Buns Page 11

  “You’re the only person who’s ever told me that.”

  “I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

  I sank my hands into his hair, twisting the auburn locks in my fingertips. His blue eyes went wild.

  My heart went wild too, beating almost out of my chest. This was wrong, this was so fucking wrong. I knew better than this. “I find it hard to believe you’re not kissing me yet.” I knew better, but in that moment I didn’t care.

  His lips were on mine in an instant, all traces of the calm and collected Mr. Bryant gone as he ravaged my mouth with his own. He kissed like he’d never get enough, like I was going to disappear.

  “Oh God,” I murmured as he tugged my hips into his, ferocious and hungry.

  “You taste incredible,” he whispered back, sweeping kisses along my cheekbone, nuzzling against my neck. “How can you taste this sweet?”

  I pulled his face back to mine, staring deep into his eyes, wrapping one leg around his hip, pulling him into my heat.

  Stars. I saw stars. In his eyes, in my eyes, in the actual night sky, I don’t know. I just know that when he thrust up against me, wild and crazy, the world changed somehow, and suddenly everything was all bright colors and his face was stunning.

  “Oh my God,” I moaned, my voice muffled against his neck. “Oh my God, I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  “We’re officially not doing this,” he groaned, his hand traveling up my leg, palming my thigh.

  “It’s bad, this is so bad,” I gasped.

  “It’s the worst,” he agreed, then silenced us both with a searing kiss.

  I heard footsteps. Footsteps close by, on the street. The footsteps slowed down.

  “Dude, someone is going to town in the alley over there.”

  “No they’re not, where? Oh. Ohhhh.”

  “Should we stop watching?”

  “I want to say . . . yes?”

  The footsteps never started up again. Jesus, we had an audience.

  I lowered my leg, peeking over Archie’s shoulder and saw two men unabashedly staring, unabashedly delighted. And then somewhat embarrassed when they realized they’d been caught peeping, they hurried on down the street.

  My heart pounded in my ears, that was too close. They’d seen my face, but no one knew me, not in this town. And Archie’s back was to them, they couldn’t have seen his face.

  “Jesus, who gets caught making out in an alley.” I sighed as he leaned his forehead to mine, both of us out of breath.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, his cheeks flooding red. “I’d normally never . . . I mean, what kind of guy . . .”

  I kissed him quickly, firmly. “I feel it too, whatever this is. We just need to stop doing this.”

  He looked into my eyes, the right corner of his mouth lifting. But also realizing what was at stake. He backed away, both of us straightening ourselves up a bit.

  We took the few steps back to the street and headed inside the diner. Where we were instantly greeted by familiar faces sitting around a large table in the middle of the restaurant.

  Roxie.

  Leo.

  Natalie.

  A hulk who I assumed was Oscar.

  And two more faces that, upon seeing my face, sported Cheshire cat grins.

  The two guys from the alley. Shit.

  “Clara, what the hell, why didn’t you tell us you were coming in for dinner,” Natalie said, standing up as soon as we came through the front door. “We would have . . . oh, why hello, Archie,” she finished, her voice going all sing-songy.

  “Hello, Natalie,” Archie replied, giving her a confused smile.

  She slipped her arm through his and immediately began leading him toward their table. “Now, you two must come and sit with us, right, Clara?” She looked at me over her shoulder and gave me a thumbs-up. Oh, for the love . . .

  “Actually, Nat, we were planning on working through dinner, you know, boring shoptalk, wouldn’t really interest anybody and—”

  “Hey, Arch, how’s it going! I haven’t seen you in a while, it’s been ages,” Leo said, jumping out of his seat and coming over to throw an arm around Archie’s shoulder. The one Natalie wasn’t currently curled into. “What’s been going on?”

  Leo I’d met before, when he and Roxie had spent a weekend in New England and stopped in Boston to take me to dinner. Sandy-blond hair, crazy green eyes, and all farmer-boy hot. It was a wonder Roxie spent any time vertical. Born into one of the wealthiest families in America, he’d left the family banking business behind to start up Maxwell Farms, an organic organization here in town that was one of the nation’s leading examples of sustainably grown farming. Brains, money, good looks, he had it all. But the best part was, he was a nice guy. Plus, he adored Roxie, which gave him an A+ in my book.

