“Guacamole is two years old. Iguanas can live as long as twenty years.”
“Amazing. That takes true commitment.”
I nod. “If I ever get married, the man will have to love Guacamole, too.” I stick my fingers in Guacamole’s cage and rub his tail. “I have a wooden habitat for him—looks similar to open bookshelves, complete with warming lights. But it’s open in the front so he’s free to roam. I hope that’s all right.”
Candace’s eyebrows lift.
I can’t help but laugh at her expression. “Guacamole is litter-trained, so you don’t need to worry about, um, surprises.”
She relaxes. “What does he eat?” she asks, still looking a little worried.
“Bedposts, wooden chairs. Now, he’s not into pine wood. Mainly walnut, cherry, that kind of thing.”
Candace’s eyes grow large as snowballs.
“I’m kidding.” I laugh. Candace’s shoulders relax. “He eats healthier than I do. Staple veggies such as okra, green beans, butternut squash, acorn squash, mustard greens, some fruit occasionally—bananas, berries, peaches, pears, that kind of thing. Pretty much anything in the produce section,” I say with a laugh. “You’re sure your brother won’t mind, right?”
“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it,” Candace says with a lighthearted tone of voice.
We hear the front door open downstairs.
“I think that’s Mitch.”
My heart blips again. I put Guacamole’s cage near the bed and follow Candace down the stairs. I glance at the banister and wonder for a fleeting second what it would be like to slide down it.
At the sight of Mitch, I struggle to breathe. My teeth stick together as though I’ve got a wad of saltwater taffy in my mouth. His thick, wavy hair is pushed away from his forehead with a bit of gel, and stylish sideburns end where his chiseled jawline begins. There’s not an ounce of fat on his body. The word buff comes to mind. I’m sure he must have been a football star at one time.
He extends his hand. “Hey, Gwen, good to see you again,” he says, flashing a grin.
My teeth are still stuck together, so I merely smile and shake his hand. He looks at me kind of funny, and I realize I’m still grasping his hand. I reluctantly give it back to him. Killjoy.
We step away from the door so he can get through, though I’m very tempted to stay put so he has to move me himself. My teeth start to hurt, and I pry them apart.
Mitch steps into the great room, and we follow him.
“So you got everything taken care of at the bank?” Candace asks.
He nods. “I think we’re almost ready for opening day.” He casts a quick glance my way. “We do have one glitch, though.”
I cast my prettiest smile and wonder what that could possibly have to do with me.
“Granny is coming tomorrow,” he says to Candace.
Their eyes lock. “Granny Windsor?”
Judging by the look on Candace’s face, I’m thinking this can’t be good. Yoo-hoo, anyone want to fill me in here?
“Did she say how long she would be staying?”
“Well, you see, that’s the thing,” Mitch says. “She wanted to come and check out my new place. I told her it would be great to have her here. Then the next thing I knew she decided to be the cook for the B and B. I don’t really know how that happened.”
“That’s Granny for you,” Candace says, shaking her head.
Well, this is embarrassing. I’ve barely moved in, and I’m already laid off—before I cook my first meal. Can’t somebody tell Granny I was here first?
“Mitch, you should have told her you had a cook already.”
Hear, hear, Hunky Boy’s sister wins the prize!
“I know,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. I wish I could do that. “But with Grandpa’s death and all, I think she needs to keep busy.”
“Look, Mitch, your compassionate side sometimes goes against your better judgment. We all have struggles we need to work through. Granny will be all right.”
I suddenly realize I’m eavesdropping on a family matter.
Candace turns to me. “Grandpa died about four months ago, and we’re trying to help Granny through it. But don’t let her fool you, she’s a strong one. We have to watch her. She’s usually up to something.”
“She is ornery, but still I want to do what I can to help her.” Mitch looks at me. “That is, I want to help Granny, but I don’t mean to put you out, either. I was thinking you could run Cool Beanz, the coffeehouse, for us. Provide specialty coffees, Danish rolls, sandwiches and soft drinks, that kind of thing. We won’t be serving real meals, other than breakfast, until the business grows and I can add a restaurant.”
I’m feeling better. At least I still have a job. “Sure, I’d be glad to do that.” I’m hoping this doesn’t mean a decrease in pay. I’m already way under my teaching wage. And this is starting to feel like a game of limbo.
“I’ll still pay you the same. You’ll keep plenty busy. I have someone else lined up to help you, too.” He gives me a reassuring smile, and I notice how even and white his teeth are. His lips are perfect, too. Not collagen-large or paper-thin. I’ve never liked men with thin lips. Just freaks me out to think about it.
“Where is Cool Beanz located?” I ask. I don’t remember seeing a building like that before I came into the B and B.
Mitch plops down on the sofa. “Oh, it’s at the top of the slope.”
His words slash through my happy moment. I fall onto the sofa across from him. Great. The top of the mountain is encircled in a cloud. The thought of being up that high makes me gasp for breath.
“You all right?”
A Darth Vader sound has entered the room, and I suddenly realize it’s coming from me. I attempt to swallow my fears and simply nod.
He studies me a minute. The look on his face makes my heart skip. “I saw your skis in the car. I figure with a nice set like that, you’ll enjoy the trip down that slope.” He gives me a sort of studly look as though he had something to do with the mountain being so high.
Mountain. I’ll be working on top of a mountain. I’m trying to swallow here but I can’t. Just won’t happen. I’m wondering if this might be a good time to mention that whole vertigo thing. Or maybe my fear of heights. Better still, perhaps he would like to know that I don’t ski. Actually, “never skied” would be the more appropriate response here.
He stretches his arm across the back of the sofa and smiles as though life couldn’t get any better. “Candace, aside from the deal with Granny, things are perfect. I’ve never been so excited about anything in my life.”
Maybe now is not the best time to tell him.
I look at his strong arm stretched across the sofa and imagine for only a moment what it would be like to snuggle in beside him.
“Hey, nice sweater,” he says, pointing to my multi-colored sweater of reds, yellows and blues.
“Thanks.” The man appreciates color.
“Want some coffee?” Candace asks us both, already making her way toward the kitchen.
“Sounds great,” Mitch says.
“Sure. You need some help?” I ask.
Candace