Read Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1) Online

Authors: Catherine Bybee

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Family Life, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Domestic Life, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense

Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1) (7 page)

BOOK: Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1)
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CHAPTER SIX

The guests were checked in, the rooms were all clean, and Melanie sat on the back porch watching Hope and Samuel do their best to ruin their clothes with dirt.

“There you are,” Zoe’s voice rang from inside the inn. She pushed through the back door and let it slap shut.

Melanie swatted her palm against the double swing she was perched on in invitation. “I thought you were going to spend the day with your mom and sister.”

“I did, too, but she didn’t bother asking for time off work while I’m here and Zanya’s pregnancy is kicking her butt. Guess I’ll just squeeze in a few hours when I can.” Zoe stretched her long legs out and dropped her purse on the deck. The long expanse of the lawn held a large maple tree with a lone wooden swing. The forest bordered the grass without a single fence blocking the view. A pathetic attempt at a vegetable garden sported mostly weeds and a pile of dirt. The beginnings of a tomato plant, one probably volunteering its efforts from the previous year, sprang from the earth. The only thing that had changed from her childhood was the size of the tree. “It’s so quiet here. Was it always this quiet?”

“We were too busy yakking to notice. But yeah, I think it was. It’s not quiet in Bakersfield.”

“Not in Dallas either.”

The two of them watched the kids playing for a few minutes. “She’s just like you.”

“I don’t know about that. I didn’t play in the dirt a lot.”

“You grew out of it,” Zoe corrected. “Decided cheer squad and lip gloss were better pastimes.”

Melanie closed her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t remind me. Guess who is staying here this weekend?”

Zoe glanced to the clouds as if they held the answer. “Enlighten me.”

“Margie Taylor.”

“No!”

“Yes . . . with a stuffy fiancé perfectly suited for her.”

Zoe gave the swing a little push. “I thought her parents were still in town.”

“They are. I’m not sure why the two of them are staying here.”

“More money for Miss Gina.” Zoe made a show of looking behind her shoulder. “Where is she, anyway? I didn’t see her van when I pulled in.”

“She said she had an appointment in Eugene. I told her I’d keep everything running. I’ll do anything to avoid reunion setup. My guess is I’ll get a chance to do all of that next year if I’m still in River Bend.”

“You’re really going to stay?” Zoe asked.

Melanie shrugged. “There’s nothing for me back in California. Hope deserves a little more of this. Open, safe space to run and play. People she can trust close by. Rain. I don’t think Miss Gina needs a full-time employee since this place only fills up a few times a year, but maybe this summer will help me figure out a few things.”

The grandfather clock inside the house chimed twice. She unfolded from the swing. “Hope?”

Her daughter glanced up, her face was smudged with dirt. “Yeah?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen. Don’t wander off.”

“’Kay!”

“Mel in the kitchen?” Zoe asked while they walked inside.

“Afternoon cookies,” she reminded her friend. “Miss Gina’s schedule hasn’t changed.”

“But you don’t cook.”

“I manage.” Kids had a way of making cooks out of their parents. Even if that cooking was often out of a box with
just add water
instructions.

The retrofitted kitchen was home to modern conveniences Miss Gina added when she turned the old Victorian into a B and B. The restaurant grade stainless steel refrigerator and range stood in contrast to the white cabinets and poured concrete countertops.

“Is it wrong that walking into this kitchen feels more like home than my mom’s?” Zoe asked.

Melanie removed two baking pans from a lower cabinet and set them on the counter. “Food at your mom’s was pizza or whatever she brought home from the diner. Miss Gina always had raw ingredients that had your hands flying to grab them.”

Zoe opened the refrigerator and giggled. She reached for the red lemonade pitcher and set it aside. “God bless Miss Gina.”

Melanie handed her friend a glass and moved around to dig inside the fridge herself. “It’s like coming home, isn’t it?”

“Sure is.” Zoe topped her glass off, sat, and took a drink. “So good.”

“It still bites you,” Melanie warned.

The premade cookie dough came in a tub. According to Miss Gina, she bought the stuff off the school fundraiser and stocked herself up twice a year.

Melanie set the tub on the counter and turned to the sink to wash her hands.

“What is that?” Zoe asked.

“Cookie dough.”

Her glass met the counter with a thump and Zoe’s jaw dropped. “No . . . no, no . . . you can’t be serious.”

