But she was quick, and before he could get fully comfortable, she was back, coffee in one hand and biscuits in the other. Kellen’s hunger grabbed him anew. “Order up, Suit. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
Kellen frowned once again, and this time gave her a raised brow. “So, you’re looking to keep going with this Suit thing, huh? It really is terrible customer service. How would you like it if someone called you . . .” He looked her up and down, pausing at her hair, but dismissing that when he saw the challenge in her eyes—nope, wasn’t going there. Then he went over her body, fighting to not leer and to be as respectful as possible. Finally, his eyes landed on those darned boots. They looked like they fit her perfectly. Sexy and cool but with a polished, edgy finish due to the silver buckles and cool studding that went up across the toe and around the top edge. Kellen looked back into her eyes. “What if someone called you Boots, for example.” He was surprised to catch a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth and a spark in her eyes.
She shrugged. “Boots, huh? I think it’s cute. I love these boots.” She twisted her feet left and right.
He frowned. “Well, they’re completely impractical for the Georgia heat.”
She crossed her arms. “And your suit jacket works in this weather?”
Lost for words, Kellen picked up a biscuit and shoved half of it in his mouth, taking a hearty bite. This time he didn’t hold back on the groan that overtook him. Goodness, there was nothing like Miss Joyce’s baking. Her biscuits were absolute heaven, second to only her pies. The woman was a culinary genius. If she ever wanted to expand and take her business into supermarkets, he’d be the first in line with investment money. Suddenly, Kellen wasn’t regretting his impromptu decision to get on the road as much as he’d been a half hour before.
“So, tell me. Are you meeting a potential client here this morning? Let me guess, you’re another one of those wannabe gentrifiers who’s got their sights on Sugar Lake? How many acres are you looking to buy? And please, don’t say you’re angling to make an offer on the shop, because if you are, we’re definitely not selling.”
Kellen’s head shot up toward her. We’re? What did she mean by we’re? What could she have to do with the ins and outs of this shop? But Kellen didn’t have a chance to question the odd query because just then the shop door chimed and in came a couple of local firemen, pulling her attention their way.
“Morning, Ducky, Brax, Dave. Good to see you this morning,” the former Miss Pie Witch, now Boots, said, all smiles for the firefighters who came in and were annoyingly all smiles back at her. Wait a minute, where was that brassy attitude that he got when he’d entered the shop?
Kellen quickly took a gulp of his hot coffee and almost choked as he watched the exchange between her and the men, who were oh so obviously fawning over her. His lips went all twitchy. They were all shoulders, teeth, and muscles, and Kellen wondered if there were check marks for those qualifications on the firefighter’s application.
Shoulders: check.
Teeth: check.
Muscles: check.
Kellen continued to watch while she served more arriving customers as the shop picked up business. A couple of elderly people came in and then more tourists after them. The whole time Kellen tried not to seethe as Boots seemed light, bubbly, and friendly with each customer, totally engaging, and everyone seeming to love her right back.
So . . . what? It was only guys in sports coats or the first customer of the day who got the hard end of her studded boots? Kellen polished off the second biscuit, letting out a sigh.
“If you don’t get more handsome every time I see you, young man?” Kellen’s eyes shifted left and right. “Stop looking so modest, Kellen, you know good and well I’m talking to you,” Miss Joyce said, coming over to give him a rather rough slap on the arm before softening with a warm hug as he rose to greet her.
Kellen smiled as he felt some of his earlier pent-up tension finally start to leave his body. Thankfully, Joyce Goode never changed, and immediately he felt a pang of remorse over not getting to see her when he was in town for his grandfather’s funeral. He’d given her a thank you and hugs at the repast for all her food, but still, he should have stopped by the shop. It wasn’t like he was a stranger there.
“It’s nice to see you, Miss Joyce. I’m sorry I didn’t make the time when I was last in town. I really should have.”
“Oh, that’s no worry. I know how busy you were. And times being what they were and have been, I know it’s tough, baby. I’m glad to see you looking better. You were a bit shell shocked last time I laid eyes on you. Rightly so.” He could see the concern as she looked over his face. “I know how hard this has been for you all.”
