Chapter 13
By three in the afternoon, Caleb was in dire need of a shower, and he never wanted to see a cup of coffee again in his life. He’d witnessed Gerald Nichols drink from some of the nastiest cups on the planet. At one tire joint in town, the sales manager pulled a used paper cup from the bottom drawer of an old metal desk and proceeded to fill it with what could best be described as black sludge. Then he drank the concoction without so much as an eye twitch.
Of course, a man who smoked as much as Gerald probably didn’t have any taste buds left. Hence, Caleb’s need for a shower. He smelled as if he’d been stuck in a chimney for a week.
They’d been on the road all day, with one brief stop at the office for lunch. A meal that consisted of Gerald putting down his cigarette long enough to chow down a roast beef sandwich he’d brought from home, and Caleb attempting to keep at least three feet between himself and Piper Griffin. He’d swear the woman had four hands. When he couldn’t scoot his chair over any more without putting himself into the hallway, Caleb mentioned that he couldn’t wait to get home and tell his fiancée all about his new job.
That seemed to slow Piper’s attack, but not end it. She dropped the not-so-subtle hint that a man was free until the vows were spoken, and it had taken everything Caleb had not to confess the truth right then and there.
“That was our last call of the day,” Gerald said, as the pair climbed into his white 2000 Buick. Caleb wondered if the interior had been black upon purchase, or if all the smoke accumulated over fifteen years had turned it that way.
The last call had been with an insurance agent more interested in talking about sports than advertising. Caleb’s new mentor had convinced his client to double his holiday ad spending from the previous year. Insurance wasn’t exactly the type of business that experienced a boom from Christmas shopping, but that hadn’t stopped Gerald.
The man might be as old as dirt, smoke two packs a day, and drink the most disgusting coffee ever brewed, but he knew how to sell advertising.
“Do you typically visit five clients a day?” Caleb asked, adding to the mental notes he’d been taking. “How far in advance do you set up these appointments?”
Gerald shook his head after lighting another cigarette. “I see the same clients on the same days at the same time every week. There is no appointment setting.”
He’d heard of a stringent schedule, but this seemed extreme. “What about new clients?”
The driver turned to blow smoke out the window before answering. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ardent Springs isn’t very big. The concept of new clients doesn’t come into play much.” Asking his first somewhat personal question of the day, Gerald said, “How long have you been here? ”
“Since Saturday afternoon,” Caleb answered. “I came to live with my fiancée.” When he’d mentioned the word during lunch, Gerald didn’t seem to notice.
“I thought you were making that up to get Piper off your tail,” he said, revealing the older man paid more attention than he let on.
Caleb shook his head as he leaned toward his open window, desperate for clean air. “No, I was serious. We haven’t made it official, with rings and all, but Snow and I are together.”
Gray brows shot up a long forehead. “Snow of Snow’s Curiosity Shop?”
With such an unusual name, Caleb would have thought the answer was obvious. “One and the same.”
A low chuckle filled the car. “That should make your life interesting.”
“How so?” Caleb asked, curious what Gerald Nichols might know about his wife.
Tipping his ashes out the window, Gerald gave Caleb a bright, denture-perfect smile. “Snow is Piper’s client. I believe they have a standing Monday visit.”
Caleb hadn’t told Piper who his fiancée was, and he hadn’t told Snow he was taking a job at the paper. Mostly because he wasn’t aware of the fact himself when he’d left the house this morning.
“Do you think . . . ?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” Gerald said, looking more entertained than he had all day. “If I know Piper, and I should since I’ve worked with her for fifteen years, you might want to pick up flowers on your way home.”
“Right,” Caleb said. “I might do that.”
Snow’s afternoon had bounced between fleeting images of Piper Griffin bouncing spare change off her husband’s bottom, and a nearly uncontrollable urge to call said husband and tell him exactly what she thought of his new situation. The biggest thing keeping her from making the phone call was the fact that Snow had no idea how she felt about anything at the moment.
The day had started well enough. She had a plan. Her life would be back to normal before Christmas. But then Snow had learned that Caleb spent the day putting lusty fantasies into the minds of who knew how many Ardent Springs residents of the female persuasion. A revelation that turned Snow a shade of green she neither welcomed nor liked to acknowledge.
But dammit, she was jealous.
This was her husband’s fault. Not that she ever truly forgot his physical attributes, but he’d made her like him as a person. To appreciate his strength, sense of humor, and gentle nature. If he were nothing more than a pretty face, she wouldn’t be wanting to punch Piper Griffin in the throat right now.
Oh, yes. Caleb was definitely to blame.
Arriving home at the end of her day, she was prepared to let her husband have the full brunt of her disapproval, until she entered the apartment and the scent of fried chicken filled her senses. Not just any fried chicken, but Granny’s fried chicken.
This meal could not have come from Miss Hattie.
“Am I smelling what I think I’m smelling?” Snow asked, dropping her purse into a chair and then tossing her coat over the back. “There’s no way you’ve made Granny’s fried chicken.” Even as she said the words, Snow’s mouth watered.
