Tart (2 page)

“Here, try this one. It’s a new recipe.” She gave Gillian one of the strawberry buttermilk muffins she’d made earlier.

“If I must.” Gillian winked and then tried it, humming her delight. “This is really good. Which pretty much is my answer every time you have me try something new of yours.”

“The strawberries were frozen, but once they’re in season I have a local supplier. I’m taking some out to Patrick’s to give him a sample of what I can do.” Along with the cherry turnovers he loved so much. Hey, she wasn’t above a little bribery.

“No one is going to complain when you arrive carrying one of your red-and-white bakery boxes.” Gillian grinned.

Pride filled Jules at the compliment. She’d worked hard to make the place her own after she’d inherited the building. It pleased her so much that she’d been as successful as she had.

She’d never wake up one day to have her entire life turned upside down and not have a backup plan. Like her mother had.

•   •   •

Jules had been out to Patrick Carter’s farm just a few months before. Unfortunately it had been a less-than-happy occasion. His wife Clara had battled cancer for the better part of the last several years and had finally succumbed to it. The wake had been lovely, filled with friends and family. It had been a tribute to just what an amazing person Clara Carter had been.

Patrick was hale and hearty in that way some men grew into as they hit eighty. Barrel-chested and broad shouldered, he’d spent his entire life on the farm he still worked. He stopped into Tart once a month when he came into town to run errands and she’d sit with him and visit for the better part of an hour or two. He was a terrible flirt, which always made her smile. And he knew about stuff. His stories always entertained her.

But the sadness in his eyes had stuck with Jules. Her friend Daisy, in addition to being an artist and a dancer, had a great mind for business. It was her idea to bring Mary and Jules together to combine their resources. Using locally sourced ingredients in the food Tart put out would add another facet to the business. It was smart and would strengthen her ties and commitment to the community.

So when the idea had come up, Patrick was one of the first names that had come to mind. It was probably a little thing for him, but hopefully it gave her the chance to see him more often and also get him connected to a new and fun project.

The island was small enough that it didn’t take long to get out to his place. The curved drive up to the pretty farmhouse was lined with trees. His bees were out in the orchards behind the house. She wanted his fruit
and
his honey.

It wasn’t until she’d parked and gotten out of the car, her arms laden with the pastry she’d brought, that she noted Patrick was sitting on his big front porch. But he wasn’t alone.

Both men stood as she headed up the steps and she realized the other one was Gideon, Patrick’s grandson.

It was an unexpected pleasure to see him. Which was probably why just looking at him sent a little zing through her. That or the fact that he was ridiculously gorgeous. Either way, a zing was a zing and who was she to go looking at any zing askance when she’d been sort of zing-less of late?

“Two Carter men in one place? I’m not sure Bainbridge Island is big enough to handle all this handsome.” She winked at Patrick, who kissed her cheek and grabbed the pastry box with a happy sound and a grin.

“If these have cherry turnovers in them, you can have whatever you like, girlie.” He indicated Gideon, who stood, smiling at her. “You remember my grandson, don’t you?”

Gideon’s gold-blond hair was to his shoulders. His beard was neatly groomed and framed a sinfully full mouth. Jeans and boots were part of his job, much like the ones his grandfather had on. But Gideon only made her think,
“hot cowboy.”

“I do,” she managed to say instead of drooling. He’d been a cute older boy she’d crushed on growing up. But this Gideon was a man. Damn.

Before she could say anything else, Gideon stepped to her and pulled her into a hug. He smelled like sunshine and hard work and a hint of the shampoo he used.

“It’s really good to see you, Jules. Come sit. Granddad has made coffee. I told him we should have offered you food, but he insisted you’d bring it so why bother.”

Oh. His accent. Not pronounced or even that noticeable, but it was there. A general slowing of his speech. Sexy.

“Patrick, I brought you some other things in addition to the cherry turnovers.” She tipped her head to the boxes, though she didn’t bother to hide her flattered smile when she noted he’d already started eating.

He pointed at the box. “You can have one, boy. Just don’t get greedy.”

