.” She licked her lips and dished up seconds for herself.

  He watched her clean her plate and smiled. “Well?”

  “It’s good.” She grabbed her dirty dishes and headed to the kitchen.

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll clean up. You’ve had a big day. You okay now?”

  She smiled, but she wasn’t fooling him. He’d kept her distracted, but once she was alone, in her own house, she’d fall apart. That was all right. At least now, she knew the professor was just a speed bump in life, nothing more. And if she forgot, Tyne would check in on her often. She’d get past this. He’d make sure of it.

  Chapter 5

  On the drive home, Daphne cranked up the volume of the car’s radio. The minute she climbed behind the steering wheel, she felt alone. Her house wouldn’t be any better. She wanted that, right? Time to work through the events of the day, to mourn her loss, to cry and get Patrick out of her system. But the thought of facing an empty house didn’t thrill her. She’d lost the professor, and she was beginning to think she’d always be single, forever and ever, in her house by the park.

  Farmers had already picked soybeans in the acres she passed. Some had even started picking corn. Streetlights ended at the edge of town, and the road stretched before her headlights, a dark ribbon. She kept a careful watch. This time of year, deer moved around more, foraging in the newly harvested fields. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and pressed on the brake. A kitten raced across the road, and she swerved a little to miss it. It was gray with a white chin and back paws, blending in with the cement so well, she’d never have seen it if its eyes hadn’t reflected the car’s headlights.

  She squinted at a shadow on the opposite brim—roadkill. The kitten was drawn to it. The poor thing hunkered down. It must be ravenous. She parked and opened her door. The raccoon was so bloated, the kitten circled it, unsure what to do with it. Daphne opened her glove compartment and took out a sealed stick of beef jerky. She unpeeled it and tossed a scrap on the road. “Here, kitty, kitty!”

  The kitten crouched and sniffed. It came closer. She tossed another scrap, and it came to investigate. She wasn’t sure if it would eat something so processed, but it wolfed it down. She tossed the next piece closer to her car, and it came for it. She dropped the next piece on the passenger seat, and it eyed her suspiciously, but jumped in for the food. She slid behind the steering wheel, closed the door, and started for home.

  The kitten cowered in the far corner on the floor. After a few minutes, it disappeared under the front seat and dragged an old French fry out to eat. She talked to it in a soothing voice and slowed down to pinch off more jerky. Before she could throw it down, the kitten leapt on her passenger seat and she fed it there. It must have been around people when it was tiny. Farmers complained about people who drove out here and dumped young cats after they’d outgrown the “cute” stage. Daphne slowly reached to stroke the cat. It might not be a tiny ball of fluff anymore, but it was still adorable.

  She’d always wanted a pet, but her mom was allergic to almost every living thing. Patrick hated cats, complained that they were aloof and independent. She grinned. No, he wouldn’t like anything that didn’t dote on him. No wonder he was a dog person. She liked dogs, too, but cats had a certain allure. She decided, if the cat was willing, she was going to keep him.

  When she got home, she parked in the attached garage and closed its door before she let the cat out of the vehicle. It sped to jump out of her yellow SUV. Her dad advised her to get yellow. It was supposed to be safer. Other drivers noticed it more. It was as bright as Tyne’s Jeep.

  She opened the door that led into the house and went straight to the kitchen. She opened a can of tuna and emptied it into a bowl. The cat streaked inside to eat. She closed the door and proceeded to find a shallow cardboard box. She shredded newspapers to put inside it to use as kitty litter. When the cat finished its food, its tummy bulged. She put it in the box and watched it scratch knowingly. Yup, it had been house trained.

  “I’m going to name you Shadow.” Not very original, but she didn’t care. He was her cat, and she’d name him whatever she wanted to.

  While Shadow explored the house, she made herself a cup of tea and settled in front of the TV to relax. Nothing held her interest, and she found herself on the Food Channel watching four chefs compete against each other. They opened boxes of mystery items and had to make something out of them. She sniffed. Tyne would leave these guys in his dust. She switched to a house show after that, and when the cat was tired, he jumped onto her lap and closed his eyes.