“Hey there,” Caleb said, turning from the stove and dropping a kiss on Snow’s cheek. He was wearing the frilly yellow apron that had been hanging on the pantry door when Snow moved in. The man was wearing a freaking apron. “I doubt it’s as good as the real thing,” he said, “but I followed the recipe exactly. So you think it smells like your granny’s version? ”
Smelled like it. Looked like it. If it tasted like it, Snow would happily renew their vows tomorrow.
“But how . . .”
Caleb placed a juicy-looking drumstick on a plate next to a mound of green beans and a large helping of mashed potatoes. “I called your mom.”
“Mama gave you Granny’s recipe? That recipe has never been shared outside the family.”
Her aproned spouse looked her way. “I am family, remember?”
Snow cringed at having to be reminded. “Right. But still ... You know how to cook?”
“I cooked for you when we were dating,” he replied, sliding a sizzling thigh next to the leg. “We need to work on that selective memory of yours.”
When they were dating, Caleb often made breakfast, but making scrambled eggs and toast was much different from making one of Granny’s recipes. It had taken Snow years to get her fried chicken even close to Granny’s, and hers never smelled this good.
“There’s cooking, and then there’s cooking ,” Snow said, leaning over the plate Caleb slid down the counter to make room for the next one. She closed her eyes and was sucked back in time, standing on a chair in Granny’s kitchen, begging for an early taste. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
Handing her a fork and napkin, Caleb said, “In my quest to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up, I did a semester at culinary school. I guess I retained more than I realized.”
This man was full of surprises. “You never told me that.”
“I would have,” he said, lifting both plates and motioning for Snow to sit down in the living room, “if we’d kept dating. So, now that we’re back to dating, I’m telling you.”
As she mindlessly followed Caleb’s direction, her brain struggling to process this new tidbit about her significant other, Snow spotted a beautiful arrangement of flowers on the coffee table, flanked by tall taper candles. She recognized the candleholders from Miss Hattie’s dining room.
“I’d prefer an actual table, but since there’s no room for one of those in this little space, the coffee table is the best I can do.”
Flowers. Candles. Her favorite meal.
Caleb knew she knew.
Instead of sitting down, Snow faced her doting husband with hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me you were taking a job at the paper? You didn’t even tell me you were applying.”
“Please,” Caleb said, “sit down and let me explain.” His calm tone put a damper on Snow’s anger. When she did as asked, he said, “Thank you,” and handed her the full plate of food. “Yesterday, Hattie asked if I knew anything about the newspaper business, and when I said I knew a bit, she told me to report to an address at nine this morning.”
“So this is Miss Hattie’s fault?” Snow asked, amazed that he would shift the blame to an innocent old woman.
“Not fault, but her doing, yes. She gave me the address but never said why I needed to be there. I figured it had to do with newspapers, but not actually working for one. I could have been hauling stacks of papers off a truck for all I knew.”
Snow felt her shoulders relax. The explanation made sense. And Miss Hattie did have a way of parsing out information. “You had no idea? None at all?”
“None.” Caleb loaded green beans and potatoes onto his fork. “I didn’t even know who to ask for. Turns out, the local paper, which Hattie owns ... Did you know she owned the paper?”
“No,” Snow said. How had she missed that in all the town gossip?
“Well, I didn’t either,” Caleb said after he’d chewed his food. “Turns out, the chain-smoking sales manager, who as far as I can tell has been around since possibly the Civil War, is retiring at the end of the year.”
“And you’re going to take his place? ”
“Not as a manager. At least not to start.” Caleb kept his eyes on his plate as he said, “It’s a trial period right now. They get to see if they like me, and I get to see if I like them.”
Snow pushed off thinking about his new roots in her town long enough to take her first bite of chicken. By all that was good and holy in this world, Caleb’s chicken was as delicious as Granny’s. Maybe even better. She’d have felt guilty for entertaining such a disloyal thought, but her taste buds were running the show, and they felt no remorse whatsoever.
“By that look on your face, I’m guessing the chicken is good?” Caleb asked.
“Words cannot describe how good this is.” Snow dragged her mind back to the subject at hand. Caleb had mentioned a trial period. Eventually becoming a manager ... “Wait. Did you let them think that you’re staying in Ardent Springs?”
Caleb shrugged, continuing to avoid eye contact. “I didn’t make any long-term promises.”
“But you didn’t tell them that you have no intention of keeping this job.” Snow set her plate on the table. “What are they going to do when the other guy retires, you leave, and they’re stuck with no one to fill the position?”
Snow would have enough explaining to do as it was, without Caleb pretending to become a permanent part of this community.
Stabbing three green beans in a row, Caleb pointed his fork Snow’s way. “The better question is, why are you acting as if my leaving town is a foregone conclusion? What do you know that I don’t?”
Caleb wasn’t sure where the question had come from, but by the look on Snow’s face, there was definitely something he didn’t know .
“I don’t know anything,” Snow answered, regaining her dinner and sitting back on the couch. She kept her eyes on her plate as she said, “We both know this isn’t your kind of town. You said so yourself. Baton Rouge is your home.”
