Written in the Stars Page 5

  “Oh no, that’s the exciting part,” Grace said, and seemed ready to say more, but just like that the lights suddenly came on. The machines started clanking, startling Grace so much that she jumped and grabbed his arm. “Oh my goodness!”

  “Let there be light.” Mason laughed at her reaction. He tapped his bottle neck to hers. “Welcome to Cricket Creek, Grace Gordon.”

  “Thank you. I know I’m going to love my visit here. I have to say it’s already been quite the adventure so far.”

  “Well, I certainly hope the rest of your experience here isn’t quite so traumatic.”

  “Oh, no worries. I thrive on adventure. And trust me—­most of them are unexpected.”

  “I want to hear more about your adventures while you’re in town,” Mason surprised himself by saying.

  “Hey, just provide more of this ale and I’ll be glad to fill you in.” She raised her eyebrows. “I could be your official taste tester.”

  “Will you work for beer?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Mason laughed. “You’re hired.”

  He tilted his head to the side and listened. “I think the rain has let up. Do you want to get the keys to your cabin or head up over to the bistro first?”

  “Let’s get the keys while I give my phone a charge. My mother is going to be wild with worry if I don’t call her soon. And then I’ll phone Sophia and Garret to let them know that I’ve finally arrived.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Let’s go.”

  3

  Charmed by Chocolate

  WHEN THEY VENTURED OUT INTO THE NIGHT, MASON pointed the beam of his flashlight here and there. “Other than some fallen limbs, there doesn’t seem to be any damage.” He looked down at his phone and blew out a sigh.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I just got a text from my mother, basically saying the same thing. A little bit of cleanup tomorrow and everything should be back to normal.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “My parents live on the far side of the marina, closer to town. They like being able to walk everywhere. We’ll know more in the morning, but probably a few shingles blown off some of the cabins, but nothing to be concerned about.”

  “That’s good. I do have to admit that I was getting a bit worried for a minute there,” Grace said as she followed him across the front lawn to the main road.

  “I could tell.”

  Grace gave him a lift of her chin. “What? I thought I held it together pretty well.”

  “You did. I’m just teasing. I’m good at teasing—­just ask Mattie.”

  Grace thought he’d be good at flirting too, if he put his mind to it, especially if he utilized that smile that he kept in reserve.

  “Watch out for puddles.”

  Grace looked down at the wet road and had to hop over a puddle directly in front of her. “Good call. Wow, it’s really dark out here away from city lights.” Grace had the urge to reach out and hold Mason’s hand while they walked down the road. Other than the beam of his flashlight cutting through the night, they were in total darkness. But then they rounded the bend and Grace could see lights that reached out into the river, seeming to float on top of the water. “Oh, is that the marina over there?”

  “Yes, doesn’t it look sort of peaceful?” Mason asked, but slowed down, as if knowing she might be just a little bit wary of her surroundings. “And so quiet after the stormy weather. But I like the lingering smell of rain in the air.”

  “Quiet? Are you kidding?” Grace edged a little bit closer to him, hoping he didn’t notice. “I hear all kinds of...noises.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, something just howled.” She looked skyward. “Not a full moon, so I suppose we don’t have to be wary of werewolves. So what do think was behind the howl? And all of that...rustling?”

  “Well, let’s see.” Mason slowed to a stop and tilted his head. “Coyotes.”

  “Coyotes?”

  “An owl hooting. Deer bedding down, maybe. Raccoons scurrying around for food.”

  “Should we be worried?” Grace lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “You mean worried like we might be attacked?” There was an edge of humor in Mason’s voice that made Grace stand up taller.

  “I’m not scared. Did you forget that I thrive on adventure?”

  “It’s been my experience that when people say they aren’t scared is when they’re terrified.”

  “Well, I’m not terrified,” Grace boasted, but in truth she wanted to grab the flashlight from him and have a look around.

  “What are you, then?”

  “Maybe, like...just a tad unnerved. But calm. Wait.” She put a hand on his arm. “What was that loud splash?”

  “The Loch Ness monster,” he said in a low whisper.

  “Right...and Bigfoot hangs out in the woods and eats beef jerky,” Grace said with a laugh, but there suddenly seemed to be noises coming from everywhere, closing in on them. “Lions and tigers and bears...oh my!” But she liked the feeling of her heart pounding a little bit harder. Her day had turned into quite an event, and except for the frustration of getting lost, Grace liked her life that way.

  “How did you know?”

  “I follow him on Twitter. He’s quite clever, actually...hashtag I’m so misunderstood.”

  Mason laughed. “You’re funny—­you know that?”

  “What? I was being completely serious.”

  Mason started walking again, steering her away from another puddle. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “That I follow Bigfoot on Twitter?”

  “No, that you are able to be completely serious.”