  Her heart lurched with happiness. She stroked Shadow’s smooth fur until he purred. Two brothers were remodeling a house, and she watched them knock down walls to open it up into one, big great room. Her house was pretty open—the front room, dining room, and kitchen all combined. A back hallway led to two bedrooms on one side with a bathroom between them and a master suite and workroom on the other side. The place wasn’t too big, but it was big enough.

  Recalling Tyne’s place, she pursed her lips, studying her own décor. Cozy, right? Warm-toned, hardwood floors with throw rugs here and there. Wheat-colored walls. Two tapestry-covered sofas sitting across from each other with a big ottoman between them. Magazines covered one side of the ottoman. Tyne wouldn’t approve of that. Two armchairs at each end of the sofas. Perfect for an intimate gathering. A gate-leg table, in the front window, held a lamp. Two rocking chairs were pulled close to a fireplace at the back of the room. The brothers on TV probably wouldn’t approve of her home. They’d consider it out of style, but it was comfortable.

  The TV show ended, and Daphne couldn’t stop a yawn. It had been a big day. She carried Shadow to her bedroom—the only room with log walls and an oak floor. She climbed into her queen-sized bed and fell promptly asleep.

  When sunlight peeked past her blinds and she woke, thoughts of Patrick flooded her, then a rough, pink tongue licked her arm. She smiled at Shadow, stretched out beside her. Patrick wasn’t all that affectionate. He wasn’t all that attentive either. Come to think of it, the cat might be a lot better at both.

  Chapter 6

  Tyne worked the supper shift on Tuesdays through Saturdays. Paula did the morning shifts at the inn. He didn’t have to get up early for work today, but he’d promised Maxwell, Mill Pond’s bread guru, that he’d help him make four kinds of focaccia for a special wine party Harley was giving on Sunday. Harley and his wife, Kathy, were both excited about it. It was to help Mill Pond raise money to build two new piers for the public beach, so that people could boat and dock there to shop and spend time in town. If they raised enough money, they meant to build a pier close to Harley’s winery, too.

  For this charity event, Tyne was doing double duty. He was helping Maxwell with the focaccia, and he and Paula had promised to make appetizers. They’d planned on fun finger food that wouldn’t break the bank, and Ian had signed up to donate crab for a fancy hors d’oeuvre. Ian was always generous, but he was in an especially giving mood since his baby son was born. Tyne wondered how long the afterglow would last before fatigue washed it away.

  People in town were looking forward to the party. Harley had hired a jazz band, and Chase had promised to make lots of sliders. Tyne got ready quickly and walked the short distance to Maxwell’s. The crisp morning air snapped him awake. He had to work tonight, so he wanted to finish here early and take a break before reporting to the inn. He tried the doorknob at Maxwell’s, and it was open, so he let hims
elf in.

  “Hey, man, I’m here!” He started toward the kitchen. The ovens were already cranking out heat.

  Maxwell was as tall as Tyne, but thinner, with a ropey build. He wore the same uniform every day—striped, drawstring pants and a white, button-down shirt with an apron tied around him. His brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, like usual. He was kneading a mound of bread on a marble-topped worktable.

  He looked up when Tyne entered the room, and Tyne noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “You look like you need a nap.”

  Maxwell nodded toward the ceiling. He, too, lived above his shop. “The old girl had a bad night last night. Couldn’t get to sleep until three in the morning.”

  Tyne knew that India wasn’t in the best of health. Even with her asthma, she couldn’t quit smoking. A cigarette always dangled between her fingers. She dragged an oxygen tank with her wherever she went and turned it off to light up. “Was she better this morning?”

  “She was asleep when I came down, plum wore out.”

  Tyne heard Chester barking and glanced at his friend.

  “I’d better let him out for a minute. He probably has to take a piss.” Maxwell hurried up the stairs to get his Chihuahua. If he had his way, the dog would be in the kitchen with him. Hell, if Maxwell had his way, he and the dog would be inseparable.

