Tangled Up (Bachelors of Buttermilk Falls #2) (4 page)

“One thousand!”

One thousand
.
What the—

“Oh, my God, Abby.” Bridget gave her a nudge. “You could be going out with Brandon!”

Abby tried to protest, but the brownie was now lodged in her throat. Why on earth was Brandon waving his paddle?
No, no. This can’t be happening.
“Water,” she choked.

Bridget reached behind them and grabbed a water bottle, handing it to Abby.

“Thank you.” She took a long sip.

“Are you okay?” Bridget asked.

“I’m fine. It just went down the wrong pipe.” She coughed.

“Do I hear one thousand one hundred?” Betty asked.

Come on, come on!
Abby drank her water. Adam, Matt, even the construction worker would do at this point. She stood frozen, waiting for at least one paddle to wave in the air.

“Congratulations, Brandon Swift.” Betty’s voice boomed into the microphone. “Enjoy your Sugar and Spice Night with Abby Stevens!”

A
bby began
the trek to Brandon’s cottage with two very expensive shortcakes in her hands. After nearly choking on her brownie, Brandon had come up to her all chuckles about her being the sugar for his spice.

He told her he’d made some shish kabobs to grill, and she should stop by when she was ready.

She wanted to say no, but she didn’t want to come off like a poor sport. Besides, Ernie would be stopping by later to check on them. The old cop was worse than the ladies at the Spring Curls beauty salon when it came to gossip. If she didn’t head over to Brandon’s, the whole town would know she’d stood him up . . . or worse, didn’t bring him his expensive dessert.

So, she decided to go. They’d have a quick dinner, and she’d hightail it out of there as soon as Ernie cruised by in his cop car. She could always say that she had to open up the bakery tomorrow and needed to get to bed. As far as excuses went, that was a plausible one.

After leaving the Elks Lodge, she headed straight back to the Sugar Spoon to retrieve Brandon’s thousand-dollar dessert. Since they’d be eating outside, she decided to stop by her cottage to grab a sweater and a warmer fall coat.

On the short walk to Brandon’s, she cursed herself for letting this happen. As soon as she saw him in the Elks Lodge, she should have grabbed her strawberry shortcake and ran out.

What a disaster.
There had to be over fifty desserts to choose from, most of them chocolate. Why had he chosen hers?

And why had he bid so high? The bid before him was not even close to a thousand dollars. Would he be disappointed that he just bought a spongy shortcake drizzled in caramel and loaded with strawberries for one grand?

Well, that was his problem. Reaching his cottage, she headed down the cobble path that led to the water. She assumed Brandon was grilling either in his backyard or on the dock, but both were empty.

Her heart stopped as she caught sight of him. He’d put on his familiar red and white flannel and was currently lighting a grill on what appeared to be his completed deck. When on earth had he finished? He’d been working on its expansion all fall, but even earlier this week, she’d stepped over tools and planks. Now it appeared finished with a new grill and beige wicker patio furniture.

She couldn’t help but think back to the women who had huddled around her shortly after the auction, all congratulating her on her date. Had it only been on Tuesday that she’d cast the spell? Having him make dinner for her three days later was not part of the plan.

“Hey.” He turned from the grill. “I thought I heard footsteps. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Hi.” She offered a wave and joined him on the deck. “When did you finish this?”

“This afternoon.” He chuckled and held up a silver tong. “What? Did Jason tell you about my project that would never end?”

“No, I almost fell on my face tripping—” She stopped herself mid-sentence.
He doesn’t remember you were ever here, Abby.
“Um . . . I mean, yes . . . he might have mentioned it . . . to Emma.” She added quickly, “. . . who then told me.”

“I’ve been wanting to try out my new grill.” He pulled up a shish kabob. It was loaded with chicken, red peppers, onions, and zucchini. “Hope you like it. Jason makes these all the time.”

“I’m sure I will.” She walked up the wooden steps, impressed with not only his work but the cute wicker patio furniture. “I brought your dessert. I should probably put it in the refrigerator.”

“Go right in. Kitchen’s to your left,” he called out.

She blinked. Of course he’d give her directions. Brandon didn’t remember that she’d been in his home more than her own this fall. This new reality might take some getting used to. “Right. Can I bring anything out?”

“I’ve got a pasta salad in the fridge and some wine chilling, too.”

“Got it.” She paused, adding, “Wine glasses are where?” She smirked.
In the cupboard above the stove.

