Between the Pipes

Chapter 7

Sarah was glad she'd worn comfortable jeans and a flannel shirt. Nothing like sexy underwear and warm flannel to boost your confidence, she thought to herself with a laugh.

Mike's place was out of the way along a country road. She made a stop at the bakery at Bibbington's Bowling Lanes and half an hour later, she pulled into his driveway.

His house, set back from the road, was long and low, with large windows. Two iron urns overflowing with bright orange fall flowers flanked a rustic stone walkway. A small sitting area on the porch looked inviting, with two chunky wooden chairs and colourful cushions.

As she approached the front door, butterflies started up again. She shook her head. Put her in charge of a blood-spewing lacerated carotid artery, and she was fine. Invite her for a meal, and she was a wreck.

As she reached out to knock on the door, Mike opened it and smiled. "Hi, come on in. Any trouble finding the place?"

"Not at all. It was easy." She stepped into the foyer and handed him a bakery box. "For later." Her eye caught the view at the back of the house. "Oh, this is beautiful."

The foyer opened up into a large sitting area, with an oversized stuffed sofa and two lounge chairs arranged around a live edge wooden coffee table.

"That table is a work of art. And look at that view." Sunshine streamed through floor to ceiling windows. The Charlebois River was the backdrop for a majestic maple tree in the backyard, its leaves a vibrant red. "How do you get anything done? I'd spend all my time staring out the windows."

"Some days that's about all I do," Mike said with a laugh. He gestured toward the kitchen. "I have steaks on the barbeque. I should check on them. Would you like something to drink? Beer, glass of wine, soft drink?" He set the bakery box on a large island, which separated the living room from the kitchen. Behind the island, elegant mahogany cabinets stretched to the ceiling and contrasted with the wide expanse of warm stone countertops. A coach glass pendant hung over a square wooden dining table in a nook of windows, with a one hundred and eighty degree view of the water.

"Wine would be lovely. I can get it, if you like."

"There's white wine in the fridge and a bottle of red on the counter. The opener is in the top drawer. Help yourself." He went out through a set of French doors to a patio.

Sarah chose the white wine, opened the bottle, and poured herself a glass. She took a sip and watched Mike through the glass. She would never get tired of that view. The river was stunning, but he made her mouth water.

Mike carried in the steaks, and the smell from the grill had her stomach grumbling.

"Would you like a glass of wine, too?" she asked

"Sure." While she poured, he transferred the steaks to two plates and set them on the table. He set out pasta salad and grilled vegetables, and they sat down to eat.

"This looks delicious." Sarah picked up her knife and fork. "You're feeding me again. Thank you. I feel very spoiled."

Mike raised his wine glass. "It's my pleasure to spoil you. I hope I can do it again. Enjoy."

Sarah's heart melted. "And I hope to pleasure you, too." She raised startled eyes to him. Oops. Heat suffused her cheeks.

Mike choked on his wine and laughed.

She cleared her throat. "I mean I hope to return the favour and make you a meal."

His eyes danced. "Well that would be nice, too."