  Tyne coated a large, ceramic bowl with oil and placed the dough inside it. He draped a damp towel over it to let it rise. Then he started another batch of dough for a second focaccia. When Maxwell returned, Tyne was kneading that batch.

  Maxwell shook his head. “Chester’s not happy. He knows you’re here, and he wanted to see you.”

  Tyne liked the dog. It yapped a lot, but was smart and friendly. “When we finish up, why don’t we take him outside for a minute before we leave? I don’t want to wake India or bother her, though.”

  “Chester will like that.” Maxwell started a third type of focaccia, and while he worked, Tyne started a fourth. By the time they finished, the first dough was ready to punch and roll out. They added parmesan and mozzarella cheese to it and pushed it in the oven to bake.

  They added balsamic onions to the second batch, black olives and tomatoes to another, and rosemary and pepperoni to the last. When they finished, they boxed them up for Tyne to drive to Harley’s. Then Maxwell went upstairs and returned with Chester. Chester whined and jumped on Tyne, begging for attention.

  “Stop that. Where are your manners?” Maxwell scolded.

  Everyone knew Chester didn’t have any. The dog did what he wanted because Maxwell couldn’t bear to discipline him, but Chester was sweet and loving enough, so Tyne didn’t care. He bent to pet him. And then both men donned their jackets and took him outside to play in the fenced yard.

  While watching the dog, Tyne asked, “Are you done for the day?”

  Maxwell shook his head. “Still need to finish a dozen loaves of French bread for a sandwich shop two towns over.”

  Tyne was curious. “Where did you learn to cook? Did you go to culinary school and specialize in pastries?”

  Maxwell snorted. “Hardly. My second foster mother taught me.”

  Tyne blinked. “Sorry, Max, I didn’t know.”

  “It ain’t no secret. I was a bad ’un when I was young, got in all kinds of trouble. Came by it natural. When my dad went to prison, they took me away from my mom.” He was silent a moment. “Not sure she noticed, but it got me in the system. My first foster home was a bust. I ran away so many times, they gave me to Mrs. Worth. That’s where they sent the incorrigibles.” He chuckled. “Thought they’d punished me good and proper, but that woman killed you with kindness. She was so nice, you didn’t want to disappoint her.”

  “She was a good cook?”

  “The best. Baked bread every Monday to feed us all. Always had a pot of soup on the stove. Had three others besides me. No pushover, though. She’d box my ears when I went wrong, then praise and cuddle me when I got things right. Loved that woman till the day she died.”

  That story explained a lot to Tyne. Maxwell wasn’t your typical baker.

  Chester ran another lap around the yard, so Tyne asked, “How did you meet India?”

  “Wasn’t any good in school, so I got jobs in restaurants. India was a waitress in the last one I worked at.” He grinned. “Not a good waitress, mind you, but she always showed up on time. There was just something about her. When I left to come here, she came with me.”

  Chester scratched at the back door. The dog had run enough. Maxwell opened it to let him inside, and Tyne went to the bakery to get Harley’s focaccia. Maxwell helped him load it onto the Jeep’s seats, then Tyne drove it to Harley’s winery. On his way back, he stopped to check on Daphne.

  The minute he walked in the crowded shop, three women circled him. He’d meant to casually wander around to take his time to enjoy her work. The white outside walls were covered with big displays—framed, stained-glass windows and screens. The brick wall inside held clocks with stained-glass faces. Five-foot trellis walls lined the center of the shop with her stained-glass fans hanging in some sections and window art in others. A long table in the very center displayed the lamps she’d designed. He liked all of her pieces, but he liked the quilts she made at home every bit as much. The women crowded around him when he stopped to study a floor lamp.

  He turned to look at the woman pressing the closest. She smiled up at him. He crooked a half-smile in return. “Do you like stained glass?”

  She blinked, never taking her eyes off him. “Our friend’s at the cash register, buying one of the glass jewelry boxes. We’re just waiting for her.”