“In the cupboard above the stove.”

“Be right back.” She stepped inside and headed directly for the kitchen. Within minutes, she’d returned with the pasta, wine, and glasses. “I think I have everything.”

“Here, let me help you.” Brandon reached for the wine she’d nestled under her arm as well as the glasses in her hand. “Oh, good. You grabbed the wine opener, too.” He pulled it out of one of the glasses.

While Abby set the pasta bowl down, Brandon went to work opening the wine. “You know, I’m kind of glad it was you I was bidding on.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, I’ve never been good at the whole blind date thing. Having a casual dinner with a friend is more my speed these days.”

She smiled. “You think we’re friends?”

That got a blank stare.

“I’m kidding.” She busied herself arranging the table. “So, you’re not looking to date?”

“No. Not really. Although, that’s about to change.”

It was?
“What’s about to change?”
Was there someone in addition to Christine?
It wouldn’t surprise her with all the women who frequented the Buttermilk Tavern, hoping to turn his eye. Oh, God. What if Caitlin had returned. She banned that horrific thought. If Caitlin was back, she definitely would have made her presence known by now.

“Oh nothing.” He filled her glass and then his. “Cheers.” He clinked his rim with hers and then leaned back on the deck. “How funny that of all the desserts being auctioned, I picked the one made by a professional. I should have known.”

“How?” She pulled a wicker chair out and took a seat.

“It was delicious. Seriously, the most amazing dessert I think I’ve ever tasted.”

“Really?” She smiled shyly at his compliment and masked her embarrassment by changing the subject. “Your deck looks great,” she managed to say.

“Thanks. I don’t know why it took me so long to complete it.”

“Writer’s block,” she said and took a sip of her wine.

His eyebrow went up. “You know about that, too? Man, what else has Jason told Emma about me?”

Oops.
She really shouldn’t know that he’d been unable to type a single word on his book since he’d set up permanent residence. “Emma might have mentioned you were having trouble getting into it.”

“It didn’t start out that way. Before I moved here—when I was just visiting—the words were flowing.” He sighed, set his glass down, and moved back to the grill. In seconds, he handed her a plate with two perfectly grilled kabobs. “I guess things haven’t quite worked out the way I thought they would.”

“I know the feeling.” That she did. Working full time at the Sugar Spoon had given her not only a paycheck but the opportunity to do something that she actually loved. Now if she could just get the guts to take the plunge and start the catering company.

Starving, she pulled off a piece of grilled chicken and popped it into her mouth. “What is your story about?”

He took a bite of his pasta salad. “You know, I thought I had this great idea for this kind of cozy murder mystery set in a quirky small town.”

She laughed. “Wouldn’t be Buttermilk Falls, would it?” This place screamed quirk.

He grinned, flashing his signature smile. “Could be. When I was vacationing here, this place really got to me. I had the whole first half of the book mapped out. I even got a couple awesome chapters written.”

“So what happened?” Abby bit down on her kabob. God, this meal was amazing.

“I don’t know. I guess my muse decided to go screw around.”

She began to cough on her pepper and quickly reached for her wine. Was their having sex the reason Brandon couldn’t write? It couldn’t be, could it?

“You okay?” Brandon asked, his voice full of concern. “Do you need some water?”

“No, I’m good.” She waved her hand. “Wrong pipe. It’s been happening a lot lately.” She finished her wine. “Maybe you just need a change of scenery. You could try writing at the Star Lite or the library?”

“Maybe.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure my muse will show back up any day now. In the meantime, I’m kind of enjoying my gig at the Buttermilk Tavern.”

“You are?” That didn’t really surprise her, but she’d always wondered what he liked about it. Time to find out. “It has to be so much different than reporting for a national newspaper.”

“Yeah . . . but it’s a refreshing kind of different.” He reached for another kabob. “I love to write, but I’d seriously consider opening up my own bar. Although, I’m not sure there’s enough business for two in this town.”

She laughed because he was probably right. “You know, I’ve always thought a bar on the lake would be nice. Somewhere you can enjoy the view of the water in the summer, but maybe cozy up to a fire during the long, snowy winter.”

He turned his head toward the water. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“There’s an old, abandoned inn about a mile from here. It would be the perfect place. My grandmother worked there every summer when she was a teenager.” She giggled, remembering the story. “It’s where she met my grandfather when he came to town after the war.”

