Falling in Vermont (Cozy Nights in Vermont #2)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

BLAKE

“T hanks for letting me borrow these.” Blake hefted a long table and bench into a trailer attached to his truck.

Mabel, his next-door neighbor and owner of the Chestnut Hollow Inn and Farm, hefted a small bench onto the trailer for him. Mabel shrugged. “Yeah, no events until Thanksgiving, so return ’em whenever.”

“Hey, be careful of your shoulder,” Blake said. “Let me do this.”

Mabel was in her sixties and strong as a horse but was recovering from rotator cuff surgery. “Eh, the doc says I gotta exercise so it doesn’t get frozen,” she said, rolling her stiff shoulder. Mabel was a farmer at heart and lived in overalls. She had long, flowing hair that crimped in natural waves, and she wore it loose with big men’s work shirts over it. She was no-nonsense, like most Vermonters, and showed her love in actions rather than words.

He’d known Mabel ever since he could walk. He was a lonely kid on a farm, bored out of his mind, and regularly came over to Chestnut Hollow to escape farm duties. She’d tuck him into a corner with a piece of apple pie and whatever farm dog they had around at the moment, listening to his troubles even then.

“Heard you got somebody special over there,” she said with a knowing smile.

Blake blushed thinking about the previous night. “I mean, I don’t have her,” he said, hefting up another table and some chairs.

They needed more seating for the crowds they were starting to attract. Sophia had had the bright idea of renting picnic blankets to folks wanting to bring their own food and drinks to spend time under the maple trees in the pumpkin patch, but he’d felt bad after seeing a couple of older folks struggle to get up and down.

“I don’t know, you’ve got a spring in your step.” She smirked as she tossed up another bench onto the trailer.

A question nagged at him. “Hey, uh,” he said stupidly, scratching his head.

He and Mabel didn’t do feelings. She was part colleague, part adopted family, part mom, part hardened farmer with that thick candy shell exterior that he knew hid a gooey middle.

Feelings weren’t really part of their repertoire.

She leaned on the trailer and chewed a piece of gum, looking at him nonplussed. “Come on, out with it,” she said, slapping her legs. “I gotta go feed Maaaybel here in a minute,” she said with an eye roll, making the sheep sound. Her staff had demanded that their latest baby sheep be named in her honor. “The damned thing only answers when you say her name that way.”

He chuckled at how much it irritated her, but he knew she loved it, deep down.

He kicked a leaf on the ground. “After Gus passed…”

She threw her head back with a knowing look, closing her eyes. “I wondered when we’d get to this.” She sat on the bottom of the trailer and patted the edge for him to sit.

Her husband Gus had passed away when Blake was in high school. He’d been a sweet and kind man.

It had been a devastating blow.

“You’ve never dated,” Blake said.

“You don’t know what I get up to in the evenings,” she said with an eyebrow raised.

“Alright, fine, maybe you’re hittin’ the strip clubs, who knows,” he said.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Nah, they couldn’t handle me,” she said, crossing her arms. He barked out a laugh in surprise.

“I threw myself into work,” she said, gesturing around her. Her inn had tripled in size and popularity since he’d been in high school. She had more rooms, more activities, more streams of revenue in the farm. “It never made me stop missing him though. I met lots of nice people. Some of whom have been interested in me for some reason”—she shook her head—“but I never felt that spark, you know? I just had the one, and that was enough for me. Do you feel a spark?” she said with that authoritative tone that made him feel like he was twelve again.

He rubbed at his chest where it ached.

“Ah.” She nodded sagely.

He didn’t even have to say anything, it was so obvious on his face.

She nodded her head. “It can be a bitch, not being prepared for it. That’s how it was my first time.” She slapped her legs and stood up.

“Return these whenever,” she said, gesturing to the benches and tables all loaded up onto the trailer.

“Mabel!” one of her farmhands called. “ Maaay bel is loose again.” She sighed with tired resignation.

“Would you believe that they wanted to name one of the baby horses Neighble?” she said with a disbelieving shake of her head. He chuckled with her.

She slapped him on the shoulder as she walked past. “And Blake, just know, it’s been eighteen years,” she said with a sad smile, “and if I found a spark today, I wouldn’t ever let it go. Might have been nice to have somebody help chase the sheep.”

She sauntered over to the sheep stables, calling out, “M aaay bel! M aaay bel!” as she wandered over the meadow and down through the red and orange trees.

A baby lamb burst out of the bushes and came running up to her with a happy cry. She grabbed it and lifted it, and Blake shook his head in disbelief.

She seemed happy enough, but maybe her life could have been even better had she taken the risk.

She threw a hand up as she walked away back toward the sheep stables, and Blake considered how special the spark was that was waiting for him back at his farm.

The spark that felt a whole lot like his future.

* * *

“I can’t believe the turnout we’ve started having,” Sophia said, thwacking garlic with the blunt edge of the knife. Her cheeks were rosy, and hair had escaped from her ponytail as she’d buzzed around the kitchen.

