Love in a Nutshell (7 page)

“Hang on,” she said to Ella. “I think someone’s here.”

“Out there? You’re kidding.”

The drive to The Nutshell was a good, winding stretch off the road just inland from the shore. People didn’t end up at her door by accident.

“Wish I were,” Kate said.

A ratty black T-shirt emblazoned with the words
SEX AND BEER
in fat white block print, and plaid flannel sleep pants so worn that they were frayed over her knees weren’t exactly “meet the visitor” wear.

Then again, who could possibly be visiting her? Her wine buzz was swept away on a sea of adrenaline.

“Don’t hang up,” she whispered to Ella.

“Why would I? And why are you whispering?”

Kate nudged aside the lighthouse-themed curtain that covered the front door’s window and peeked outside. A pair of truck-height headlights shone directly into her eyes. She let the curtain drop and turned the door’s dead bolt.

Her visitor’s vehicle had come to a stop. “Don’t know,” Kate said to Ella. “I’m just a little edgy. You’re the only one who’d be out here, and you’re there.”

“Okay, you have a point,” Ella said. “Should I dial the police on my cell?”

“A lot of good that will do when I’m way out here.”

The truck’s headlights were off. Kate scurried to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife she could find in the knife block.

“Single girl. Lake house. Mysterious midnight intruder. This is so straight out of
Friday the 13th,
” she told Ella.

Kate glanced at the serrated bread knife in her hand. Great. She’d have to saw the prowler to death.

A knock sounded at the front door. Kate considered this a good sign. So far as she knew, homicidal maniacs didn’t knock. Then again, she had limited experience with homicidal maniacs.

“Jeez, this is like one of those horror movies!” Ella said. “Don’t go to the front door. That’s the equivalent of the stupid babysitter who goes down into the basement. Just hide.”

Kate approached the door. “My car is out front, Ella. The lights are on in my house. Clearly, I’m here.” Funny how calm she sounded when her heart was slamming its way out of her chest.

Another knock …

“Do you have the knife?” Ella asked.

“Yes.”

Kate ducked below the door’s window. She had no intention of losing the element of surprise. Slowly, carefully, Kate moved the curtain. Inch by inch, Matt Culhane’s face appeared, lit to glowing perfection under the porch light.

“Oh, no.” Kate let the curtain drop.

“Who is it?” Ella asked. “Freddy Krueger? Your ex, Richard?”

“No. Worse. It’s Culhane.”

“You’re kidding!”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Nope. He’s here in all his glory.”

“Really! All his glory? Nice.”

Matt knocked again and called her name.

“I have to go,” Kate whispered into the phone, and disconnected over Ella’s pleas to stay on the line and eavesdrop. Then holding the phone and knife in one hand, Kate released the dead bolt and opened the door just enough to peek out.

Big, strong guy, eyes full of ambition, and a smile that was full of humor—at himself and the world—the kind of humor that only comes with a healthy dose of self-confidence. Yep, it was Culhane all right.

“Hey,” Matt said.

Kate tried to process how best to get rid of the knife, which now seemed a little excessive. “Gosh, this is a surprise. How’d you find my house?”

“Well, that’s an interesting story.”

That got Kate curious.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider letting me inside?” he asked.

Good grief, she thought. She was a wreck. Almost-empty wine bottle, ratty clothes, hair from hell, and she had a bread knife in her hand.

“I thought we were going to talk tomorrow?” she said to him.

His smile was crooked and endearing. “I decided I like tonight better. And, I come bearing gifts.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a weirdly shaped object.

Kate squinted down at the thing, uncertain what it was.

“Is it chocolate?” she asked.

“Sorry, no chocolate. It’s metal.”

“Metal what?”

“A metal crow.”

Kate reached to accept the gift, inadvertently brushing her hand against Matt’s. A little tingle of heat rushed through her, leaving a breathless lump in her throat.

The knife in her other hand dropped to the floor, interrupting the moment. “Come in. I was having a glass of wine. Can I get you anything?”