Kellen shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Been just working a lot is all.”
She peered at him more intently before looking down at his empty plate and frowning. “Did you just get into town?”
“Yes, I just pulled in about a half hour ago. I stopped here first because I didn’t want to barge in on my grandma too early. Plus, I thought I’d bring her a few treats.”
Miss Joyce raised a brow. “Trying to butter her up, huh? And you want to make me a part of it?” She shook her head and laughed. “Don’t get me involved with your troubles, Kellen Kilborn.”
Kellen fought not to blush. Of course, his grandmother would confide in Miss Joyce if anyone. Though Miss Joyce was a few years younger, she and his grandmother had struck up quite a friendship and, though she was friendly with lots of the women in town, his grandma didn’t call that many close or true friends. Joyce Goode, she did. So Miss Joyce probably knew that Kellen was in his fair share of hot water with his grandmother.
Miss Joyce waved a hand as if his missteps with his grandmother were the slightest of blips and started to speak. “Well, what did you have? It must not have been that much of nothing since this plate is clean as a whistle.”
He shrugged. “I’m good. I had a couple of biscuits.” He let his gaze go toward the cinnamon beauty again. She was finishing up with a couple of young dudes who looked to be boaters with too much time on their hands. Or maybe it was too much hands for their time. “The new girl set me up fine.”
Miss Joyce scoffed. “Is that it? Just a couple of biscuits and you drove all the way from Atlanta this morning? What to do with you young people and why didn’t you tell Drea that you were here and have her get me from out back? I would have come up front to set you up myself. What does she know?” She turned and yelled over her shoulder. “Drea? Honey, please get another honey biscuit and a pecan roll. Oh, and go on in the back and grab a couple of them sausages that I brought in with me this morning and bring them out here too for Kellen.”
Kellen noticed how Boots, who he now knew as Drea—though Boots fit her so much better—scrunched up her nose a bit as she looked over at the two of them, clearly questioning who he was to Miss Joyce and why was it that he deserved a special sausage from out back. He could tell that a few of her other customers had the same thoughts by the quick but envious once-overs that had him fighting back a smirk, though he did spare Drea a glance and was rewarded with a hot glare in return. But for all her heat, she turned Miss Joyce’s way and only nodded briefly as she quickly finished with her customers before heading to the back. Smart. At least she knew there was no messing around when it came to Miss Joyce. It was good to see the older woman still had her reputation. Kellen recalled the summer his grandfather thought getting a little food service under Kellen’s belt was a good idea, saying that any job where he served people would help better prepare him for life in the real world. He had to admit his grandfather had been right about that.
Miss Joyce was quite the taskmaster. Which was why the fact that “Boots” had opened the shop three minutes late had Kellen scratching his head in wonder. Miss Joyce was all about schedules and discipline. It was half the reason he’d enjoyed working for her as much as he did. But looking around the shop now, he bare
ly recognized it.
Though he was happy to see the influx of new customers, this updated decor was quite a shock. “The shop is really looking great. I should’ve seen it sooner. My grandmother told me about the improvements. You did a fine job. And it seems to be a boon to business.”
“That it has, but I really can’t take the credit,” Miss Joyce said. “What my niece lacks in her baking skills she definitely makes up for in her design intuition. And I’m lucky enough to have been blessed with another niece who is amazing in the kitchen. I dare hope she may take over for me in that department when I’m gone.”
Kellen frowned. “Don’t talk like that, Miss Joyce.”
She waved a hand. “Oh, who’s talking about dying? I’m just saying I may not bake all my life. I’ve got a new hip now. Might as well see what other trouble I can scare up with it.”
Kellen laughed and patted Miss Joyce on the arm. “Well, that’s one way to make the best of a situation.”
“Hey, Auntie, what’s the Suit here doing getting all handsy with you? He’s not getting fresh, is he?” the young woman said as she put a new plate in front of Kellen; this time it was a much bigger one with a fresh biscuit, a pecan roll, two beautiful sausages, with the addition of a fresh cup of coffee. Though her words came out sharp, when Kellen looked up at her this time there was clear mirth in her eyes.
