The Ingredients of You and Me Page 5

  “Like what?” Clara piped up nervously. “I’m not on the sociable things like some of the other girls are. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  I smiled when she called her compatriots “girls.”

  “Social media was a bit of a dumpster fire. It was professionally and emotionally draining, and not something I really ever wanted to do, but it was a part of the spiel.”

  Mancini tsk-tsked. “I’m glad you’re here and not back on the channel. It was fun to watch you, but you’re too nice for the nasty business people take part in.”

  I smiled. “It’s just a combination of all of it. All of the work led me to feeling the worst I had in ages. My trip here, well, I’m hoping it’s a recharge of the old batteries. Something to kick the cobwebs off the creativity pool in my brain and help me find what’s next.”

  “Well, the company that bought D and V gained the headache of all the nasty messages and requests, right?”

  “Yep, they got all of it. So, not my problem anymore, which feels like a huge weight has been lifted. I just need to focus on my next chapter. Especially since the boredom is killing me slowly. Plus…” I paused, wondering if I should dump all my woes on these ladies.

  “What is it, dear?” Clara asked consolingly.

  “It’s just, I haven’t been baking. I’ve had a bit of what I’m calling ‘baker’s block.’ My mojo has vanished. My creativity seems to have dried up.”

  They all shared looks of sympathy, and I realized no one in town understood my plight of having zero mojo or direction.

  “I really know how to bring the house down, huh?”

  Mancini made her little tsk-tsk noise that I realized was her way of shushing me from saying not nice things about myself. Self-deprecation was always my go-to. It was what worked on the Food Network and at D&V so magnificently. This crowd wasn’t my usual audience, though.

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to hang around with us. Maybe we can be helpful to your, what did you say, ‘mojo’? The winter months aren’t nearly as exciting as the spring and summer, but regardless, the doors are always open,” Mancini said, and the rest of her merry band of ladies chimed in with enthusiastic nods.

  * * *

  An hour or so later, I was full and sleepy. So when Cooper and Emma and Henry and Charlotte said their goodbyes, both couples offering me a ride to my Airbnb, I was ready to jump on it, but Mancini was insistent that I stay for a little while longer.

  “We’ll get you there, don’t worry,” she explained in a tone that left no question that I was to just wait it out with my new friends.

  As we said our goodbyes, Charlotte reminded me about the birthday party for Henry that would happen tomorrow. “You have to come. It’ll be fun, and a great time for you to see everyone again!” I hugged each of them one more time, holding on to Charlotte a beat longer than the rest. I didn’t realize how much I had missed her until she was walking away again. Though this time as I waved goodbye from the porch, I knew I would see her in the morning.

  After helping the ladies clean up, I noticed that they were fighting back yawns. Some were taking power naps, snoring away on various chairs throughout the house. They were as tired as I was. I knew if I didn’t get to the lake house and unpacked soon that I would be wrecked tomorrow, when I hoped to stop into Charlotte’s shop in town for a visit. My body was still on the four o’clock automatic wake-up call no matter how late I crashed.

  “What do you guys do, just have a sleepover when the weather is lousy?” I asked, watching Gigi zip around throwing blankets haphazardly on some of the sleeping seniors.

  Mancini laughed. “Not quite. Some will stay because the senior home in town has a curfew. We tend to break it often. Gigi will wake them soon so they go upstairs to sleep off the booze. Others, well, we’ll get them home eventually.”

  “Mancini, you’re the only person I know who answers a question without giving a lot of answers.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

  Once the last of the food was packed away and stored, I turned to an exhausted-looking Mancini.

  “Well, it’s late. I don’t want you to have to drive me, Mancini, so I’ll call that Uber to take me to the rental,” I said with a yawn.

  She looked affronted, her normally friendly face pinched and irked. “You’ll do no such thing. I have a ride coming for you. A big safe one to take you to the lake. He too has nothing to do in the winter besides take care of whatever we need,” Mancini explained, pulling a Tupperware container out of a bag that was at her feet. She began stuffing it full of cookies, slices of cake, and whatever else she could fit. “Such a good boy,” she mumbled to herself when my cell phone dinged, distracting me from asking her what she was talking about.

