Page 31 of Home Body
“I guess it was meeting Kenyon and thinking about how lucky we are. She easily could’ve ended up an orphan in Vietnam and I could’ve ended up a street urchin. I feel so bad for kids who don’t have a home.”
“I know, love. I tell you what, we’ll make that soup and bread. We have a little extra money now, right? What with the change of plans. We can afford to do that.”
Dalia loved her mother for her delicacy. “Change of plans” was a euphemism for “not getting a bakery.”
They plugged away without talking, each lost in her own world as a creator. Once the cake pans were in the oven, Mamie poured their coffee and mother and daughter sat at the table awaiting the ding of the timer that would tell them the cake was done.
They’d sipped their coffee for a few minutes before Dalia said, “Mama, there’s one more thing.”
“Are you pregnant again?” Mamie chuckled at what she thought was a joke, but the blank stare Dalia tossed her way stopped her.
“Oh my god, I hope not,” Dalia groaned. “I mean, that thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. You see, I met a guy.” She took a quick drink, not wanting to explain any further.
“I see. It’s Deputy Brody McIntyre, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
“Dear, everyone in town knows. As the grocery store clerk said a couple of days ago, everyone is talking about how you two made ‘googly eyes’ at each other at the last Farmers’ Market.”
“Oh lordy. Is there no privacy in this town?”
“No. None. But I’m glad you like Brody. He seems like a very good man.”
“Yeah, I thought Rose’s dad was a very good guy, too. I’m not the best judge of men. Besides, this isn’t a good time for me to be with anybody.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Mamie shook her head in disbelief.
“I’m a single mom with a five-year-old. I don’t have a job. I want to bake but don’t want to do it with anybody but you. I’m living off my mother. I’m a freeloader.”
“Okay. Stop now. Since having a baby, you’ve done nothing but work to contribute to our livelihood. You’re an incredible mother. And a fabulous baker who can help me run this baking business from right here in our kitchen for as long as you want. You already work your butt off on this farm, tending to the sheep, sheering the sheep, selling the raw wool. Keeping up that massive garden out there. We’re not destitute. Butch saw to that, God rest that wonderful man’s soul. We’ll never be rich but we won’t starve, either. We get by every month. Now you even have some extra money in the bank. This farm has been in the family for generations. We owe nothing to anybody. Someday, it’ll all be yours.”
“Don’t talk like that. That’s forty years away.”
“I certainly hope so. In the meantime, you deserve to have a man to love. There’s no such thing as ‘this isn’t a good time’ when it comes to love. It’s always the right time for love.”
The timer dinged and they pulled the cake pans from the oven and set them out to cool. The frosting went into the fridge for the time being, as the bakers decided to catch some sleep.
Tired as she was, Dalia lay in bed with her eyes wide open as the sex scene with Brody played over and over in her mind. It had been beyond erotic; it had been magical. She’d never known such physical joy existed. Running her fingertips over her arms,one and then the other the way he’d so softly touched her before ravishing her, she became consumed with wanting him to do all those tantalizing things to her again. And again.
And again.
CHAPTER 20
Kenyon held out an arm and ran a hand over her soft, bare skin. “That argan oil the masseuse used is amazing. My skin feels like silk.”
“Mine, too.” Jessa delicately ran her fingers up one arm and then the other. “I always feel more in tune with my body after a massage. More whole.”
“It makes us more aware of the best of who we are.”
Having finished getting massages in a plush spa near their hotel, the two young women walked down the beach, their reinvigorated skin glowing in the sun. Each wore a sleeveless, short coverup over their bikinis and no shoes, allowing their bare toes to caress the sand as they went. A slight breeze off the ocean played with their coverups, causing the fabric to cling to their oiled bodies.
Kenyon felt womanly, daring, brazen even, her senses heightened. Her arms felt supple, her breasts titillating, her thighs graceful, her entire body having given way to deep contentment. The breeze picked up a lock of her hair, danced with it, and dropped it over her eyes. She swept it aside, marveling at how something as simple as the tickle of her hair on her face could be pleasing.
Jessa said, “Too bad we have to get on a plane and go home in a few hours.”
“Yeah, I hate to leave all this bliss.”
“Kenyon.”
