Picnic in Someday Valley (Honey Creek #2)(10)

“No.” He pushed the past aside and forced himself into the present. “You’ve got me hooked on your scones.”

She laughed, then leaned over the counter closer to him, as if she was letting him in on a secret. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing down to see if one of her buttons was undone. No such luck and he felt like an idiot.

“My plan is to bewitch you.”

Jesse froze as she turned back to her work. The baker had just admitted it without him even asking. She must have read his thoughts. She knew he’d figured out that she’d put him under her spell.

When she looked up and winked again, a full-out wink this time, she whispered, “See you next week, Jesse.”

He was too shocked to talk. No woman had ever winked at him, and this one did it twice. Like she was doing it on purpose.

His mind was full of crops and chores and raising kids. He swore he didn’t have time to worry about one more thing. Now a bewitching baker had walked into his brain. She was probably still listening in on his thoughts. Facts would have to start falling out to make room for this new worry, because he could not hold much more.

“Do you want anything else?” She tilted her head again and the ponytail brushed her shoulder. “Half pumpkin and half apple cinnamon.” She passed him a box.

Jesse nodded and paid. She must have read his mind because he hadn’t said to mix them.

A gang of high school kids came in. Jesse watched her as she helped them. She didn’t wink at any of them. By the time they left, the town seemed to have come alive. People were rushing in, packing the place and filling the air with chatter.

Jesse walked out, holding Sunny while the boys darted around them. He was hooked and there was nothing he could do about it.





Saturday





Chapter 7


Marcie


A slow rain let morning sneak in wearing shades of watery blue and gray fog. Marcie sat up and studied the room as if it were a painting she’d accidentally stepped into. She had no idea how long ago Brand’s mother had died or when his sister left, but it must have been years. Nothing of them, or any other family, remained. Not a picture or trophy, nothing personal. The furniture was definitely picked out by a man, probably on Amazon where someone orders an entire room at once.

As she stood she saw books packed into every shelf. No TV or even a radio, but a new computer was in one corner. Brand Rodgers read in this room and maybe watched the fire or the weather, since no window had a shutter, blind, or curtain. There were stacks of paper and forgotten coffee cups around the desk.

It crossed her mind that there was no music in his life and the thought almost made her cry. He was a man who lived in silence.

He lived with nature. The house was so still she thought for sure she would have heard someone else breathe if anyone was there.

Marcie stood and tiptoed down the hallway until she found the bathroom. She took off her wrinkled clothes and stood in the shower until the water turned cold. Then she wrapped up in one of the big towels and tiptoed back to the living room.

Brand now sat in the huge recliner with a cup of what smelled like cocoa beside him. As she neared to ask if he had something she could put on, Marcie noticed he was asleep. While she’d spent the night feeling safe, he’d probably kept guard.

For a long while she just stared at him in the low dawn light. He looked younger now. What he’d done for her was brave. He’d fought five men. No, four. The bald guy had backed away. Strange because he’d been the loudest when they came calling and he probably would have been the first to rape her if they’d made it through the door. Or maybe he’d have waited to be third or fourth when most of the fight had gone out of her.

Marcie shivered at the memory. The night had been rainy, but she’d been sweating when she heard them call her name.

She had no choice. She needed to talk to someone, and Brand was the only one near. She poked the sleeping bear.

Brand opened one eye. “I made you some cocoa,” he whispered as he handed her the tin cup. “I heard you in the shower when I came in.”

“I’ll share.” She sat on the arm of his chair with the big towel going almost to her knees. “Where’d you sleep last night?”

“On the porch. Thought the drunks might want another round.” He laughed. “Doubt they could find the place even if they were sober. Joey came out here once asking if he could hunt dove.”

Marcie leaned into his shoulder for balance. “What did you tell him?”

“I said no.”

Marcie almost laughed. Brand was the worst storyteller she’d ever met. No details.

They took turns drinking the warm cocoa until the cup was empty. She could feel the warmth of it spreading down to her toes.

“You all right now?” he finally asked.

“You saved me last night. They’d come to rape me and I would have fought them to my last breath.”

He tightened his grip on the cup handle. “You don’t know that was what they came to do, Marcie. All I saw was you not opening the door so you probably didn’t want them around. Are you sure they came to hurt you? Maybe they came to rob you.”

She was silent for a long while, then answered, “There is nothing to rob in my house. I am sure what they came to do. It’s happened before.” Silently she began to cry. This man she’d barely noticed all her life cared enough to get involved. This man who’d never been more than a polite stranger to her was about to see all the scars that had built up in her since she was twelve. This man who rarely spoke to her now knew a secret she’d never told anyone.