Gideon looked to his grandfather. “So says the guy who’s shoving one into his face already like a starving man.”

Patrick looked over and snorted. “I’m still growing, Gideon. I need it.”

She laughed, liking the sight of a far more lighthearted Patrick than she’d seen in some time. It was clear Gideon’s presence wasn’t just candy for the ladies in the area.

“How long are you in town for, Gideon?” She hoped she didn’t sound like a breathless schoolgirl hinting at being asked out. It wasn’t as if he was a stranger after all. She’d known him since they were both kids and he came to Bainbridge every summer and over the winter holidays to visit his grandparents.

But the zing? Well, she didn’t get any zing when she hung out with Mary’s brother Ryan, who was also gorgeous and who she’d known equally as long. Mary’s other brother Cal was a whole different story though.

“For good.” He handed a mug to Jules. The day was crisp so the coffee was much appreciated. “Granddad and Grandma ran this place my whole life. I figured it wasn’t a bad thing to get into the family business.”

Patrick gave a wheezy sort of laugh and patted Gideon’s knee. “That’s a pretty way of saying that since Clara’s death I’ve needed a little help. He’s good at saying things in pretty ways.”

They had good energy, Gideon and his grandfather. Gideon seemed at ease, his body language relaxed and open. It was a choice he’d made happily, apparently, which Jules was glad of. And not just because if he was around on the regular, she could look into the zing a little closer.

“I’m glad you’re back in town. I suppose, then, I need to talk to you both. I’m doing some expansion of Tart and part of that is a new, locally sourced line of baked goods. My partner Mary, she’s a caterer and she’d also be interested in local ingredients for her food. We thought it would be nice to have a notation on the menu for the local farms and dairies we buy our ingredients from.”

“Really? That’s a great idea. Granddad and I were just talking about this earlier in the week. The cattle ranch I ran for years had some relationships with local restaurants. It’s win/win for both, and for the locals who are customers.”

She liked that he seemed so engaged with the farm already.

“That’s a big part of it. I really love the idea of eating and sourcing as much local ingredients and goods as I can. There’s so much around here that it’s not that difficult to create a menu with at least fifty percent local products. My aim, after a year, is to be up at sixty percent or higher. I like that it gets me in contact with local farmers and ranchers and that it gives my customers a new perspective on the businesses they use without even knowing it.”

Gideon leaned closer, his eyes bright, body language engaged with her. She could smell him, which was entirely pleasant when a breeze kicked up from time to time.

“I sure do like the idea of the family farm moving into the future this way. When I took over from my father we took our produce to market in an old truck.” Patrick snorted his amusement as he snuck another turnover, winking when he caught her eye.

“We’re talking about doing a produce and honey stand from late spring into the fall.”

“That’s a great idea. Have you thought about the farmer’s market?” She was considering it herself, maybe later on. She could work it out with some of her local suppliers to have some of their stuff at her stall so people could check them out too. Hm.

They spent the next hour or so working on schedules for delivery, pricing, talking about the season for each product and those sorts of details. Patrick Carter knew his land. Knew what would be good when, and that helped a lot. Gideon knew these things as well, but he also had new ideas and seemed excited about what he could bring to Carter Farms.

He was smart. Ambitious. Really hot in those jeans he had on. It warmed her to watch him with his granddad. A man who valued family was pretty irresistible.

She really did need to get going. Even so, it took her another twenty minutes until she could finally work up the wherewithal to stand. “I really should head out. I appreciate the company, the coffee and the new business relationship.”

Gideon stood as well. “I’ll walk you to your car.” Gideon hefted the flat of fruit she’d planned to take back to Tart.

“Thanks! You’re handy.” She bent to kiss Patrick’s cheek. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Course not. Though I do expect you to bring me sweet things. I need to supervise what’s going on with my product, after all.” He winked at her and she followed Gideon to her car.

She might have looked at his long legs and perfect ass in those faded jeans a time or six. They were too nice not to look. Like art. It would have been disrespectful, like ignoring a fine painting. Or something. Anyway, he had a nice butt and she wanted to look.

