Waking Up To Love (Lakeside Porches Book 4) (12 page)

No one noticed when the music ended. Dust and bits of straw swirled around the shuffling feet, and the smells of hay and sweat and perfume permeated the space.

“People!” The leader’s voice cut through the laughter and hoots. “Nice job with the box dance. Glad you enjoyed it. We’ll see you all next year for Tompkins College’s annual apple picking.

“Remember we have line dancing here every Thursday night. Bring your friends. Folks, it’s just ten minutes to the drawing for the raffle, which will be announced outside the main door to the shop. You have time to browse.”

Applause filled the barn.

As he filed out with the dancers into the sunny yard, Rand spotted Lyssa lounging against the rolling barn door, wearing a big grin as she talked with the teens that had flirted with him. He gave Lacey and Rita each a kiss on the cheek, and strolled over to Lyssa with his hands in his pockets. She didn’t look pissed. “You should have joined us. You’re a great dancer,” he said.

That brought a laugh. “You’re judging by our romp on the terrace before my interview?”

He pulled her into a big hug and nuzzled her neck. “You smell like apples.”

She wiggled away. “You smell like pot. Did you and Tully walk through a patch of marijuana on your mystery walk?” Her flip question didn’t hide her apprehension.

Rand hadn’t bargained on her being that uptight. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Lyssa fought to keep her anxiety under control. Rand’s eyes were glassy, but that could be from the excitement of the dance.

Anyway, what did it matter if Rand or Jim Tully or both of them smoked a joint out in the fields or the woods? She was the one in recovery, not him.

First things first
. Her voice trembled when she said, “Let’s pay for my apples and get them in the car.”

“Sure, good idea.” With his hand on her back, he steered them to the twenty-foot-long table set up for purchasing produce. Lyssa had tucked her half-bushel under the table. She pointed it out to the nearest cashier, a teenage girl who rattled off the total for her. Rand dropped two twenties on the table and hauled out the basket.

“Your change, sir,” the girl called to Rand.

“Keep it.” He hoisted the basket onto his shoulder, turned his back on the change, and hustled to the car. He didn’t stop to see if Lyssa followed.

Lyssa waved at the girl and mouthed, “Thank you.”

She caught up to him as he took her purse out of the small trunk and hooked it over his shoulder. It was then that she noticed a brown-paper-wrapped package. She could swear it hadn’t been there earlier, when he’d picked her up and placed her empty basket in the trunk. The box was big enough to hold a couple of textbooks.
Or a good chunk of weed
.

Lyssa warred with herself. Should she ask him what it was? But it could be anything, and would she even know if he lied? And if he said it was pot, she’d be stranded here because she wouldn’t ride with him in a car carrying an illegal substance.

Not knowingly.

What came out of her mouth was, “I’ll pay you back for the apples.”

He started at her voice and said gruffly, “No way.” He wedged in the half-bushel of apples and closed the trunk with a firm hand, then held out her purse to her.

She thanked him.

“Are you okay?” He touched her elbow.

She stiffened at first, but saw real concern in his eyes and softened. “Sorry, I’m a little panicky. I need to eat something, I think. Right away. Do you mind?”

“Sure, let’s see what they have in the store.”

The store was crowded, and Rand waited for her outside. She grabbed a block of local cheddar and stood at the front of the long checkout line holding up a ten-dollar bill for the cashier to see. The cashier spotted it, glanced at the seven-dollar price sticker on the cheese, and nodded. Lyssa placed the ten by the register, hurried out of the shop, and broke off a chunk.

It was exactly what she needed. The sharp taste and strong smell brought a happy memory of Fiona and her tea sandwiches. Lyssa chewed, swallowed, breathed, and repeated until her panic subsided.

Rand sauntered toward her.

God, what should I do about the pot smoking and the package?
She remembered her first sponsor saying, “When none of your options feels right, do nothing and see what happens.”

“Hey.” She smiled at him and held up the brick of cheddar. “Have a hunk.”