He stepped inside. His gaze shifted from her to the knife at his feet, then back to her. He took his coat off and casually hung it on the rack. “No, thanks.”

Matt followed Kate into the living room. “So, why aren’t you drinking beer?” he asked.

Kate hastily cleared the coffee table of the remnants of her Not a Pity Party. “I’ve never been much of a beer drinker. To be honest, I hate the stuff. Have a seat.”

Matt settled on one end of the sofa, and Kate took a spot on the opposite end, leaving a fabric field of poppies and chrysanthemums between them. She was glad for the space, because he looked good. Really good.

“Let me get this straight,” Matt said. “I hired someone who hates beer to work in a microbrewery?”

“It looks that way.”

“I think I need a more detailed application form.” He pointed at her shirt. “Should I assume you hate both the things listed there?”

She glanced down at her
SEX AND BEER
T-shirt, then back at Culhane, who gave her a grin.

“Neither of them are at the top of my priorities these days. But this is a song title, and the shirt’s from Milwaukee 2006 Summerfest.”

“You sound pretty certain about that no sex or beer thing. I think I’m going to have to take you up on the challenge.”

Her heart stumbled. “You’re talking about the beer, right?”

“Of course I am. I have my priorities, too.”

Yeah, and not for a minute did Kate believe it was beer. Okay, truth was she
hoped
it wasn’t beer.

“So what is it we
really
had to talk about?” she asked.

“First, you were right and I was wrong.”

Kate laughed. “That’s always a good start.”

He pointed to the ornament. “And this comes with the admission. I’m not much for eating crow, so I thought I’d give you one.”

She examined the weird little metal bird. “Thank you, but it looks more like a raven to me.”

“My family vote came out in favor of a raven disguised as a crow.”

She couldn’t have heard that right. “Your family voted?”

Matt shrugged. “Long story. It begins with my birth. Let’s just skip it and move on to me saying that I was nuts to have thought we could talk at Harborside Market.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I think everyone in town is now pretty clear on the fact that you’re not attracted to me.”

“I’m not that good an actor,” he said. “
No one
believes it.”

Kate bit into her lower lip.

Matt studied her for a beat. “I just admitted I’m attracted to you, and I can’t read your reaction.”

“Flustered,” Kate whispered.

He blew out a sigh. “I get that a lot. Why don’t you give me a quick rundown of what you learned this weekend?”

“Well, first, I learned that Jerry doesn’t seem too devoted to the concept of management once you leave town. He shows up for a little while, tells the staff to follow the usual program and call his cell should something break, burn, or blow up. Then he leaves.”

Matt raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, but he said nothing, so Kate plowed on. She might as well get all the bad stuff out of the way. He’d wanted an unfiltered report, and she would deliver it.

“Well, Steve thinks you’ve got some secret affair with a married woman, but I think he was just saying that to enhance his own romantic life.”

“I don’t think I want to know how that could possibly enhance his romantic life. And for the record, married women always have been and always will be off-limits.”

“I haven’t known you long, but you seem like a stand-up guy to me,” she said. Still, time would tell.

One life skill Kate had been working to develop was a keener eye for dishonesty. She’d missed the early warning signs with Richard, but eventually she’d caught on. Now she was at least marginally older and wiser, both of which rocked. And while she still planned to open her heart and trust, she’d do it with some initial caution. She wasn’t up for another loss of love or poodle.

“Is there anyone else I should know about?” Matt asked.

Kate shook her head. “It sounds like you’re golden with the rest of the staff. I didn’t hear anything, except a passing mention from Laila that her son couldn’t get a job with you.”

“He’d have to apply for a job first, which he won’t, because he likes his winters off from his marina job.”

“I got the feeling Laila believes he
has
applied.”

“Well, employee applications are confidential, so I won’t be clearing that up,” he said. “That’s it, then?”

“Yep.”

Matt nodded. “Any thoughts on who might have sabotaged the walk-in fridge?”

