Mitch for an instant. I wonder if he’s bringing a date.
“I’ll be there,” Mitch says happily.
“Me, too.” I perk up.
“If I know Lauren, it should be fun,” Candace says before sipping from her cup. “Say, Mitch, since you’re not opening for a few days, are you going to give Gwen time to get to know the area?”
Mitch winks at Candace. “I think we can manage that,” he says.
I’m thinking it would be nice if he took me around town.
“Well, with tomorrow being the start of a new year, everything will be closed. But you could check things out the following day. After that, you can look over our place, get acquainted with the area and Cool Beanz. Anything in particular you want to check out?” he asks.
Another swoosh of adrenaline. Maybe this is an offer. “Oh, I don’t know yet,” I say with a sheepish grin.
“Wish I could take you around, but time won’t allow me. Last-minute details, you know.”
“Sure,” I say, though my heart plunges to my knees. Oh, well, the library might be a good place to start. Surely they have instructional DVDs on how to ski.
“You might want to saunter over to Dream Slopes and check out the competition,” Candace says in her business voice. “Get acclimated with how things are done at a resort when it’s open.”
Mitch sits up again. “Say, that’s a great idea, Candace.” He looks back to me. “Dream Slopes is our closest competition. A ski resort about twenty miles down the road. Bigger than ours, but I’m hoping this place, being a bed-and-breakfast and all, will add a little more charm than the bigger resorts. We’ll try to offer that neighborly touch as opposed to the big hotel chain feel.”
“Great. I’ll check it out,” I say. And maybe I’ll take a skiing lesson while I’m there….
Chapter Three
The bright morning light floods into my room, causing my eyelids to crack open. It takes me a full minute to get used to the idea that a new day has dawned. Still, with the holiday over, I’m looking forward to a brand-new day.
I spent all of yesterday unpacking and getting settled into my room. I also browsed through some ski books I found on a bookshelf downstairs. It had been a restful day, but I’m ready to check out the area now that it’s back to business as usual.
Not wanting to get up yet, I stare at the ceiling. Thoughts of Lauren and Garrett’s party make me smile, even though Mitch had not been able to stay long. Some last-minute detail for the business had cropped up, and he had to take care of it.
My fingertips explore the tangle of hair on my head, and I groan. How can I work up such a snarl in one night?
Guacamole scoots around on the bathroom tile and pulls my attention to him. “Good morning, Guacamole,” I call from my bed. He ignores me completely.
Reptiles can be so cold.
“Well, it’s time to wake up and smell the coffee,” I say, yanking off the down-filled comforters. I happily step into my red slippers and red polka-dotted robe, and walk over to the window. The view makes my breath stick in my throat. I think I’m on top of the world. Then I remember. Um, no, that would be where I’m going to work at the coffeehouse.
A blanket of white covers the mountain and distant slopes. Coming from the deserts of Arizona, I can hardly believe I’m here. Not to mention the mere thought of Mitch makes me drool. That usually only happens when I think of cashews. Yeah, I know. Most women crave chocolate and shopping. Now don’t get me wrong. I love chocolate, too—would never turn it down, as a matter of fact. Still, if I had to choose between chocolate and cashews, well, chocolate would just lose, that’s all. I’m thinking I have definite issues.
Allowing my mind to wander, I stare outside when I suddenly realize someone is waving at me. To my horror, it’s Mitch. He’s dressed in a thick black coat and ski cap and doing that jock kind of quick hand wave. It makes my heart act as though I’ve skied down a two-mile run. All right, so I don’t know anything about that, but I do know about the heart-racing thing. I jerk away from the window. Not only do I not want Mitch to see me, but I’m afraid a giant bald eagle will swoop down, crash through the window and take residence upon my head.
I walk into the bathroom, step around Guacamole, look into the mirror and try not to scream. The man who marries me will either need strong drugs in the morning—espresso straight up, venti size—or have a vision problem, as in, blind. I’m sure it’s the only way we could cohabitate.
Unfortunately, I don’t see Mitch Windsor qualifying for the position. “What’s the matter with me? I mean, it’s not as though I have a chance with this guy anyway,” I say to Guacamole, who is checking out the shower stall. I look back at the mirror. “Besides, he will hate me once he discovers I’m a fair-weather, feet-on-the-ground kind of gal.” I’m talking to myself in a mirror, and I have a bird’s nest on my head. How good can this be? I sigh and seriously consider going back to bed. I’m not officially reporting for duty today. Still, I can’t be a slug. It’s not in my nature.
I haven’t really had a chance to visit Martha Windsor, Candace’s granny, aka the new cook. She arrived last night, and I stayed in my room to give them some family time together. So I figure now might be a good time to get to know her. Once word gets out on the B and B, I suspect we’ll be pretty busy.
After directing Guacamole back to his habitat—not that he’ll stay there—I grab a bright green sweater and khaki pants, and head for the shower.
The scent of strong coffee and spicy sausage greets me as I descend the stairs. The polished wooden banister still calls out to me, but I ignore it. I am, after all, a grown woman.
Martha brings a tray of breakfast dishes to one of the tables in the great room, as Mitch walks through the front door. He walks into the dining area—his face red, and his eyes vibrant. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he teases me when he steps inside. I like that he teases me. At least, I think I do. I hope he doesn’t think of me as a kid sister.
“Hi,” I say with a smile.
Mitch pulls off his black gloves and rubs his hands together. “Granny, that looks great.” He gives her a peck on the cheek.
Oh, I’ll take one of those, I want to say, but of course, I keep silent.
“Mitch, you’re cold,” Granny says with a mock frown. “Get your coat off and come join us.” She turns and stares at me, and to be honest, she doesn’t look all that friendly.
“Hi, I’m Gwen Sandler,” I say, extending my hand.
She shakes her head. “I’ve got to keep my hands clean while I’m handling the food. I hope you like sausage, biscuits and gravy, because that’s all I’m fixing.”
I look over at Mitch, who shrugs and offers an apologetic smile.
“I love it.” Feeling a little nervous, I scoot into my chair. I watch as Martha lifts the dishes from the tray and arranges them on the table. I would help her, but I figure she’d go into this speech about the germs on my hands. I fold my hands and hide them on my lap. My fingers turn the
