Chapter Eight #3
“Tell Caleb I said hello. Have a nice day!” I called and went back inside as Larry studied me with more than a little confusion.
I hoped he would not notice the fancy mountain bike resting against the side of my shop or rumors would fly.
More rumors that was. Guess Pastor Pete was already trying to play Cupid given the fact that my daughter was asking if Anders and I were dating.
If the good pastor was asking then others would be as well.
Caught as I was now with egg on my face—and cold spunk in my shorts—denying that there was something brewing with the mystery man of my dreams was dumb.
But I didn’t quite dare say we were dating since we’d never even discussed a date.
All we had done was fall into a weed eater display and frot ourselves silly.
Not complaining. It was a hell of a makeout slash frottage session, but it did not in any way, shape, or form…
“Stop. Just stop. Go check on the guy.” I shook off the rambling worry and pushed through the curtain to find him closing the door on the stove.
He glanced at me over his shoulder and turned to face me.
I paused, half a curtain resting on my shoulder, and stared.
And there we stood. Two dunderheads gaping at each other. Awkward to the nth.
“It needed some wood. Are we now in that uncomfortable what the hell just happened phase of our new dynamic?” He ran a hand through his curls, leaving a bit of sawdust stuck to the ringlets. Too fucking cute.
“I hope not,” I dared and got a sigh of relief that went along with him closing the distance to take me into his arms and kiss me breathless.
“Oops, so sorry, I did it again.”
“Mm, you and Britney Spears.” I stole another kiss, a less hungry one, and held him close. “This is not at all how I saw my Monday playing out.”
“No, me either. You should clean up. Then we can talk, if you wish? I’m being very pushy, and I apologize.
It comes with my past.” That made my snoopy-snoop senses tingle, but I was too gaga over him to push, so I nodded, slipped from his arms, and entered the little bathroom.
The soap in the dish was still lathered from his use, so I unzipped and washed the best I could.
It would have to do. The wet spot—it was a large one—would dry, eventually.
At least my pubes were springy now. Drying my hands afterward, I tossed the paper towels into the trash, sucked in a breath, and exited.
Anders was strolling around the repair area, hands behind his back, looking over the machines in need of some TLC or major repairs.
“You seem to have quite a lot of jobs,” he said as he spun to face me.
“Thankfully so.” I suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Anders, I know that what happened in the showroom was just one of those volatile moments in a person’s life that—”
“Volatile, yes, but just a mere moment? No, I don’t think so. I’ve kissed many men in my life, and none have affected me as sharing that kiss with you did. I knew it would, and for that I am sorry. I should have kept a polite distance as they’d suggested, but I couldn’t do it.”
They? The two men in the dark suits? “Are you a member of the mafia?”
His eyes flared. “I…no, I…the mafia? No, I am not a mob member.” He seemed to find that suddenly funny as his shock gave way to a rough snort, then some titters, and then, which was a delight to see even if confusing as hell, he belly laughed for several minutes.
Tears running down his cheeks, holding his sides, full-out roaring hysterics that slowed only when he ran out of breath. “Sorry…sorry…so rude. So rude…”
“No, it’s okay. You have a hearty laugh,” I said with a smile before leaning against my workbench and folding my arms over my chest. “I didn’t mean to sound stupid, but I saw two men in dark suits at your camper.
They looked pretty imposing. Arms the size of my waist and crush your skull with their thighs intimidating.
And, well…” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“I sort of let my imagination get the better of me and assumed they were trying to rough you up for loan payments or protection money.”
“No, they were not roughing me up, quite the opposite, but that’s got the horse many miles in front of the barn.
Let me just assure you I am not an organized crime member.
I am in this country quite legally. What I wanted to discuss more than any of that was our coming together so vividly just forty feet away.
” He waved a gloved hand at the curtain blowing in the warm air being circulated by the fan on the stove.
Sure, he wanted to talk about that, and I did too, but there was also the matter of his murky past. Maybe murky wasn’t the right word.
Shady? No, still not right. Dark? Nope. Secret?
Hmm, maybe…“I came here today with an ulterior motive.”
“Oh?” I raised a brow.
“Indeed. Not only did I wish to see you—and that went much better than I dared to ever hope—but to see if you would introduce me formally to Miss Franny across the highway so that I might ask her if she would be interested in carrying my eggs to sell for a worthy local charity.”
I gaped. Openly. And then I walked to him and patted his cheek with an open palm. His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes, you are real and not an illusion or some fantasy a lonely old single dad dreamed up,” I said with more than a tiny bit of whimsy mixed with some truth. This man could not be this wonderful. Something had to be wrong with him. Surely.
“Silly goose.” He chuckled, his eyes holding all manner of things that I couldn’t discern right now. Perhaps I never would. “I’m flesh and blood. A man, no more and no less. So, for the eggs, would you be willing to do that for me?”
“Of course. We’ll go right now.”
“Thank you. I would like to help Grouse Falls in any way I can. This town has been good to me. No one has judged me or—”
“Well, plenty are speculating,” I tossed out as the playful pat turned into a gentle caress. I could touch him forever. I really needed to get a grip here.
“Surely, and that is fine. I’m used to speculation and gossip. But everyone has been kind, accepting, even when they thought perhaps I was just a poor drifter who had a tiny baby that ate her mittens.”
I coughed/laughed in embarrassment. Thinking back on that, it did seem a bit far-fetched. “Yeah, that was pretty dumb.”
“No, just imaginative.” We shared a nice laugh at my expense. “I’ll share with you what I can when I can but just know that I am not here with any nefarious plans or schemes. I just want to live unfettered as my true self and perhaps take you to dinner soon.”
“Oh. Like a date?”
“Exactly like that. Would you be willing? We could bring Gilda as well if you like?”
I had mixed feelings. Actually, my emotions were a bubbling cauldron that would need to be strained and the tiny bits all examined like a tea leaf reading, only with sentiments.
“I’ll see what she says. But I am a definite yes.
” He grinned. “Now, let’s go show Franny these eggs of yours.
” I offered him a hand, which he took and held onto all the way to the funky craft shop.
I’d left my OPEN sign alone. I could watch from Franny’s packed front window to see if anyone pulled up at my shop while Franny and Anders haggled.
There was no haggling, though. Franny was tickled seventeen shades of pink to finally meet the mysterious Frenchman—and she would not accept that he was from ?stermon and not France—and see his eggs.
Peeking around him at the two beautifully decorated goose eggs in the tissue-lined shoebox, I whispered a soft “Wow” when he uncovered the eggs.
Each one was exquisitely decorated with small glittering beads, red or green ribbons, and delicate wire that was also beaded and then threaded through the top and bottom of the egg.
The bottom was teardrops of matching beads and pearls, the top much the same but with a thin wire and a hook to hang the egg on a tree.
“These are gorgeous!” Franny shouted. I could only nod in agreement.
“Thank you. It’s a family tradition. I would like to try to sell them and donate the cash to a local charity. Would that be possible? I have at least two dozen finished in my camper. Oh, and will purchase more beads and hot glue sticks while I am here.”
The deal was struck with a firm handshake. Anders bolted off to the wall of beads to start filling baggies supplied by Franny. I stood by her counter, admiring the goose eggs, and got a firm poke in the ribs.
“Ow,” I muttered and looked right at her.
“You better hang onto him. Men like him don’t just fall into our laps like that all the time. He’s a real prince,” Franny whispered, which was more of a hoarse shout than a soft whisper.
Yeah, he was something special, that was for sure. It was going to hurt when his wanderlust disappeared and he flew back to his little island in the Norwegian Sea.