My Sweet Valentine (4 page)

Now it was his turn to cross his arms over his chest. “Maybe.”

“You haven't been around too many newborns have you?”

He shook his head. “My sister has a few kids, but I wasn't around when they were little.” He looked around as a loud roar came from the group of men, then Aaron yelled over to him.

“Allen, where on earth did you find the smallest basketball known to man?”

He shuffled his feet and smiled as his friends rushed upon him. He watched Sara relax and melt into the rush of his friends, looking very comfortable.

“Last week I made a trip into Portland to do some Christmas shopping and saw it in a toy store window.”

Aaron patted him on the back as the group of men pulled him into an impromptu game of basketball right there in the living room. They had a few seconds of tossing the ball among the crowded room, all to cheers, before they heard:

“You boys know better than to play ball in my house.” Lacey was still sitting across the room, holding the very small and sleeping baby, George. Her voice didn't really need to carry across the room for the power and command to be heard. The group of grown men stopped tossing the ball immediately and hung their heads, even though their smiles were still in place.

Lacey looked beautiful sitting in a recliner in a pair of dark purple leggings and a large black sweater. Her short hair looked perfectly in place and her smile told everyone in the room she ruled the roost with love.

Aaron walked over and sat next to his wife and new son. Their three-year-old daughter,
Lillian, crawled up into her father's lap, her curly dark hair bobbing up and down. They looked like a family taken right off the cover of a Hallmark card.

“They look happy,” Sara said beside him. He'd forgotten she was still standing next to him; he'd been caught up in watching the family moment.

“Kinda makes you feel like you want to be a part of it all,” he'd said and looked at her, focusing on her eyes. He watched them go wide and he could tell she was thinking about what he'd said, imagining them in place of Lacey and Aaron. The silence between them was almost deafening.

Just then Allison approached, carrying her and Iian's son, Conner. The boy was almost asleep in his mother's arms, his dark curly head resting on her shoulder.

“There you are.” She sounded a little winded. “I have a few more details to discuss with you, if you have time.” Allison looked between the pair of them, a slight smile on her lips.

Sara blinked a few times and focused on her friend. “Yes.” She grabbed her friend’s arm like it was a lifeline and made a quick excuse to Allen, then walked out of the room with Allison in tow.

He sighed and shook his head as Iian walked up laughing. “You did it now, Masters.”

He narrowed his eyes and took the beer his friend offered him. “What?”

Iian clinked his beer against his. “Scared the girl away. But she's thinking about you now.” Iian laughed. “Didn't know you had it in you.”

“What?” Allen took a sip of the cool beer, beginning to feel a little frustrated.

“You know, I've known Sara all her life. I've never seen her look at someone the way she was looking at you just now.” His friend chuckled.

Allen thought it was due to Iian being deaf, but the man had an uncanny knack of knowing what was going on with everyone all the time. Since he'd been in Pride, Allen had always used his friend’s gift to his benefit. He'd always asked Iian to tell him what he thought of his new recruits, if they had what it took to make it through the training. So far, the man had never been wrong.

“Yeah, well.” Allen took another sip of his beer, then his friend patted him on the back.

“Good luck with that one,” Iian said. “She can be a hellcat if you ever cross her.” He shook his head. “Claws like a lioness.” His friend was smiling.

A lioness? Funny, so far Allen had seen nothing in Sara that would make him describe her in that way. More like a scared kitten looking for a dark corner to hide in.

“John Timothy! Get off the ladder this instant!” Sara stood with her arms crossed. It was less than a week after Christmas and the third day since she'd taken possession of Allison's building on Main Street. No, she told herself,
her
new building. John Timothy, a local electrician she'd known since she was a child, stood on top of the ladder looking down at her. The man had retired less than a year ago after a major heart attack. His two sons were busy working in the back room.

“Now, Sara, I'm not quite through here.”

“You are not supposed to be on that ladder and you know it. Don't make me call your wife down here.” She watched him scurry down the ladder.

She sighed and dropped her arms. Her head was hurting from all the banging the other men were doing in the back. The sawdust was causing her eyes to turn red and itch. “You need to go back over there and sit down. You said you were going to supervise and nothing more. Don't make me regret letting you through my doors.” She was so focused on Mr. Timothy she almost didn't hear the chuckle behind her. Spinning around, she looked right into someone's chest. She knew exactly who it was and tried to not let out a sigh of frustration. She didn't need the distraction right now. Slowly moving her eyes up, she looked into Allen's eyes and saw he was laughing at her.

