Cinnamon and Spice Conundrum (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

Chapter 16

Sadie

Sunday dawns with clear blue skies and just a touch of chill in the air. This is going to be a gorgeous day to enjoy the afternoon with the guy I’m falling for. Sweet... Wonderful... Jack.

As planned, we’re going fishing this afternoon and then I’m preparing a beef stroganoff dinner, after which we’ll peruse Jack’s mystical spreadsheet—the one that holds all the answers to fix my financial woes.

My life is almost back to normal. The plumber completed the repair of the water heater yesterday, but Jack talked me into spending the weekend at the cabin and then moving back into my apartment above the café on Monday. Dilbert also installed the new heating element, and my oven works like a brand new one. No wonder I was having to increase baking times every time I used it.

All the pinecone crafts have been delivered, and Jack helped me set up the display yesterday afternoon. Even though I tried to talk him into using his afternoon for fishing, he couldn’t be dissuaded. He was correct about the display imposing into my seating area, but a couple people from the church are delivering the extra tables on Monday, so we’ll be ready to seat festival goers, while at the same time selling the quirky pinecone crafts. Maybe I’ll even charge a modest fee for shelf space. We’ll see what his spreadsheet says.

Georgeanne delivered some stunning wall art designed from pieces of pinecones that she cut to look like flowers. She glued them to thin slabs of wood, creating a rustic design. Those are going to fly off the shelf. I’m not so sure about Anges’s napkin holders or Mabel’s salt and peppers shakers, however .

The Sunday morning crowd has thinned out, and I’m daydreaming about my hunky barista as I sip coffee while wiping down the tables in the dining area. Sweet... Wonderful... Jack. Would he stick around longer if I told him how I feel about him? Probably not. Sam eventually needs his trusty assistant back, so unless Jack and I can make a long-distance relationship work, I need to brace for losing him...

“Where’s that man of yours?” Agnes asks.

I jump, the older lady sneaking up on me. “He’s in the back getting more coffee beans. How can I help you?” After the words slip out, I belatedly realize I should protest about her calling Jack my man, but I don’t. She’s right. Jack has found a place in my heart. But I need to quit fretting about my life after he goes back to Denver.

Enjoy the present, don’t worry about the future, as Grandad would say.

“I need his brawn to carry another box of my crafts. I don’t want you to run out of napkin holders.”

Ugh! Just what I need, to store her box in my already crowded back room.

“Of course! We’ll catch him in a few minutes.” I mentally berate myself after the words slip out because I never say no. Distractedly, I take a sip of coffee, trying to console myself over being too big of a softie. The new cinnamon blend is delicious, especially the way Jack makes it.

“You know, if Jack would get rid of those ugly sweaters, he’d be a hunk,” Agnes adds with an all-knowing wink.

I choke on the sip of coffee I just took, sputtering for several beats.

The old lady grins. “Give me two of those chocolate chip muffins and I’ll chill in the corner while I wait for Jack.”

I’m still amazed as to how Jack’s pricing strategy is working so well. Hardly anyone orders only one muffin anymore .

She wanders off. Another customer approaches the counter, so I wait on them. At the rate I’m selling muffins this morning, I’ll be sold out by eleven. Now that’s a nice problem to have.

“Well, that was a productive morning!” Jack says right after I turn the sign on the front door from Open to Closed.

Sagging against the wall, I say with a satisfied smile, “Your new pricing strategy is brilliant!” I’m tempted to saunter over and plant a big kiss on his lips, but silly social conventions hold me back.

The guy’s supposed to initiate the first kiss, right?

Jack chuckles as he wipes down the counters at the coffee bar. “The regulars thrive on getting a deal. We need to discuss running weekly specials, switching them up often so they don’t become commonplace.”

This guy’s business knowledge amazes me. Sam had better give him a raise because Jack might eventually get up the courage to start his own business.

“I’m counting on reviewing that spreadsheet of yours this evening after dinner.”

He nods. “Fishing first, though.”

“Wait until you see the canoe. It looks like something they made a hundred years ago,” I reply with a giggle.

“Does it float?” Jack asks, his brow creasing with concern.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

He grunts but doesn’t comment. We might be borrowing Wilbur’s fishing boat after all.

“When was the last time anyone used this?” Jack says with his hands on his hips as he surveys the canoe we just lugged out of Grandad’s shed. The wooden watercraft is obviously an antique; what once was a stripe decorating the length of the boat is faded to a dull pink color, although I believe it used to be a shiny cherry red. There’s a scrape along one side and one of the paddles is missing the handle piece on the end.

“Umm, I’m not sure. Sam and I used to go out in it when we were kids.”

Jack grunts. “Let’s wear those life jackets we saw hanging in the shed. Just in case.”

I retrieve the orange vests and wipe the cobwebs and dead bugs off with a towel. Yuck! These might be just as old as the canoe. Keeping my thoughts to myself, I hand one to Jack and we suit up in the poofy vests. Between giggles, I say, “We look like the Michelin Man in these things.”

Jack shrugs. “Let’s hope they keep us afloat if our trusty canoe springs a leak.”

When we both glance down at the decrepit boat, we laugh.

“Not an unlikely outcome,” I say.

The fishing poles and paddles rattle inside the canoe as we drag it to the water’s edge. Jack steadies the boat while I climb inside and sit on the wooden bench. “Yikes!” I squeal as the boat rocks back and forth precariously when Jack steps inside. Somehow we manage to keep it upright, and we each grab a paddle and push off.

“So far so good!” I say excitedly as we glide across the water. Thankfully the lake’s surface is like glass with no waves to potentially tip us over. The only sound is the small splash each time we put our paddles into the water.