  Still there? Need a ride?

  I hadn’t realized that Charlotte texted over twenty minutes ago.

  Nope. Mancini has it “handled”

  Oh boy. What does that mean?

  I was going to respond but the door swung open, letting in a gust of cold air and some flurries. The man in the doorframe was big, covered in snow, and wrapped in enough gear to hike Mount Everest.

  I walked into Gigi’s foyer, which was now slick with snow, as Mancini hurried along, hot on my heels.

  Just as I reached him, he looked up and I got a look at two familiar brown eyes. My steps faltered when my feet hit the snowy hardwood near the door. It happened in slow motion. My foot slipped on the snow he’d trudged in, and I pitched back. I heard Gigi and Mancini shout something, but it was too late. I was already falling and headed for the floor.

  A large arm slid behind my back quickly, bracing me against a solid, albeit snow-covered, body. I shivered, and we’ll just go with the fact that it was the cold, and not because of the owner of said arm that was now holding me to him.

  “Whoa, there.” He smiled.

  I huffed. “Thanks,” I said brusquely, extricating myself from his arms.

  He took a step away, evidently understanding my irritation. I cleared my throat, ignoring the whispers and the snickering from behind me. While I was ignoring things, the rush of warmth that had run through me when he smiled dissipated. He looked the same, though his hair was a bit longer than I remembered. He was still disarmingly handsome with his sharp jaw and warm, inviting eyes.

  “Nick.”

  I stirred awake and curled up against his warm chest. “What are you thinking?”

  My fingers danced across his tanned skin. I enjoyed watching the goose bumps appear where they traced. “Nick?” I asked again, but I realized he was still asleep.

  Sitting up, I braced myself on my bent arms and watched his face. Nick was a force of nature when he was awake, but asleep he was surprisingly serene. Watching him for a few moments, I smiled, wondering how we had gotten here. Not just to my apartment in New York, but here together. As a unit, a couple with a potential future.

  “What has you up at this ungodly hour?” he asked, groggy, his voice still sounding sleepy. His eyes were closed and he smiled as his hand dipped down, touching my rear beneath the thin bedsheet. “It’s so early.”

  “Five in the morning is late for me,” I said, glancing over at the old-fashioned clock on the bedside table. “I’m usually at the bakery by now and kneading dough.”

  “If I was awake, I’m sure I’d find a smartass comment for that, but I just can’t come up with anything until the rest of me is up,” he said, shifting his hips.

  “Oh,” I teased, brushing against him. “Good morning to you.”

  He grinned wickedly and, in a flash, he rolled us over, pinning me beneath his large body. I laughed, biting at his chin as he tucked his arms beneath the pillow I was lying on and laid a searing kiss on my lips.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, mirroring the question that had woken him up.

  With our faces so close, I could barely see the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. “Your freckles are gone.” With the weather finally turnin
g to fall, his free time was opening up since landscaping was slowing down. Less time in the sun meant fading freckles.

  “I kiss you good morning and you mention my freckles?”

  I laughed. “It’s just something I noticed since you’re, you know, right on top of me.”

  “I’ll have to try harder next time.”

  “I think we both know you’re hard enough.”

  I lifted my hips to his. The sheet was awkwardly wrapped between us, preventing any real fun. I stopped teasing when he looked at me with questioning eyes.

  “Parker?” he said, looking serious. “What are you thinking about?”

  “You mean, about us?” I clarified.

  He nodded, giving me a quick kiss on the tip of my nose.

  I thought about a hundred things in a second. There were only a few that I was willing to share. “I’m thrilled that you came to visit again. If I didn’t know better, I’d be starting to think you loved the city. What is this, the fourth or fifth time?”

