“I think Nash Farm in town might be the only one. At least the only one in this area, and the greenhouse isn’t open to the public. A friend from high school married into the family that owns the farm. Her daughter and Reese are in the same grade and get along really well. A few years ago the family had a mammoth greenhouse built on the property, and they grow various fruits and vegetables inside it year round. They let us come and pick strawberries before the season starts. Later in June and July, we’ll go back and pick outside with the rest of the paying customers.”
“Sounds like a good deal.” Curt opened a container and sampled one. Red strawberry juice clung to his lips, tempting her to lick it off. “Wow, these are good. Much better than the ones from the store.” He plucked out two more before covering the bowl again. “We’ll have them when we come back.”
“Speaking of coming back, where are we going?”
“It’s supposed to be beautiful all day. I thought we’d take a ride up north along the Kancamagus Highway. Maybe do some hiking or check out Echo Lake or the Flume Gorge. My cousin told me about a place called Polly’s Pancake Parlor. It’s not far from the highway and serves breakfast all day. Says he stops there all the time when he’s in the area, because they have the best pancakes he’s ever tasted.”
“He’s right. Whenever we go up that way we stop at Polly’s. Reese swears even their chocolate milk is better than what we make at home. It tastes the same to me. What does your cousin do that sends him up there?”
Curt looked down at the containers he held, making it difficult to see his eyes. “He works for a big hotel chain. He’s the regional director for the Northeast.” He still didn’t look at her as he reopened the container and took out two more strawberries. “These really are delicious. Thanks for sharing.”
“And he’s the cousin getting married.” Could anyone blame her for wanting to learn more about his family? Not only did he know a great deal about hers, but he frequently joined them for dinner.
“No. Trent’s married. It’s his younger brother who’s getting married in June,” Curt answered. “Let me put these away and we’ll go.” He covered the plastic bowls and turned.
She watched him walk away, admiring the way his powerful, well-muscled body moved. When the door closed behind him, her attention transferred to their conversation. At least now she had another name to associate with Curt’s family. He hadn’t given up very many since the night at Pellegrino.
***
Curt came out of the curve in the road and accelerated. The Kancamagus Highway had been made for motorcycle rides. The thirty-four-and-a-half-mile road stretched from Lincoln, New Hampshire, to Conway, and cut through the White Mountains National Forest. Nature surrounded them on both sides, the occasional parking area or entrance to a camping ground the only thing to break up the natural beauty. This was the second time he’d driven along the road, but once again the views took his breath away. He read they were even better in the fall when foliage turned the landscape into a masterpiece of color. This September or October he’d make sure to come back through the area.
Taylor leaned into his back, and her arms tightened around his waist. He’d never taken anyone out for a ride. None of the women he’d dated before had mentioned it, and he’d never asked them. When Taylor commented she’d never been on a motorcycle but would love to try, he’d known he had to be the one to take her. The mere thought of her intimately pressed up against another man like she was against him now had left him gritting his teeth. Definitely not a rational response, but he’d been unable to shake it.
After today, every time he got on the bike he’d remember what it felt like having her behind him, her breasts pressed against his back and her arms around him.
Another checkmark in the “not good” category. The number of checkmarks there was mounting up.
Both Trent and Gray had questioned him last night about the status of his and Taylor’s relationship. When he’d admitted things had progressed past one simple dinner, they’d both offered up their wisdom again. He automatically told them both where they could shove it. That didn’t change the fact that they were right.
Turned out, keeping his real identity a secret by telling his neighbors half-truths was much harder to do than he’d expected. Especially when you were sleeping with one of those neighbors.
The conversation they had before leaving reminded him how easily he could slip up. Whenever possible, he avoided mentioning his family. Yet today he’d spoken without thinking when she asked about their plans. After he mentioned his cousin made frequent trips to the northern part of the state, she asked more about him. It was a logical progression for the conversation. After all, it wasn’t an area of the state one normally associated with business travel. There were no large cities up this way, or manufacturing centers. Instead, the area was known for skiing in the winter and hiking and camping in the summer.
He’d answered her questions with enough information to satisfy her curiosity but not associate him with the Sherbrooke family. I hope. Curt could no longer deny he had to tell Taylor and her mother the truth. He just wasn’t ready or willing to do it yet.
***
“Have you been here before?” Curt climbed off the motorcycle and hung his helmet from the handlebars. Then he took hers and did the same. They were parked outside the visitor’s center to the Flume Gorge.
“A few times as a kid with my parents and once with Reese last summer.”
Curt held her hand as they walked toward the center’s entrance built at the base of M
ount Liberty. “What should I expect? The website I checked out only said this was a must-see up here.”
“A lot of uphill walking and stairs. There’s a nice waterfall and what they call the Pool. It’s a deep basin in the Pemigewasset River. And if you’re brave enough, we can go through the Wolf Den.”
“Don’t think I like the idea of going through anything with the word ‘wolf’ attached to it.”
Taylor laughed, causing other visitors to glance their way. “Chicken.” She gave him a gentle elbow in the side. “It doesn’t contain any wolves. It’s a narrow one-way path through rocks. It reminds me a little of the Lemon Squeeze at the Polar Caves.”
Curt paid the admission to the state park and accepted the guide map the gentleman manning the desk handed him. “I’ve never heard of the Polar Caves. Care to enlighten me?”
Taylor looked at him as if he’d just said he came from Mars. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You grew up in New England, but never went to the Polar Caves? Next you’re going to tell me you never took a family vacation to Santa’s Village or Story Land either.”
He should’ve kept his mouth shut and acted like he knew what she was talking about. Too late now, the damage was done.
“I never visited either of those places.” He couldn’t recall even hearing about them. “They’re located around here, too?”