Chapter Eight

She filled two quart-sized containers with fresh strawberries. The day before, she and Reese had gone strawberry picking at Nash Farm, a family-owned farm in town. They usually went three or four times a year. It was a tradition she’d started right after Reese started walking. Since then they’d added blueberry and raspberry picking in the summer and, of course, apple picking in the fall. Often, they’d eat some of what they picked then Mom would use some to make strawberry jam before freezing the rest. Rather than freeze any this time, Mom suggested she bring some with her when she went over to Curt’s house. She’d last seen him Friday night after work. Reese had insisted she should ask him to come strawberry picking with them, but she hadn’t mentioned it. As much as she enjoyed spending time with him, there were some traditions she didn’t want anyone, including Curt, intruding on. Yesterday’s outing was one of them. Turned out he had plans anyway. He hadn’t gone into detail, but let her know he was attending his cousin’s bachelor party in Rhode Island.

“Good, you remembered the strawberries.” Mom walked into the kitchen, Reese trailing behind her. They both had on old clothes and hats. She stole a strawberry from the large bowl Taylor hadn’t yet put away. “Reese and I are going to start on the garden. Hopefully, by the time you come home, we’ll have most of the plants in the ground.”

Growing up, Taylor had helped Mom plant seeds in the fenced garden area behind the house. After too many years of plants not growing well, Mom had switched her strategy. Now she planted the seeds in special containers in the house. Once they were large enough, she transplanted them into the ground. She’d noticed yesterday that Mom had carried all the containers outside to the patio.

“Have fun. What are you planting this year?”

Although she never enjoyed helping, she did like having the fresh vegetables in the house. The tomatoes and carrots from the store didn’t come close to tasting as good as the ones from Mom’s garden. Reese seemed to like helping with the garden. She even did some of the weeding and watering as the growing season progressed.

“Tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, peppers.” Reese counted each one off on her fingers as she went along. Taylor noticed she’d already slipped on her new gardening gloves, the ones the Easter bunny had left in her basket this year, along with a new bathing suit. “Did I miss anything, Mimi?”

“And zucchini. Hopefully, it does better this year.” Mom added the last item to Reese’s list.

“Sounds like we’ll have a lot of fresh veggies this summer.”

“Where are you and Curt going on your date, Auntie?”

She had no idea. He’d asked her to leave today open, but hadn’t shared any other details. So far, she’d enjoyed the time she’d spent with him. She expected the same to be true today. “I don’t know.”

“Tell him you want to go to Jump.” Reese loved the new indoor trampoline park that had opened over the winter in Manchester.

Taylor gathered up the containers and her keys. “I don’t think he’ll want to go there today.” She didn’t want to go there either. She’d seen adults enjoying Jump. The place even had a ladies’ night once a week for everyone over twenty-one, and a competitive dodge ball league for anyone over eighteen. But while she took Reese and her friends there all the time because they loved it, she had no interest in going without them. Curt didn’t seem like the type to enjoy the place either.

The motorcycle parked near the front door with two helmets dangling from the handlebars gave her a small clue of their plans today. He’d mentioned owning one, but she’d never seen him use it.

She paused and looked over the bike. She’d passed them countless times in parking lots but never got too close. Today she did, because Curt wouldn’t mind if she took a closer look. The instrument panel appeared to contain gauges similar to those in a car. She didn’t recognize the company emblem on the motorcycle, but it appeared to be a top-of-the line model. This didn’t look like the type of bike a man would put in front of his house with a For Sale sign attached. They’d never discussed finances, but if his book had been as big a hit as Mom claimed and he’d left his full-time job in Boston, she assumed he was doing rather well for himself. Not to mention all the money he must be putting into the renovation of the house. Even smaller jobs, like when Dad redid the kitchen floor, became costly. Redoing an entire house had to be insanely expensive, even if Curt was doing most of the work himself.

“Just on my way to get you. I thought you’d forgotten about me.” Curt walked down the front steps and across the walkway.

Like any woman could forget him, and he knew it. Not that he was conceited about it, but he had a confidence about him that let Taylor know he knew the kind of effect he had on the opposite sex.

“Well, I wanted to help them plant the garden, but Reese reminded me you and I have plans today.” She enjoyed teasing him, and he often reciprocated.

Slipping his arms around her, he smiled. “I’ll have to thank her later. Right now, I want to concentrate on you.” His voice became low and sensual. “I missed you last night.”

Curt’s hands traveled lower, slipping into her back pockets, and he traced her lips for a moment before kissing her. He kept the kiss slow and undemanding, but still shivers of desire raced through her. When he did pull away, she contemplated pulling his face back to hers and enjoying herself more. The strawberries she held made it impossible.

