The Apple Tree (12 page)

T
raffic on Bianca’s blog continued to spike and it set her into a frenzy, trying to come up with recipes to keep the new readers around. Friday morning, she hopped downstairs, eager to work on a recipe for gluten-free pumpkin pancakes when she stopped short in the kitchen entrance. An unfamiliar, gray-haired man sat in her chair at the table, casually drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper as if he lived there. Her mother’s red bathrobe hung around his thin shoulders. Bianca cleared her throat, irritated that she didn’t have the kitchen to herself.

He looked up from his paper. “Oh, hi… I’m David.” His hand reached out for her to shake.

She ignored it. “You’re a friend of my mom’s?”

Dropping his hand, he sipped from her favorite blue mug, the one that said,
Corvallis High Class of 2008
. “Is your mom Lisa? She didn’t tell me she had a daughter.”

“
I’m her daughter.” Could this get any more awkward?

David smiled and looked back at his paper.

She set to work mixing her pancakes and trying to ignore him, but he kept sniffing and clearing his throat. She moved her mixing bowl well away from him and whatever germs he may have and then carefully recorded each ingredient as they were dumped into the bowl. One cup of pureed cooked pumpkin. Three eggs. Two teaspoons of cinnamon. No one would praise her recipes if the measurements were off.

While the griddle warmed, she pulled the bowl with her sourdough starter toward her, peeking in. Still no bubbles. She added a bit more flour, stirring until it was a gooey mess again and replaced it in the warm spot next to the stove.

Just as the first cakes were flipped, her mother strolled into the room. She walked up behind David, ran her hands over his shoulders and leaned down to give him a kiss.

Bianca turned her head. Not something she wanted to watch.

Everyone raved about the pancakes. Owen ate three and he was a picky eater, but Bianca thought she needed to add one less egg. She whipped up another batch just to be sure. That fixed the problem. They were perfect. Sweet, fluffy, gluten-free goodness. She didn’t follow a gluten-free diet herself, but she knew lots of people did and they were on the web looking for recipes.

Her neon-pink camera stood on the windowsill. She grabbed it and took a photo of her creation, but the focus captured more detail of the plate than the actual pancakes. It didn’t come close to one of those fancy pictures on the more popular blogs. Maybe Peter would be willing to help with her photographs? Money was short so she couldn’t pay him, but he seemed like a nice guy. Perhaps he’d give her a few tips so she could take better photos herself.

She set the camera down and surveyed the kitchen. Egg shells and an assortment of gluten-free flours littered the pale beige countertop and dishes filled the sink. Somehow, she’d even managed to splatter batter on the striped green curtains. She groaned and then got to work cleaning up the mess. Cooking and creating food would be a perfect way to spend the day, if it weren’t for the cleanup afterward. But that was life after all, unless you lived in a castle with a hundred servants, which was laughable. She was no princess.

When the kitchen sparkled, she sat down at her computer to write up the recipe, trying to inject just the right amount of humor into the explanation. Which was better? Pancake-tastic or Pancakarific? Although, she wasn’t sure if it was actually funny or if she’d just made a fool of herself, but either way, it was out there for the world to see.

As soon as she hit the post button, Stephanie called.

“
My mom came over this morning and she totally stuffed my freezer with tamales. Do you want some? I’ll never eat all these.”

“
Yeah, I love your mom’s tamales,” Bianca answered. “I’m still waiting for her to show me how she makes them.”

“
I’ll remind her for you. Now listen, I know you’re going to fight me on this, but I’m taking you out dancing tonight.”

Bianca groaned. “Let’s just hang out and watch a movie. Stuff ourselves with ice cream.”

“
No. I thought about it after you called last night and you need to get out. Forget about that creepy stalker guy.”

“
How is dancing going to help?”

“
Because it’s freeing! We’ll get our buzz on and maybe you’ll meet a nice guy who doesn’t spend his spare time sitting outside your apartment. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“
What about Owen? I think my mom’s working tonight.”

“
Then I’ll pay for his babysitter.”

Obviously, she wasn’t getting out of this. But she had to admit, Stephanie knew how to have a good time. “Okay, fine. I’ll go.”

Loud, pulsing music greeted them as they stepped into the downtown club, La Cantina. The room was dark, except for the flashing strobe and colored lights moving across the sea of dancers. They squeezed their way through sweating, jumping bodies, to get their drinks at the bar, and then sat down at a nearby table.

“
Drink up.” Stephanie handed her a shot and a huge lime wedge covered with salt. “Because we’re about to get our groove on.”

Bianca rolled her eyes and flung back the tiny glass. The liquid burned her throat, but she’d need the buzz if she was going to dance. “Why are you so into this anyway?” she shouted over the noise.

A woman walked by, stumbling into their table before straightening herself and continuing on her way. This place was crazy.

“
Because it’s fun, and because you need to forget about that stalker guy,” said Stephanie.

Bianca took a sip of her cocktail. “I have forgotten about him.”

This time Stephanie rolled her eyes. “You talked about him the entire drive here. And about how you think Peter is sexy trouble.” She laughed. “I agree with that one.”

Stephanie dragged her out onto the dance floor. Bianca swayed to the music, feeling awkward at first, but loosening up after a few songs. By the third, she jumped and pulsed to the beat, truly enjoying herself.

A guy wearing a sleeveless Abercrombie t-shirt and too much cologne inched closer. “Hey,” he shouted, nodding at her and moving his hips so close that she kept knocking into him.