  “Not much, keeping busy, you know how it goes. How’re things on the farm?”

  “About to blow up, it’s our last little bit of quiet before the crazy begins in a few weeks. We’ve already got things kicking in the greenhouse.”

  “I’ll bet. Roxie, good to see you again,” Archie said, then nodded at the giant. “Oscar, I trust things are well at the creamery?”

  I stared, honest to goodness stared, at the amount of incredible that unfolded in front of me. He stood up, but just seemed to get taller and taller and taller. An ex–professional football player, Oscar Mendoza was six feet six inches of fucking Polynesian love god. Golden skin, chocolate-brown eyes, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail that should technically straddle the line between pretentious and cheesy but somehow worked, he was known in these parts for three things. His incredible dairy, his love for his woman, and his gift for gab.

  “Archie. Hey” was his conversational offering, and a fist bump that Archie took in stride. His next move was to pull Natalie over to him, wrapping one hand firmly around her ass, a slow grin spreading over his face as soon as she was back at his side.

  “Clara, you haven’t met Oscar yet.” Natalie preened, leaning against him.

  “I’ve been hearing about you for forever it seems, I can’t believe we’ve never met!” I extended my hand and it was engulfed in what seemed like a grizzly bear paw.

  “Nice to meet you, Clara,” he replied. His words were short, but his eyes were kind.

  “Seriously, we’ll bring over two more chairs, unless you’d rather sit alone? All that shoptalk?” Roxie offered, halfway toward the stack of chairs in the corner but giving me the chance to bug out.

  I nodded. “Thanks, but we’ve got work to do and—”

  “Nonsense, Ms. Morg—Clara.” He stopped himself, then shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds like fun.” Two chairs appeared instantly and I was ushered into one of them.

  “Great,” I said through clenched teeth as I was now perched across the table from the other two guys, neither of whom had said anything yet, but gave me another matching set of mischievous grins.

  “Clara, this is Chad Bowman.”

  “Oh sure, the Chad Bowman, I’ve heard all about you,” I said, grinning as I shook Chad’s hand. “Roxie had a crush on this one in high school, right?”

  “I did,” Roxie confirmed. “And this is his husband, Logan, who I now have a crush on instead of Chad.”

  “It makes sense in a weird way.” Logan laughed, also shaking my hand. They both looked back and forth between me and Archie several times, wondering what exactly might be going on here. While I’d also love an answer to that very question, I silently asked them, with my eyebrows only, to shut it about the alley porn they’d just witnessed.

  Chad’s eyebrows asked if it was a secret.

  My eyebrows said yes, yes it was.

  Logan’s eyebrows waggled several times, telling me that while it was hot, and it was, my secret was safe with them.

  Archie was oblivious to all of this, already engrossed in a conversation with Leo and Oscar about the Yankees’ spring training and blah blah lips moving.

  Settled now, Roxie leaned over. “
Chad here is a town councilman, he was the one who brought Natalie’s firm in to help work on the Bailey Falls promotion.”

  “Yes, it’s Chad I have to thank every time I have no cell reception or find myself whistling ‘The Farmer in the Dell’ under my breath like some crazy country person,” Nat said, smacking her menu on the table. “What the hell am I ordering?”

  “I hear the Zombie Cakes are really good,” Roxie said out of the corner of her mouth.

  “I hear the girl who makes Zombie Cakes is a little bit full of herself,” I heard a familiar voice say as a tray full of water glasses was thunked down on the table in front of me. “And how in the world did I get stuck waiting on this table, huh?” I turned to see Trudy, a perpetual love-struck hippie who also happened to be Roxie’s mother. “Why, Clara Morgan, I didn’t know you were in town! Get up here and give me a hug and kiss.”

  I stood and was instantly enveloped in her arms, the familiar scent of patchouli mixed with french fries comforting. “Hi, Trudy.”

