Harvest Moon - By Robyn Carr Page 0,22

and drive right back. So it doesn’t look like I’m imposing on—” He sniffed. “What is that wonderful smell?”

She smiled at him and he realized at once that it was really too easy to bewitch a chef—just smell her cooking and she was as good as captured.

“I’ve been baking. The rhubarb crop is in and apparently I’m the only person in a hundred square miles who can make a good rhubarb pie. And then there’s rhubarb jam.” She shrugged. “It was going to go bad if I didn’t.”

He almost swooned from the aromas. “Thank God you came to town,” he said.

“Come in,” she invited with a laugh. “I’m just cleaning up the kitchen. I’ll see if Jill has time to take you for a tour of the house and grounds. Then, if you’re very good, I’ll give you a slice of pie.”

“Are you sure? Because I really meant to call in advance and ask you to pick a time…”

“I’m picking a time,” she said, pulling on his hand. “Come in. I’m still busy in the kitchen and kind of desperate for my shower, but maybe Jill is free. Let’s see.”

He followed her into the house and noted there was no furniture until he got to the kitchen. There, as promised, was a mess. But resting on the kitchen table in the large breakfast nook were ten pies. And there were now other smells. His head tilted back and his nose began to work the room.

She noticed. “I’m roasting a leg of lamb for dinner. Can you stay?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’m imposing…”

“On a chef?” She laughed. “I’m more likely to be insulted if you decline.”

He grinned at her. Maybe that old saying about the fastest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was true, because suddenly he wanted her even more. Wanted! He really thought he was far past that kind of fierce yearning. He had found himself amazed even to be intrigued. This desire was just awesome, and he relished it. “I’ll stay. My daughter is doing homework with a friend and having dinner there tonight.”

“That’s right,” she said. “There’s a daughter. I apologize. I’d forgotten. I’ll have both of you next time.”

He just laughed; they’d have to revisit that idea. “Courtney is actually my stepdaughter, though she uses my last name. It’s complicated. I’ll explain later. But what are you going to do with all those pies?”

“I don’t know. I could use a bigger freezer, but only the most essential equipment is in the house at the moment. I guess I’ll spread ’em around. A few for Preacher, that’s for sure—he told me he’s been trying to make a decent rhubarb pie for years. I can’t believe how much stuff Jill has that’s running out of time—tomorrow I have to get a good start on blackberries. She’s had friends and neighbors out here picking for a good month and there’s still such a big crop left, someone has to do something with it. Blackberry preserves, jam, pie filling…. I came up here to surf the Net for a job, and I’m working my tail off. Let me go out to the garden and ask her if she has time to scoot you around in her garden mobile…”

“Garden mobile?”

“It’s how she gets between her gardens. Have a seat— I’ll be a minute.”

As Kelly hurried out the back door, Lief didn’t go far. He pulled out one of the stools at the work island and just looked around. For some reason, all the messy pots and bowls around the large kitchen made him feel at peace. Ever since growing up on a farm with a lot of siblings and hands, a busy, messy kitchen full of good smells always made him feel safe and protected. And the sight of ten pies cooling on the table was familiar as well—his mother always baked en masse, sharing with family, friends, neighbors, anyone.

Kelly was back quickly. “Jill has just been kicking around the pumpkins, squash and melons. She’s right outside. While you have your tour, I’m going to clean up my mess.”

He stood. “If you wait, I’ll help. I had good training. I’m a good kitchen cleaner.”

“Maybe you’ll get your chance another time. Go on—she’s waiting for you.”

Even though Lief was more interested in the chef than the landscape, he really got into his tour. Jill drove him around acres of land that was partially prepared for organic farming. A winter crop had been started; she was drying seeds from her own

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