He broke off a piece and tried it. “This is good.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Okay now?”

“Improving.” She stuffed another piece in her mouth and savored it as it melted.

He steered her back in the direction of the car. “Did you want to stay for the picnic?” he asked.

“Not especially. You?”

“I’d rather find a carwash now and have a nice meal this evening, just the two of us.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “How does that sound?”

“I like it.”

His eyes were still glassy, and she worried that he might be under the influence. She gave him a flirtatious smile. “Now that you know I’m perfectly well, will you let me drive your hot little car to the carwash? I’ll take responsibility for making it pristine again.”

“To do that, I would be breaking my cardinal rule.” He splayed his hand on the hood of the Miata and challenged her with a sexy smile.

She amped up her own smile. “Didn’t you already break a rule by asking me, a
colleague
, to be your
date
for apple picking?”

“Good point.” He winked and held out the keys.

She grabbed them.

Driving Rand’s little Miata was better than she’d dreamed. “It’s like a kite riding on the breeze—quick turns, swoops up and down the hills. Freedom, Rand. You must love it.”

“I do. And you’ve been holding out on me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have a poetic flair.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Nonsense.”

“I was worried about you back there. What happened?”

“I hadn’t eaten anything today.” It was a lie, but she had been hungry. She wasn’t ready to tell him she was in recovery and couldn’t be around pot, her drug of choice.
Maybe over dinner
. “It made me panicky, I guess. Sorry for the bother.”

“No bother at all, but you scared me.”

A few miles later, on the edge of Geneva, she spotted what she’d been looking for. “Carwash ahead.”

Lyssa held out a twenty-dollar bill to the manager and asked his advice about the lingering smell of cow dung.

“Sure, lady. We’ll have it good as new in no time.”

“Let’s trade places.” Rand stood insistently at the driver’s door. Lyssa walked around to the passenger side and settled into the seat.

Hoses flared, scrubbers scrubbed.

She told Rand, “Thank you for taking me today and for the apples.”

He traced the curve of her cheek and jaw with his fingers. “Don’t forget, you owe me a pie.” The automated track engaged the Miata.

“We’ll have coffee this week, and I’ll bring a slice for you.”

“Don’t I get the whole pie?”

She laughed.
Sometimes he’s an adorable six-year-old
. “That is not possible. Once the pie is out of the oven, I can’t resist a piece.”

The roar of the jet spray and slap-slap of the brushes drowned out anything he might have said in response. At the end, he climbed out, helped the attendant rub down the windows and the body, and examined the wheel wells and spokes.

Lyssa opened her window. “Does it meet your approval?”

“We’re good to go.

Back at Lakeside Terrace, he circled the cul-de-sac and pulled up beside her stoop.

“How about the Manse Grille for dinner? I could go for a thick juicy steak.

“Great idea.” She glanced at her phone. “It’s five-thirty now.”

“I’ll pick you up around seven.” He winked. “Wear something sexy.”

He had the apples out of the trunk and the lid closed by the time she’d shouldered her purse and dragged her aching body out of the low front seat.

“A little stiff there, Lyssa?”

His teasing brought a blush to her cheeks.

He handed her the basket of apples. “Unless you want me to carry them up for you?”

“No thanks. Manda and I will sort it out.” As he reached the driver’s door, she called to him, “Rand, I . . .”

“What?”

“I need you to know I can’t be around pot.”

His face tightened and his gaze dropped to the keys in his hand. “That’s right, you said you smelled it?”

“On you.” She wished she could see his face.

“Yeah, well, I guess Tully might have lit a joint on our walk. I wasn’t paying attention. It’s no big deal, is it?”

“It is for me. I just need you to know that.” Her knees trembled, and she wasn’t sure she could hang onto the heavy basket.

He flipped his keys. “Okay. See you in an hour or so.”

She lugged the apples into the entry, set them on the floor, then knocked at Manda and Joel’s door.