“Oh, stop it now, Drea. Why are you always so full of sass? Kellen’s an old friend and here he was just complimenting you.”
The young woman looked around, saw no one at the counter, pulled out a chair, and sat. She crossed her long legs and smiled widely.
Breathing got difficult. Kellen’s sports jacket suddenly grew incredibly tight. She gave him an exaggerated pose as she put her head in her hands and flipped her hair. “Complimenting me? About what?” she asked.
Her aunt leaned forward and gave her a swat across her thigh. “Like I said, you are way too much. Don’t you have better things to do than preen for the customers?”
She looked around the suddenly empty shop. “No customers at the moment but him, so, no, I don’t. I know you don’t want me back in the kitchen with Olivia.” She looked back at Kellen. “Right now, I think at this table, taking this compliment is the safest place for me and all involved.”
Miss Joyce looked between the two of them and let out a huff. “Well, I don’t. Didn’t you tell me earlier you had another appointment today? I suggest you go on and get ready for that. You can’t go to your new position looking like something out of my back kitchen. Go on and get ready.”
“But I don’t have to be there till this afternoon.”
Miss Joyce shooed her away. “Afternoon will be here soon enough.”
Her niece’s brows drew together but she held her tongue, then turned to Kellen. “Well, Suit, it seems I must now apologize and take my leave. Looks like you’re more than just a handsome man in an off-weather suit. For that, I’m sorry. It was nice to meet you and I thank you for whatever compliment my aunt doesn’t think is worthy of sharing with me at this time.”
Once again, Kellen watched as she turned on those boots and made her retreat. He tried his best to frown but found it increasingly hard since his frown was at war with the smile that was trying to break out after she’d called him handsome.
Chapter 4
Persuasion
By the time Kellen was close to his grandparents’ place—now, he supposed it was just his grandmother’s place—nervousness was licking at the back of his neck again. Driving up the winding hill to the old colonial-style home, he was filled with a sense of dread that he hadn’t felt since being a young boy dropped off there for the first time without his parents after the accident.
He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat as a feeling of loneliness he hadn’t felt in going on twenty years captured him anew. It was way too easy for that switch to flip and his mind to go off on a memory trip to places he didn’t want it to be. Suddenly, he wasn’t the man he was now, but the young boy he was all those years ago who would visit with his parents on their summer and holiday trips to Sugar Lake before the accident. Hand in hand, he’d be with his father as both his grands would rush out to meet them with welcoming smiles. Kellen let out a sigh and shook his head. If he didn’t want to face the house without his grandfather’s presence, how must his grandmother feel being in the house without him? How was she dealing with this big house all alone when even he didn’t want to really face it? Kellen gave his head another shake and told himself he was being foolish. He wasn’t that young boy anymore. He was a grown man now. A grown man with an adult’s responsibilities, and he should be able to face death and loss and all of that head on. He snorted to himself. It was so long ago he should be over it or at the very least past it enough for it to be just a fleeting shadow.
He let out a breath and forced a smile that was more like a grimace, but he hoped relaxed his features as he shook his shoulders. Time to get to business. Today he was back home to talk some sense into his wily grandmother. Home and sense, Kellen mentally repeated. He needed to focus on that. His grandma had to see that he was right. It was time for Kilborn Properties to embrace the future and move forward. Forget looking back and reminiscing about the past. It was time to let shadows go and do what they do: stay behind you if you were moving in the right direction, and if the RPG deal went through as he planned, they would definitely be headed that way. If not, Kilborn Properties would stay stagnant and possibly get swept off the map entirely.
