Secrets At Maple Syrup Farm (20 page)

My hand flew to my mouth. “What if it does? No,” I said firmly. “It couldn’t look that pretty and taste ugly. Impossible.”

Clay poured a dab of syrup on the tip of his finger and pushed it between his lips. My own lips parted in need. “Taste it.” His voice was husky.

I stared at Clay’s full mouth. My breath hitched in my throat.

“Don’t you want to try it?” His gaze burned into mine. The air around us hummed with a sense of urgency.

“Yes…”

Clay reached for my hand and poured a dot of syrup on the tip of my index finger. I lifted it to my mouth, and licked the circle of sweetness, my eyes never leaving his. The moment was charged with our silence.

His gaze traveled to my mouth. With a low moan he said my name. All I wanted to do was touch him. I stepped forward, an invitation. With one swift movement, he cupped my face and pressed his lips against mine. The sweetness of the syrup was all there was between us. We kissed urgently, as though it would the first and last time. The intensity of it stole the breath from my lungs. When we parted his gaze burned into mine.

“Lucy…” His voice was throaty with desire. I ran my hands over his T-shirt, wanting to feel the warmth of his body more than anything before. He grinded against me, and kissed the soft skin behind my ear, and down to my neck, making me shiver. The world around me dimmed, as my lips found Clay’s.

I could feel the rhythm of his heart, quick and steady, pressed tight against him. The desperation, the breathlessness, was interrupted when my phone shrilled. I jumped, as if scalded, and the moment was broken.

I couldn’t ignore it, in case it was Mom and she needed me. Clay watched, as I answered the call.

“Mom, hi! No you’re not interrupting anything.” I mouthed a sorry, but he’d already turned and gone. My mind swirled. I touched a finger to my lips, trying to focus on what Mom was saying.

“Sorry, Mom, can you say that again?”

“I said, why’s your voice all husky like that?” she asked.

I crept to the barn door to see where Clay had gone. “Sorry, you caught me in the middle of…pouring the first batch of maple syrup.”

Mom talked, as I tried desperately to work out just how that had happened and what I was supposed to do about it. One thing was certain, I’d just made things more difficult.

***

We spent the afternoon studiously trying to avoid each other. I wasn’t sure if he regretted the kiss, but the tension was palpable. When we were in the same room, I blushed as we bumped hips, or knocked arms. I busied myself by the front porch, lacquering the new banister Clay fitted. He disappeared, out of sight. All I could hear was the drone of a power tool somewhere in the distance.

When nightfall approached, I packed all the tools away, and cleaned all the paintbrushes, then went to find him to say goodbye. The fluoro light in the barn shone out in the night. I stood just out of Clay’s vision, near the open door. Wrapping my coat tighter against the chill of evening, I watched him sand down a piece of wood. Dust motes danced, circling Clay like fairy powder.

I inched closer to the open door. He was focused on the wood, sanding the top of it to get it even. He ran his palm over the top, almost lovingly, to check for imperfections. His muscles swelled with the effort. Stars twinkled overhead in the inky night, almost like they were flashing encouragement.
Kiss him
. But I couldn’t. Instead, I let butterflies swarm inside me, a constant fluttery feeling whenever I was near him. It was the sweetest thing, my own secret.

Chapter Fourteen

Turning the corner from the bed and breakfast the next morning into the main street of Ashford, I was stunned to see so many cars parked down the length of the road. Even though the sky was still dark I checked my watch, wondering if I’d overslept. Six a.m. to the minute. A few townsfolk milled out the front of the Gingerbread Café. Something was wrong! Why were they all assembled so early? Were CeeCee and Lil OK? I jogged the rest of the way, and fell through the door. The café was full. People hovered by the fire, or sat glumly at tables. All eyes alighted on me, their long faces evident in the gloom of the morning.

Out of breath, I managed, “What? What is it?” When I found CeeCee in the crowd, I breathed a sigh of relief. She was OK. I went to her.

“Sit down, sugar plum,” she said, making room for me next to her. “Everyone who don’t know already, this is Lucy. She works at the Maple Syrup Farm just outta town, and the pretty little thing is stayin’ with Rose at the bed and breakfast. Y’all say hi now.”

The locals greeted me with a wave and a mumbled hello. Some sat slumped, others holding their heads in their hands. I scooted to the chair next to CeeCee.