  “Sixth,” he said, and my heart leapt at the idea of him counting something. It felt very high school or puppy love but it didn’t matter. It was a sweet gesture.

  “This was a surprise, though, so I guess it’s different.”

  “It was one of the best surprises ever.”

  He kissed me again slowly. Considering how urgent we were last night when he showed up, this was a welcome change of pace.

  “To answer your question, I’m thinking that I don’t want you to leave tonight, and I’m trying to come up with a way to get you to stay another couple days.”

  “I can totally do that. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if just dropping in was a great idea or not. Every other visit has been so well coordinated. Especially back home so no one sees you.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that too. I think I’ve changed—”

  “Parker?”

  I snapped out of the memory to find Nick waving his hand in front of me. I didn’t know how long I’d been standing there, zoned out remembering the last time I saw him. A wave of sadness, anger, and more hurt than I cared to admit filled up inside me like a dam readying to burst.

  “Parker?”

  That was it. Just my name. Not Hey, sorry I didn’t call you back after your bazillion calls all those months ago. Just Parker.

  Two could play that game. “I would say that it was nice to see you…” I mumbled, making sure that none of the ladies heard me.

  Nick did, though. “But it’s not,” he finished in a whisper.

  “No, it’s not.”

  He carried on as if I hadn’t said a word. “I didn’t know you’d be in town. In fact, no one let me know you were coming. Which is curious, because my friends tell me everything.”

  “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” I said, mindful that Mancini and Gigi were still within earshot.

  “What?” Nick asked, looking confused.

  “Nothing. It’s just pretty sad that we can’t have a normal conversation after not seeing each other for a couple months.”

  He leaned in. “Yes, but things aren’t normal between us.”

  He had me there.

  “So, you’re here,” he said.

  “I didn’t think it was world news that I was showing up.”

  “And no one told me you were coming.”

  “We’ve established that you were in the dark, Nick.”

  There was no mistaking that he was irked. But why? “I didn’t realize I needed to run my travel plans by you.” I took a step back toward the coatrack in the foyer.

  He smiled, raising a well-groomed eyebrow, but it wasn’t flirty. I’d become familiar with that expression. This was irritation, pure and simple. “You’re right, you don’t.”

  “Not that I owe you an explanation,” I said, eager to see his reaction to my clipped tone. But I had no idea what I was hoping for in a response. Excitement? Anger? A little bit of lust? More irritation? Any of the above would be a start. “The trip was pretty last-minute.”

  Nick shrugged. Aloof wasn’t one of the reactions I had anticipated. I didn’t let the deflated feeling take over. “Just thought someone would have mentioned it,” he said lightly. “Did you take the bus?”

  I nodded. I could be just as aloof.

  “Henry and Charlotte picked me up in Mount Hazel and brought me to town. I’ve been hanging with Mancini, the ladies, Emma, Cooper, Henry, and Charlotte for the past couple hours.”

  That got a reaction. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and flattened his lips.

  “And no one told me.”

  “Seems that way.”

  I didn’t feel badly that he was in the dark. What did I care if he was irked or hurt? He hadn’t returned my calls, so clearly he didn’t care if I was irked or hurt. He pretty much ghosted me. So why would I tell him I was venturing into his neck of the woods? I didn’t even think I would see him.

  Lies.

  Not lies. I’d hoped I’d see him to give him a piece of my mind, but at the moment, nothing was presenting itself to me to aid in our usual snarky banter. Plus, I didn’t want to announce to the town, via the town gossips, what we had been hiding for months.

  Nick glanced out the front door and I grabbed my things. “I hate to rush you, but I need to get you home.” He took my coat from my hands and held it open expectantly. Well, I couldn’t be rude at a chivalrous gesture. I smiled thinly in place of a thank-you.

  “How long are you here for?”

  I couldn’t see his face, but how I wished I could.

  “Cat got your tongue, Baker?” he asked, in what was perhaps an effort at being playful. Too little, too late.

