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“Valentin, how far are we from Otter Cove?”
“Not far. A little over an hour. Is there something you need?”
“I’d like to see it and pick up a few things…”
“I can send someone.”
“I don’t want to be a bother. Am I correct to assume we have vehicles our people can use?”
He smiled at her use of the term ‘our.’ “We have several. I would suggest one of the SUVs.”
“Whatever is handy. I don’t want anyone to be inconvenienced.”
“If you’re finished and ready to go, we can head down to the garage.”
“I just need to go grab my purse.”
She ran upstairs and grabbed her purse which contained her wallet with her identification and her Italian driver’s license, as well as her cell phone. She met Valentin at the foot of the stairs and together they walked down to the garage. Given her choice of vehicles, she chose a vintage and fully restored farm truck painted candy apple red.
Valentin pointed out that even though the body, seats, and bed were all original, it had been converted from manual transmission to automatic and had a modern temperature, navigation, Bluetooth, and music system.
“I love it. You may never get me to drive anything else,” she cried with delight.
Valentin smiled. “I fear you may have to fight your mate for it. It is his choice of vehicle as well.”
“Thanks, Valentin. I have my cell phone with me.”
She drove off the estate. It took her almost double the time to get to town as Valentin had said. Not that she had any problems with the truck, but because she kept pulling off to take pictures with her phone—the vines and the other vistas were amazing, and she found herself falling in love with her new home.
As she entered Otter Cove, she was enchanted with its main street and the period buildings. It was small but there was a pride in ownership of the buildings and the town itself that impressed her. There appeared to be only one store, so she parked in front of Grayson’s Good Grocery & Mercantile.
She had expected something quaint and provincial but was happily mistaken. While it was obvious someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to restore the building, stepping inside made her feel like she’d taken a step back in time. The arrangement and array of products were definitely high-end, and there was plenty to choose from. A corner at the back was sectioned off and there was a flyer explaining the intended expansion of the store was to include a small bistro and coffee house.
Given the wide selection of imported cheeses, meats and crackers, she had a sneaky suspicion the proprietors knew their customer base as well as their business. They also had a nicely stocked wine and spirits’ section.
“Hi! I’m Annie. Can I help you?”
“Probably so. I’m Simone.”
“You’re Italian! Oh, wait, that was rude, and nothing wrong with being Italian. Are you new to our community or just passing through?”
“I’m new. I am to be bonded to Mischa Palmer.” A bit sheepishly, she added. “I’m his fated mate.”
“Congratulations. I just became bonded to my fated mate, as well. Deke might be the only man I know more difficult to deal with than your Mischa. Not to hurt your feelings. He’s an honorable man and looks after his people and his land; he’s just a bit of an isolationist.”
“I think that may be changing. I see you carry wine.”
“We do. Any chance you could get your mate to let me sell some of yours? I know he’s fairly exclusive and has contracts in place in Fairbanks, Vancouver, and Seattle, but I’ve heard Frost is amazing. I’d love to be able to offer it here.”
“I would need to talk to Mischa and Valentin, but I would think so. I can’t promise anything.”
“Girl, I can’t even get them to talk to me, so any help you can give me would be greatly appreciated. Can I get you a cup of coffee or maybe espresso?”
“Espresso would be divine. You have a lovely store, and I see you’re opening a bistro.”
Annie nodded. “We are, but Sienna—that’s my partner and sister-in-law—and I are thinking of offering cooking classes. Not gourmet or anything, but something a little different and fun. Any chance you know how to make pasta?”
Simone found herself warming to the effusive Annie. “Yes. And my gnocchi is to die for.”