  “How are you? You visiting the girls?”

  “Kind of.”

  Roxie piped up. “She’s working her magic up at Bryant Mountain House, Ma. She’s helping Archie out.”

  “Archie Bryant, I haven’t seen you in forever.” She patted him affectionately on the shoulder, then squeezed the length of his arm. “You need to come in here more often, you’re too thin. You’re getting the pot roast tonight, extra mashed potatoes.” She looked down at me, still pinned under her other arm. “How about you, you got a race coming up that needs carb loading?”

  “I don’t, actually, not for a while.”

  “Then you get pot roast too.” She peered deep into my eyes, searching. “You look like you need the iron. I’ll put an extra slice on there for you. The rest of you knuckleheads figure out what you want, I’ll be right back. Great to see you, Clara.” She pushed me back into my chair, then suddenly looked at Archie and me like she just realized we were sitting next to each other. “Mm-hmm.”

  And with a wave of her pad and pen, she was off, muttering to herself about ginkgo biloba and vitamin D.

  “So much for getting our work done,” I murmured to Archie, and he leaned down closer.

  “We can always take a drive afterward.”

  “Oh really?” I asked. He merely smiled, and bumped me with his elbow. Then we both realized we were very much in public and pulled away from each other, looking up, down, across the room, anywhere but at each other.

  Butterflies from an elbow. This was dangerous.

  “What was Trudy saying about a race?” Leo asked.

  “Clara’s a runner. And a swimmer. Hell, Clara’s an everythinger,” Natalie chirped.

  Oscar dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Not a word, Pinup.”

  “Bite me, you knew what I meant, though.”

  “What kind of races do you do?” Leo asked.

  “Endurance races, that kind of thing. I try and do several marathons a year, depending on where I’m working. If I can slip in a triathlon, I make it happen.”

  “You’re a badass, aren’t you?” Logan asked, and I shrugged.

  “She’s tough,” Roxie replied, and her eyes met mine across the table. She was right. I was. I had to be.

  “You ever do one of those mud courses?” Chad asked.

  I nodded. “We were just talking about that on the way over here. There’s one coming up soon in Syracuse, looks like a great course.”

  “That’s the one I was telling you about!” Logan exclaimed, pounding Chad on the shoulder. “We gotta do it.”

  “Oh man, one of those Tough Mudders?” Leo asked, looking at Oscar. “What do you think, Mendoza, can you handle it?”

  “Mud?” he asked. “Sure. It’s just wet dirt.”

  “Excellent, you in, babe?” Leo asked, swinging an arm around his girl.

  “How did I get involved in this? You boys go do that, Natalie and I will watch from the stands.”

  “Yeah, I’ll go for hot dogs,” Natalie replied, winking at Oscar.

  “We’re in, we’re so in,” Leo said, looking at Archie. “You’re doing it, right?”

  I started to speak up, wanting to get him off the hook, but once again he surprised me.

  “Sure,” he said with all the confidence of someone who’d just decided something a split second ago, but seemed pretty sure about it. “What the hell.”

  Excitement erupted around the table as everyone began congratulating themselves on their general awesomeness or in the case of Roxie and Natalie, an overall feeling of supportive disgust.

  I listened to all of this, wondering how a simple night out to talk to Archie about his hotel had become this big friendship ball. Everyone talking over each other, laughing, joking, it was a bit chaotic and almost a little . . . overwhelming? In a good way, but there was a moment when I had to sit back a bit and just breathe, feeling all those personalities banging into each other and rushing over me.

  I wasn’t used to all the chatter. I’d seen Hollywood’s glorified version of what a big family dinner was, but I’d never been smack-dab in the middle of it. I listened to the conversations as they zinged around, I laughed along with everyone, but there was a part of me that felt just a bit . . . on the outside. My usual default, but this time I was on the inside, I was the inside. Why did it feel overwhelming, then?

  I didn’t feel lonely, never let myself go there. So why, when I was surrounded by my friends and their friends and having a grand time, did I feel somehow a bit hollow on the inside? Can you feel lonely when you’re surrounded by people?