He tried so hard not to stare.

They’d been working for an hour, prepping vegetables for what he expected to be an even bigger turnout tomorrow. He was dazzled by how smart her ideas were. The little changes she’d suggested with practically no additional cost to him had resulted in people spending a lot longer at the patch and picking up extra veggies. That, combined with the free snacks and coffee they offered, meant his sales had hit an all-time high.

It was really the least he could do to help her with her vegetable prep. The fact that she swayed as she cooked, her hips bouncing to and fro as she worked, was just an added benefit.

“It’s all because of you,” he said, concentrating on the butternut squash in front of him.

“ Psh .” She rolled her eyes at him over her shoulder. “I don’t think I planted gorgeous maple trees people want to walk through, or built a beautiful farm. Didn’t grow acres of pumpkins.”

“Those have always been here,” he said with effort on the last word as he made another big chop on the butternut squash. Jesus Christ, no wonder his didn’t sell that well. What a pain in the ass to prepare. “Your maple butter scones? Those are what people want.”

Your smile? That’s what makes them stay.

Her attention moved between the food bubbling on the stove, stirring each one. She had six simmering pots of various versions for her ginger carrot soup and cranberry sauce for tomorrow. “Oh, I had an amazing idea in the shower.” She turned around with a big smile.

“Does your brain ever turn off?” He marveled at her, able to keep track of every dish and also have a separate conversation.

“No. So—” She paused as he laughed. “What if you have a pumpkin carving party?” She whipped her wrist like a champion jump roper as she started to magically spin egg whites into a meringue in front of his face.

“A…party?” He could barely keep up with her.

“Well, for your customers. You know how much of a pain it is to carve a pumpkin. What if they can do it here? Then they’ll want to hang out, grab snacks. We can rent blankets or sell drinks. Maybe sell stencils.”

He chopped the butternut squash into the cubes she’d requested. He was trying to keep his eyes focused on the squash in front of him and not on every single one of her curves bouncing in her slouchy sweater.

She had on a clingy, black-and-white-striped shirt that left little to the imagination as it spilled over her shoulders. Her apron was tied high on her waist, emphasizing the curves of her hips and her tits.

How did this woman make everyday items the subject of his new obsessions?

He caught himself staring at her bare skin when she was engrossed in conversation as they prepped vegetables. He licked his lips, wishing he could still taste her from a few days ago. Ever since his dick had woken up, it hadn’t turned off when she was around. He actually would have described himself as a gentleman before this. Kind, considerate, not a creep, but no. Now he was here, fantasizing about fucking shoulders.

Well, not fucking shoulders . Oh God, was that even possible? Ugh, he needed to get a handle on this.

Somehow, in the time it took him to cut a half of a squash, she’d already made three dishes. A beep sounded from the giant, fancy oven.

“Ah, the cheesy bread. Could you get that? I have one more minute of cardio left over here,” she said as she puffed, whipping the egg whites and sugar into submission.

He grabbed rows of long, cheese-covered bread out of the oven. The bubbling gooey heaven smelled like if garlic bread and cheese pizza had had a baby. His stomach growled. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Cut it into small, bite-sized pieces please.” She tossed ingredients into her bowl and whipped the meringue further.

He ate a bite of the cheese bread after he cut it, and it melted in his mouth. It was part herby goat cheese, part garlic and sea salt.

She slid a cookie sheet with small meringue dollops on it into the small second oven in the enormous double oven. She wiped her forehead, glowing with happiness as she looked at him eating. “Good?”

“This should be studied for the perfect flavor combination,” he said, pointing to the bread. “Is this a new recipe for tomorrow?”

She popped a small bite into her mouth, licking her finger as cheese spilled over. His eyes tracked the movement.

“Oh, it’s just for a snack. You said you didn’t have much lunch and I thought you’d be hungry. Here, try it with this.” She slid a tomato soup-like dish at him from the pile of ingredients on the island. “So no? Yes?”

“Very much yes,” he said, dipping a second bite of the cheese bread into the tomato soup. He sighed in pleasure. How had he lived on protein smoothies for so long when warm, delicious food was just waiting for him?

He opened his eyes, and her glossy lips were curved into a smile, looking like she’d been studying him. “I like seeing you happy. And eating satisfying food. I meant, do you want to do the pumpkin carving thing? I can figure out logistics.” She popped another cheese bite in her mouth.

This woman. She’d already done so much for him. How could he ever repay her? “Don’t you need to focus on your cookbook? I don’t want you getting behind because of me.”

“I’m making a good dent in the recipes,” she said, washing her hands. She then scooped up a handful of minced garlic and popped it into a simmering pot. “Just about ten more and then I’ll be set.”

And then she’d be gone. How would he survive it if she left? He needed to start planning on what he’d do in November. Maybe he and Star would take a road trip. Get away from the kitchen he’d forever associate with her. Her smile, her kindness, her curves.