“I missed you, too. Did you have fun at the party?”

“Are you asking if I had fun, or do you really want to know if I behaved myself?” Curt asked.

She worked with enough men to know what sometimes went on at bachelor parties. Curt seemed too classy to partake in those kinds of things, but when guys got together, stuff happened. “Maybe both,” she reluctantly admitted.

“Yes, I had fun, and yes, I behaved myself. We went to a rock climbing gym not far from Providence. My uncle Mark and father came, too. Afterwards, we went for drinks at a club downtown. As far as bachelor parties go, it was enjoyable but tame. The kind I prefer.”

She’d never met his relatives, but she liked them already. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“What did you do yesterday?”

“After strawberry picking, we had a family game night.” It killed her to do so, but she pulled away from him and held up the containers she carried. “I brought you some of them.”

“Isn’t it a little early for strawberry picking around here?” Curt asked, accepting the containers.

“For strawberries planted outside, yes. These were grown in the farm’s giant, or as Reese calls it, ginormous greenhouse. Sometime in June we’ll go again and pick the ones growing outside.”

“Never heard of a farm growing strawberries indoors.”

“I think Nash Farm in town might be the only one. At least the only one in this area, and the greenhouse isn’t open to the public. A friend from high school married into the family that owns the farm. Her daughter and Reese are in the same grade and get along really well. A few years ago the family had a mammoth greenhouse built on the property, and they grow various fruits and vegetables inside it year round. They let us come and pick strawberries before the season starts. Later in June and July, we’ll go back and pick outside with the rest of the paying customers.”

“Sounds like a good deal.” Curt opened a container and sampled one. Red strawberry juice clung to his lips, tempting her to lick it off. “Wow, these are good. Much better than the ones from the store.” He plucked out two more before covering the bowl again. “We’ll have them when we come back.”

“Speaking of coming back, where are we going?”

“It’s supposed to be beautiful all day. I thought we’d take a ride up north along the Kancamagus Highway. Maybe do some hiking or check out Echo Lake or the Flume Gorge. My cousin told me about a place called Polly’s Pancake Parlor. It’s not far from the highway and serves breakfast all day. Says he stops there all the time when he’s in the area, because they have the best pancakes he’s ever tasted.”

“He’s right. Whenever we go up that way we stop at Polly’s. Reese swears even their chocolate milk is better than what we make at home. It tastes the same to me. What does your cousin do that sends him up there?”

Curt looked down at the containers he held, making it difficult to see his eyes. “He works for a big hotel chain. He’s the regional director for the Northeast.” He still didn’t look at her as he reopened the container and took out two more strawberries. “These really are delicious. Thanks for sharing.”

“And he’s the cousin getting married.” Could anyone blame her for wanting to learn more about his family? Not only did he know a great deal about hers, but he frequently joined them for dinner.

“No. Trent’s married. It’s his younger brother who’s getting married in June,” Curt answered. “Let me put these away and we’ll go.” He covered the plastic bowls and turned.

She watched him walk away, admiring the way his powerful, well-muscled body moved. When the door closed behind him, her attention transferred to their conversation. At least now she had another name to associate with Curt’s family. He hadn’t given up very many since the night at Pellegrino.

***

Curt came out of the curve in the road and accelerated. The Kancamagus Highway had been made for motorcycle rides. The thirty-four-and-a-half-mile road stretched from Lincoln, New Hampshire, to Conway, and cut through the White Mountains National Forest. Nature surrounded them on both sides, the occasional parking area or entrance to a camping ground the only thing to break up the natural beauty. This was the second time he’d driven along the road, but once again the views took his breath away. He read they were even better in the fall when foliage turned the landscape into a masterpiece of color. This September or October he’d make sure to come back through the area.

Taylor leaned into his back, and her arms tightened around his waist. He’d never taken anyone out for a ride. None of the women he’d dated before had mentioned it, and he’d never asked them. When Taylor commented she’d never been on a motorcycle but would love to try, he’d known he had to be the one to take her. The mere thought of her intimately pressed up against another man like she was against him now had left him gritting his teeth. Definitely not a rational response, but he’d been unable to shake it.

After today, every time he got on the bike he’d remember what it felt like having her behind him, her breasts pressed against his back and her arms around him.

Another checkmark in the “not good” category. The number of checkmarks there was mounting up.

Both Trent and Gray had questioned him last night about the status of his and Taylor’s relationship. When he’d admitted things had progressed past one simple dinner, they’d both offered up their wisdom again. He automatically told them both where they could shove it. That didn’t change the fact that they were right.

