Read Online Town in a Wild Moose Chase by B. B. Haywood - Free Book Online
Authors: B. B. Haywood
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“You mean
him
?”
Felicia was talking about Ben.
“He’s adorable,” Felicia said hungrily. “Just my type. You don’t happen to know if he’s available, do you?”
“He… what? Available?” Candy didn’t know how to respond.
“Yeah, you know, is he hitched? Married? Divorced?”
“Um, yes, he’s divorced… I think so… I mean…”
“If I lived in this town, I’d scoop him right up,” Felicia said, studying Ben. But after a few moments her gaze shifted to Candy. “Are you a friend of his? I saw you two walking in together.”
Candy’s mind flashed through a half dozen responses, but she went with the safest, easiest, least-revealing one. “He’s my boss.”
“Ahh.” Felicia nodded. “So you’re kinda chummy with him, is that it?”
Candy allowed herself a brief smile. “That’s an interesting way to describe it, but yeah, something like that.”
“So you, what, kinda date and stuff but nothing too serious yet? Just a casual sort of thing, right?”
Again, Candy hesitated. She didn’t know exactly what Felicia was after, and decided the best course was a cautious one. “Ben and I are good friends,” she said definitively.
“Uh-huh.” Felicia crossed her arms in front of her as she turned her hawklike gaze back to Ben. “I think I understand. Wonder what he’s saying to Gina.”
“Who?” For the first time it registered with Candy that Ben was in the midst of a conversation with another woman—a rather plain-looking sculptor with dirty blonde hair, wearing a faded light blue jacket, unflattering jeans, and scuffed work boots. Her long knit scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck, and her hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of her jacket. She looked unhappy about something.
“Gina Templeton, of the self-absorbed Templetons,” Felicia explained. She frowned and glanced at Candy. “I guess I shouldn’t have said that. She’s actually not that bad a person. It’s just that her husband, Victor, won a few international competitions, and now she thinks she’s the queen beeof the ice-carving circuit. She’s a decent carver herself, though not nearly as talented as her husband. He’s the true artist in that family—his stuff is fantastic.”
Candy looked around, intrigued. “Is he here? I’d like to talk to him.”
Together they scanned the crowd. After a moment Felicia nodded toward another group. “I don’t see Victor, but have you talked to Liam yet? He’s the other alpha dog out here. More than likely you can expect to see at least one blowup between him and Victor this weekend.”
Candy’s gaze shifted to Liam Yates, the tall, blond Vermonter, who was presently talking to Oliver LaForce, the owner of the Lightkeeper’s Inn. Also with them was the inn’s new executive chef, Colin Trevor Jones, a young, up-and-coming French Canadian from New Brunswick, east of Maine. With his black wavy hair, finely etched features, and quick, bright smile, Colin had set more than one heart aflutter since he’d landed in town last fall. But he’d proven to be a little clumsy around women, and somewhat tongue-tied when out in a crowd. In the kitchen, however, he was a whiz. He’d already developed a reputation around town for his “classic maritime” cuisine, highlighted by such dishes as crab crepes, lobster bisque, fish chowder, mushroom and beet salad, and French Canadian pork pie. Word was that he’d roughly doubled traffic in the inn’s restaurant over the holiday season, and his daily and weekend specials were a constant draw for villagers and out-of-towners alike.
Despite Colin’s shyness, Oliver LaForce was not hesitant about promoting his newly acquired and buzz-worthy chef, especially when he realized he could exploit Colin’s hidden talent—ice carving. Growing up on hockey rinks in New Brunswick, Colin had taken easily to the icy art, starting in his midtwenties. Now, just a few years later, he was beginning to establish a name for himself. Oliver
him
?”
Felicia was talking about Ben.
“He’s adorable,” Felicia said hungrily. “Just my type. You don’t happen to know if he’s available, do you?”
“He… what? Available?” Candy didn’t know how to respond.
“Yeah, you know, is he hitched? Married? Divorced?”
“Um, yes, he’s divorced… I think so… I mean…”
“If I lived in this town, I’d scoop him right up,” Felicia said, studying Ben. But after a few moments her gaze shifted to Candy. “Are you a friend of his? I saw you two walking in together.”
Candy’s mind flashed through a half dozen responses, but she went with the safest, easiest, least-revealing one. “He’s my boss.”
“Ahh.” Felicia nodded. “So you’re kinda chummy with him, is that it?”
Candy allowed herself a brief smile. “That’s an interesting way to describe it, but yeah, something like that.”
“So you, what, kinda date and stuff but nothing too serious yet? Just a casual sort of thing, right?”
Again, Candy hesitated. She didn’t know exactly what Felicia was after, and decided the best course was a cautious one. “Ben and I are good friends,” she said definitively.
“Uh-huh.” Felicia crossed her arms in front of her as she turned her hawklike gaze back to Ben. “I think I understand. Wonder what he’s saying to Gina.”
“Who?” For the first time it registered with Candy that Ben was in the midst of a conversation with another woman—a rather plain-looking sculptor with dirty blonde hair, wearing a faded light blue jacket, unflattering jeans, and scuffed work boots. Her long knit scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck, and her hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of her jacket. She looked unhappy about something.
“Gina Templeton, of the self-absorbed Templetons,” Felicia explained. She frowned and glanced at Candy. “I guess I shouldn’t have said that. She’s actually not that bad a person. It’s just that her husband, Victor, won a few international competitions, and now she thinks she’s the queen beeof the ice-carving circuit. She’s a decent carver herself, though not nearly as talented as her husband. He’s the true artist in that family—his stuff is fantastic.”
Candy looked around, intrigued. “Is he here? I’d like to talk to him.”
Together they scanned the crowd. After a moment Felicia nodded toward another group. “I don’t see Victor, but have you talked to Liam yet? He’s the other alpha dog out here. More than likely you can expect to see at least one blowup between him and Victor this weekend.”
Candy’s gaze shifted to Liam Yates, the tall, blond Vermonter, who was presently talking to Oliver LaForce, the owner of the Lightkeeper’s Inn. Also with them was the inn’s new executive chef, Colin Trevor Jones, a young, up-and-coming French Canadian from New Brunswick, east of Maine. With his black wavy hair, finely etched features, and quick, bright smile, Colin had set more than one heart aflutter since he’d landed in town last fall. But he’d proven to be a little clumsy around women, and somewhat tongue-tied when out in a crowd. In the kitchen, however, he was a whiz. He’d already developed a reputation around town for his “classic maritime” cuisine, highlighted by such dishes as crab crepes, lobster bisque, fish chowder, mushroom and beet salad, and French Canadian pork pie. Word was that he’d roughly doubled traffic in the inn’s restaurant over the holiday season, and his daily and weekend specials were a constant draw for villagers and out-of-towners alike.
Despite Colin’s shyness, Oliver LaForce was not hesitant about promoting his newly acquired and buzz-worthy chef, especially when he realized he could exploit Colin’s hidden talent—ice carving. Growing up on hockey rinks in New Brunswick, Colin had taken easily to the icy art, starting in his midtwenties. Now, just a few years later, he was beginning to establish a name for himself. Oliver
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