He crossed his arms as he leaned back against the counter. “An event could be fun. I don’t want you to risk your deadline for me.”

“Cooking is all about taking chances. Sometimes they really pay off—Minnette’s Molasses Cookies, as an example.”

She’d told him about it, and he’d seen her try to hide her tears of happiness. He’d fallen just a little more for her that day.

“You’re good at taking chances,” he said, realizing that was a theme with her. “You started your own content creation business. Made a cookbook.”

He never took chances.

And where had it landed him? Alone, despite knowing the most beautiful woman in the world wanted to sleep with him.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I have the ‘why the hell not?’ gene. It usually works pretty well, until I say it too many times in a row.” She drizzled cranberry sauce onto a dish. “Then I stand in a pumpkin patch crying to a hot farmer because I’m overwhelmed.”

She winked at the shared memory as she moved back to the oven to check on her soup.

The need to hold her was a physical ache inside of him.

Why don’t I ever take risks? What could my life look like if I did?

“Oh, can you grab the meringue bites? They bake so fast,” she said as she salted the soup after tasting it.

He leaned over her shoulder after closing the oven to smell what she stirred. “Smells good.”

“This is just a base. You want a taste? It’s chicken stock and some herbs from your garden. Hope you don’t mind.”

“From my garden?” he said. “I forgot to even pay attention to them.”

“I know, the sage is running rampant. That’s why I’ve been using it in everything.” She scooped up a taste with a spoon and held her hand underneath.

He thought about telling her he could feed himself, but then he wouldn’t have a reason to be so close to her. It tasted buttery and savory, like tonic for his soul.

“Wow,” he said with an awed breath.

“It’s a twist on one of my grandmother’s recipes,” she said. “This is what she would make for us when we got sick. I thought we’d try this with the base, and then maybe add pureed butternut squash in to give it a creamy spin.”

He stood close. Probably too close for a roommate. “You’re really good at this,” he said softly.

“Tell that to Ashleybabezzzz who thought one of my recipes tasted like, quote, ‘trash,’” she said with a sarcastic smile as she turned off the burners on the stove.

He could see the hurt in her eyes, and anger thundered through him. “They said that about you?” He had half a mind to make an account, find Ashley’s comment, and then tear her a digital new one.

“Oh, it’s okay. Don’t look so mad,” she said, rubbing his arm. “It’s part of the deal.” Light spiraled out from her touch across his body. He craved it.

Her hand lingered on his arm until she turned away and dropped it.

But he leaned forward and caught her wrist.

She stopped in her tracks.

Their breaths stilled as he stared at his hand, sliding it down to hers.

His chest rose and fell as he weighed the need clawing through him against everything he knew he shouldn’t do.

The risk.

She was leaving soon.

Three weeks.

He’d never had a casual relationship, and she’d somehow crawled under his skin in less than a month.

He drew his gaze to her face, and those big almond-shaped eyes stared back—they were his favorite shade of bourbon brown in the low kitchen light.

Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the stove, and the color rose high on them. He wanted to lick the rosiest patch to see what she tasted like. Nip at earlobes that held dangly metal earrings that swished as she swung her head. He wanted to pull her hair out of the messy bun on top of her head and bite her plush lip. Sink his hands into her wide hips again.

“Maybe roommates with benefits…” He stepped toward her, his chest aching to hold her. “Maybe…maybe it could be a good first step into casual dating for me.”

She nodded, transfixed, staring at his chest, eyes barely open with lust. His hand had moved to her waist, and he dug his fingers in. “I need you,” he said, catching a growl in his voice. “I haven’t thought straight since I tasted you. Barely slept. Dreamed about feeling every part of you again.”

“Maybe if we just clear the air,” she whispered as his hand slowly slid down to her ass, and she leaned into him. “Just bang it out. No pressure.”

He squeezed her ass cheek hard— fuck, she felt so good.

She sighed, running her hands up his chest, clawing at him, grabbing at the fabric there. “Just keep it casual.”

Sure, a casual, earth-shattering night as he fucked her again, and again, and again.

“Oh fuck.” His heart dropped. “No condoms.” Goddamnit .

“It’s fine.” She shook her head. “Birth control. Got tested before I left Dallas,” she said, panting.

He allowed himself a soft kiss on her temple, his nose tracing her cheekbone slowly. Her grip on his shirt tightened, pulling him down closer to her. “Got tested before my first blind date. Are you sure? I’d happily spend all night with my head between your thighs.”

She sucked in a breath and bit her lip, nodding. “Can I make one request?”

“Literally anything,” he puffed against her skin, trying to stop himself from coming right here, right now.

“If you come,” she whispered into his ear, “leave it in.”

He sucked in a breath.

“I like the feeling of it dripping down my legs.”

Fuuuuck .

“ Goddamn , you’re my dream girl,” he muttered as his hand wrapped around her neck, crashing his mouth down on hers.