“Rand, I’m sure she didn’t say she hates pot. No one hates pot. Tell me exactly what she did say.”

Rand heaved a sigh as he brought to mind Lyssa’s exact words and related them to Pris.

“So . . . she agreed to go out with you tonight anyway. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He opened the bottle of riesling he’d selected from the cooler.

“And she didn’t demand to know what was in the package in your trunk, right?”

“But maybe she didn’t see it.”

“Fat chance. You said she looked right at it and went into a panic.”

“You’re right. What do you think that’s about, that panic?” He set the bottle on a cork-lined pewter bottle-holder and placed a crystal wineglass next to it.

“I think she put two and two together and made you for a weed-smoking pusher, big bro.”

He sank down on the sofa. “What do I do now?” He poured a skosh, tipped it into his mouth, and swirled it around his tongue and palate.
Pleasing
.
A pleasing riesling
.

“Take her out for a lovely dinner and make a move. What’s the problem?”

“Pris, thanks to Bert and Regina cutting me off, I depend on my side business to afford my car and clothes and furniture and nice dinners and fine wine. Do you really think I can hide that business from her?” He poured a full glass.

“She thinks you’re from a wealthy family, which you are. Why would she be suspicious about your spending or where you get your money, unless you give her reason to?”

He drank half and then flopped back onto the throw pillows and propped his legs on the arm of the sofa. “What if she’s too smart for me to hide it?”

“Rand, wise up. You’ve got to hide the business, if you plan to marry her.”

“This sucks. Who knew she’d be a . . .”

Pris laughed. “A what? She’s obviously not a prude if you got her to kiss you before the first date. And you said she’s a good kisser.”

“Definitely,” he said with a lusty chuckle.

“So you just need to be more discreet about your business. Don’t try to move product when you’re with her.”

“She must be unbelievably sensitive to the smell of pot, if she detected it on my clothes an hour later, when I’d been outdoors the whole time.”

“Don’t smoke when you’re going to see her. Don’t store product casually in your loft if you plan to invite her over.”

He sat up with a moan. “This is impossible, Pris.” He splashed more wine into his glass, drank half of it, and refilled the glass.

“No, it’s not. Think of it this way. You take precautions so people like the college president and the local authorities don’t have a clue. Rethink those precautions. How do you make it work with Lyssa in your life? For example, do you decide not to invite her to your place when it’s hot, or do you find a hidey-hole somewhere else for your stash? It’s not like you ever have a lot of stock, right?”

He drained the glass and flopped back against the pillows. “I guess.”

“I’ve got to get ready. Phillip’s taking me to dinner and a show. Call me and let me know how it goes tonight. I’m dying to know what outfit she thinks is sexy enough for you.”

“Me, too. She’s got great legs, a mile long.”

“That’s better.”

“Thanks, Pris. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Keep your cool, guy.”

He shut off his phone and closed his eyes. He still needed to get a shower and change.
Just gonna rest for a minute
. He smiled as he imagined what sexy little thing Lyssa would wear on that luscious body tonight. He had plans for those legs.

Two hours later, Lyssa and her sister perched on the front stoop at 14 Lakeside Terrace. “When he offered to carry the apples upstairs, I should have let him. Grrr.”

“We can divvy them up, and then you’ll only have half to carry.”

“Good thinking, Manda.”

“This is just too weird. I can’t believe he asked you to your face to have a nice dinner with him and then just stood you up.”

“Even after I made my stand about pot, he said he’d be back in an hour or so. Was I wrong to say that to him?”

“No, of course not. And it doesn’t sound like you were judgmental or righteous about it.”

“I just tried to own what I believe. But I didn’t feel ready to tell him I’m an alcoholic and an addict. I guess I don’t trust him enough right now.”

“Have you found a Narcotics Anonymous meeting you like yet?”

“No. I tried a couple, but I plan to stick with AA. There’s such good recovery at most of the meetings I’ve been to, and quite a few people are also addicts.”