“We’re having an urgent town meeting,” CeeCee said, facing me. “The bank is foreclosing on Walt’s store. And that just ain’t right. Poor man needs time to get back on his feet again. So we brainstormin’ ways to raise enough money to keep him afloat. There’s gotta be something we can do!” While CeeCee tried to remain stoic the panic in her voice leaked out.

“Right,” said Lil, giving me a wave across the table. “So…” She tipped her pen to a pad in front of her. “The ideas so far are a raffle: each business donates a prize. That’s easy, Sarah said she’d organize the draw, and we’ll all sell tickets. What else?”

Rose wandered in, looking as elegant as ever, her hair tied neatly in a bun. “Sorry I’m late, folks.” She pulled up a chair behind me and patted my back.

A man with a curly moustache and gray hair said, “What about a car wash, or a quiz night?”

“I see your hearts in the right place folks,” a small brown woman, with sharp features said, “but how long can we keep this up? We don’t know when Walt will make furniture again, let alone be back in the store… Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we don’t help him. But maybe we need to figure out something else we can sell for him. It doesn’t have to be furniture but something that keeps his business ticking along. There’s only gonna be so many quiz nights and car washes we can do before people get tired of them. There aren’t that many of us, after all.”

The crowd murmured. “Good point, Rosaleen,” Lil said. “Maybe we can organize this first lot of fundraising to keep the wolf from the door, and then look at your idea. What kind of things could we get our hands on? If not furniture, then what?”

People drummed fingers on tables, or rested their heads on chairs.

“We could sell
second-hand
furniture,” Sarah from the bookshop said. “When I go to book auctions, in big old warehouses, I always see a bunch of stuff like that. Maybe, if we got it for a steal, we could revamp it, or…I don’t know… That won’t work, will it?” Her face pinched, and she fussed with her black bangs.

“It’s a nice idea, cherry blossom,” CeeCee said. “But I ‘spose we gotta be practical. As much as we gonna help Walt, none o’ us will survive if we running round after two businesses. We need something sorta simple where we can all chip in with a bit o’ our time and the like. But what?”

All eyes were downcast. The air in the room thickened with their sadness.

Lil stood. “How about I make us some breakfast? That might help kick our brains into gear.”

“I’ll help, Lil.” I joined her in the kitchen, donning an apron. CeeCee gave me a warm smile, softening the worry from her face.

“Thanks, Lucy. Toast some bread; I’ll scramble some eggs, and fry bacon. We’ve got cherry tomatoes in the fridge. We can roast them up with a splash of oil. Maybe we’ll think better with full bellies?”

A good-looking man with curly hair and a checked shirt wandered over. “I’m Damon,” he said holding out his hand to shake. “Lil’s husband.”

“Lucy,” I said. “Nice to meet you.” He had sweet brown puppy dog eyes, and somehow he and Lil matched with their easy smiles, and relaxed natures.

He inclined his head. “How’s about I get the coffee sorted?”

Lil kissed his cheek and without them talking you could see the love that radiated off the pair. Clay’s face flashed into my mind. And it was only then I noticed the time. I was late and I’d be even later by the time I walked there. My heart seized—what if he thought I wasn’t coming after the spontaneous kiss yesterday? I’d explain when I got there; he’d understand. Or would it be awkward, and the old Clay would greet me with a scowl?

“Right, folks,” CeeCee said. “What kinda things don’t Ashford have? Something new might draw in a crowd, ‘cause right now, we need help fast. The bank ain’t gonna dillydally no more.”

I sliced knotty loaves of bread as the locals chatted behind me, and I thought Ashford must be one of the sweetest places on earth, that the whole town gets involved to help one of their own.

***

After hugging the girls, I left the café, hurrying down the long road out of town. Damon had offered me a ride, but I didn’t want to take him away from the meeting. As time went on, the worry for their friend increased, their voices raised in frustration. I hoped they’d figure out a way to save Walt’s store in time.

As I approached the last store in town Becca walked around the corner, her hands deep in her bag, looking for something. “Oh, Lucy! Oh my goodness. When can we catch up?”

Oh my goodness? Did she know about the kiss? Surely not? Clay didn’t seem the kiss-and-tell sort. “What about after work today?” Who knew what the day might bring? After yesterday’s escapade, I might be leaving a lot quicker than expected.

“Great! Let’s meet at mine? I’m just up the road.” She pointed. “The little pink cottage, with the huge oak tree out front.”

“What should I bring?”

