Sweeter Than Tea Read online

  After washing his hands, he did as she asked, all the while, watching her as she moved to the stove, chatting with her mom and aunt. Everyone joked and had fun as they tended to their tasks in preparing the meal. It was a tight space, but no one seemed to mind. Moving around each other was like a well-rehearsed dance. Hannah’s dad reached around his wife to snatch a piece of meat, and she playfully slapped his hand. “Ow!” he complained, but everyone laughed.

  Hannah returned with a bowl of creamy meat sauce and checked his work.

  “Be sure to smooth out those perforations in the dough. We don’t want any filling to seep out while these bake.”

  Again, he did as she asked, and when she was satisfied, she handed him a knife. “Good. Now cut the dough into two-inch squares. No, three. It’ll be quicker.”

  Having her stand so close had all his overwrought senses on hyper-alert. Her fragrant hair fell forward, and she flipped it back over her shoulder. It smelled like fresh fruit. He remembered what it had felt like earlier, and he wanted to brush it back from her face just so he could feel its texture and touch her face again.

  As he cut the strips, she spooned in the filling, pulling up the corners of the dough and pressing them closed. “What’s in the filling?” he asked.

  “Sausage and cream cheese.”

  She scooped some up with her finger and held it to his lips. He opened his mouth, and when she would have tipped the blob of cream cheese onto his lips, he surprised her by taking her finger into his mouth and licking it clean. Eyes that were an intriguing mix of blue, green and gold captivated, reminding him of long lazy days on the beach. “Mmm . . . Delicious.” Spicy sausage mellowed by smooth cream cheese. A perfect combination.

  Her gaze focused on his mouth, and Sam wondered if she was wondering what a kiss between them would taste like. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss her. Then the sound of the television in the other room increased, breaking the sensual web forming around them. At first, Sam thought they must be making too much noise in the kitchen. Maybe Hannah’s grandmother had turned up the volume so she could better hear whatever she was watching. Then it got louder.

  “Here we go,” one of the teenagers said above the din.

  “Wow,” Hannah said.

  “What’s going on?” Sam asked.

  Mr. Goode stepped into the living room. “Ma! The TV is too loud!”

  The older woman had to shout to be heard. “I’m trying to wake your father. He needs to get up. He’s been sleeping all afternoon.”

  “He can’t hear the TV, Ma. He’s deaf. Remember?”

  The volume on the television went down. Sam couldn’t help laughing.

  “Vernon! Wake up!” she shouted. “Vernon!”

  “Huh?” a man mumbled. “What is it?”

  “Get up! Everyone’s here, and you’re taking up too much room. There’s nowhere for anyone to sit.”

  “Oh. Oh. Okay.”

  “Go brush your hair, for heaven sakes,” she said. “You look a fright.”

  The man mumbled as he moved away, or was that a grumble?

  Mr. Goode returned to the kitchen shaking his head and humming a circus tune.

  Hannah laughed along with everyone else. “Welcome to a Goode family get-together. I wish I could say it’s not usually like this.”

  If Sam could have dreamed up a big family gathering brimming with people and love and laughter, it would not have been as nice as this. Growing up, it had always been just him and his mom. And then, after she’d died, just him and no one. The military was the only family he had. That had been enough, until now.

  Hannah took the filled tray in front of him and popped it into the oven. She returned with an armload of ingredients that she set on the counter in front of them.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Now we make the rolls.”

  He smiled. “Sounds good. What else is on the menu?”

  “The appetizer, ham, six or seven sides, yeast rolls, and birthday cake, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “All of Gran’s favorites.”

  They should all weigh three hundred pounds. Allowing his gaze to slide over Hannah, he appreciated that her curves were just right. A hunger stirred inside him that had nothing to do with food.

  “Do y’all eat like this all the time?” he asked.

  “My family has dinner together several times a week, and we eat here every Sunday. It’s just something we’ve always done. But we don’t usually have this much food. It’s a special occasion.”

  “Christmas dinner must be awesome at your house.”

  Hannah smiled. “If you call twice as much food and three times as many people in this tiny house awesome. What do you do at the holidays?”

  “I usually spend it at the base, or volunteer at a homeless shelter if I’m off duty.”

  “That’s nice,” she said, but she was giving him the same look of sympathy he’d seen from his co-workers—the ones who always tried to get him to come home with them for the holidays.

  “It’s not so bad. I never had a big family to spend holidays with, so I don’t have anything to miss.”

  “I can’t imagine holidays being anything but loud and full of activity and family. A quiet holiday might actually be nice.”

  He’d always thought his holidays were good, but being here with Hannah and her family set off a longing in him for something different.

  “When are we eating?” the older Mrs. Goode shouted from the other room. “It smells so good, you’re staving me to death!”

  Sam elbowed Hannah. “What, and miss all this?”

  Mr. Goode said, “Mind if your grandma helps you with the rolls, sugar?”

  “Not at all. We can pull up a stool for her,” Hannah said.