Turned out, keeping his real identity a secret by telling his neighbors half-truths was much harder to do than he’d expected. Especially when you were sleeping with one of those neighbors.

The conversation they had before leaving reminded him how easily he could slip up. Whenever possible, he avoided mentioning his family. Yet today he’d spoken without thinking when she asked about their plans. After he mentioned his cousin made frequent trips to the northern part of the state, she asked more about him. It was a logical progression for the conversation. After all, it wasn’t an area of the state one normally associated with business travel. There were no large cities up this way, or manufacturing centers. Instead, the area was known for skiing in the winter and hiking and camping in the summer.

He’d answered her questions with enough information to satisfy her curiosity but not associate him with the Sherbrooke family. I hope. Curt could no longer deny he had to tell Taylor and her mother the truth. He just wasn’t ready or willing to do it yet.

***

“Have you been here before?” Curt climbed off the motorcycle and hung his helmet from the handlebars. Then he took hers and did the same. They were parked outside the visitor’s center to the Flume Gorge.

“A few times as a kid with my parents and once with Reese last summer.”

Curt held her hand as they walked toward the center’s entrance built at the base of Mount Liberty. “What should I expect? The website I checked out only said this was a must-see up here.”

“A lot of uphill walking and stairs. There’s a nice waterfall and what they call the Pool. It’s a deep basin in the Pemigewasset River. And if you’re brave enough, we can go through the Wolf Den.”

“Don’t think I like the idea of going through anything with the word ‘wolf’ attached to it.”

Taylor laughed, causing other visitors to glance their way. “Chicken.” She gave him a gentle elbow in the side. “It doesn’t contain any wolves. It’s a narrow one-way path through rocks. It reminds me a little of the Lemon Squeeze at the Polar Caves.”

Curt paid the admission to the state park and accepted the guide map the gentleman manning the desk handed him. “I’ve never heard of the Polar Caves. Care to enlighten me?”

Taylor looked at him as if he’d just said he came from Mars. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You grew up in New England, but never went to the Polar Caves? Next you’re going to tell me you never took a family vacation to Santa’s Village or Story Land either.”

He should’ve kept his mouth shut and acted like he knew what she was talking about. Too late now, the damage was done.

“I never visited either of those places.” He couldn’t recall even hearing about them. “They’re located around here, too?”

“Uh, yeah. I assumed every kid within driving distance visited at least one of them before they got too old. They’re both amusement parks designed specifically for kids. No giant roller coasters or super crazy rides like most parks. Story Land has characters like Humpty Dumpty, the Old Women in the Shoe, and Cinderella. You can ride around in a giant pumpkin-shaped coach. Santa’s Village is always decorated for Christmas. You can visit Santa in his house and have your picture taken with him. You can also feed his reindeer. They’re both nice family places. Reese loves to go. I did when I was younger. Mom and Dad took us every summer until I was about eleven. Then the rides were too tame, so we went to bigger amusement parks like Six Flags.”

While Taylor told him about the places he’d never visited, they started their trek through the gorge.

“If you didn’t ever come up here on vacation, where did you and your family go?”

Another loaded question. He couldn’t tell her he’d traveled around the world for family vacations. Most people didn’t take those types of trips with kids. Many didn’t take them, period. He couldn’t tell her he never went anywhere either. She’d never buy it.

“Whatever Mom found interesting that year. She always planned our vacations. We also spent time at my uncle’s beach house in Newport.” Calling Cliff House, the Sherbrooke family estate on Bellevue Avenue, a beach house was a stretch. Yet not technically wrong, and he had visited there regularly throughout his childhood.

Taylor accepted his answer without question. “Reese wants to go to Santa’s Village again this summer. She likes it better than Story Land. I think I do, too. We haven’t decided if that’s what we’re going to do or not. Mom wants to rent a house at the beach for a week instead.”

A group of young twentysomething-year-olds passed them, and Curt held off asking any more questions until they were again alone on the path. “And you?”

“Not really sure. A week at the beach might be nice. Something different. I’ve taken Reese to the beaches in Hampton and in Rye, but always just for the day. She loves swimming, but I think she’d like the amusement park more than a whole week at the beach.”

He came close to suggesting doing both. He caught himself before he put his foot in his mouth again. He doubted Taylor got much more than a few weeks’ paid vacation. Even if she got enough for two such vacations, there was the cost to consider.

“You’ll figure it out.” Before he said anything else that required he either give away too much information or lie, he changed the subject.