As he drove down the winding road, he noted the familiar scent of the air thick with the smell of moss from the oaks. The road soon gave way to the straightaway and the view of the regal old home. Kellen couldn’t help but smile as he thought about the old colonial that was his grandfather’s pride. A pride that was tinged with a certain amount of pain over owning a piece of land passed down to him from a dark history. Being of mixed heritage, half black, half white, living in the South, his grandfather was a man who knew what it was like to live life with one foot in two worlds. Clearly black, so he was never fully accepted by white Georgia society, but born with enough pedigree, money, and passed down land to not be dismissed straight out. Henry Kilborn was never quite black enough and certainly nowhere near white enough to comfortably traverse life in the sleepy Southern town. So, he did what he could and made his own rules. Henry Kilborn broke convention as soon as he could, and Kellen supposed one of those first acts of rule-breaking was his grandfather romancing his non-Southern, unconventional grandmother, a singer and showgirl, while on leave during his enlistment, and marrying her practically on the spot. Kellen wondered if his grandfather knew that after their one whirlwind weekend together, when he asked her to marry him right then and there and come back with him to Sugar Lake, Georgia, that she was the spitfire she was, that they’d last all the years they did, and that in the end she’d be left here, in the big house all alone.
Kellen made his way around the circular driveway to the front of the house and cut the ignition. He took in the sudden silence as his car went quiet. All he could hear was the sound of trees rustling in the breeze and the occasional bird chirping. There wasn’t a neighbor for at least a mile in either direction. That was the beauty of life out on Sugar Lake. Sure, it was getting a bit crowded on the country club side of the lake, but here, all the serenity and charm of country living still remained. Not for the first time he wondered what RPG would mean to that serenity. But that wasn’t a place he could go either. It wasn’t as if he could stop that progress even if he wanted to. It was counterintuitive to his goals, and if they didn’t sell to RPG, then surely some other property owners would.
Grabbing his bag and the treats from Goode’N Sweet, he made his way up the front stairs debating on using his key or pressing the doorbell when, as if on cue, his grandmother answered his inner thoughts and the door swung open.
“Well, it took you long enough to get here; you left Goode ’N Sweet a full twenty-five minutes ago,” his grandmother said.
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Kellen looked around above his grandmother’s head, pretending he didn’t see her. He waved his hands. “I hear a voice and it sounds like my grandma, but it can’t be her because I don’t feel any hug and I haven’t received any kisses.” He stepped back and made a big show of looking at the door. “Maybe I’m at the wrong house?”
His grandmother came forward with a swat on his arm. “How’s that for a greeting?” she said. “I swear, boy, you must always be a smart alec. I was on pins and needles waiting for you to get here. Then you go and linger at Goode ’N Sweet for Lord knows how long. Why, it took all I had not to get in my car and pull you out of there.” She gave him a hard stare. “What made you stay over there so long?”
Kellen suddenly felt slightly guilty over the question and couldn’t put his finger on why. “Grandma, it’s early. I stayed to sit and eat and let you sleep in. I didn’t expect you to be keeping these types of morning hours. And how is it you knew as soon as I made it into town? What, you have some sort of a town alert system out there at the city limits? Geez, Grandma. I don’t know what’s quicker, Twitter or the town grapevine.”
His grandmother gave her head a shake. “Don’t you worry about how I get my information. Just know that I get it. Now, come on in here,” she said, her voice lighter as she looked up at him, a smile hinting at the corner of her mouth as her eyes brightened.
Kellen followed his grandmother into the house, dropping his bag in the foyer and only glancing briefly at the formal sitting room on the right and living room on the left that pretty much always stayed in the same pristine condition. He made his way straight through toward the back of the house to the kitchen.
Though the house still had all the original historic land markings, the essentials had thankfully been updated, with the kitchen having been updated the most. The best part of this room was the oversize windows and the skylight added by his grandfather, making it one of the brightest rooms in the house and Kellen’s favorite spot to hang out. Kellen placed the box of treats from Goode ’N Sweet on the center island. His grandma looked at the box suspiciously, then gave a shrug. “Well, I see that you didn’t come empty handed, but with bribes.” She shook her head. “You’ve got so much of your granddad in you, boy.” She laughed. “But you know that just like him, I can tell exactly what your ulterior motives are with one glance, and sweet treats won’t get you anywhere? Not that I’m not grateful.” She turned then to grab a couple of plates from the cabinet behind her, reaching up on her toes, and Kellen shook his head, marveling over so much spunk in such a little package.
Too Sweet to Be Good Page 5