  “Come into the kitchen, Ma. I’ll give you a nice snack to tide you over, and you can help Hannah with the rolls.”

  “Hannah’s here?”

  “Yes, and we have a guest.”

  “Who?”

  A metallic tapping preceded the entry of a sweet-faced, white haired lady. She pushed a walker that was more of a prop than a walking aid.

  “Ma, this is Lieutenant Sam Evans. Sam, this is my mother, the birthday girl, Evelyn Goode.” An alarm went off on the oven. “Hannah, your sausage puffs are ready.”

  “Coming.”

  “Sausage puffs?” Gran said.

  “Here you go, Ma. You can sit here with Hannah and Sam. They might need you to help with the rolls.”

  “She might need me to taste those sausage thingies.” The older woman cackled. “Welcome, young man. So handsome. And a soldier? My Vernon was a soldier.”

  “Happy birthday, ma’am.”

  “So polite. Where’s your uniform?”

  “I don’t wear it when I’m off duty, ma’am.”

  “What a shame. I so love a man in uniform.”

  “Ma, you’re such a flirt!” Mr. Goode teased.

  “It’s my birthday. I can do what I want.”

  Hannah cleared a space and set the pan of sausage puffs on the counter in front of them. “Don’t let her fool you,” she said to Sam. “She always does what she wants.”

  “So sassy, but she’s right. Life’s too short to not do what you want.”

  Sam looked at Hannah, clarity forming his thoughts. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Hannah lined a large bowl with paper towels and began transferring the puffs from the baking pan. “Ow, ow!” she complained as she burned her fingers. “Toasty balls, toasty balls!”

  “Yum,” Gran said.

  “Hannah,” Mrs. Goode exclaimed.

  “They’re hot,” she said unnecessarily.

  Sam nearly choked.

  She lo
oked up at him then, got the double meaning, and flushed bright red. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun.

  The rest of the night passed in much the same fashion with plenty of food, conversation, and good-natured ribbing. Everyone made him feel right at home—like he was part of the family. Being a person who wasn’t used to being involved in large family gatherings, he’d wondered if he’d feel uncomfortable, but instead, he could really see himself enjoying being part of something like this. Exactly like this.

  He glanced at his watch. It was much later than he’d thought. After being on airplanes for much of the last couple of days, he needed some sleep. “I should be getting back.”

  Hannah rose. “Me, too. Four-thirty comes really early. No one wants to see me without the proper amount of beauty sleep.”

  A vision of waking up next to Hannah bloomed in Sam’s mind . . .

  “I should get the girls home, too. It’s a school night,” Christy said. “We’ll walk out with you.”

  “Thank you so much for having me over,” Sam said. “I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

  Mr. Goode stood as well. “Will you be leaving first thing tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “I need to get back to the base.”

  “You be sure to stop by the bakery before you leave. We’d like to give you some treats to take back with you. Right, Hannah?”

  He looked at Hannah, gauging her reaction to the invitation.

  “Yes. I can give you enough to share, if you have room to take it.”

  He nodded. “That’d be great.”

  “Good. We’ll see you in the morning, then,” Mr. Goode said.

  “Goodnight.”

  Sam walked out to Hannah’s car, opening her door for her. Holding his stomach, he moaned, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so full.”

  He loved her laugh. It came easy and natural, like she did it often.

  “Gran would say you could use some fattening up.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “That would be misery in the desert.”

  She gripped the top of the car door’s window. “Are you going back?”

  “Not for a while. I’ll be stateside for most of the next year, unless something extraordinary happens.”

  “Here’s to it being an uneventful year, then.” She got behind the wheel. When they were on their way, she asked, “How long have you been in the Air Force?”

  “Nine years.”

  “So, you’re career military?”

  “Yes. Well, I mean, that was the plan.”

  “Was?”

  “I’ve been thinking about doing something else.”

  “Like what?”

  He looked at Hannah, her face illuminated by the car’s panel lights. “I’m thinking that I’d like to settle down. Live in a house, maybe put down some roots. Hell, I might even get a dog.”

  She nodded, glancing at him and then back at the road. “Sounds nice. What would you do?”

  “I have a degree and experience in logistics, so something to do with that.”

  She sighed. “I could use that kind of help. I don’t have the patience for it. Have you thought about consulting? I’m sure a lot of small businesses like mine could use someone with your background to help set up systems for ordering, shipping, and delivering goods.”

  That wasn’t a bad idea. In fact . . . “I noticed that you seemed a little covered up in paperwork when I came in today.”

  She raked a hand through her hair. “Yeah. I need to go through orders, try to figure out what supplies I need, work on the delivery schedule at some point, and I have to do the commercial invoicing.” She looked over at him as she pulled up in front of the bakery. “There are never enough hours. I should have been working on all that tonight. I’m going to be even further behind tomorrow, but then, I’m always behind, so . . .”

  “Sounds like you don’t have much time for fun.”

  “Fun?” She laughed. “What’s that?”

