by Wendy Vella
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THANK YOU!
SNEAK PEEK
OTHER BOOKS BY WENDY VELLA
HOW SWEET IT IS
By
Wendy Vella
At sixteen Willow Harper learned a few valuable life lessons that molded her into the uptight, commitment-phobic woman she is today. Determined to have the security she sorely lacked as a child, Willow’s sole focus is on furthering her career. No time for love, lust or romance - Willow is All Business. So when a chance to secure her future means a trip to secluded Lake Howling, Oregon, she leaps at the opportunity. Sure, it isn’t New York City, but Willow’s only planning on being there a few days, then she’ll be back to the safety and anonymity of the city. But when the very man who’s been haunting her fantasies for years appears in Lake Howling, suddenly Willow’s carefully planned strategy is in tatters.
Buster Griffin is sexy, brooding and infuriating, yet somehow has the entire small town’s inhabitants wrapped around his little finger. He’s made it clear he won’t be playing by Willow’s rules, and now it’s not only her career that’s in jeopardy, it’s her heart too.
Because Buster won’t accept anything less than a complete takeover of Willow, and Willow’s terrified of giving up control.
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How Sweet It Is, is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
How Sweet It Is, published by Wendy Vella
Copyright © 2015 Wendy Vella
ISBN: 978-0-9941157-5-1
DEDICATION
This book is for the newest member of our tribe.
Welcome to the family Andy. Love you always little man.
Aunty Wendy xx
CHAPTER ONE
“Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Sheriff,” Willow Harper said through the small opening above her driver’s door window. “Is there a problem with entering Lake Howling?”
“No problem, ma’am. I’m just advising people that the conditions are about to get a whole lot worse, and to show caution if you’re leaving anytime soon.”
Small puffs of white accompanied these words, and the blast of cold air coming in her window told Willow the temperature was colder here than in Brook.
“I plan to leave tomorrow, Sheriff. Will that be a problem?”
He thought about that for a while, his blue eyes steady on hers. He was a big man, wrapped up in a thick brown jacket. A hat was pulled low over his eyebrows. The word SHERIFF was on the band in yellow letters.
“That would depend on the weather, ma’am. We’ll just have to consider that option for you in the morning.”
He made it sound like he’d personally make sure to check the weather and let her know his findings, which was nice, considering she was pretty much invisible where she’d come from.
“Thank you, Sheriff. I will show caution, I promise.” Willow quickly raised the window and drove into the town of Lake Howling, Oregon.
It was surprisingly busy, with motor homes and cars lining the street. After she’d found a parking spot, Willow opened the driver’s door to check she was within the lines, so no other car would park too close and put a scratch on her rental.
Then she rubbed her tired eyes. Four hours ago, she’d left Brook thinking the journey to Lake Howling would only take three. Icy roads had forced her to drive slower than she normally would, and now her neck was sore and her eyes were gritty.
The mirror told her she still looked neat, and the bun at her nape was still secure. Even though they were for reading, Willow slipped on her glasses. They made her look businesslike and gave her confidence, so she wore them when she was seeing clients. She closed her bag, pulled on her gloves, gathered up her briefcase and climbed out. A gust of wind sliced through her sensible gray suit, so she quickly opened the back door, took her coat off the hanger, and slipped it on.
Willow looked briefly up the snow-lined main street of Lake Howling as she locked the sedan. It was a picturesque town, and there were plenty of people enjoying the beauty as they looked in store windows or walked up the street.
As Christmas was only two weeks away, trees decorated the windows, their little colored lights in various shapes brightening the gray day. She saw gift shops, a general store called The Roar, and her accomodation for the evening, The Howler. There were plenty of quaint little stores she’d probably investigate if she had time before heading back to New York.
The lake sat to the left, the surface appearing almost silver as the wind ruffled the water like a hand stroking a cat’s fur. The redwoods stood to the right, tall and proud, watching over the small town as they’d done for hundreds of years. She’d grown up in a small community like this. Everyone knew your name, and your good and bad traits, but she’d left that and her innocence behind long ago.
The sidewalk was slippery and in her high-heeled boots wasn’t easy to navigate, but she reached her destination safely. The Hoot Café was where she would meet a man, get his signature and close the deal that would change her life for the better.
Michael Howe, her boss, had lured her to his realty company with the promise of a partnership many months ago, but every time she’d questioned him about that, he’d said she needed to prove herself. One week ago he’d finally relented, telling Willow that if she secured this deal, then the partnership was hers.
Finally she could stop struggling to meet her mortgage payments. Willow quickly found her antacid tablets as her stomach began to churn. The stack of bills waiting for her in New York would totally deplete her bank account, and without this pay increase in her future, she had no way of replenishing it. She’d overextended herself, believing the partnership would happen sooner, and had struggled ever since. She had to succeed here; failure was not an option.