“I just stopped by to see if you needed any help. I didn't know you'd be scolding John here.” He smiled and nodded towards Mr. Timothy. Allen looked good. How was it that a man could look so good in faded blue jeans and an oversized Coastguard jacket?

“How's it going, Allen?” Mr. Timothy said as he climbed down the rest of the rungs on the ladder and walked over to shake Allen's hand.

“Can't complain. So, how's construction going?” Allen and Mr. Timothy walked further into the room, essentially ignoring her. They talked about the building and what they were doing to it to make it ready for her. She unfolded her arms and decided Allen would keep him entertained and off the ladder so she could finish placing her orders. Walking back to the makeshift desk that held her laptop, she sat down, took another sip of her coffee, and got back to work.

There was still so much to do before opening day, which she projected would be the middle of January. The building had only needed some minor changes. Electric and gas needed to be updated in the back room for her ovens. A large island was being built in the middle of the room so she had a large surface to work on. There was already a small office that she was just having them paint for her. It had a large window that overlooked the kitchen area. She would need a new desk and chair that would fit in the small area. In the front room, the main countertop had been cut in half so that the remaining space could house her large refrigerated display cases. Looking at her computer screen, she smiled at the four large cases she'd just ordered. Delivery was set for next Tuesday. She felt like dancing around to celebrate, but knew there was still so much she had to do. Her mixers, ovens, and other utensils still needed to be purchased.

She'd hired a company in Portland to create her logo and the images she'd need for all her menus. She'd spent the last three days fine tuning her menu items and had emailed them to the company. They'd promised a rough draft of her menus later that week. She'd opened accounts under her business name with all the distributors that she would need. It helped that she'd worked with each vendor before and knew where to go. Her first shipment of flour, butter, and eggs were going to be delivered later next week, which meant that the large refrigerators for the back room, which she'd purchased from a company in Portland, would have to be delivered at least a day earlier. Picking up her cell phone, she called to set up the delivery. Ten minutes later, her headache had tripled. It seemed that her order had been misplaced and they had no record of it. By the end of the call, she’d arranged for three oversized, professional-grade refrigerators to be on a truck just in time for her first delivery of food. Knowing it took a while for the units to get cold, she wondered if she should set her food order back a day.

Looking down at her schedule and the list of items she still had to accomplish, she decided she'd call tomorrow and set the delivery back. Right now, she had some more ordering to do. She had almost everything else she would need except the conventional ovens.

She'd worked with a couple of different brands in previous jobs as a baker, but her favorite by far was Vulcan. It hurt to spend the extra money, but she knew from experience that the ovens would pay for themselves in the low maintenance they would require over the next few years.

“Wow!” a voice said from behind her, causing her to almost jump out of her chair. Allen’s hands came down on her shoulders as he mumbled, “Easy. Didn't mean to scare you.” She heard him chuckle.

“You didn't,” she lied. “I was just focused.” She heard him chuckle again.

“Are you really going to pay that much for an oven?” He kept his hands on her shoulders, and she wished more than anything that he'd move them. She couldn't think when he was touching her.

“Yes, actually, I'll be getting two of them.” She looked over her shoulder at him and tried to dislodge his hands. She only succeeded in making him move them a little so that now he was massaging her shoulders. She had to admit, it felt wonderful.

He whistled and shook his head. “What are those?” He moved his hand away from her shoulder long enough to point at her computer screen.

She turned back towards her screen as he continued to massage her neck. Closing her eyes for just a second, she tried not to think of what his hands were doing to her system.

“Those are fryer baskets.” She closed her eyes again and rolled her head forward.

“The kind you make french fries in?”

“Hmmm, yes.”

“Why would you need fryer baskets?”

“Donuts.”

He stopped rubbing her shoulders. “You're going to have donuts?” She sat up a little, straightening her back and looked at him.

“This is going to be a bakery.” He was looking at the computer screen, then a huge smile crossed his face.

“What else are you going to have?” He pulled out a five-gallon bucket, flipped it, and sat on it next to her. Excitement was written all over his face, so much so that she couldn't help but smile at him.

“Well, if you want, I can show you my menu.” She opened the file on her laptop and he leaned closer to her to get a better look.

When he was done reading over the simple menu, he turned to her and smiled. “You're going to have monkey bread! Sara, you are not only doing this town a great service, I think you've just stolen my heart.” She knew he was joking, but it didn't stop her heart from skipping a beat.