“You’re a lot better bowler than I thought you’d be,” Nils told Nina as he drove her home from the Fast Lanes.
“Really?” Nina glanced over at him. “I’m way out of practice. Haven’t been in years.”
“I’d never know from that score.”
A group of them had gone bowling, a regular occurrence among her friends around town. It was something Nina rarely had time to do until lately. It was fun getting together with some of her old gang, but it seemed strange, too. These were people she’d known forever. They were her age, but she felt as though she was in an entirely different place than they were. Her daughter was about to start college while most women her age were newlyweds or new moms, trading stories of home decorating, precocious toddlers and scary bouts of croup. Fortunately, a number of her friends were single, Nils included. He wasn’t bad-looking. He’d been pleasant all evening, polite and funny.
“Maybe I got lucky tonight,” she said.
He chuckled, easing the car around a curve in the road. “Maybe so.” He turned at the sign marking the inn, freshly painted and illuminated on both sides, welcoming visitors. The limbs of the sugar maples along the drive had been pruned recently, the surface of the road regraded. With the grand reopening nearly upon them, she found herself checking out the place with a critical eye. Even after 10:00 p.m., it needed to look inviting.
Gaslights lined the walkways of the property and coach-style sconces illuminated the main entrance and porch. There were lights on in the guest room windows. Overall, the property promised retreat and respite. The guests would never know how much thought went into every detail, nor would they know she and Greg had argued about each one, or so it seemed.
She turned to thank Nils for the evening, but he was already getting out and coming around to get the door for her.
“I’ll walk you to your place,” he said.
“Oh! All right. It’s this way.” It was a date, she reminded herself. A freaking date. She’d spent an hour bathing, buffing and getting ready. This was supposed to happen—the guy was supposed to walk her to her door and she was supposed to invite him up.
She remarked on the balmy warmth of the evening. They admired the silvery path of the moon’s reflection on the lake. There was a moment, at a turn in the path, when Nils’s hand brushed against hers and she felt the gentle trap of his fingers.
Just go with it, she told herself. See what happens. She reminded herself that a first date was supposed to be a little awkward, a little nerve-racking. She was supposed to be at least mildly thrilled that he’d taken her hand. Instead, all she could think about was the fact that he wasn’t—
“Hey,” said Nils. “What’s that?”
In the lower part of the boathouse, a blinding shower of sparks erupted. Nina yanked her hand from Nils’s and stopped to stare. “My God, is the place on fire?” she asked.
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she and Nils broke into a run, then skidded to a halt when they reached the boat storage area. It wasn’t a fire; the fount of sparks was flowing from the flame of a welder’s torch. “Greg?” Nina yelled. “What are you doing?” At least, she thought it was Greg. Who else would be out here working at this time of night?
She called his name louder, and he straightened up. His face was obscured by a clear safety shield and he wore a pair of fireproof gloves. If this was a horror movie, this would be the moment the serial killer would lunge, snuffing them both.
Instead, he raised his shield and gave her a boyish grin. “Hey, Nina.” His gaze flicked to Nils and seemed to chill the slightest bit. “Neil, is it?” he said.
“Nils.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Nils. How’s it going?” Greg didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m working on the boat lift.”
“I can see that,” she said. She’d been pestering him to fix it for days. Interesting that he would finally tackle it now. “Greg, it’s ten o’clock at night.”
“I know. I thought I’d be finished before you got back. Didn’t want to bother you with all the noise.”
Uh-huh. A likely story. She turned pointedly to Nils. “Would you like to come up?”
Greg fired up his blow torch again with a blue whoosh of flame.
“I’d better be going,” Nils said, taking a step back. “Take care, Nina.”
What about the handholding? she wanted to demand. Instead, she was too startled to do anything but mutter a good-night.
He didn’t bother with a token “I’ll call you.” Maybe the sight of a large man with a blow torch was a little off-putting.
“Thanks a million,” she said to Greg, raising her voice above the hissing torch.