  “You realize that Baker isn’t my name, right? Just my profession?” I murmured, stepping closer to the door. Ex-profession, as it were at the moment. I pulled the thin curtains back from the windows on either side of the large front door, which gave me a bird’s-eye view at how blustery the weather was getting.

  “Hey, Mancini?” I turned to see the ladies lined up at the door. Some just roused from their naps, others getting their serving platters, or whatever they brought their treats in, ready to leave. I began wondering again how the ladies who weren’t staying would be getting home.

  But when I turned the other way to see Mancini and Gigi, Nick had them all occupied, and, by the looks of it, also moony over him. “Figures.” I got it, though. As much as I didn’t want to, I’d also fallen hook, line, and sinker for that very same charm that he exuded in waves.

  Nick had a swagger about him. Something that a lot of men tried to pull off but usually failed miserably at. He wasn’t cocky, but confident. He was similar to Henry—he was handsome, kind, and he cared about people. But while Henry was the lovable, hot professor, Nick was the man you wanted to climb like a tree. So, when I met him last summer, I couldn’t imagine how he was still single. It was a mystery to me.

  I fished around my coat pocket for my phone to grab the rental address and give it to Nick, but he was already back in the dining room, giving the ladies a kiss on each cheek and a quick hug goodbye.

  Mancini was watching it unfold. The rest of the ladies were lined up waiting their turn for some Nick lovin’. Even as bitter as I was, I could admit that it was adorable how he took the same amount of time and attention to say goodbye to each one.

  “He’s a sweetheart,” Pauline said, coming up beside me. She teetered a little, grabbing onto my arm for support. “Sorry.”

  I rested my hand on hers, keeping it there. “You lean all you need, Pauline. And yes, he can be a sweetheart,” I agreed, because he really could be when he wanted to.

  Pauline and I watched him interact with the ladies.

  Viola whispered something that made him laugh. “Viola, you know I only have eyes for you.”

  Until he turned to the next one. A surprisingly tall woman with ginger hair. “I know, I will. I promise,” he responded to a question I couldn’t hear.

  He promised a few that he would see them tomorro
w or another day during the week.

  “It depends on how much more snow we get,” he offered by way of an answer to a question from Clara about when he would be by her place to shovel.

  “Let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll make you dinner,” she replied, giving him a sweet grin.

  * * *

  When he joined me again, he didn’t realize that his lady friends trailed behind him like obedient ducks behind a parent. All shapes and sizes: Gigi in her wheelchair; Clara with her cane; and Viola, the ice-cream lady, who insisted that she was going to make him his favorite pistachio if he promised to shovel her driveway first. Elderly bribery at its finest.

  “Wait, you open the ice-cream shop in this weather?” I asked.

  She grinned, patting him on the head like a little boy. He smiled like one too, all deep dimples and a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “For my Nick, I’ll open in a blizzard.”

  “You have opened in a blizzard. Remember when I was thirteen and had to have my tonsils out?” he offered, dropping down to give her another kiss on the cheek. She beamed up at him.

  Once, not that long ago, I would have beamed at a kiss from Nick too.

  He gave me a moment to say my goodbyes, though the ones I got in return were not nearly as enthusiastic as Nick’s.

  Mancini came up to me last, holding her arms out for a hug. I melted as she pulled me tight to her. It was pure comfort and maybe, just maybe, this was what I needed. The slowed pace, the kind reassurances, and the easy-made friends who genuinely seemed like they cared.

  “Now listen. The store will deliver groceries. Whatever you need, just call them up with a list. With the snow it may take a couple hours, but you’ll get all the baking supplies you need to create some new treats,” she said with so much confidence I wondered if she knew something I didn’t.

  “So, you think a snowstorm will help my eagerness to bake come back?” I asked, already thinking of what I wanted to try.

  “Snow makes everything sparkle. I would wager Bertha out there”—she waved to her Hummer—“that a good storm will bring back your sparkle. It may not be this one, but you’ll get there. It’s not like we have a shortage of snow in this valley.”