“
I’m going to take a break,” she shouted to Stephanie, a few feet away. Making her way through the crowd, she found their table, sat down and sipped at what was left of her drink.

She scanned the room, stopping when she noticed a pair of eyes staring back at her, familiar brilliant blue eyes, framed by strands of black hair falling over his forehead.

Peter.

A bead of sweat slid down her forehead. She grabbed a napkin, turned and dabbed her face, hoping he wouldn’t notice her sweaty mess.

When she faced him again, he nodded and started squeezing through the crowd to get to her table. Her stomach fizzled like she’d just eaten a bunch of pop rocks. He looked amazingly sexy, in a crisp white button down shirt, the first several buttons open and the sleeves folded past his elbows.

“
Hey, I saw you on the dance floor,” he said when he reached her. “Hot moves.”

Stephanie plopped down in the seat across from her, much to Bianca’s relief. She didn’t know how to respond to his comment.

“
Ay, look who it is!” Stephanie said. “This is quite a coincidence. Are you sure you’re not following us?”

He laughed. “Following you? I come here all the time.”

“
Well that’s a relief. She doesn’t need another stalker.” Stephanie sucked back the last of her drink.

“
Another one?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bianca waved her hand. “It’s nothing.”

“
She caught this guy sitting in front of her apartment, spying on her.” Stephanie said.

He chuckled. “That’s creepy. What’d you do?”

“
I just asked him to leave.” She didn’t want to talk about this with him.

“
Well, I’m most definitely not spying on you.” He grinned and sat down in the empty seat next to her.

“
So, do you really come here all the time?” Bianca asked.

He shrugged. “Not all the time. Sometimes. I’ve never seen you here though.”

“
I only came because Stephanie made me.” She shot a look her direction.

Stephanie huffed. “You know you’re having fun.”

Peter took her hand and nodded toward the dance floor. “Dance with me.”

No way could she refuse him. His charming smile and smoldering eyes rendered her useless. “Okay, but I’m sorry if I step on your foot. I’m a clumsy dancer.”

His body froze, like she’d said something wrong. But, he recovered quickly and winked. “You can step on my foot anytime, baby.”

Taking her hand, he led her through the maze of slippery bodies until they arrived at the center of the floor. He turned, facing her, and smiled as he slid his arms around her hips. Lights flashed around them, creating a dizzying dream-like effect. They began to sway to the beat, stiffly at first, then finding the rhythm. The sea of people around them pulsed and moved to the throbbing sounds.

A pleasant fuzziness filled her head from the drinks and she closed her eyes, letting the music flow through her. It invaded her head and pulsed through her limbs. She moved her body against his. The touch of his hands made her hips swing wider. Her heart pounded, thumping with the beat of the music. She lifted her arms and swung her shoulders in conjunction with her hips.

His body, warm and solid moved with hers.

She placed one hand on his neck, the other around his waist. Turning her head, his breath tickled her neck and the tip of her ear. In some far corner of her mind, she thought this might not be a good idea. In a much more present reality, a fire built in the lower half of her body.

His hands moved up her back, slipping the fabric against her hot skin. He tightened his grip, bringing her even closer. Every solid cut of his body warmed under her fingers and intensified the burning need in hers. His hands slid down, pulling her hips in, rocking with his. Before she could think, his lips pressed against her mouth. His soft fullness moved against hers, synchronized with the pulse of the music. He tasted of whiskey.

“
Ahem!” Stephanie placed a hand on Bianca’s shoulder. “Are you guys dancing or having sex?”

She pulled away, her cheeks flushed and lips tingled.

Peter closed his eyes and let out a low groan.

“
Should we go home now?” Stephanie lowered her voice so only Bianca could hear. “Is this really what you want to do?”

Stephanie knew her too well. She was right. She’d regret this in the morning. “I’m sorry, Peter. I should go,” Bianca said.

His arms still wrapped around her. He brought his lips to her ear and in a deep breathy whisper that sent shivers through her body, he said, “Come home with me.”

The fire in her belly flared as images of what that would be like rushed through her mind. She looked at Stephanie for strength. It was only the hormones talking. Hadn’t she just told Stephanie how Peter was so sexy that he was trouble? Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of his embrace.

“
No, I need to go. I like you, Peter, but this isn’t me.”

His charming smile faded as he let her go.

Stephanie nodded and led her out of the crowd and the building. When they were far enough away from the blaring music, Stephanie turned to her and said, “What were you doing? I mean, I know what you were doing. I would have done the same thing myself, but the point is you never do stuff like that. I do stuff like that, not you.”

“
I know. I don’t even feel that much of a connection with him, but whenever he’s around…it’s like… my loins burn.”

Stephanie laughed. “Did you just say loins?”

She laughed too. “I don’t know. That’s just how it is. He’s too suave for me, I can’t handle it, I guess.”

“
You know there’s a simple solution for this, but it’s not one that will make you happy in the long run.” They stood outside the car. Stephanie swung the driver’s door open. “You could do what I’d do. Sleep with him, but I have a feeling he won’t call you in the morning.” She shrugged and slid onto the seat.

Bianca climbed into the other side. “Yeah, it’s tempting, but I think I’d hate myself afterward.” She looked at Stephanie. “You’re a great friend, you know, recognizing I was about to make a huge mistake and stepping in to help me.” She smiled.

“
Awww, thanks, Bee. Besides, I took you out tonight to forget about your guy trouble, not cause more.”