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“The journey up the river was long and cold…”
“I’ll call Trudy and tell her to start a nice, hot bath for you. By the time we get there, once you get checked in, it’ll probably be ready for you.”
He placed the call and then brought his Jeep around. He helped her down the stairs and into the vehicle, not so much because she needed it, but because it gave him a chance to put his arm around her. Reluctantly he turned her over to Trudy’s care, wondering what excuse he might need to see her again.
“Hutch?” she asked from the porch, standing next to Trudy.
“Yes?”
“I really hate to eat alone. Any chance you’d meet me for dinner?”
“I’d like that a great deal. The best place is The Workshop. Best burgers in the world, but they have other things as well.”
“Burgers are fine. What time?”
“Say five?”
“Hutch turns back into a pumpkin at midnight,” teased Trudy.
“It’s a date,” called Hutch as he walked out the door.
It’s a date?God, how lame could he be? Well, it must not have mattered, as she’d said yes.
That she was his fated mate could not be disputed as far as he was concerned. From the moment she’d placed her foot on the first step of his shop, he’d felt her presence. The bonding link was not established, but Hutch was certain it would flow strongly between them.
Despite his certainty of her status as his fated mate, every instinct he had honed on the battlefield was jangling jarringly and loudly. Danger! Danger! Danger! His heart and soul wanted to reject the warning—but his brain and experience told him that doing so would be a far bigger risk than he should take.
Regardless, he found himself whistling as he jogged back up the steps and into the bakery. He found himself looking forward to picking up Naomi.
Naomi.It was a pretty name, but it seemed off somehow. Shoving aside his concerns about her, he finished his baking and work in the bakery itself and took a fair amount of teasing about the pretty newcomer.
Life in a small town. He knew that kind of thing bugged a lot of people, but Hutch had found a certain comfort in it. Closing early, he cursed Scott Hardaway again for not having an interior stairway from the bakery to the apartment upstairs. However, once he was inside, he had to smile. The place was really coming together. He’d been lucky in that the basic layout and the finishes Scott had utilized were close to his own aesthetic, but he’d been bringing in his own pieces and had upgraded and enhanced the main bath and bedroom and added a powder room for visiting guests.
Once he was showered, he pulled on a pair of black Levi’s, a deep aubergine sweater, and a pair of cowboy boots. He knew they weren’t as practical as snow or hiking boots, but he loved them. He jogged back down the stairs, fired up the Jeep, and went to pick up Naomi.
She came out the front door as soon as he pulled up. To say she took his breath away would be an understatement. He literally had to remind himself to breathe. She had on a long, charcoal gray, full knit skirt, with a black V-neck sweater belted in with a black belt with a silver buckle. Her black boots were not unlike his riding boots—but for English not Western.
Hutch got out of the Jeep and met her halfway down the steps. He was smitten. He had no doubt about it. But still the alarms inside his head blared their warning. He chose to ignore them as he helped her into the Jeep and had to keep himself from allowing his hand to drift down and cup the curve of her ass as he did so.
“You look beautiful,” he said, getting in on the other side.
“Thank you. So do you.”
“I should warn you; Mystic River is a small town and a close-knit community. We may have to endure some teasing.”
She laid her hand on his as it rested on the gear shift. “I’m willing to risk it if you are.”
Was she kidding? He was willing to risk life and limb just to see her smile. Enduring whatever taunts his friends wanted to throw his way was a small price to pay for the pleasure of her company. The catcalls were immediate as they entered The Workshop, but they were also brief, kind, and funny. He was glad to see that they didn’t rattle Naomi in the least.
They ate burgers and drank beer, sharing what had brought each of them to Mystic River.
“I’d just seen too much bloodshed and no longer believed in the cause. It’s two steps forward and one step back over there, and honestly, I think the majority of the people don’t want us there.” He shook his head. “Sorry. My last mission was a disaster. But let’s not talk about that. What about you?”
“I studied history in school and considered becoming a teacher, but student teaching taught me I didn’t want that.” They both laughed. “So, I started working in an art museum and writing romance novels on the side. Oddly though, they weren’t from the period of history in which I’d specialized—the Roman invasion and occupation of Great Britain.”
“What then, Tudor history?”
“Not even close,” she laughed. “Vikings.”