  That was something they had in common, but looking at her, he could come up with half a dozen ideas, like her on the back of his bike, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as they drove over to the Atlantic coast to spend a week or so lazing on the beach, soaking up the sun and catching some waves. They could stop in Asheville on the way and spend the day window-shopping and letting someone else do the cooking.

  In short, Hannah Goode was in desperate need of having someone take care of things for her for a change. It surprised him how much he wanted to be the person spoiling her. It also surprised him how right it felt to want to be with her. He also wanted to get to know her better and see where the attraction between them would lead.

  He needed time to come up with a plan—and to develop an appealing way to present it so she couldn’t refuse.

  She turned to him and said, “Goodnight, Sam.”

  He smiled. “Yes. Goodnight, and thanks again. For everything.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, lingering to breathe in her scent. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered near her ear. Her quick intake of breath said she felt something, too. Learning back, he opened the door. “See you in the morning.”

  Sam didn’t show up at the bakery the next morning. Hannah tried not to show her disappointment as she went through the day’s baking to fill the commercial orders. The fact that he’d left without saying goodbye weighed on her thoughts. He hadn’t seemed like the kind of person whose word meant so little. It just didn’t make sense.

  To make matters worse, her dad hadn’t come in either. Instead, he sent her mother, who’d kept up a steady stream of conversation about everything and nothing since she’d arrived. Thankfully, replies requiring multi-syllable responses were not necessary. Never let it be said that Mary Goode couldn’t carry on a one-sided conversation.

  It felt like the baking had doubled by the time she found ten minutes to grab a drink and escape the kitchen late that afternoon. She popped into her office to grab her laptop and her overflowing inbox, determined to make headway with it. She took one step into her office and nearly had heart failure.

  “Mom! What happened to my office?”

  Her mother rushed up and peered over her shoulder. “What’s wrong, dear?”

  “Someone has been in here. All the orders and receipts that were . . . were . . . everywhere—are gone.” She held up her inbox. “It’s empty. And my desk has been cleaned off.” And something else was missing. “Oh, no.”

  “What?”

  “My laptop is gone. We’ve been robbed!”

  “Oh no, honey. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

  “We have to call the police. How could this happen?” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

  “Now, just take a breath, dear. Maybe your dad came in earlier and took everything. He’s been talking about trying to help organize things for you.”

  “We’ve been here all day, Mom. No one else has been back here but us. And besides, I can’t make sense of the paperwork. What in the world could Daddy do with it all?”

  “I’m just saying, let’s give him a quick call before we jump to any conclusions.” She touched Hannah’s arm. “Why don’t we go out front and sit. It’s been a long morning. Getting so upset when you’re tired and hungry is so bad for you, dear.”

  Her mother opened the swinging door to the dining room and propelled Hannah into the front room. She was about to protest when she saw that her dad was seated at a table with Sam, her laptop in front of him and all of her paperwork stacked in neat file folders. Pink file folders, the signature color of the shop.

  Sam stood and said, “Hi.”

  “What’s going on?” she said cautiously, trying not to overreact.

  Sam pulled out a chair at the table. “Sit with me, and I’ll show you.”


  “I’m not sure I feel like sitting. Dad, what is this about?”

  “Now, Hannah, please don’t be angry. Sit, and Sam will explain everything.”

  She did so, reluctantly.

  “Yesterday, you told me a bit about how you struggle with the paperwork associated with the business as well as making out the delivery schedules. Like I told you last night, my degree and work with the military is in logistics. Since you’ve done so much for the troops, I wanted to do something to help you. I called your dad last night after I got back to the hotel and enlisted his help.”

  She didn’t know what to think. Did not know how she felt about this stranger presuming to involve himself in such a private matter. And damn it, she was angry that he’d deceived her and occupied her thoughts all morning. At length, she said, “Go on.”

  “I loaded a software program on your laptop that will help you manage every aspect of the business. Accounts payable, receivables, invoicing, cost control, ordering supplies, and scheduling deliveries. You can do it all with just a few clicks of the mouse and by maintaining some daily data entry. The program will even gather information from the dates you input to generate the delivery schedules. You can then print them out to post on clipboards in the back.”

  “Sounds complicated and time-consuming.”

  “Someone will have to stay on top of the data entry and printing out the invoices and schedules, but it’s a user friendly program. I’ve already trained your dad. One of your nieces could do it when they’re not busy.”

  “How will I know they’re not making mistakes?”

  “They can generate reports for your review, daily—weekly. Your choice.”

  “Just think of it, hon,” her dad said, “you can focus on the baking that you love, and your mom or I can handle the paperwork so you don’t have to worry with it. You could even take some time off.”

  Hannah laughed. “Time off. What’s that?”

  “How long has it been since you had a break from this?” Sam asked.

  “There is no break from it, and I’m not asking for one,” she said flatly. “The business takes all my time, but I love it.”

  “You burning out is no good for you or the business,” Sam said.