He loaded the tray and closed her rear door before standing straight again.
Man
, he was tall. She looked up and up some more and she wasn’t a short woman. Just standing next to him made her feel delicate.

“Thanks for the heavy lifting.” Jules cocked her head and shaded her eyes as she looked up into his face. “I’ve been worrying over him being out here alone. It’s good you’re back.”

“Ah well. He’d have been just fine here without me. He’s got a foreman who’s been with us for fifteen years. But”—he shrugged—“it was time to come back and do something with my life. I love the farm, I love my granddad and why not?”

“Indeed. Though plenty would have found many reasons not to.”

He took her hand. “I’m not them. And maybe they don’t have someone like my granddad.” He shrugged and she noted the faint blush on his neck and then wondered how his skin would taste. Like the hussy she was.

“You’re not them at all. Which is a nice thing. Well, you know where I am if you get a hankering for something sweet. Or want to check out the product.” She fought a blush, which in and of itself made her a little giggly inside.

Jules loved men. Most of them anyway. She wasn’t shy when she was attracted to someone—and they were available of course. So she wasn’t a stranger to flirting, but he made her . . . shy.

He still had her hand in his. She couldn’t take her gaze from it. So big, his hand compared to hers. Big and callused, work-worn in places. It was the hand of a man who worked with his hands. Who made and managed things.

It sent a shiver through her and when her gaze returned to his face, he was looking down at her, a hungry look on his features.

Her breath caught a moment as he stood so close. There was something between them. She didn’t know what exactly, but certainly attraction. She could work with that.

“I should go.”

He let go of her hand before opening her door. “Drive safely, Jules. Maybe I’ll stop in to Tart this week.”

She nodded after she slid into her seat and got her belt on. “I think you should.”

He shut the door and stepped back, leaving her in total silence for a moment before she turned the engine over and The Chemical Brothers poured from the speakers. He stepped back and gave her a small wave and she pulled away.

A new deal and an interesting man who made her warm and sort of, well, tingly. The sweetness of the beginnings of a maybe-something spiced the zing of the attraction between them.

Possibility.
She could totally get behind some of that.

•   •   •

Gideon watched her pull away and head back to town. His heart beat a little faster as he caught the subtle scent she wore. Low and sultry. He’d have pegged her for a brighter, more classical scent.

But Jules Lamprey wasn’t all that she seemed on the surface.

At first glance, Jules was brilliantly-blonde-girl-next-door beautiful. Sunny hair she wore in a high, sleeked-back ponytail. Her eyes were large and sky-blue. A wide, open smile. Her clothing flattered. She was friendly, funny, a little flirty. The pretty girl he’d grown up with.

But another layer in? Well, that red-lipped mouth had a little cant up at the left. Like she had a secret. The turtleneck she wore was cashmere. And her perfume was rich and sexy. Like her laugh.

He’d watched the way she drank her coffee. She’d held the cup, cradling it to take its warmth. Her first sip had been with her eyes closed and a happy sigh. She had enjoyed the hell out of the different fruits she’d tried when they’d been working over schedules.

Jules Lamprey was a sensualist. There was something fairly irresistible about a woman who took pleasure in everything around her.

On top of all that, she was articulate, successful and fair in her dealings with his granddad. Independent and intelligent too. The whole package.

Unless he was sorely mistaken—and he didn’t think he was—she was attracted to him in equal measure.

Gideon wanted a taste of the rather delicious Ms. Lamprey.

With a pleased sigh, he sat back on the porch with his granddad. “Is she seeing anyone, do you know?”

All around them was land his family had lived on and worked for generations. He’d been away from ranching for a while so it had taken a week or two to really get back into the life of a farmer. He wasn’t a stranger to farming, wasn’t a stranger to hard work with hands and body. And this was his in a way the Bar M never was.

Even better, he’d done it at Patrick’s side, which had filled him with humility and pride. His grandfather trusted him to take Carter Farms into the next generation. It was a weight, but one he’d chosen freely.