Chapter Fifteen

Roman

I was disappointed when I got back to the motel. That certainly wasn’t how this night was supposed to go. The fury that Benson felt was palpable and I wondered if the way that he felt about me was going to be a barrier in me getting closer to Bitsy.

More of a barrier than she already is, of course.

I couldn’t let any of it discourage me, though. If Bitsy would only agree to having me around to get to know Lorelei, I would take that, but it wouldn’t stop me from trying to get to know Bitsy better as well. I went to bed that night determined that I was going to wake up early and start my day with her, showing her that I could fit in with her life.

It turns out that early in the Hollow is a hell of a lot earlier than I thought early was, because by the time that I managed to get to her house, she was already up, dressed, and looking like she was well beyond breakfast. I had left the motel without my now-customary breakfast and was dying for some coffee, but the faintness of the smell in the air told me that any she had made had been brewed long before and was no longer available.

“Do you mind if I have a cup of coffee?” I asked.

Bitsy looked at me strangely and led me to the kitchen.

“Sure,” she said. “Go ahead.”

She gestured toward the counter and I saw a coffeemaker sitting on the corner. It was a relic from another time, reminding me of the one that my mother used when I was young. I looked back at her.

“Are you serious?”

“What?” she said. “It makes the best coffee in the world. The grounds are up in the cupboard.”

I stared at her again and she got an exasperated look on her face.

“You don’t know how to make your own coffee?”

“Not in that thing.”

She sighed and stalked past me to the cupboard. I watched intently as she showed me what looked like 90 steps to go from filling the little white paper with grounds to the coffeemaker finally sputtering and spitting its way through filling my mug. By the time it was finished and I had cautiously approached to fill my cup, I felt like I had made another enemy.

“I’m going to have to buy you another coffeemaker,” I said as I took the first sip.

“Why? I don’t need one. That one is perfect.”

I took another sip. She was right. It did make amazing coffee. That just meant that I was going to have to add the coffeemaker to my list of things that I needed to conquer.

“How are you doing this morning?” I asked.

Bitsy looked at me quizzically.

“I’m fine,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I just thought I would see if there is anything I could do to help you.”

Bitsy made a valiant effort to conceal her laugh, but it still came out as a derisive snort.

“You want to help me with my chores around the farm?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, feeling slightly defensive. “Why not?”

She grabbed another coffee mug and filled it, taking a sip as she surveyed what I was wearing.

“I’ve just never seen tailored designer clothes and imported shoes in a pumpkin patch or cornfield.”

I looked down at my clothes and shrugged.

“It’ll be fine,” I said. “I can replace them.”

She gave me a sarcastic look.

“I’m sure you can.” She swallowed the last of her coffee. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”

By the middle of the afternoon I had a new appreciation for Bitsy and every other farm owner who lived in the Hollow. I never could have imagined that so much work would go into raising the rows of pumpkins that had always seemed too perfect and almost carefree when I visited patches as a child. Now as I wrestled weeds from around vines and tromped through the rows spraying soapy water on the plants to ward off squash bugs that Bitsy had seen starting to make their appearance, I realized that each of the gourds was its own achievement. I suddenly felt like the next time that I ate a pumpkin pie I was going to need to say a special thank you to the pumpkins for their sacrifice and then go hug a farmer.

I glanced across the rows toward Bitsy.

I knew exactly which one I wanted to volunteer.

“There’s a cluster!” she suddenly gasped, pointing toward a sprout a few yards down from me.

I grasped my spray bottle and dropped down to the ground, rolling dramatically toward the plants and spraying them aggressively. Bitsy laughed, that playful sound making every bit of dirt now in my hair and streaked across my clothes worth it.

“I think I got them,” I said.

“I hope so,” Bitsy said. “And at least if you didn’t, maybe if they saw you do that they’ll decide that eating through my plants just isn’t worth it.”

“Anything I can do,” I said.

She laughed again and I felt my heart swell a little more. It was obvious that the attraction was still there between us and the powerful draw that I felt toward her was only getting stronger. Though in the darkness of my hotel room I still saw her in her costume from Halloween, seeing her like she was now, dressed in tight jeans and a plaid shirt, her hair tossed back in a ponytail, and without a drop of makeup on her sweat streaked face, only made me feel more pulled toward her. It proved that the concerns I had had about the validity of our attraction were unfounded. That night wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t one explosive encounter. It was only the beginning.

“So, have we earned our dinner yet?” I asked.

Bitsy laughed and nodded.

“Yes. Lorelei should be eager to see me by now, too.”

“That must be nice,” I said. “I hope one day she’ll be eager to see me, too.”

She smiled at me softly as we started our walk toward the house. Though she didn’t say it, I hoped that in that smile she was saying that she thought that day would come.

We were nearly to the house when I heard my phone ring in my pocket.

“See, it is possible to keep track of a phone in a pumpkin patch,” I said. “Myth debunked.”

She shot me a glare, but smiled and climbed the steps to the house.

“Hello?” I said without bothering to look at the name of the caller.

The smile melted from my face when I heard the frantic voice on the other end of the line. I tried to quiet it, to get a word in, but I couldn’t. Finally, it stopped and I let out a long breath.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and entered the house reluctantly. Bitsy smiled at me when I stepped into the living room, but her expression faltered when she looked into my face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Bitsy got up and we walked into the foyer.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Oh. OK. Well, thank you for your help. Maybe I’ll see you again tomorrow?”

I shook my head.

“No. I have to go back home. There are problems with one of the hotels I’m building and I have to go clean up a couple of messes. Then I’ll be back.”

Her expression dropped even further and I could see the dark disappointment forming in her eyes.

“Alright,” she said.

“Bitsy, I’ll be back,” I reassured her. “It’s just going to take me a couple of weeks and then I’ll be back. I’ll take the time I’m there to pack for staying here longer.”

She nodded.

“Alright,” she said again.

I could see that she thought it was an excuse, that I was trying to get away from her and the baby. The thought ached in my chest, but there was nothing that I could do. I reassured her again that I would be back and left the house, wishing I could stay but no longer feeling that she welcomed me there.

The door closed behind me before I could even get to the top step and I let out a breath. That sound seemed to make a change between us. What connection and tenuous link we had built had broken and were back right where we had started. I walked down the steps reaching for my phone again so I could make the arrangements to get back to the office, determined to finish what needed to be done as quickly as possible so I could get back here and be here for Bitsy in whatever way I could.