But at the moment, things definitely seemed crazy. And scary. And like going back to bed was a really good idea.
Allie turned back toward the stairs and even lifted her foot, but she glanced out the window again before she could step up.
In bed she couldn’t see
that
.
It was gorgeous and vast and wild and…different. It seemed surreal, like something in a movie, retouched to make the colors brighter and everything bigger. The land was covered in trees, and it seemed to stretch forever. The mountains in the distance could have been in a painting. It was almost impossible for her to grasp that it was all real. It was so different from what she was used to. And it was beautiful. Though that didn’t seem like an adequate word.
Okay. She could do this.
She turned to the room and looked around again. The kitchen couldn’t be too far away.
Across the room, a large, arched doorway led to a room with ceramic tile visible from Allie’s vantage point. A moment later she stepped into a gigantic modern kitchen. Everything shone in the morning sun that swept in through windows almost as large as the living room’s, and there wasn’t a crumb to be found.
She didn’t remember Gavin being so neat. She appreciated that trait immensely. She’d cleaned up after enough men to last her a lifetime. She wondered if her brothers would think to buy Dad’s favorite cereal when they finally had to go to the store because the peanut butter jar didn’t magically refill itself. Then she stubbornly pushed those thoughts away. She couldn’t do a thing about that from here, and her dad certainly knew his way to the grocery store if he needed something. What he’d get once he was there was anyone’s guess, but she couldn’t do anything about that from here either. Frozen pizza wouldn’t kill him. Thank god he was working for Sophie at the Brewsters’ landscaping business. He’d gone to work for the Brewsters after his accident, and having Sophie and Josh look out for him during work hours gave Allie a lot of relief. But there were twenty-four hours in a day.
Allie glanced toward the living room and the staircase to the bedroom. She could quickly text one of her brothers. Or call her dad. Or see if Mrs. Paulsen could take a casserole over.
Dammit
.
She gripped the counter, closed her eyes and counted to ten. For god’s sake. She didn’t need to do any of those things.
She needed to do something
here
. For a change she was going to cook for a man who didn’t
need
her to, for a man who could fend for himself very nicely. Doing something for someone because she wanted to do it instead of because she had to do it would be a welcome relief.
Newly determined, Allie started opening cupboards, inventorying the pots and pans and utensils as well as the food.
As she went, she decided to pull things out and rearrange to put things in a more logical place for use. Gavin probably didn’t think about this stuff—and she was willing to bet he’d never used his crepe pan—but if she was going to be staying for a while, it made sense to make the kitchen as user-friendly as possible.
She was just fitting the beater into the mixer for the snickerdoodles she’d decided to make when she heard, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She swung around to find Lydia staring at her from the doorway that led down another hallway she hadn’t investigated yet.
“I’m making Gavin cookies.” Allie pushed the beaters into place and plugged the mixer in.
“No you’re not.”
Allie looked at the flour, sugar, eggs and butter sitting on the countertop. “Uh, yes I am.”
Lydia came into the room, her cheeks pink, her eyes glittering. “
I
make Gavin cookies on Fridays. He still has chocolate chip left from a few days ago.”
“Well, these are snickerdoodles and he likes them better than chocolate chip,” Allie said, cracking the eggs into the bowl.
Lydia’s eyes widened as she watched. “He does not. He loves my chocolate chip.”
Allie cut the stick of butter into squares and dumped it in the bowl.
Lydia gritted her teeth.
“Chocolate chip are his second favorite,” Allie agreed. “But snickerdoodles are number one.”
“You’re
not
making cookies. This is my kitchen.
I
cook for Gavin.” Lydia folded her arms.
“This is
your
kitchen?” Allie asked. She measured and added the sugar and Lydia gasped.
“
Yes
. I take care of Gavin. I clean the house, answer the clinic phone, shop for groceries, cook
and
bake.”
Allie looked at the girl, realization dawning. Lydia had a crush on Gavin.
That could be…complicated.
She set her spoon down. “I’m just trying to stay busy. I’m going a little nuts.”
Lydia cocked an eyebrow that said she was pretty sure Allie was already there.
Allie gave her a frown. “Anyway, I just need something to do until Gavin gets back. I’m just going to finish these and—”
“No, you’re not.”
Allie blinked at her, surprised. “Yeah, I am.”
“No.”
Allie picked up the mixer. “Yes.”
“This week is Rice Krispies bars,” Lydia said stubbornly.
“Fine. Make Rice Krispies bars. I’m going to make these.” She put the beaters into the bowl and pushed the on switch. The mixer whirled for five seconds before stopping. “What the…” She looked up to find Lydia holding the end of the cord where she’d pulled it from the outlet.
“You’re not making those. Give me the bowl.”
Allie frowned. “No way.”
“Yes. I make the cookies. Snickerdoodles aren’t for two more weeks.”
Wow, and
she’d
been accused of being a type A personality. “Then I’ll eat these. Or give them to Carter or something. Whatever. I just want something to do.” She pulled the cord from Lydia’s hand and turned to plug it in to a different outlet.
When she turned back, Lydia was holding the bowl. “You can go make Carter cookies at his place.”
“I don’t know where Carter lives.” Allie grabbed the other side of the bowl and pulled.
Lydia pulled back. “I’ll give you directions.”
Allie pulled harder. “I’m not here with Carter. I’m here with Gavin.”
Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been here with Gavin for a year.” She yanked hard enough to cause a drop of the sticky precookie dough to splash onto her shirt. She didn’t seem to care.