“That’s okay,” he said, lowering the face shield. “I’m just about finished here.”
“Indeed you are,” she said, and stomped up the stairs to her place.
The disruption of her date with Nils was one thing. Nina gave Greg the benefit of the doubt—she had been nagging him about the boat lift and he had fixed it. With opening day nearly upon them, they’d both been working crazy hours. However, a couple of days later, when she went on a picnic with Marty Lewis and then got home to find Greg using the whetstone to sharpen a machete, an ax and a hatchet, she strongly suspected she was starting to see a pattern. After her third date, a movie with Noah Shepherd, the local veterinarian, she was sure of it. Greg greeted her and Noah on the front porch of the main building. He was surrounded by weapons. Nina recognized the antique guns they’d found in the attic.
“Black powder rifles,” he explained jovially. “They might be collector’s items. I was going to see if any of these was operational.”
Noah looked at his mobile phone. “Got a foaling this weekend. I’d better go check on my patient.”
Nina offered a smile. She suspected the phone’s screen was blank. “Sure, Noah.” He was wildly good-looking in a dark, brooding, Heathcliffian sort of way. He was also down-to-earth and unpretentious, yet much too quiet and circumspect for her, she’d discovered during a strained stop for coffee after the movie. Nina supposed, if she gave it her best effort, she could get him talking. But at this point in her life, she wanted a date, not a project.
Still, she resented the decision being taken away from her by Greg. She gave Noah a hug—it was like hugging a slab of granite—and murmured a good-night.
As he hurried toward his car, she swung back to Greg. “Congratulations. You’re three for three. Maybe even four for four, if we count Shane Gilmore.”
“What do you mean, count him?”
“Technically, it could be traced back to you, since the reason I got so mad at Shane was because the inn was sold to you.”
“Okay, I’m really not following you now.”
She watched the swing of headlights across the parking lot as Noah Shepherd drove away. “I think that might be a record, even for you. He didn’t bother even telling me goodbye.”
Greg smiled at her, all boyish innocence. “What do you mean, ‘record’?”
All through Sonnet’s growing-up years, Nina had hardly dated at all. Now she was trying to go for it, putting herself out there for the first time in her life. Some were acquaintances she’d known for years. With Noah Shepherd, she had done the asking. He was that good-looking. But so far, the only chemistry she’d experienced was the volatile flare of Greg’s black powder. There was something seriously wrong with this picture. To her horror, Nina nearly choked on a ball of tears in her throat. Praying he didn’t notice, she turned on her heel and marched down the path to the boathouse. She didn’t go home, though. She was too restless for that. She veered toward the dock, pacing its planks in frustration.
Greg followed a minute later. “I couldn’t get any of them to work.”
That was probably for the best. She was in no mood to be anywhere near operational firearms. She took a deep breath, forcing anger to evaporate her tears. “You’re doing this on purpose,” she accused, swinging around to face him.
The moon shone from behind him, forming a silver halo around his head. “Doing what?”
“As if you didn’t know. You’re not my guardian. I don’t need you to wait up for me every time I go out.”
“I’m not waiting up for you,” he said. “I’m just…up.”
“And you just happen to be cleaning guns or sharpening knives or welding something when I get home with my date.”
He chuckled. “That’s totally planned.”
She was taken aback by the admission. She’d been prepared to argue with him. “Totally planned,” she echoed. “You mean you intended to be scary?”
“Hell, yes.”
“I don’t get it.”
He closed the distance between them, cupped his hands around her upper arms and pulled her against him. The sudden movement stole her breath, and she stared up at him with wide eyes.
A crazy yearning filled her up, and she flashed on all the times in her life that she had imagined this—being in Greg Bellamy’s arms. There was a soft shock of recognition, and then he was kissing her, and this was something she’d imagined, too, though the reality was nothing like her dreams. It was so much better that she felt herself grow dizzy with sensation, as if she was being taken somewhere, far away. There was nothing particularly gentle about his touch, yet she had never felt so cherished. His kiss was rough, too, with urgency, with possession—yet she’d never found a kiss more thrilling. It made her forget every other time she’d ever kissed a guy.