  He glanced at the two women who came to stand behind their friend. They looked to be in their late twenties. He hadn’t seen them at the resort. “Hi, ladies, are you staying in Mill Pond?”

  The blonde pursed her lips in a moue. “No, we have reservations at the park’s lodge. We’re just passing through. Do you live here?”

  He nodded.

  “The lodge is only a ten-minute drive from here.” The girl looked at her friends. “If you stop by tonight, we’d make it worth it.”

  These girls were out to have a good time. He’d be lucky if they didn’t tie him to their bed. “I’m sure you would, but I work tonight. I’m booked up for a while.”

  The brunette pressed her lips together, disappointed. She handed him a slip of paper with her number on it. “If you get a few days free and call us, we’ll make a special trip for you.”

  Now they were scaring him. He grinned. “Where are you from?”

  “Miami.”

  They looked like Florida girls, tanned and fit. They probably lived in bikinis every weekend. He slid the paper in his shirt pocket. “Have a good time on your trip.”

  The blonde locked gazes with him. “If you could get tonight off, we’d have more fun.”

  He started to say that he couldn’t, he was the chef at Lakeview Stables, then thought better of it. If they booked rooms there, he’d have to leave town for a weekend. Instead, he shook his head.

  “Can’t. The boss needs me.” He was relieved when their friend came to get them and they left the shop. He looked up, and only a few customers remained, happily browsing. He went to Daphne.

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “I almost came to give you a No Touching the Merchandise sign, but I couldn’t leave the cash register.”

  He smirked. “Do you consider me merchandise?”

  “No, but those three women did.”

  Women like that didn’t interest him. He studied her. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m going to live. My parents are picking me up when I close shop, and we’re going out to eat together.”

  Tyne grimaced. “Don’t you have any girlfriends to take you to a bar and get you tipsy?”

  Daphne looked horrified. “Girls make bad decisions when they’ve had too much to drink.”

  “That’s why they go with friends. Their besties won’t let them leave with som
e ax murderer.”

  Daphne gave an exasperated sigh. “Alcohol doesn’t solve problems. It only makes them worse.”

  Tyne shook his head, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. “Look, I don’t work Sunday nights, and Harley’s giving his wine party. I told him I was bringing you with me.”

  Daphne got that defensive look on her face again. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’m going to work on quilts this weekend to distract myself.”

  He gave a pretend yawn. “Boring. Everyone else is going as couples. I haven’t snagged anyone yet, so you’re going with me. Besides, you’ll be able to try the appetizers that Paula and I make. Ian’s interested in doing special parties at the inn once in a while during the slow season. You can tell us what you think.”

  She studied him. “You don’t like to take no for an answer, do you?”

  He grinned, looking cocky again, he knew. “First, it hardly ever happens. And when it does, a no is just a speed bump to a yes.”

  “God, you’re full of yourself.”

  He tilted his head, thinking. “No, just honest. And I don’t want you sitting around with too much time on your hands. At least, not for a while. So I signed you up.”

  She sighed. “You think you’re being a good friend, don’t you?”

  “You’d do the same for me.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  He laughed. “But you’ll go?”

  “I’ll go.” She sounded grumpy, but he ignored it.

  “Good, see you then.” Actually, she’d see him more than she wanted to, but it was better if she didn’t know that. He didn’t want her sitting alone on a Sunday night. With a wave, he took off when the next customers entered the shop. She’d be busy all during the day and with her parents tonight. Two days past the poopy prof, and she was holding in there.

  On the way to work he had to stop at Garth’s station for gas. Leona’s cousin, Chantelle, was at one of the pumps. Leona was Garth’s main squeeze. She was man-crazy before Garth claimed her, but Chantelle made her look tame. The girl came over to talk to him, invaded his personal space. He sighed. What was it today? Had the heavens unleashed every aggressive female in a one-mile radius? Heavy flirting started, but he pulled away, didn’t offer any encouragement. Chantelle was too aggressive. She annoyed him. When she got in her car to leave, she smacked his ass. Really? He asked, “Didn’t you forget to pay?”