“That’s tough. It could have been anyone. Laila and Steve were in and out. The cooks were there. And so were the bartender, the busser, and the barback. It could have been Jerry, until he went on walkabout, or whatever it is he does. No one saw it happen and all of them had access. Add to that, it probably happened after hours, which means the back door was open while the trash was being hauled out. The walk-in is on a straight path from that door. It’s highly unlikely that the crew would have missed someone slipping in, but it’s possible.”

“True, but I’d rather believe the nearly impossible than think my own employees would mess with me.”

“I understand. But until someone is caught pulling one of these stunts, everyone’s on the list. And I know this is technically none of my business, but maybe if you shared a little info with your staff when you take off, they wouldn’t pass their free time coming up with the Top Ten Bizarre Reasons Matt Culhane Is Missing.”

“You’re probably right,” he said. “But I shouldn’t have to tell everyone my every last move. For all the time I’m there, I deserve some privacy when I’m not.”

“It was just a suggestion.”

“I know, but I’m used to running my show my way.”

“Sorry. I’m hardwired to just put it all out there.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he said. “I think it might be one of your better qualities.”

They smiled at each other, and she found herself considering how it would feel to close the distance between them on that flowery sofa and kiss him. It would feel good, she thought.
Really
good.

It was like a dreadful out-of-body experience as she witnessed herself begin to lean toward him like a teenager crushing on a new boy. The lean was immediately followed by panic, and Kate shot to her feet and set the metal bird on the coffee table. “It’s getting late. I’m sure you’re really tired.”

Matt rose and reached out to touch her hair. “I could never be
that
tired.”

Holy Moses,
Kate thought, the panic mingling with flat-out lust.

“Before this goes any further,” he said, “I have something I need to tell you. I’m the guy who owns your mortgage.”

For a moment, Kate thought she’d misheard. “What?”

“I didn’t know it was your house before tonight, I swear. I’m really sorry, but I have a lot of money already invested in this, too, and I made a fair deal with you and your parents.”

“You think it’s fair to take my home?”

“Kate. It’s falling apart and nobody would pay what I’m offering.”

Kate felt her blood pressure hit the stroke zone. “It doesn’t matter what somebody would pay, because it’s not for sale. I’m going to get the money to fix the place somehow, and I’m going to turn this place into a home and a business.”

Matt shuffled his feet and looked into Kate’s eyes. “Look. I’ll give you until Thanksgiving to get caught up on your mortgage. Just ignore the foreclosure papers.”

Kate’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Foreclosure papers! You’re serving me with foreclosure papers?”

“Not anymore. At least, not right now.”

Kate turned Matt around and hustled him to the door. “I don’t have much of a choice. I’ll take the deal. And I’ll see you at work tomorrow. The sooner I find your saboteur, the sooner I get my bonus and the sooner I can pay you. Good night!”

Kate listened to the crunch of gravel as Matt’s car drove off. She hated him for taking her house, but she had to admit he’d been honest with her, and even generous giving her until Thanksgiving. She leaned her forehead against the door and gave up a sigh. The worst part of the whole hideous mess was that she had very friendly feelings for him. Feelings that might be misinterpreted now. She worried that he might have a hard time sorting out her genuine attraction from a cheesy attempt to bail on a mortgage payment.

FIVE

Matt and his three-legged dog, Chuck, had hunkered down to watch the flames dance in the large fieldstone fireplace that anchored the great room in Matt’s log home.

Chuck gave his standard contribution to any conversation: a thump of his tail against a pine floor scarred from his constant quest to discover if the darker knots in the wood might actually be hidden dog treats.

Matt stretched his arms across the back of the brown leather sofa. He took in the family photos that sat on the fireplace’s rough-hewn oak mantel. Chuck starred in more than one of the shots.

Five years ago, Matt had found Chuck tied to a newspaper box outside a gas station. Apparently, someone had stuck him there the prior night and no one had laid claim to him during the course of the day.

Matt liked to think of himself as a practical guy. He’d known that a three-legged hound, no matter how much he otherwise appeared to be bred to hunt, was going to be ornamental at best. But one look at that dog’s chocolate brown eyes and hopeful expression, and there had been no way he could have left him behind.