She waved me away. “Just yourself. I’ll grab pizza, and wine, and a chick flick or two.”

I nodded and kissed her cheek, before continuing on.

As I wandered my thoughts drifted back to Clay. Was the kiss accidental? We’d been in celebratory mode after making maple syrup. In the quiet of morning, remembering his lips against mine was intoxicating, like I was drunk with a yearning that was wholly new.

I blinked away the memory so I wouldn’t arrive flushed. The gravel of the driveway crunched under my boots as I made my way to the maples. Clay would be collecting the sap, so I hurried to the clearing, looking for the truck.

By the lake, he dashed from one bucket to the next. He must have heard me coming and glanced over. With my hands pushed deep into my pockets, I ambled over to him, trying to read his expression before I said anything about yesterday.

He stopped, dropped the bucket by his side, and bit his lip. I shuffled my feet and waited for him to speak.

“You’re late.”

I hid a smile, predicting those very words would fall from those luscious lips of his. “Sorry, there was an emergency town meeting, and I helped the girls at the café make breakfast.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “What was the meeting about?”

“The bank is foreclosing on Walt’s furniture store. They’re trying to work out a way to save it. Those big meanies—I see why you avoid town. Imagine having friends like that, hey? I mean who needs enemies, right?” I couldn’t help but tease him and was rewarded by the ghost of a grin.

“I hope they find a way,” he said, and walked to the pick-up truck to empty the bucket.

“Me too,” I said.

The bucket lid clanked, as he walked over. He stood a half step from me. I held my breath, wondering what he’d say.

“You think we can get to work now?” He was so close, I could reach out and touch him. His expression was neutral but his eyes darkened.

“Er…yes.”

It was like I was exposed in the clearing of maples. As if he was staring so deeply into my eyes he could see my soul and knew I was spellbound. He was
too
good-looking. The kind of guy who would break your heart as quick as look at you…and yet…and yet… My pulse sped up, as I gazed at his face once more. And just like that, he said, “Let’s work, then.”

The world went back to spinning, and I tried hard to pretend that the kiss yesterday meant nothing. It
was
nothing. He was just a guy with a huge chip on his shoulder to match an equally big ego. He was gruff, and rugged, and
not
for me.

He kept on staring, so I said, “About yesterday, that shouldn’t have happened. It was the excitement of the syrup, and…” The lie escaped only to save my pride.

“Let’s forget it happened.” As if he was talking about a dropped hammer.

He trudged off. I mentally castigated myself as I walked in his shadow. I couldn’t help it though—when he locked eyes with me, my heart beat a different rhythm. “It wasn’t really memorable, anyway,” I said to his back.

He spun to face me. “It wasn’t?” Again he dropped the bucket, and stepped forward, wrapping his hands around the small of my back, like he knew exactly where his arms fit on my body. “What are you doing to me?” His voice was thick. Before I could reply, his mouth was hard against mine. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, any other thought floating to the ether, vanishing, until I came up for air.

“What are we doing?” he said.

This was only going to complicate matters. “Maybe we should forget it happened, Clay? Again, I mean. I’m leaving, and you’re…”

“I’m not ready for this…whatever it is.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure I said forget it first, Clay. So there’s no need to be sorry, because clearly, I am not interested in you either.” Truth was, I felt something for Clay, some unequivocal, heart-stopping, breath-taking desire that I had absolutely no control over, and it irked me. He was barely able to hold a conversation, so how could it be plausible?

“You just can’t stop, can you?” he demanded. “I don’t want to feel like this, but it’s too goddamn late.”

I gave him a shove. “Shut up and kiss me, and that’s the very last time,” I said.

He brushed his lips against mine, softly this time, cupping my face, like he didn’t want to let me go.

***

“S-o-o,” Becca said later that night, clutching a glass of red wine. “Tell me honestly, you love him right?” She flicked her hair, and laughed. There was something so fun about the way Becca didn’t take life too seriously.

Music played quietly in the background inside Becca’s small cottage. We had just gorged ourselves on a cheese pizza and I was almost too full to talk. Especially about Clay. But wasn’t this what girls’ did? Eat junk food, drink wine and chat about guys? The thought made me smile, but I couldn’t confess about Clay just yet. I didn’t know how I felt, and I wasn’t sure what his motivations were either. “What is it with everyone?” I blustered. “We are colleagues, erm…associates, ah, just friends, sometimes. And other times, we’re enemies.”