Chapter 3
Eve
This was a huge mistake. It had to be. He was hot, sure, but he was a total stranger and I’d agreed to stay the night at his place for what reason? Out of guilt?
For the fifteenth time in as many minutes, I rested my fingers on the flicker for the high beams and considered flashing the back of his cherry red truck – up and running now.
I stalled for the fifteenth time. Joshua seemed sweet and down-to-earth, and the challenge in Mrs. Beaumont’s tone had egged me on. I wasn’t one to back down from any form of threat… but this?
I didn’t want to get involved with anyone. I couldn’t fathom feeling emotion for a man after Bryan, and certainly not when I hadn’t even worked out who I was, what I wanted.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” I said. “It’s just dinner. That’s all dinner. In a super-hot guy’s house who you barely know. And then you’re going to sleep in his guest room afterward. Because, apparently, he has plenty of room for you.” Ugh, and now I’d resorted to talking to myself. Fantastic.
I adjusted the straps of my dress and shivered. The sun had already set and coldness crept through the vents in my truck. The sweaty afternoon had abated, giving way to a night chillier than it should’ve been.
Farmland rushed by in the darkness. The truck’s tires jounced on the gravel road and the lights sliced through the dark, a quick flare that illuminated Joshua’s silhouette in the Ford.
I gripped the wheel tight.
Just a man. Just a regular old country boy, and everyone in Heather’s Forge had vouched for him. In the month I’d lived in Hope Creek, I’d learned that the folks around here were one hundred percent straightforward almost all of the time.
If Old Harry said he could eat fifty boiled eggs, he could eat ‘em. Weird, that I hadn’t run into Joshua in the diner prior to this. Perhaps, he wasn’t big on eating out.
The Ford’s turn signal flashed, and the brake lights followed suit.
My heart skipped a beat. Damn, this was it. Now, we’d head off the beaten track and into the middle of murder-her-in-the-field-nowhere.
“Oh, my god, stop it. Get your shit together, Eve.”
Five minutes down a long winding road, smoother than the main one, and we reached the ranch house with a twist. The twist being that it was a size bigger than any house I’d seen before. It was a ranch hotel.
I parked next to Joshua’s truck and cut the engine. Wooden steps led up to a wraparound porch, and several outdoor wall sconces bathed the front of the building in buttery, yellow light.
“Well, at least it doesn’t look like a murder house,” I grumbled and clunked open my car door. I got out and my cowboy boots crunched on a fine layer of gravel.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” I called out.
Joshua locked his car with a blip and a flash of lights. “Thanks.” He walked around to my side, hands in the pockets of his worn jeans. “I always fantasized about having a house just like my parents, y’know? Wanted to have the homey feel.”
“Oh, they lived in a hotel, too?” I asked because I couldn’t help myself.
He laughed and gestured to the stairs. “Not quite.”
We walked up them and he fumbled his keys out and inserted them into the lock. Rattling keys and our breathing filled the space between us.
“So, is it homey enough for you?” I asked. Sheer desperation factored into the question. I couldn’t stand another second of the tense silence.
Joshua paused, his shoulders tensed up. “It’s fine,” he said, then unlocked and entered his entrance hall.
Whoops. Apparently, I’d struck a nerve.
The lights came on and revealed a modest hallway that diverged around a staircase, and led into darkness further along. A wooden light fixture, quaint and capped with faux candles, hung from the ceiling. Paintings of –
“You coming in? Or you’d prefer to sleep out there tonight? I mean, I can arrange a futon and a couple blankets if that’s your thing.”
“Sorry,” I said, and flushed. “That’s not – I was just admiring it, is all.”
“Oh.” He looked around. “Thanks. Well, come on in. If you want to. Up to you.” He backed away as if I was a scared animal about to bolt.
He wasn’t far off, to be fair. I hadn’t been this nervous in forever. The bubbling attraction I had for him made me jumpy, like I wanted to escape my own skin and just leave it there. Run all the way back to my truck and escape whatever this was.
Slowly, I took one step over the threshold, then another. The house smelled clean, of flowers and teak. Warmth trickled through my soul. I pictured myself in a robe at the head of the stairs.
“What the hell?”
“What’s wrong?” Joshua frowned. He hadn’t moved from his position, gripping the doorknob. He was much closer now. No, I was much closer to him, and he smelled of… sunbaked straw, and soil, and a hint of cologne. Earthy and sweet.
I licked my lips. “I just realized I forgot something. Nothing serious. I’ll sort it out before work tomorrow,” I lied. My stomach grumbled, and I blushed again. I hadn’t blushed this much since the time my sister had caught me kissing a Leonardo DiCaprio poster as a tween.
“Sounds like you’re as hungry as I am,” Joshua said, then shut and locked the door. “Come on through.” He stomped toward the second door on the left, and I followed.
“You lock your doors.”
“Yeah.”