“I also said that wherever you are is where I will be. You’re here, so I’m here.” Caleb assured himself that Snow was the only reason he was developing a connection with the area. He didn’t want to leave her . The town had nothing to do with it.
In a low voice, Snow mumbled, “It isn’t as if I’m the only woman in town who’s interested.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Snow said, her voice higher than usual as she continued to avoid his gaze. “It just seems as if you’ve made a powerful impression on one of your coworkers.”
So Piper did say something. Gerald was a smart man.
“I assure you,” Caleb said, loading his fork with potatoes, “I did nothing to encourage the woman.”
Snow’s eyes went wide. “So you know Piper wants you?”
The woman had done everything but write her number across his palm. Of course he knew. “She wasn’t exactly subtle, but I barely spoke to her,” he defended. “And it doesn’t matter what Piper wants, she’s not getting anything that involves me.”
“She said if she has her way, you’ll be under her tree come Christmas morning wearing nothing but a bow.” Snow tapped her fork on her plate. “And I have a pretty good idea where she’ll want that bow.”
Unless his ears were deceiving him, his wife was jealous. The night was suddenly looking up. “Nothing but a bow, huh?”
A wadded-up napkin flew his way. “Wipe that smug look right off your face, Caleb McGraw. That woman is at least twenty years older than you, and if word around town is true, she’s pretty free with her bows, if you know what I mean. ”
There was nothing unattractive about Piper Griffin on the surface, but Caleb wasn’t interested in becoming any cougar’s boy toy. Besides, he was married. Maybe their little game of pretend had Snow forgetting that part.
Caleb set his plate on the table and reached for his wife’s. Her body tensed as he set her plate next to his.
“I had eighteen months to find another woman if I’d been so inclined,” he said, looking into obstinate gold eyes. “I don’t want Piper Griffin or anyone else. I want you. And as much as it strokes my ego to know that you’re jealous, I need you to believe that.”
Snow rubbed a finger along his knee. “I’m not jealous. The way she talked about you made me want to smack her is all. An urge I’m not proud of, nor do I like it.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “So maybe I did get a little jealous.”
The confession could not have been easy for her, which made Caleb more determined to reassure her.
Nudging his wife’s chin up, he asked, “Did you tell her that I belong to you?”
Snow shook her head.
“Next time,” he said, leaning close, “feel free to stake your claim. Because I’m yours, Snow. All yours.”
Unable to help himself, Caleb pressed his lips to hers. He kept the pressure light, letting her know that he was a patient man, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want her in every way. When she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, his intentions went to hell and his instincts took over.
Before Caleb knew it, Snow was pressed into the pillows, her body half under his. She tasted like buttery panko crumbs and strawberry lip gloss. His fingers slid beneath the hem of her shirt, garnering a purr from deep in her chest as Snow threw a leg over his hip and writhed up, pressing their bodies as close as their clothes would allow .
Seducing his wife hadn’t been on Caleb’s agenda for the evening. He’d agreed to her no sex condition, and defaulting now would strengthen her assertion that their relationship was based on sex alone. But how was he supposed to resist when she set him on fire and gave no signs of stopping?
Trailing kisses along her neck, Caleb breathed deep of honeysuckle and woman as he fought for control. If this kept up, he’d be a dead man before the month was up.
“I missed this,” Snow said, rewarding him with another hard-won admission. Trailing a delicate finger across his brow, she made no move to extricate herself from beneath him.
“Me too.” As much as his body demanded he take her right there, Caleb kept his tone casual. “I would have told you about the job if I’d known ahead of time. And I’m sorry you had to learn about it from Piper.” With a half grin, he added, “But I’m glad she got us to this.”
Pushing against his shoulder, Snow sat up. “This isn’t how I saw our evening going.”
Caleb handed over her plate, then picked up his own, but he remained pressed along Snow’s side on the couch. “You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said.
That earned him an elbow to the ribs. “Can I ask you one thing?”
“Sure,” he answered, biting into his chicken breast, which didn’t taste nearly as good as his wife’s lips.
“If you wanted a job in the newspaper business, why didn’t you take one when your father offered?”
Setting down his fork, Caleb wiped his mouth before answering. “If I’d taken a job in McGraw Media, it would have been me cashing in on my name. The son getting a high-level position because his daddy runs the company. But here,” he said, “I got offered a job for no reason other than I knew a bit about the business and was willing to give it a try. Whatever I accomplish at the Ardent Advocate , for however long I’m there, will be my own. Not because Daddy gave it to me, but because I earned it. ”
Caleb surprised even himself with his answer. He’d been running on the belief that refusing to work for his father stemmed from an aversion to being under the old man’s thumb. But maybe it had more to do with earning his own way. Being his own man. Selling ads for the Ardent Advocate wasn’t anything major, but Caleb had enjoyed the day. Other than the fog of smoke he’d had to endure.
“So you have a job,” she said, twirling a green bean on her fork. Not a flicker of excitement stirred in her tone.
He nodded. “I do.”
They continued to eat in silence until Caleb said, “We’re doing pretty good at this dating thing.” He watched for her reaction out of the corner of his eye.
Stabbing a green bean, she said, “Sure. We’re doing great.”