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“You got it,” Charlie said. “And Tyler?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t fuck this up again.”
CHAPTER SEVEN: MAGGIE
I spent most of the morning buying groceries to stock Tyler’s kitchen. Mr. Prescott had set up a charge account at the FoodMart and emailed me the list of Tyler’s favorite foods. It was up to me to figure out the recipes and list the ingredients I’d need, but that wasn’t too difficult because there was nothing fancy on the list.
You don’t need a recipe to grill a steak.
Tyler had called himself a basic carnivore and the list proved it.
I sat in the car outside of the FoodMart and went down the piece of paper in my hand.
Eggs, bacon, biscuits, gravy, hash brown potatoes, porterhouse steak, filet mignon, ribeye, pork, hamburger, meatloaf, baked potatoes, various vegetables, any kind of homemade dessert (nothing frozen). Coffee, iced tea, milk, orange juice, bottled water, Coors in the bottle.
It was not unlike the list I made every week, only this time I didn’t have to bargain shop or clip coupons, or skip buying something that wasn’t on sale. Money was no object to Tyler and I doubted he would have given a crap about getting fifty-cents off of dishwashing liquid.
When I left the store, my old Honda was packed to the gills. She struggled to get up the mountain road to the cabin. There were a few times I leaned into the steering wheel and urged her on, “Come on, old girl, you can do it! Get up that hill!”
Mr. Prescott had said that there would be a key to the back door waiting for me when I arrived. I found it under the mat and let myself inside. I paused in the kitchen for a moment as images of Tyler’s naked body flashed through my mind. I shook my head to drive the images away, then spent the next hour unloading the car and stocking the cupboards and fridge.
* * *
I was sitting at the kitchen island making out the menu for the week when I heard the front door open and someone stomping snow off their feet. Tyler’s deep voice called out as he walked through the house to the kitchen.
“Honey, I’m home!”
My nerves immediately started to hum at the sound of his voice and the hand holding the pen started to shake. My breathing came in short gusts and my mouth was suddenly dry. I resisted the urge to dig the Chap Stick out of my purse. Licking my lips would have to do and I did it quickly, before he came in.
I swallowed the lump that had lodged in my throat and forced myself to smile.
“Good morning, Miss Dean,” he said, coming into the kitchen with a big smile on his face and a bouquet of red roses in his right hand. He bowed and held the roses out to me. “For you, with my sincerest apologies.”
“Really? Oh my, I mean, that’s really not necessary.” I held the roses to my nose and inhaled their aroma. “They’re beautiful. Thank you. Where on earth did you find roses in Mountain View this time of year?”
“I brought them with me from Denver,” he said with a proud smile that made his moustache twitch. He was wearing tight jeans stuffed into a pair of hiking boots and a thick corduroy jacket with a fur collar. He took off the jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. Underneath, he was wearing a long john shirt that fit his muscled frame like a glove.
“Is there coffee?” he asked, rubbing his hands together to warm them.
“There is,” I said. “I’m afraid I couldn’t figure out your fancy coffee machine, so I used the Mr. Coffee maker I found under the sink.
“Fantastic,” he said, pulling down a mug and filling it to the brim. “I hate that damn machine.” He picked up the mug and slid onto a stool across the bar from me. His handsome face turned serious.
“I want to apologize for the other day. It was a silly thing to do.”
“It’s fine,” I said with a smile. I felt my nerves easing a bit, though I was still not ready to drop my guard around him. “I have teenage brothers, I know what idiots boys can be.”
He smiled and I felt a warmth cover over me, like a blanket wrapping around my shoulders.
“Boys never stop being idiots,” he said. “Even when they’re adults.”
“I have often found that to be true,” I said with a sly smile. I set the roses on the bar and picked up the pen. “I’m just making out the menu for the week. Will you be here for every meal?”
“I’m not sure at this point,” he said. “Charlie is coming in on Wednesday, so I thought I would spend a couple of days getting to know the town and maybe do some hiking. Can we be flexible?”
“Sure,” I said. “If you can just give me a little heads up, I can have something prepared for you in no time.”