“I thought I was the only one who did that around here. My friend in the diner thinks I’m crazy.” In the short time I’d known Cassidy, our easy rapport had elevated to an uneasy friendship on my part. I wasn’t used to having people invite me places. I usually kept to myself but Cassidy had a way of making me talk.
In New York, it’d had been all work and no play, not even with Bryan, who’d been too busy for anything fun.
“Ah, it’s a habit I got into when I stayed in New York.”
“You’re kidding,” I said. “When?”
“Back when I was studying about six years ago.”
Six years ago, I’d been on my way into college, set to meet Bryan and elope.
We entered the kitchen and my eyes went round. There’s an old saying that goes ‘there’s one way to a man’s heart, and that’s through his stomach.’ If I amended the saying, it could apply to me – the way to my heart was through an amazing kitchen where I could create wonders, and that was exactly what Joshua had here.
Gas burners, a massive steel fridge, plenty of counters, a center island complete with a sink, a dishwasher, and an industrial standard mixer. My eyes practically glazed over at the sight of it all.
“You okay?” Joshua asked, waving a hand at me.
“Sorry, I – it’s just a really nice kitchen.”
The corner of his mouth twisted upward in that trademark half-smile, and my insides fluttered. “Right,” he said, “you’re a chef. Yeah, I’ve been trying my hand at cooking. I thought it’s never too late to learn. Maybe you can give me some advice.”
I’d worked in a Michelin-star restaurant but the thought of that made me nervous. Food was effortless. Delicious. Feelings weren’t, and the fluttering made me want to sprint out of here all over again. “Sure, that would be… fine.”
“You don’t have to,” he said and walked over to the fridge. He opened it and brought out a beer. “Want one?”
“Yeah, why not?”
He popped the cap, then handed the bottle over and got one for himself.
“So, you studied in New York,” I said. “Anywhere I’d be familiar with?”
It was his turn to blush, apparently. He ran his thumb down the side of the bottle, glugged some back, then put it down and turned to the fridge again. “What do you feel like eating?” He asked. “I make a mean BLT. Kidding, what about spaghetti carbonara?”
“That sounds great,” I said. He’d totally just avoided the question. “And I did ask you a question. Would you like to answer it or just pretend to be mute?”
Joshua jerked around, cream butter and bacon in his hands. “Yeah, sorry. I usually avoid that topic. Folks around here looked at me different if I mention it.”
“Why?”
“I went to Harvard,” he said. “I got my MBA. No one expected me to come back to Hope Creek, I guess.”
“I see.” Though, I didn’t see at all.
“I don’t mean to be short; it’s just something that I – look, I wouldn’t be here and in this house if it wasn’t for Harvard but it’s not something I like to discuss with anyone. There’s some stuff that happened.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” I said. “Sorry, I was just curious. I get pushy when I’m curious.”
“It’s no big deal,” he said, and set about making the food. Soon the smell of sizzling bacon filled the air. He flipped the slices and avoided my eye.
Shit, I’d really put him off with my hard line of questioning. How could I make this right? Why did I want to? “I didn’t study anywhere Ivy League,” I said. “Just the Culinary Institute.”
“That is fancy,” he said and frowned at the cream. “At least, it is to me. Say, would you mind helping me with the sauce? I screwed it up the last time.”
“Sure, no problem.” I moseyed on around to his side of the work station and stopped beside him. Our arms touched for the briefest moment and electricity zipped through me. I sucked in a breath and covered it by coughing. “So, I hope you don’t mind me asking but why did you come back?”
“I wanted to be a farmer,” he replied, grabbing an apron from a hook on the wall. He helped me into it, too close for any form of comfort, his fingers fumbling to tie the strings at my back. “I’ve always loved it out here. Sometimes, I figure it’s in my blood.”
He finally stepped away, then leaned forward and peered up at my face. “A ranch hotel, huh? I hadn’t heard that one before.” Another heartache-inducing smile.
“Just what popped into my head. It definitely stands out,” I said, moving the bacon off the heat and turning the knob on the burner. “I don’t want to pry but—”
“I created a system that allows water out on the farmland to be recycled. It helps farmers keep their crops watered during the harshest times. It was something my father was passionate about. I ended up building a system and getting a patent on it. I wanted to give back to the farmers, people like my dad.”
“Wow,” I said. That was seriously admirable. “That’s… good for you.”
“Thanks.” He shrugged. “No big deal. Now, back to this carbonara.” He shifted his gaze from me to the burners, conversation over.
Was he this closed off about everything? Ugh, it didn’t matter if he was. This was just one night. Just one night of relaxed chatter and food with a friend. No, a person I barely knew who I’d helped out.
After today, I probably wouldn’t see him again. I doubted we ran in the same circles – mine being more of a dot and consisting of myself alone – and he certainly hadn’t come into Hope Creek in the last month or I’d have heard the resulting ripples of gossip in the diner.
“So, what about you?” he asked. “What brings you to Hope Creek?”
“Me?” I reached for the cream. “I’m just here for the food.”
Joshua wasn’t the only one who liked his privacy.