  “I have my moments.” Although she knew that Mason was teasing, he’d hit a bit of a tender spot with her. Because Grace tended to joke around, she wasn’t always taken as seriously as she wanted to be in the corporate world. And in all honesty, women still had to work harder than men. But she’d recently proven her worth in a big way when she’d sold Girl Code Cosmetics for a staggering amount of money. Who knew that playing with her mother’s endless supply of makeup as a child would lead to founding a line of her own products? She’d learned from her mother that confidence and enthusiasm sell, but more than anything else, Grace loved the excitement of launching a new product. Ah, but now she felt a bit lost, wondering what challenge to tackle next. Although Grace wasn’t close to her father, she knew that she’d inherited his savvy sense of business, the difference being that she would never allow making money to rule her life.

  “Watch it walking across the dock,” Mason warned her. “With the water being choppy, the walkway will be unsteady and move up and down.”

  “Oh great.” The short walk across to the main building suddenly seemed a mile long. “Why aren’t there railings? People like me need railings.” The water looked murky and smelled like fish. Grace certainly didn’t want to fall in. “Oh boy, here we go.” She put her arms out to her sides like airplane wings. At least there were lights along the way.

  “I won’t let you fall in.” Mason chuckled, and then offered her his hand. “Hold on.”

  Grace gratefully grasped his hand. “I might take you with me. Just fair warning.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “Whoa, this thing really is moving up and down.” Grace clung to Mason’s hand as if there were piranha schooling around in the water ready to gobble her up as soon as she took the plunge. The poststorm wind kicked it up a notch, blowing the hair that had once again escaped from her clip across her face.

  Mason looked over his shoulder to where Grace followed him, nearly plastered up against his back. “You can walk beside me, you know.”

  “Too close to the edge.”

  “You okay?”

  “Sort of.” Her trying-­to-­keep-­her-­balance gait was
like a toddler learning to walk.

  “We’re almost there,” Mason said, and when they stepped off the dock, Grace breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thank goodness.” She followed Mason over to a building to the left side of the dock. While he paused to unlock the door, she looked around. Several rows of boat slips lined up on the other side of the building. Lights strapped to poles along the dock illuminated the marina, and she thought the sight was quite pretty. A bit farther away, Grace could see a few houseboats huddled beneath a big roof and another building jutting out into the water. She could see that some of the houseboats and cabin cruisers were lit up. “Do people live on the houseboats?”

  “Some of them, at least during the summer and into early fall, depending upon how the weather holds up. I live on mine year-­round.”

  “Really? You live on a boat?” Grace tried to decide whether she would like the feeling of living on the water or not. Perhaps the gentle bobbing up and down would put her to sleep at night, something she struggled with on a regular basis. Then again, perhaps it would keep her awake.

  “Yep, for the past few years.” He glanced at her before sliding the key into the lock. “It was easier for me to button up a boat when I went on the road instead of maintaining a house. And it makes commuting to work pretty easy.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s okay for now.” Mason shrugged. “I’d like to build a cabin somewhere on the property someday, I guess. Or maybe a rambling farmhouse with lots of land to play around on. I’ve been so focused on the brewery that I haven’t really thought about it much. Right now, I just want to get the brewery up and running.”

  “Well, this is a really pretty setting. For the brewery as well. Having the marina in the background is just perfect.” A variety of boats both big and small bobbed up and down, and the sound of water lapping against the hulls sounded almost musical, making Grace think that it looked as if the boats were dancing. The thought made her laugh.

  “What’s funny?”

  “I just thought that the boats looked like they were doing a little dance. I think it’s a combination of being a bit slap-­happy from the drive and those chocolate delights you fed me.”

  “Porter. Manly chocolate porter.”

  “Right, there’s nothing made of chocolate that women wouldn’t want.” She turned back to where he was unlocking the door and noticed two big wooden barrel planters spilling over with cheerful flowers on each side of the entrance. “Aren’t those just so very lovely.”

  “That was Mattie’s doing before she was put on bed rest.”

  “Oh, poor dear. I bet it’s difficult to keep her down,” Grace said as she followed him inside.

  “Oh boy.” Mason blew out a sigh and flipped on the light. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter the building before him. “You got that right. Having her baby in danger is the only thing that could keep Mattie off her feet. She’s none too happy about it, and I have to say that Garret has been really patient and at her beck and call. She really hates not being able to work at the bistro. And it’s really great of Sophia to step up and help.” He shut the door and smiled.

  “Luckily, unlike me, she’s an excellent cook. I guess your parents are helping too.”

  Mason nodded. “They are—­well, at least until the cold weather hits, and then they will head back to Florida. Although I’m sure they will extend their stay to spend more time with their grandchild. My mother has been very vocal about how much she wanted grandbabies.”

  “My mother is over the moon too. It’s wonderful that everyone has pitched in for Mattie.”

  “Shane McCray and his wife, Laura Lee, helped out while Garret and Mattie were in London, but they’ve been doing some traveling, so their time is limited.”

  “Holy cow, do you mean the country music singer?”

  “You like country music?”

  “I do.”

  “Yeah, he and Laura Lee donated what would have been their salary at the bistro to Mattie’s literacy charity. Shane got a kick out of being a short-­order cook. He still helps out when he can. Pretty cool dude, huh?”

  Grace nodded. “And he invested in your brewery.”