“You’re a natural at this,” Jack comments after we’re several feet from the shore.

“I used to love to go out in this thing,” I say in a wistful voice, remembering all the good times my brother and I had at my grandparents’ cabin. I’m so lucky to have Jack here helping me relive some of my fond childhood activities. The rousing games of Monopoly—we’re tied after four rematches...the meal of fresh-caught fried fish...and this canoe ride using human power instead of a noisy motor.

We paddle for several minutes, enjoying the spectacular scenery and peaceful environment. The trees surrounding the lake have turned magnificent shades of red, orange, and gold. With the snowcapped mountains in the distance and the crystal blue water, this could be a picture on a postcard. The snow reminds me that the temperature of the lake water will be much colder than when Sam and I used to swim in it during the summer months. Unless the canoe turns over, I don’t plan on doing any swimming.

“Ready to catch some fish?” Jack asks as he steers us towards a small cove. This must be one of the fishing spots Wilbur introduced him to.

“Sure,” I say, carefully picking up the pole from the bottom of the boat. We already prepped them with a lure and a bobber while we were on shore so we didn’t have to bring along Grandad’s heavy old metal tackle box.

Plunk! Plunk!

Our lines hit the water at the same time, and we sit quietly, as if talking might scare away the fish. I stare at the red-and-white striped bobber, watching for any movement that would indicate a nibble, as Grandad used to call it.

I don’t dare shift my weight very much on the bench, because the canoe is very tippy. When my butt starts to feel the effects of the hard wooden seat, I wish I had brought a pillow to sit on.

“Doing okay over there?” Jack asks. His back is turned to mine because our lines are on opposite sides of the boat.

“Yes, this is nice. But if I don’t get a bite pretty soon, I’m going to fall asleep. Fishing is boring, unless you catch a fish.”

Jack laughs. “Spoken like a true fisherwoman. ”

As if I conjured up a fish with my comment, my bobber sinks under the water and the line noisily whirls out from the reel.

“I’ve got a bite!” I screech, grabbing the knob and frantically cranking the reel, using every muscle to pull the fish towards the boat. Grunting and groaning, I try to remember everything Grandad taught me to do to land a fish. “He’s a big one!” I squeal.

Zing!

The line breaks, and the unexpected slack makes me topple sideways. I grab the edge of the canoe, but then think otherwise, because the boat tilts along with me. With everything happening at the speed of light, I let go of the boat, then topple headfirst towards the water.

“Awwk!”

Splash!

Fully immersed in the water, my natural instincts kick in and I frantically swim towards the daylight and the outline of the bottom of the canoe. At least I left my cell at the cabin, otherwise it would be a casualty of this adventure.

“It’s freezing!” I yell once my head surfaces. The ugly orange life vest holds me up, and thankfully the canoe is still floating upright with Jack still in it.

“Grab my hand!” Jack shouts, reaching out towards me.

I do as he instructs, doggy paddling to the side of the canoe, then grabbing his hand. He hoists me from the water like I weigh nothing. My movements are awkward as I tumble over the side and flop onto the bottom of the boat just like a beached fish. Or maybe in this case, a beached whale. The canoe rocks wildly back and forth from my weight, but Jack manages to shift his weight accordingly, keeping the boat balanced and upright.

He stares down at me as I gaze up at him for several long seconds. Strands of soaked hair hang limply in my eyes, and I probably look like a drowned rat. The life vest and my clothing make a squish, squish sound as I try to sit up. Within seconds, shivers wrack my body from head to toe.

Jack peels off his cardigan and wraps me in it. The warmth from his body quickly dissipates from the sweater when it becomes wet. My shivers resume.

“Get out of that wet vest and shirt. You can take my flannel shirt,” Jack says briskly, while he unbuttons his shirt.

Modesty flies out the window as I quickly unbuckle the heavy water-laden vest, remove it, then strip out of my thin cotton T-shirt that has molded itself to my body. Not caring that Jack is seeing me in my everyday bra—not even remotely comparable to sexy lingerie—I reach for his flannel shirt and yank it on. He hands me back the cardigan, which didn’t absorb too much water, and I layer it over his shirt. Warmth seeps into my cold skin, putting an end to the tremors for now. Fortunately, the boat stays upright during the whole operation.

Breathing heavily, I take a minute to compose myself. However, the sight of a shirtless Jack sitting just inches away from me causes my heart rate to double rather than slow down.

Gulp!

Time stands still, and embarrassment washes over me as I gawk at him. I simply can’t avert my eyes. The guy is ripped. He certainly doesn’t look like a fuddy duddy without his shirt. Agnes hit the nail on the head when she called him a hunk.

Our eyes lock, and he stares back at me like he’s trying to read my mind, which thankfully he can’t, because my thoughts are definitely straying from G or PG-13 territory. What feels like an eternity later, he breaks eye contact, retrieves the paddles, and hands one to me.

Clearing his throat, he says, “Let’s get you back to shore so you can warm up.”

We paddle in uncomfortable silence. I consider cracking a joke about how “the big one got away” but think better of it. It takes us a handful of long minutes to get back to the cabin, but believe me, it’s no hardship watching the well-developed muscles in Jack’s back bunch and flow as his paddle effortlessly courses through the water. I’m mesmerized as I stare unabashedly at him.

Thud!

As soon as the canoe bumps against the shore, I scramble out and dash towards the cabin. Jack can handle putting the boat away by himself.

Our relationship has shifted. He’s no longer just the cute, albeit rather unstylish, barista that works for me. Or the guy who works for my brother that I’ve developed a close friendship with. If I was falling for Jack before today, I’ve now fallen for him completely. There’s no going back.