Allie knew that there was nothing going on with Lydia and Gavin. Lydia was twenty, maybe, and if Gavin was
with
her—or anyone—he wouldn’t have been at Allie’s wedding. That was something she knew for certain.
She had no reason to fight with this girl over Gavin.
But she really wanted to make the cookies.
She. Needed. Something. To. Do.
Cripes, if Lydia had any idea how crazy Allie might get if she was just sitting around here thinking, the girl would be gathering recipes and offering to run to the store just to keep her sane.
“Lydia,” Allie said, pulling on the bowl again. “I have no desire to take over your jobs. I’m not honing in on anything here.” Not that there was anything to hone in on except the kitchen duties. “I just need to keep busy. Please.”
Even the “please” didn’t sway the other woman. “Go get busy somewhere else.”
Right. Somewhere else. What was she going to do? Watch TV? She hadn’t sat in front of a television in months. Head into town? She didn’t have a vehicle and she’d be lost within five minutes of putting it into drive anyway. She could play solitaire, but that was a sure recipe for crazy. She could read but…well, okay, she could read. But she wanted to make cookies.
“I’m already doing this.” She yanked on the bowl again.
“Stop it. You…”
“What is going on?”
They both let go of the bowl at the sound of Gavin’s voice. The pink plastic hit the wood floor, and both women jumped back as the gooey mixture of sugar, eggs and butter splattered on both of their shoes, the bottom cupboard and the floor.
“Ladies?” Gavin had his arms folded.
“I was trying to make some cookies,” Allie said.
“In
my
kitchen,” Lydia said, stomping toward the sink. “Without asking.”
“If I’d asked you would have been okay with it?” Allie asked.
“No. But it’s the polite thing to do.” Lydia returned with a wet rag and knelt to begin the cleanup.
Allie started to reach for the bowl to help but Lydia grabbed it first, pulling it out of Allie’s hand. “Hey.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”
Allie frowned. “I’ll help.” She headed for the roll of paper towels.
“Don’t bother.”
“It’s fine. I know how to scrub a floor.”
“No one’s asking for your help.”
Allie wet several towels and knelt next to Lydia. “You don’t have to ask.”
When was the last time someone actually asked Allie to do something? Everyone just expected it would get done.
“I’d rather do this myself,” Lydia said, not looking up as she wiped the cupboard clean.
“Well, I’d rather—”
“You have something else you need to be doing.” Gavin’s strong arm came around Allie and he picked her up.
“Hey!”
“You’re coming with me.” Holding her against him with just one arm clamped around her waist, he tossed the bag he’d been carrying toward the hallway where Lydia had appeared. “Take that to the clinic, okay?” he asked.
“You got it,” Lydia said.
Allie rolled her eyes. Was there anything Lydia said no to where Gavin was concerned?
She let Gavin carry her as far as the living room, out of Lydia’s hearing. Then she wiggled. “Let me down.”
He did, but he crossed his arms again and stood practically on top of her. “Why are you harassing my housekeeper?”
“I wasn’t harassing her.” Allie frowned at him. “I was making cookies, for god’s sake. I didn’t know there was a background check and secret handshake required to be in the kitchen.”
Gavin smiled at that. “Lydia doesn’t even let me in there, if it’s any consolation.”
Allie sighed. “I was just trying to keep busy.”
“She’s a little…territorial,” Gavin said.
“Yeah. Of you.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I know it seems that way, but she’s just loyal to me. I gave her a job when no one else would, and she feels like she owes me. She works hard and is proud of what she does.”
“Why wouldn’t anyone else give her a job?” Allie asked.
“She killed a man.”
Allie stared at him. She swallowed. Then she asked, “She what?”
Gavin held the serious look for only a moment before his grin broke free. “No. She ran away from home and ended up here. Somehow. Anyway, hiring a stranger without references wasn’t a risk anyone else wanted to take.”
Running away from home. It seemed Lydia and Allie might have something in common after all.
“Why’d she leave home?”
Gavin shrugged. “I don’t know. She doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“And you’re okay with that.” She knew he was. He didn’t like to talk about his family and Promise Harbor either. That had always been a sore spot in their relationship. Their feelings toward their families and home were so different, and it had eventually pulled them apart.
“I’m okay with it,” he said with a nod. He was looking into her eyes, as if he was searching for something. “But I’m not okay with it from you. So don’t even think about it.”
“I have to talk?”
“Yep.”
“To you?”
“Yes. Deep, dark secrets, how you feel, dreams and wishes, the whole bit.”
She stared at him. This wasn’t Gavin. They didn’t do deep, serious stuff. They’d talked about dreams and plans. Until they’d realized that their plans would take them in two different directions. They’d then ignored those conversations just like they ignored anything stressful or frustrating or downright screwed-up that ever happened.
Their time together was about fun and romance and living in the moment and enjoying. They had their own little bubble and they both protected it.
“Since when do you want to know about deep, dark, serious stuff?” she asked with a frown. That was
not
what she wanted or needed. Her life had been deep, dark and serious for a long time now. She needed Gavin to be…Gavin. Fun and sweet and spontaneous.
The kind of guy who would storm into a wedding and steal the bride.
He frowned back at her. “I’ve grown up.”
She couldn’t help that her eyebrows went up.
“I have.” He looked offended by her obvious disbelief.
“That’s just…a weird thing to say,” she told him. “You’ve always been a grownup.” It wasn’t that Gavin was juvenile or immature or anything. He loved to try new things—new bands, new foods, new museums. He was well educated, well read, loved to travel, followed world events and politics.
“Well, then I’ve gotten serious,” he said.