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“Is that realistic?”
“It has to be. At least for now.” She gave a slight shrug. “She needs at least one home that’s stable, andthisis that home.”
They stared at each other. Mike sat up, and she felt their moment coming to an end. She moved to get out of bed, but he took her arm.
“I get it. That doesn’t mean I like it.” He sighed. “But I can handle being your dirty little secret.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves anyway. Last night was...impulsive. Let’s figure out what’s real, where we are and where we’re headed before we worry about going public.” He gave her another sneak-attack kiss. “I promise to behave outside this room. In here, all bets are off.”
She normally loved his pragmatic approach to things. But this wasn’t quite that simple.
“Hazel’s room is right across the hall.” She felt the same disappointment she saw in his eyes, but his expression brightened again.
“I have a house, too, remember?”
“I can’t leave a thirteen-year-old home alone all night.”
“I’m just saying thatifwe decide to play chemistry class again...” He winked and she couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m betting we can be creative. Keeping this on the down low might even be fun.”
“Fun? But...” Her voice trailed off.
She was a forty-year-old single mom of a teenager. She was a struggling business owner. She was trying to bring this big old house into the twenty-first century. She was constantly exhausted and borderline broke.
And yet—bad idea or not—the thought of sneaking around to have secret sex with Mike McKinnon sounded like the best ideaever.
VICKIEDIDHERbest to focus on the conversations swirling around her on the porch of the Taggart Inn. Iris Taggart served afternoon tea there in the warmer months, and it had become a gathering place for locals as well as guests. The main topic of conversation today was the big storm over the past weekend. The town had lost a few of its beautiful trees, and many people had been without power for a day or two, but things were getting back to normal.
The marina had suffered some minor damage to boats and docks. Some of the area wineries had been hit hard, but not as badly as those on the opposite side of Seneca Lake. Her friends at the table—Maura, Cecile and Rick—had fared well, as had Vickie. She’d spent the storm with the Nelsons, but other than some branches down and her dock being pushed sideways, her property was fine.
Her thoughts, just as they had for the past few weeks, kept wandering back to kissing Gordy in her kitchen pantry. Other than knowing glances and a mischievous grin, he hadn’t said a word about the kiss. She suspected he was playing a game with her—waiting forherto be the first to mention it. But she was strong enough to win that game. She hoped...
“Vickie!” Rick Thomas snapped his fingers in her face. “What the hell is going on with you today?”
She slapped his hand away with a scowl. Rick, a professor at Brady College, was one of her best friends. The two of them were equally cynical and sarcastic. They both loved watching—and gossiping about—people. Neither of them was easily intimidated.
“If you put that hand in my face again, you might just lose it,” she warned.
“Well, you didn’t answer Mauraorme, so I thought maybe you’d retreated into some sort of catatonic state.” Tall and lanky, with dark but graying hair, he leaned back in his chair at the small metal table and arched an eyebrow high. “Where were you?”
In the kitchen pantry...
“I was just going through my mental to-do list for the SummerFest in August. I’m in charge of the Saturday night gala, remember?”
She hadn’treallybeen thinking about that, but sheshouldhave been. Selecting and celebrating the Local Business of the Year was a big responsibility. Not that she couldn’t handle it. Through the years she’d held just about every role in every one of the local festivals Rendezvous Falls was so famous for.
“Bullshit,” Rick snorted. “You could wait until the night before andstillhave a successful event. You’re the Hostess with the Mostest. It’s your superpower. What were youreallythinking about?”
Luckily, Cecile came to the rescue with a distraction. She leaned forward and lowered her voice dramatically.
“Did you hear about Connie? She has aman!”
Rick fixed his attention straight on Cecile, who, as usual, was dressed in cotton candy pink, her too-blond-to-be-natural curls swinging around her face.
“Seriously?” Rick asked. “Ican’t find a man to save my life, but the grumpiest florist in town found one?”
“I keep telling you you’re trying too hard, Rick.” Cecile shrugged. “Connie just said ‘good morning’ to some guy at church, andbam, they’re dating!”
“Atchurch?” Maura leaned in. “Who?”
“Stan Perelli,” Cecile answered. “I guess he’s been wanting to ask for a while, but couldn’t get past her prickliness. When she wished him a good morning, he figured that was as close as he was going to get.”