This had never happened to her before. She’d never been transported in a man’s embrace, and it was like finding the missing piece to an unfinished puzzle. All too soon, it was over and he let her go, stepping back so quickly that she found herself wondering if that amazing kiss had actually happened.
“You’re a smart woman, Nina,” he said, heading back to the path. “You’ll figure it out.”
For a few seconds, she was stunned speechless. Then, finally, she found her voice and hurried after him. “Just a damn minute,” she said. “You can’t do something like that and simply walk away.”
“Agreed,” he said, without even slowing his pace. “I could sling you over my shoulder like a caveman, take you upstairs and ravish you.”
All of which had an undeniable, devastating appeal to her. Shaken, she said, “How politically correct of you.”
“You think I care about political correctness?” He didn’t seem to want an answer; he gave an angry bark of laughter and kept walking.
“I don’t know what you care about, Greg. You’re giving me way too much credit,” she said. “Maybe you think I’m a mind reader, but I can’t figure you out.” She was furious with…what? Resentment? Frustrated longing? She could point the finger at him if she liked. She could say he’d ruined her evening more than once. But the sad fact was, her dates were ruined long before the seemingly inevitable, absurd encounters with Greg. Not by him, but by her, with her inability to start with a basic attraction and deepen it into a relationship. She’d never been able to do that with a man, ever. And it wasn’t Greg’s fault. All he did was hold up a mirror. All he did was kiss her, forcing her to know she’d never come close to knowing what it was like to love a man.
She grabbed his arm, feeling tension hardening his muscles. “Would you please explain to me what you think is happening here? What you want to happen?”
He took a deep breath, and anger glinted in his eyes. “Look, if we do this—if the evening goes the way I wish like hell it would go—it’s going to change things between us. Everything will be different. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind a change.”
His candor and intensity nearly undid her. She was still on fire from his kiss. Yet he was offering her a chance to choose. She could keep things as they were, or change everything—right here, right now. He’d opened the door for her to declare that yes, she wanted this, too. Although he didn’t know it, she had wanted this practically from the first moment they’d met, years ago. A moment he probably didn’t even remember.
The temptation was almost more than she could bear. A daring little voice inside her whispered, why not try it with him, see where it went?
Because the stakes were too high with Greg. He wasn’t some guy taking her bowling or to the movies. He was the guy she worked for. The guy she knew she wouldn’t be able to survive losing—so it was safer to simply back away.
She had to wrestle to find her willpower, and finally forced herself to brush past him. “Good night, Greg. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Wait a minute. Let me get this straight.” Jenny studied Nina’s face. They were in Zuzu’s Petals, shopping for a dress for Nina to wear on opening day at the inn. “He propositioned you?”
“He was pretty explicit, assuming ravish means what I think it means,” Nina admitted.
“He said ravish? Do people even say ravish anymore?”
“People said ravish last night.”
Jenny gave a pleased little shiver. “And here I thought it was something that only happened in old-fashioned Gothic novels. So how was it?”
Nina laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You think I went for it?”
Jenny’s eyes widened. “You mean, you didn’t?”
“I’m not getting involved with Greg Bellamy. Not even if I get to discover the meaning of ravish with him. He’s the enemy,” she reminded Jenny.
“Because he bought the Inn at Willow Lake.”
“Exactly.” She took an apple-green dress from the rack and held it under her chin.
Jenny took the dress and put it back. “I think it’s good he did that. He’s taking on all the risk. It’s no picnic, owning a business.”
Jenny would know, reflected Nina. She’d been co-owner and then sole owner of the Sky River Bakery ever since she was a teenager. She endured hard times and uncertainty, knowing she had no safety net.
“I realize that,” Nina said. “But he took away my chance to succeed, along with my risk of failure.”
“You know what I think? I think the ownership of the inn has nothing to do with it. I think what you’re really worried about is falling for Greg.”