“It’s what Miss Gina told me to cook.”

Zoe was up and out of her chair in half a second. She tore off the lid and sniffed. Then the fundraising tub became a companion of the trash can. “I can’t believe she’s gone back to that crap.”

Melanie stood back as Zoe did what Zoe did.

The pantry door opened, and out came several containers. “I’ve told her a thousand times. bed-and-breakfasts need fresh and organic. Not preservatives and red dye number six.” A Tupperware lid met the sink and Zoe stuck her nose inside the container. “A few simple ingredients and everyone will remember the food. No wonder she’s not busy all year long. Sticky cookie dough,” Zoe muttered. “Grab a mixing bowl,” she ordered.

Melanie found the bowl and stepped aside.

Zoe waved a container in the air. “See, she has everything she needs.”

Melanie wasn’t even sure what Zoe held.

“Not even expired. Why would Miss Gina buy this and not use it?”

The questions kept coming, but Melanie didn’t bother answering. This was how Zoe cooked. Hands flying, fingers tasting . . . nose sniffing. She found an apron, took a swig of lemonade, and in the time it would have taken Melanie to turn on the stove and pop off the lid of the fake cookie dough, Zoe had flour, salt, sugar, and several other bits of flavor mixed and on cookie sheets.

While the cookies slid into the oven, Zoe knelt beside a deep lower cabinet and dug. She unearthed a coffee bean grinder, dusted it off, and plugged it in. “She better have . . .” From the pantry, a sealed bag of coffee beans emerged. “I don’t get why she isn’t using this.”

Zoe continued talking to herself as the kitchen filled with the smell of fresh coffee and mouthwatering sweetness.

The screen door slammed with the sound of small feet running toward them. “Stop right there young lady. Shoes off. You and Samuel wash your hands before you come in here.”

The kids turned toward the washroom without argument.

Zoe stopped her muttering and chuckled. “Ohhh, the Mom voice. You do that really well.”

“It’s in the guide that comes from the hospital.
Mom voice
and
Mom look
are in the second chapter.”

“What’s in the first?”


Mom worry
and
Mom smothering
.”

Zoe leaned against the counter while the cookies finished baking. “It’s been hard, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah. You’re smart to wait. Not that I planned it.”

“The good things in life are never planned,” Zoe said. “I didn’t plan on being a chef. It just happened.”

“It didn’t just happen. You made it happen. You left this town before I did with half a scholarship and a beat-up pickup truck.”

Zoe waved her off. “Still didn’t plan it. Not all of it.”

“Would you do any of it differently?” Melanie asked.

Her friend stared at the wall. “Well . . . no. I guess not.”

That didn’t sound convincing.

“Are you happy?”

Zoe tore her gaze away, turned toward the stove. “Yeah . . . yeah, I am.”

That didn’t sound convincing either.

As the cookies emerged from the oven, Hope and Samuel fled into the kitchen. Their eager faces still dirty after poor attempts at cleaning them, their hands dripping with water.

While Melanie poured milk for the kids, the screen door slammed shut again. “Someone other than Miss Gina is cooking.”

Mel’s heart did a quick jump in her chest before Wyatt rounded the corner. The easy smile on his lips had her biting hers. He wore the blue jeans she was used to seeing on his narrow waist. He had on a pullover shirt and a tool belt loose over his hips.

“Aunt Zoe made cookies,” Hope announced, her lips smacking over the cinnamon snickerdoodles.

“Are they any good?” Wyatt asked with a wink.

Zoe scoffed and pretended offense.

When Wyatt reached for one, Melanie opened her mouth and her mother’s voice came out. “Wash your hands.”

Wyatt snapped his hand back and grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheeks heated. “Sorry. Habit.”

Wyatt sauntered out of the kitchen and he could hear the sound of running water from the downstairs bathroom.

Melanie turned away from the kids and found Zoe watching her. “What?”

“He’s cute,” she said under her breath.

“Stop.”

“Why?”

Footsteps stopped their conversation and Melanie pushed Zoe away.

“Mmm. Luke said you were a good cook,” Wyatt said.

“He did, did he?”

“Zoe can turn macaroni and cheese into a delicacy fit for kings,” Melanie praised her friend.

“I don’t know about that.”

“A direct quote from one of the judges of
Warring Chefs
.”

