"Filled with hippies, potheads, and vegetarians," Regina answered with equal disdain. " 'Course now that Arnold is governor, he'll have that state turned around faster than you can say 'I'll be back.' He has a house in Sun Valley, you know."
"Yes, I know." Kate's forehead tightened as she hit Total. Wisely, she didn't ask any more questions.
Rob stuck a folder stuffed with invoices and price quotes under one arm and headed home for the evening. A full moon and an eighty-watt bulb lit up the small lot in back of Sutter Sports. It was a quarter past eleven, and he'd spent the five hours since closing putting together a special rental package for a Boy Scout group planning a camping trip the first week in June. He was leaving in the morning for Seattle, and he wanted the packages finished before he left so he could devote his full attention to his daughter.
He still hadn't figured out what he was going to say to Louisa about a reconciliation. He'd pushed it to the back of his brain, concentrating instead on getting his work done. His work was done now, but he still didn't want to think about it. Maybe it was best to wait and see how he felt once he was in Seattle.
He locked the store behind him and jumped into his HUMMER. The store had been open for the season less than a week, and the rental side of the business was already keeping him extremely busy.
As he drove around the side of the building, he noticed that a light was on deep inside the M &S. More than just the light Stanley always left burning in the corner near the produce. Rob pulled around the back of the grocery store and shut off the vehicle. He got out of the HUMMER and pounded three times on the solid wood door.
He rocked back on his heels and wondered what he was doing. It was late, and he still had a ton to do before he left in the morning.
A few moments passed before Kate called out from behind the closed door. "Who is it?"
"Rob. What are you doing here so late?"
The dead bolt clicked, and she stuck her head out. The light from inside lit her from behind, shifting through her beautiful red hair and surrounding her in a soft glow. Suddenly he knew why he'd come. "I'm working," she answered. "What are you doing out here so late?"
No matter how hard he tried or what was going on in his life, he couldn't seem to stay away from her. She drew him in like a ship to a bright shiny beacon. "I'm just leaving work." The scent of warm cake escaped the building, and he didn't know which made him more hungry-the sight of Kate or the smell of cake. "Are you baking something?"
"Yes." She opened the door wider and stood before him in a white T-shirt with a pair of red dice on her breasts and the words Feeling Lucky? over the top in black. A brown belt was threaded through the loops of a pair of tight jeans. "I'm baking seven dozen cupcakes for tomorrow."
Without a doubt, Kate was definitely better than cake. She didn't invite him in, but she didn't protest when he moved past her into the back of the store. He walked by a meat slicer and grinder toward the bakery tucked in the corner of the large room. A few dozen white cupcakes sat on a stainless steel table a few feet from the duo commercial ovens. He told himself that he wouldn't stay long.
Instead of the usual Tom Jones pouring through the speakers, a female voice sang about not missing someone once she got to Jackson. Rob didn't recognize the song, but he really wasn't into chick music. Especially the folksy angsty stuff that was always about the same three issues: love, broken hearts, asshole men.
"I hear you're pulling the elementary school's float in the Easter parade this Saturday," she said as she shut and locked the door behind her. "How'd you get roped into that one?"
Rob turned and watched her walk to him. He purposely kept his gaze off those dice on her breasts and on the relative safety of her hair. It hung loose about her shoulders and shimmered deep red and gold beneath the long tubes of fluorescent lighting. Just yesterday he'd held her hair in his hands while he'd kissed her throat, and he knew her hair was as soft as it looked. "The principal asked me."
She opened a cabinet and stretched to reach something on the top shelf. Rob's gaze ran down her long body to her feet in a pair of Tasmanian Devil slippers. "You're easy," she said and pulled down a box of Ziploc freezer bags.
"Where're your shoes?"
She looked down, then back up. "At home. These are more comfy." She set the box next to an industrial mixer. "I think my grandfather is getting serious about your mother."
He knew his mother liked Stanley, but she'd never mentioned that she cared for him more than as a friend. "What makes you think it's getting serious?"
Her pink lips turned up at the corners. "He writes poetry now, and they've started critiquing each other's poems."
"When do they do this?"
She stuck her hands in two Tom Jones oven mitts. "Every night after he gets off work."
"Every night?" His mother hadn't said a thing. He leaned his butt into the stainless counter and folded his arms across his green dress shirt with his store name and fish logo on the breast pocket. "How long has this been going on?"
"Since we had dinner at her house last week." She took out two cupcake trays and set them on the counter next to him. "He's been getting home late each night."
Rob watched her bend at the waist and take out two more trays from the second oven. "How late?"
"Ten. Which is late for him. He's usually in bed right after the nine-thirty news on Fox. Sometimes he doesn't even wait until the sports report is over."
"Mom really hasn't said anything, but I'm glad she has someone to share her interest in poetry." Someone who didn't happen to be him.
Kate dumped the cupcakes on the counter and began to set them upright.
He told himself to leave. That if he stayed, he'd touch her. If he touched her he was a goner, but he just couldn't force himself out the door. Not yet. "Do you need help?" he asked.