“Falling for—” Nina gave a little bark of disbelief. “And why should I worry about that? He’s the last person I want to fall for. For that matter, why should I fall for anyone? I’ve been going on dates, having the adolescence I missed out on.”
“And how’s that working for you?”
“Very funny, Doctor Phil.”
Jenny handed her a form-fitting dress in peach jersey. “Believe me—and you know this better than I do—adolescence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” She grabbed a few more dresses and marched Nina into the dressing room.
“Greg’s got kids,” Nina said, changing into one of the dresses. “And a grandbaby soon.”
“Do you have anything against kids and grandkids?”
“No. But I’m done with that.”
Jenny lifted one eyebrow. “You did a fabulous job with Sonnet. You could easily do it again.”
“Easily? Yeah, right. Half the time, I was scared to death I was doing something wrong. It was like being on a tightrope over a swamp full of alligators. Why would I sign on for more?”
“Because you’re good with alligators.”
“This is a big leap from talking about dating him to talking about forever,” Nina said. She stepped out and posed in front of the mirror. She had to admit, Jenny had a good eye. The dress was a winner, businesslike without being boring.
“Could you date him with no commitment?”
“I work with him, end of story.”
“Sounds as if you’ve made up your mind, then.”
Nina ended up buying the peach dress with a three-quarter-sleeve sweater. Jenny beamed at her. “You’ll be dazzling.”
“It’s the inn that needs to dazzle.”
“You seem nervous to me,” Jenny observed. “You always twirl your hair around your finger when you’re nervous.”
Nina lowered her hand. “Do I? I suppose I am nervous. When you think about it, a grand opening is all about being accepted or rejected. And I’ve never been good with rejection.”
“Is that why you never go on second dates? Is that why you don’t want to consider dating Greg?”
Nina started to twirl her hair again, but caught herself. “Cut it out. All this shopping made me hungry.”
They walked down the block to the bakery. It was mid-afternoon, and the place wasn’t busy. As they were helping themselves to kolaches, Laura Tuttle came backward through the swinging doors, wheeling a cart with a lofty wedding cake on it. “Another day, another cake,” she said.
“That one is stunning,” Nina said. When she and Jenny were little, they used to watch, mesmerized, as Laura created fondant icing, sugar-dough flowers and leaves, turning humble ingredients into magnificent confections of culinary architecture. Naturally in planning their fantasy weddings, Nina and Jenny had debated long and hard about the cake, arguing tradition versus innovation. As adults, neither had had a cake after all, what with Jenny stealing off to St. Croix in the middle of winter to get married, and Nina not marrying at all.
“Thanks,” Laura said. “The old broad’s learning some new tricks.”
“Don’t be calling yourself an old broad,” Jenny said. She turned to Nina. “She’s dating my father, you know. She’s dating Philip Bellamy.”
“Nonsense,” Laura scolded. “We’re just two friends catching up on old times.”
“Yeah,” Jenny said with a wink. “Sure.”
“Aren’t happily married people annoying?” Nina said to Laura.
“Tell me about it.” Laura rolled her eyes.
Yet Nina didn’t fail to notice the blush that lit Laura’s cheeks. She didn’t pry, though. Especially not in front of Jenny. Philip Bellamy and Jenny were not your typical father and daughter. The two of them were still finding their way toward one another.
“I wish you’d let yourself go for it,” Jenny said to Laura. “You and Philip have known each other since you were teenagers. Is it possible to know someone that long and still not be sure?”
Oh, yes, Nina conceded. Definitely. It was possible to live a whole alternative life.
Jenny gazed in admiration at the wedding cake. “I knew I was meant to be with Rourke the minute I saw him, and we were just kids. It’s just crazy that it took us so long to wake up and figure it out.”
“Some people are lucky enough to find what they’re looking for the first time around,” Laura said. “Others…”
Her voice trailed off, but Nina recalled something Greg had said to her. “Life gives you lots of chances to screw up.”
“Which means you have just as many chances to get it right,” Jenny reminded her.