  “He was actually going to have more of an active role, but Shane also helps out at Sully’s South, a Bluebird Café kind of venue where songwriters showcase their music. For a guy who came to Cricket Creek to retire, he’s really busy. And he still performs for charity events and for the troops.”

  “I love his music.”

  “I have to say that I’m a bit surprised that you’re a country music fan.”

  “I love a wide variety of music, and country is one of them. I enjoy the story in the lyrics. Remember that my father is American.”

  “You don’t sound even half-­American.”

  “That’s because I’ve spent the last few years almost entirely in London and abroad, except to visit Sophia in New York.”

  “So you’ve remained close.” He walked across the room and turned on another light.

  “Yeah, and Garret is a good big brother. He attended lots of make-­believe tea parties for me and Sophia. I’ve always adored him. He went through a bit of a troubled time, but I had faith in him. And I know you’re close to your siblings. Mattie said so. Is your brother, Danny, involved in the brewery?”

  “Just building the bar and maybe some other carpentry work I might need. He might bartend here and there just for fun. But Danny has his hands full with the daily business of running the marina. He does a little fish guiding here and there, but now that Jimmy Topmiller is living here, guiding and setting up a few tournaments, he has some time to do other things. My friend Colby is going to help me bartend and later maybe take on a role in sales and delivery. Danny’s friend Avery Dean might come to work for me too.”

  “It takes a village.”

  “Yeah, and my mom is going to help out babysitting once Mattie can come back to the bistro. Everybody will pitch in. That’s how we do it round here.”

  “We’ll all be so glad when the baby girl has arrived. My mother cleared her schedule so she can have an extended stay here. It’s going to be quite nice to have all of us together for a few weeks.” Grace smiled just thinking about it. “Oh, this is a cute little shop.” She looked around. “Has a little bit of everything.”

  “After my parents moved to Florida, Mattie put her touch here and there. Funny, we always considered her kind of a tomboy, but she blossomed with Garret. Wait until you see Walking on Sunshine Bistro.”

  “Mattie showed me pictures. I love that she got some of her inspiration for the bistro while living in London with Garret.”

  “My little sister really surprised us all. Before she decked it all out, Walking on Sunshine Bistro was called Breakfast, Books, and Bait.”

  “An interesting mix of offerings, I must say. Bait? Really?”

  “Artificial bass bait. It’s gone from the bistro. We only sell it here now.” Mason pointed to a display of fishing-­related gear and walked over toward an office. “The local fishermen liked being able to buy bait while waiting for breakfast. Now the bistro attracts a wide variety of customers.”

  “What about the books?”

  “Mattie still has the books at the back of the bistro. It’s used books that are donated or exchanged. All sold for a buck. The proceeds go toward a literacy program in Cricket Creek.”

  “What a lovely concept. I’ll have to check out the selection while I’m here. I enjoy a good read now and then.” Grace followed Mason through boating accessories to a small grocery section tucked to the side. She eyed the rack of snacks with a bit of guilty longing. “What on earth are pork rinds?”

  Mason walked over and tossed her a bag, which of course Grace failed to catch. “Deep-­fried pork skins.” He arched one eyebrow in silent challenge.

  Grace felt a flash of delig
ht. “Oh right, they’re called pork scratchings in England. Don’t mind if I do.” Grace pulled the bag open and took a crunchy bite. “Mmm, tasty.”

  Mason folded his arms across his chest and gave her a long look. “Interesting.”

  “What, that I eat them? Of course I would love something this rotten for you. And don’t get me started on bacon. I do believe I’d eat a shoe if it was wrapped in bacon.”

  Mason shook his head. “Here I thought pork rinds were a Southern food...well, I use the term food loosely.”

  “A delicacy, you mean.”

  He gave her that killer grin again. “If you say so. Have at it. But in reality pork rinds are low-­carb and not as unhealthy as you might imagine.”

  “I feel a tad better, then, not that it would matter in the end. Do you fancy one?” She held a fat, curly pork rind up to him in polite offering.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Wait—­are you only into healthy food?” From the looks of him Grace could believe it. He appeared as solid as a rock. She’d like to squeeze one of those biceps to find out—­oh yes, she would.

  Mason hesitated and then said, “No, not really. But craft beer pairs well with certain meals, much like wine, so I’ve become a bit of what Mattie calls a foodie, even though the term makes me feel silly.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Your turn to be surprised?”

  “I happen to like surprises.” She reached into the bag for another pork rind. “So can you cook too?”

  “Sure can.” Mason nodded. “I honed my skills over a campfire. I can cook anything from beef stew to brownies.”

  “Seriously? Brownies? I can barely manage s’mores. Oh, now I want one. So how is it that you’re such a proficient campfire cook?”

  “I used to conduct overnight fishing trips, and I wanted the food to be something to remember. So, do you like to camp out?” He gave her a look that said he couldn’t quite imagine her sleeping beneath the stars.

  “I haven’t done a lot of it, but I did a white-­water rafting trip in West Virginia that lasted three days. I had to be pretty hardy for that.”