Chapter 8
8
Elise
I t’s been a week since I moved into James’s house.
A week since my quiet life hiding out in the Rocky Mountains was turned upside down and unexpectedly filled with a handful of wonderful people. Every morning, I have coffee and breakfast with James, Oliver, Roman, and the twins, and every morning, I realize there’s so much that I’ve been missing out on.
Dinners are even more interesting because Janice Peterson, the twins’ trusted babysitter, often comes over with a fancy and ridiculously delicious dish for us to try out. Tonight, we’re all staring at a giant casserole made with layers of minced turkey and potatoes, among other things. It smells fantastic.
“It looks delicious,” I say.
The dish reigns at the center of the table. We’re gathered around, candles flickering throughout the kitchen. Flames crackle in the fireplace, the scent complementing the notes of the deep red wine that Roman opened to pair with tonight’s dinner.
“I think I can go on MasterChef with this thing,” Janice says, smiling broadly as she takes the serving knife and starts cutting into it.
“You had us at cheese,” James replies.
“Oh, honey, wait till you taste it,” she says. “I used Gruyère and a mature cheddar I found at the farmers’ market. It’s gonna blow your mind.”
“I have no doubt whatsoever, Janice. But what’s that about MasterChef , exactly?”
Oliver shoots him a cool grin. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you already forgot. She’s been talking about it for over a month now.”
“They saw Janny’s pictures on Instagram!” Tricia chimes in.
“She’s gonna be on TV!” Ainsley adds.
I give Janice a surprised look. “Really? Congratulations!”
“Let’s see if I get past the casting stage first. They’re doing auditions in Boulder next week, and they invited me to try out.”
Janice is in her mid-sixties and retired for the most part. Her babysitting gig keeps her relatively busy along with the upkeep of a house she built with her late husband, so she’s mostly on her own. The guys have graciously given her a room here at the house in case she ever needs to stay over during poor weather conditions or if they need to travel.
“I think it’s really cool that you’re so passionate about cooking,” I tell her. “I think it’s great that you’re on Instagram, though you don’t strike me as the social media type.”
“Oh, I’m not,” Janice confirms, generously filling each plate around the table with a serving of her magical dish. “My nieces are, though, and they set up my Instagram account. They got me this fancy smartphone last year for Christmas, and I’ve been taking photos and posting them online. I didn’t think it would take off the way it did.”
“Janice here has gone quite viral, in fact,” Oliver says, then looks at her. “How many followers do you have now?”
“About ten thousand, give or take?”
“Wow,” I gasp. “You really are viral.”
“It’s how those talent scouts found me for the cooking show,” she giggles. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I might as well give it a try. When an opportunity like that lands in your lap, you take it.”
“I hope it works out in your favor,” I say.
James gives her an appreciative nod. “It’s never too late to discover and nurture a new passion, is it, Janice?”
“Janice is so cool!” Tricia says, her eyes wide with wonder at the plate in front of her.
“That she most certainly is,” I reply, fork in hand and ready to dig in.
“How about you, Elise?” Janice asks while we eat. “What brought you to Rustic in the first place? I don’t think I’ve asked you that.”
I give her a faint smile. “I came to Rustic because I like the area. The Rockies, the views… they’re gorgeous. I also like the lifestyle. It’s simple and quaint. I needed a place that was simple and quaint.”
The guys are watching me like hawks as I expertly skirt over the real answer.
“Where are you from originally?” she asks.
I’m not surprised by her line of questioning. Janice knows these people; she cares about them. I’m guessing she’s just being protective, like a good mother hen, making sure the woman they allowed under their roof, albeit temporarily, isn’t out to harm them in any way. I’d probably do the same if I were in Janice’s shoes.
“Chicago,” I say. “Born and raised.”
I hate lying. I try to do as little of it as possible.
“You’re a long way from home,” James replies.
A curious glimmer lingers in the deep green pools of his eyes. I offer a nod. “I guess. But the view is worth it.” I point over to the dining room window, where a gorgeous western evening sky settles over the sharp ridge. “Nothing beats that.”
“Not even the overly friendly mountain lions?” Oliver quips.
“You’d think they would’ve made me hightail it back to Chicago!” I laugh. “No, sir. I like it here. Not leaving anytime soon.”
“Good,” James says. “We’d hate to see you go.”
“You would?” I ask, surprised.
Janice’s gaze bounces around the table. I’m pretty sure she can read the room almost as well as I can, except I’m unable to read her thoughts, and I wish I could. The attraction is undeniable, at least where I’m concerned.
It’s also not the best idea.
“We like having you here,” James says. “And Tricia and Ainsley definitely enjoy having you around.”
“You barely know me,” I mumble, lowering my gaze.
“They don’t need to know your blood type or your Social Security number to tell that you’re a good person, Elise,” Janice interjects, the corner of her mouth tested by a smile. “I’ve seen you around town as well. The folks at the diner love you. Forgive me for asking so many questions. I’m just forever fascinated by people who drop the big-city life in favor of a small town in the mountains.” She pauses and takes a sip of her wine. “Do you ever miss it?”
“Chicago? Sometimes. But I like living in Rustic better.”
“Except for the mountain lions. She doesn’t like the mountain lions,” Ainsley says.
I laugh lightly. “Actually, I like big cats. Just not in my house. It’s spiders I’m deathly afraid of.”
“How’d you fare this summer, then?” Roman asks. “These parts are rife with them.”
“Lots of repellent spray,” I say with a shrug. “Autumn is just around the corner. They’ll be gone soon enough. I mean, I don’t mind a daddy longlegs or any of the small ones. It’s the critters that are as big as my hand that make me run screaming for the hills.”
Tricia leans in to tell Ainsley a secret, though we can all hear her. “We’re not using the spider decorations this year for Halloween, you got that?”
“Not even the spider webs?” Ainsley sounds disappointed, scrunching her freckled nose.
“You need the spider webs,” I say. “I’m not afraid of make-believe spiders, just the real ones. You’re cool with whatever you had planned for Halloween, I promise.”
“Are you sure?” Tricia asks me.
“They’re so considerate,” Oliver says, completely melting over the girls while I’m melting over him, Roman and James—three grown men swooning over the twins with the brightest, sweetest smiles that make my insides squirm in all the right ways.
I give Tricia and Ainsley a reassuring nod. “I promise, I’m going to be okay.”
“You won’t scream?” Tricia asks.
“Nope.”
“Okay. ’Cause we like you. We don’t want you to go away,” Ainsley says.
Now it’s my turn to melt altogether. These girls aren’t just incredibly articulate and cute, they’re also adorably kind and affectionate.
James gives me a look that sends my pulse racing. There’s a depth in the green of his eyes that wasn’t there before, the golden flakes amplified by the flickering candles and the amber overhead light. I can almost hear his heart throbbing, echoing mine, as the whole world stops spinning for a second.
Just one second.