  I rubbed at my chest, feeling an ache begin to set in behind my ribs. I was there, I was involved, but only partway. Part of me was hovering outside this, on the edge, unnoticed.

  But then Archie did notice me. His eyes caught mine, and the warmth there burned right through me, into exactly those carved-out hollow places.

  And when Leo started asking me about different races I’d done before, and Logan was telling me about the time he fell off a ropes course and how it was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him, I couldn’t help but get pulled in, letting myself enjoy the evening for what it was. A night out with friends. And pot roast. And repeatedly accidental-but-very-much-on-purpose elbow bumping.

  A few hours later we were headed back up the mountain. It had been a fun night, lots of laughing and storytelling and name-calling. Trudy made me promise to come over for dinner, and soon. I’d enjoyed meeting Oscar, and while Archie seemed to have literally not a thing in common with him, they got along quite well.

  Chad and Logan seemed to get it—once it came out that I was working up at the mountain house, they’d exchanged a quick look and then a subtle nod in my direction. I’m sure I’d have to explain at some point, but for now it was contained.

  Even contained, this was a risk and I couldn’t have that. This only had one possible outcome from where I was sitting, and there was no way it could end well. I chanced a glance over at Archie’s profile as he drove. Those long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, gracefully tapered. Strong nose, chiseled jawline, full lips, now turned up in a small, secretive smile. He’d enjoyed himself tonight. Had it been a while? I kind of got the feeling it might have been.

  “Do you get out much?” I asked.

  “Explain.”

  “Out,” I repeated, tucking my legs underneath me and facing him across the console. “Out and about. With friends. With . . . whoever.”

  “Not really, no,” he answered, turning smoothly into the driveway toward the resort.

  “Which part?”

  “I tend to be pretty buried up at the hotel, if that’s what you’re asking, not a ton of time for a social life.”

  “I see.”

  “And if you’re also asking whether or not I’m dating anyone, which I think you are, the answer to that is the same.”

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  “Okay.”

  “Because we work together.”

>   “You work for me, technically,” he replied, with more than a hint of humor.

  “I work for your father, technically. And anyway, it doesn’t matter, because what happened back there, the whole make-out by the trash cans, it can’t happen again.”

  “Agreed.” He nodded.

  I looked at him carefully. He’d agreed awfully quickly. “I’m serious, Archie, it’s a bad idea.”

  He pulled the car over suddenly, off to the side of the road. Killing the lights, he turned to me. “I know what a bad idea it is, Ms. Morgan. I know every single reason why this cannot and will not happen again.”

  “Good,” I said uneasily. “Then we’re in agreement.”

  “We’re in agreement.” He nodded. “We’re also in agreement that what we both want me to do right now is pull you across this console and see how fast I can get you naked on my lap, but that’s not going to happen.” His jaw clenched. “Because we’re in agreement.”

  “Oh Jesus, yes, I am so agreeing,” I said, aware that I was panting as I said it.

  Carefully, and with great effort, he put the car in Drive and we headed back to the hotel.

  Chapter 11

  “If you close the east wing for renovations, and fill the west wing to capacity with your existing bookings, you’ll be able to save some money on housekeeping by not bringing on the extra help for the summer season so early. Plus, then guests won’t feel so spread out.”

  “Spread out?”

  “Dude, I’ve practically got my own floor, do you know how spooky it is down there?”

  “Fun fact: did you know that at the turn of the century, the twentieth not the twenty-first, something happened in a room just a few down from yours when—”

  “If you finish that story I will walk out of this meeting so fast, Mr. Bryant, your head will spin. Have you ever read some of your online reviews? This place is known for its, and I quote, ‘abundance of spooky hallways.’ ”

  “Duly noted, Ms. Morgan. Spooky hallways. Got it. Continue.”

  Archie and I were meeting over breakfast in a quiet corner of the dining room. I’d insisted we be in public, in a brightly lit area to boot, to make sure no making out occurred. And we were back to Mr. Bryant and Ms. Morgan. But I couldn’t deny the innate thrill I felt when he called me by my name.