Falling For Gracie

They were, um, friends, maybe. Former acquaintances brought together by a common goal—to find out what Zeke was doing when he stole away at all hours.

“You’d think she’d just ask him,” she said as she was seated.

Riley settled in his chair and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“What? Oh, sorry. Thinking out loud. Just my sister and the problem she’s having with Zeke. Why doesn’t she just ask him? She says it’s because she doesn’t want to know, but isn’t knowing better than not knowing? I’d want to know. At least then you have something you can handle. But this nothingness is just too much like being left in the dark. Don’t you agree?”

He shook his head. “I lost the thread somewhere.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She picked up her menu but instead of looking at it, she stared out into the storm.

Rain pounded against the windows. Below she could see the angry surf smacking into the shore. Lights from the restaurant offered a feeble glow that quickly bled into the darkness.

“What a fabulous night,” she said.

He raised both eyebrows. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I love storms. Hey, I live in Los Angeles where we get all of nine inches of rain a year. So when there’s some exciting weather going on, I like to enjoy it.”

He glanced out the window. “This is nothing. I’ve been on an oil rig in a typhoon. That’s weather.”

His statement made her instantly want to ask a thousand questions. Was that where he’d been? How on earth had he gotten there when he’d started out in Los Lobos? But she settled on, “I thought they evacuated rigs during bad storms.”

“Oh, we’re supposed to go, but who’s going to enforce the rules? I worked for a small private company. Everyone on board was a little crazy.”

“Including you?”

He grinned. “Especially me.”

The waiter appeared and told them about the specials.

“How about some wine?” Riley asked.

“Sure. You order.”

“What are you going to have?”

She scanned the menu and picked a grilled salmon dish with a house salad. Riley chose a surf and turf, then surprised her by ordering an Australian Shiraz.

“I thought you would have gone fancy and French with the wine,” she said.

“I like Australian wines. Spanish as well.”

“There are some great local vineyards around here. The whole Santa Ynez valley is covered with grapes.” She started to say they could go on a tasting trip sometime, but stopped herself before the words formed.

This was Riley, she reminded herself. This wasn’t a casual dinner with a guy she liked. This was...dangerous.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “How did you get into wedding cakes?”

She smiled. “The basic need for transportation. I was sixteen and I wanted a car. My aunt and uncle insisted that I contribute to the gas and insurance part of the equation, so I had to get a job. There was a local bakery a couple of streets over and I applied there. When they hired me, it was late May and wedding cake season was in full swing. I received a baptism by fire. But it turns out I had a real talent for making and designing cakes. Instead of college, I apprenticed with a master baker, then went out on my own.”

She shrugged. “I tried to be a little well-rounded. I’ve taken some night courses on running a small business. I’ve been playing with the numbers as far as expanding. I’m at that awkward place where I’m having trouble getting everything done, so I’m turning away business, but I’m not sure I would have enough to support a whole other person.”

“Maybe you could get by with just half of one.”

“There’s a thought.”

They were practically alone in the restaurant. The only other couples were seated on the other side of the dining area. With the storm still raging outside, there was a sense of isolation. Between the lashing rain and the flickering candles, it was pretty darned romantic.

Gracie found herself wanting to rest her chin on her hands and stare dreamily at Riley while he talked, just like in those really old silly teen movies she’d loved as a kid. The dim light suited him, bringing out the shadows in his face and emphasizing the strength of his jaw and lines of his cheekbones. But it was more than that.

All those years ago she’d loved him from afar, but she’d never really known him. They hadn’t had a single conversation. Her affections had been based on her own rather twisted feelings and fantasies, not the man he was. After all this time, it felt good to know that so far, she liked the person inside.

The waiter brought the wine and a basket of bread.

“Why do they do that?” she asked when he opened the bottle and poured them each a glass.

“Open the wine?” Riley asked. “Someone has to pull the cork out. I’ve tried simply breaking off the top of the bottle, but then there’s the whole shards of glass issue. Not very inviting.”

Gracie rolled her eyes. In the soft lighting the color changed from medium blue to the color of a warm, shallow bay in summer.

While the image was accurate, it made Riley want to give himself a good beating, then go watch sports. A shallow bay in summer? Where the hell had that come from? This was Gracie, the terrorizing stalker. Not a woman he found attractive. And even if he did think she looked pretty hot in her tight T-shirt, she wasn’t for him. The list of reasons was endless, but the three F’s were the most important. Gracie didn’t qualify.

“Not the wine,” she said, ignoring her glass and staring longingly at the basket of bread. “That. Death.”

He frowned. “Bread is death?”

“Not technically, but do you know what a couple of slices can do to a woman’s hips and thighs? That’s where the bread goes. There’s a route directly from the stomach to the fat pockets where hungry little cells scarf up bread and grow round and full.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

She licked her lips. “You’re a guy. You wouldn’t understand about deep burning hunger for something so incredibly bad for you. Your metabolism allows you to eat the contents of an entire grocery store without gaining an ounce.”

He might be a guy, but he knew all about hunger. If she licked her lips like that again, he was going to have to forget his rules in favor of simply taking advantage of the situation. The three F’s be damned.

“Oh, forget it,” she said and reached for a piece of bread.

He watched her smooth on the tiniest wedge of butter, then bite into the slice. Her eyes fluttered closed, her body relaxed and he would swear she actually moaned. Was it just him or had it gotten hot in here?

When she swallowed, she opened her eyes and smiled. “Excellent.”

“What else don’t you eat?” he asked.

“Bread’s my thing. Okay, and chocolate. I can take or leave most junk food. Jill and I had lunch today at a Mexican place and while I ate a few chips, I could go months without them. But bread....”

She started to take another bite. He had to look away because watching her eat it was too erotic. Bread. What was it with women and food?

“What about your cakes?” he asked, careful to keep his attention on the windows.