“How cool. I’ll have to check the place out.” He nodded to her plate. “How’s the meal?”

“Awesome.” Abby polished off the last of her kabob and went to work on the pasta salad. Never mind being hungry, the meal was the best she’d eaten all week. She hadn’t realized Brandon was such a master griller. She had to admit she was also enjoying their conversation. “So, what exactly is it about bartending that you like?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s the customers. When people come to the tavern they’re looking to have a good time. Maybe forget a crummy day, week, month, hell . . . maybe a bad year. I listen a lot. Did you know that Mike from the bank has a wicked crush on Donna from the post office?”

She laughed. “Um . . . the whole town knows that about Mike and Donna.”

“But I bet you didn’t know that he’s taking flying lessons so he can whisk her off to New York City for a romantic weekend next month.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yep.” He nodded with more than a hint of smugness and then folded his arms in triumph. “People tell me things.”

“Wow. I guess you are a good listener.”

“There are a lot of things about me you don’t know.” He stood and gave her shoulder a playful squeeze. “How about I get that dessert?”

As Brandon headed into his house, Abby grabbed the wine bottle and refilled her glass. He was right. There
was
a lot about him that she didn’t know. Their time together had been more action-oriented. She didn’t know his favorite color, what football team he rooted for each Sunday, or what inspired him in the first place to become a reporter.

Her shoulder still tingled where Brandon had squeezed, and she reached up and massaged it. Was she actually having a good time with this man that didn’t involve her tearing his shirt off?

She’d never realized just how frustrated he was that he’d lost his writing mojo or that he’d thought about opening up his own bar.

“Hey, Abby. Can you bring the wine down?”

She stood and peered below. Brandon must have come out the front door because he was now lighting a small bonfire. “I thought maybe we could have our dessert down here, if that’s okay with you.”

She grinned. “For one thousand dollars, I can.”

“Already gave them my check.”

“In that case, yes.” Making her way down the steps, she handed him his wine glass. “Why did you bid so much?”

He handed her a plate with one of the shortcakes and a fork. “You know . . . I’m not sure. It was the first number that popped into my head. Before I knew it, I was waving my paddle in the air.”

“Well, I’m sure the organizers running the career exploration program are thrilled.” She took a bite of the spongy cake. “Speaking of career exploration, I totally understand where you’re coming from.”

“You do?” he asked and speared a strawberry with his fork.

“Totally. I love working at the Sugar Spoon, but I’ve always had this dream of opening a catering company.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It makes sense. This town has so many events . . . and weddings thanks to Emma.”

“Well, I think that’s a terrific idea.”

“Yeah, maybe someday.”

“What’s stopping you?”

She stared at the flames bouncing off the fire. What was holding her back? “I don’t know. Fear of failing. I mean, my cousin has a successful business and grants bachelors their happily ever after on the side. It’s kind of hard to compete.”

“I forgot about the witch thing.” He leaned closer and arched an eyebrow. “Do you do any spells?”

Other than the one that made you forget that usually by now we’re tangled up in your sheets naked?
“No, not really. I mean, I’ve tried the Batter Up spell, but I can only seem to conjure up the first letter.”

“Well, maybe you should try a different one.”

“Maybe I’ll do that.”

He grinned. “And you better make sure when you do open that catering business that this is on the menu because it’s seriously a winner.”

Over the next hour, their conversation took a fun turn where they created silly names for items on her menu. She was just about to turn the conversation back to Brandon and ask him about the characters in his book when a bright light hit her face. “Ernie!” she screamed.

“Hey, you kids. Having a good time?”

“Yes, officer,” Brandon called out. “Maybe you could lower that light of yours.”

“Sorry about that.” Ernie moved his flashlight off their faces. “Abby, is Brandon being on his best behavior? Because I can haul him in if he isn’t.”

Abby couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s being a perfect gentleman. We’re good here.”

“Good. I hear Bridget’s sister was matched up with your date from last year. I need to go save her.”

“Yes, you do,” Abby agreed, grateful Ernie had a reason to split.

“See you two, later. Have a good night.”

“Bye, Ernie.” Abby wrapped her sweater around her middle. Even with the fire, she was starting to feel the dip in temperature. However, she wasn’t ready to go home just yet.

“Nice guy,” Brandon said, finishing his plate.

“Yeah. He really does look out for us. I need to ask Emma if she can rig it for Ernie to get a shot at Batter Up. He deserves to find his soul mate.”