“A quote used once they found out I grew up in a double-wide. It was a joke.”

“It’s the truth.” Melanie turned back to Wyatt, his face full of another cookie. “She won her first Fourth of July chili cook-off when we were twelve. In high school, when we needed a new pole vault pit for the track team, Zoe cooked a three-course meal and sold tickets as a fundraiser. Once word got out about her culinary talents, people started driving in from forty miles away and paid forty bucks a plate.”

“That’s impressive,” Wyatt said. “You should stick around. We could use another pole vault pit.”

“We?” Melanie asked.

“I help coach at the high school,” he said.

“Really? Zoe, Jo, and I were all on the track team.”

Wyatt wiped cookie crumbs off his chin. Out of habit, Melanie handed him a napkin.

“I think I remember Jo mentioning that.”

“Yeah, Jo was a sprinter, Zoe here did the mile, and I was the vaulter.”

“Hence the pole vault pit,” Zoe added.

Hope and Samuel scrambled off the kitchen stools. “We’re going back outside.”

“Go on.”

“I keep trying to get our sheriff to coach. Lord knows she keeps bringing me kids.”

Zoe and Melanie started to laugh.

“The apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” Zoe said.

“What do you mean?”

“Sheriff Ward, her dad . . . he did that all the time. Someone got caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing . . . he gave them an option. Join track or handcuffs.”

Wyatt glanced between the two of them. “And what did you two get caught doing?”

Melanie and Zoe exchanged glances.

“It wasn’t us. We were there supporting our friend,” Zoe offered.

It took a few seconds for Wyatt to catch on. “Jo?”

Melanie snapped her lips together. “I’ll never tell.”

Zoe lifted her little finger in the air, and Mel took hold with hers. The not-so-secret handshake of sorts still held.

“It’s a daily education with you in town,” he said.

Zoe pushed away from the counter and opened the fridge. “You kids get out of here. I have stuff to do.”

“Stuff?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah . . . I need to remind Miss Gina how this is done.” Zoe waved them away. “When is she coming back?”

“Dinner. She suggested I invite you over.”

Zoe snorted. “I bet. Sneaky bitch.”

When Zoe started muttering and filling her arms with onions, tomatoes, and some kind of cheese, Mel backed away. “I need my knives.” Zoe dumped the ingredients on the counter and disappeared out the front door.

Wyatt started to say something but the words didn’t articulate before Zoe marched back inside, a black bag in her hands. “What are you two still doing in here? I’d put you to work, but I don’t need a hammer for dinner . . . and Melanie, bless her, is useless.”

“Hey, I manage.”

Zoe snorted before turning away. “And take those cookies to the parlor. I’m sure Miss Gina already has a plate ready.” Another muttered
sneaky bitch
left Zoe’s lips as Melanie and Wyatt left the room.

The noise generated by Hurricane Zoe drifted the farther they moved away from the kitchen.

“Is she always like that?” Wyatt asked.

“Only when she cooks,” Mel told him.

In the parlor, a crystal serving tray sat empty. A small piece of paper sat to the side. Crafted in calligraphy were the words
Compliments of Chef Brown
.

“Oh, she’s good.” Wyatt snaked one last cookie and waved it in the air.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Finishing up the roof. Bathroom still needs work.”

Melanie froze. “You didn’t leave the ladder—”

“I learned that lesson. The ladder is still on my truck. I smelled these before I could set up.”

“Zoe’s cooking is a beacon.” She finished setting out the cookies, had to tilt her head to catch Wyatt’s gaze. His eyes wandered to her lips.

“A beacon,” he repeated.

When she bit her lip, Wyatt looked away and stepped back. “I guess I should . . .”

“You probably should,” she agreed, though she enjoyed the heat he generated in her belly.

He took three steps before turning back. “I hear you’re thinking of sticking around for a while.”

“Is that right?”

“Small town. News travels fast.” He was smiling.

She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m considering it.”

He nudged the wall and changed course. “That’s good.” He didn’t elaborate before he waved the cookie her way and walked out of the house.

That’s good?

Two seconds later, she followed him out. He stood at his truck, pulling the ladder from the back.

“Why?” She yelled across the driveway.

“Why what?”

“Why is that good?” She knew, but wanted to hear him say it.

Wyatt paused in his task, offered a smirk. “You used to pole vault.”

BOOK: Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1)
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