Pushing open the door, she stepped inside the toasty warm interior, then paused to inhale deeply. The aroma was a delicious combination of coffee and baking and had her mouth watering in seconds. Breakfast had been hours ago, and she’d had a few snacks on the road but nothing substantial. She scanned the display case when she arrived at the counter; the selection wasn’t huge, but the food looked good. Two domed glass containers caught her eye, both filled with muffins. The first sign read: Mystery Muffin. Take your best guess. Get the ingredients right and it’s on the house. The second sign had her eyes widening. Apple and caramel. She’d eaten a muffin like that every day for twelve months. Bending lower, she sniffed, and the scent took her straight back to Café Gryphon. Maybe she’d get lucky and find good coffee and food here.
“Good morning,” she said when no one appeared to serve her.
“Right with you.” The voice came from behind a wall.
The place had a nice feel, decorated in light colors. The walls held lovely prints of the local scenery and the floors brilliant splashes of color in cheerful woven rugs. Around a wood stove sat comfortable chairs that were occupied by a man with two children. Two of the other tables held customers.
A window showcased the lake and the snowcapped mountains beyond, and for the first time in many months, she felt the urge to pick up her pencils and sketch the beautiful scenery. Willow made her way to a table, pulled out a chair, and placed her briefcase on it, then removed her coat and gloves before heading back to the counter. Still no one had come to serve her.
“Could I have some service?” she said, this time louder. She didn’t like waiting, and saw no reason to in this instance, as she was the only person at the counter.
“Yeah, yeah. Said I was coming, didn’t I?”
Not the best customer service, but then she was in the middle of nowhere.
“What can I get you?”
She recognized the man walking toward her instantly. He took a bit longer, but by the time he reached her he’d remembered her face too.
“Apple and caramel muffin and a skinny latte, right?”
“Y-yes.” Willow took a step backward before she could stop herself. It was him. This man had served her for twelve months. Twelve months she’d lusted after him, and they had only exchanged a total of five words every morning for a year, simply because she hadn’t been able to say anything more. He’d tried, talking to her about the weather and if she’d like to try something different that day, but Willow had rarely responded, so he’d given up.
“I never got that,” he said, leaning one muscled arm on the counter. “I mean, you ate a muffin that had more calories in it than everything else I had in the café, yet you always ordered a skinny latte.”
Willow couldn’t breathe. Her lungs had seized and all the saliva in her mouth had dried up. Dear God, it was him. Her mind tried to take in that fact as she felt the debilitating shyness that she’d always felt in his company grip her again.
“I guess it’s your preference,” he added, standing upright again, as if her inability to speak was entirely normal. “So, what’s the deal, New York? You’re a long way from home.”
“I… ah…” Willow tried to force the words past her stiff lips.
“You good?” He leaned over the counter and stared into her eyes. “You look kind of strange.”
“No. I mean y-yes. I’m in excellent health, thank you.” She’d always likened his eyes to the color of dried sage, green with a hint of gray. He had indecently long lashes and a big, solid body that had made him look out of place behind the counter in Café Gryphon, but as soon as he started working, that thought was dispelled. His elegance in the kitchen had quite literally taken her breath away the first time she’d watched him.
“If you want your usual,” he said as if she’d been in here yesterday, “then you’ll have to wait while I wrestle with the coffee machine first.”
Willow briefly closed her eyes to break contact and regroup. When she opened them, she focused on his chin. “I came here to speak with Aramis James Griffin, if he’s here.” She managed to find the calm she was known for, and had taken years of her life to finally perfect. She was a businesswoman; she didn’t stutter or blush.
“Why do you want him?”
His eyes suddenly narrowed as he braced two large arms on the counter, and Willow sensed the temperature had just dropped a few degrees. She instinctively looked at his right arm, where the sleeve of his white t-shirt rose, showing her the black ink of his tattoo. She’d only caught glimpses of it, and had desperately wanted to see more.
“I have some papers I need him to sign, if you could please direct me to him.” She kept her tone cool and professional. Experience had taught her that composure won in most situations, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted now, when so much was at stake.
His eyes held hers for a few tense seconds before running slowly over her face and down her body. She knew what he found: the same woman he’d seen every day in New York. Brown hair twisted in a neat bun, tailored clothes, and high heels, usually black, though today she was wearing boots. Nothing to excite him…or any man, for that matter, which was just the way Willow wanted it.
“You’ve been directed.”
“Pardon?” Willow took a moment to understand what he’d said. “You…you’re Aramis James Griffin?” She hadn’t meant to sound disbelieving, but she had.
“You have a problem with that, New York?” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer.
“Willow,” she said quickly, then pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Or Ms. Harper, if you prefer.” She couldn’t believe she’d watched this man for so long, and had thought he was a staff member working in the Gryphon Café when, in fact, he was the owner.
“If the reason you’re here, Ms. Harper, is to follow up on a conversation I had with someone from Howe Realty, then I’m sorry, but you’ve had a wasted trip.” His eyes went from the card in his hand to her face.
Then the man whose name she hadn’t known until a few seconds ago turned his back on her, presenting those fine shoulders, and walked away.
“Oh, but—”
“We’re closed!” he roared.
Willow wondered what she was supposed to do now as she watched him disappear around a corner. Her head wasn’t processing thoughts with its usual speed and accuracy. In fact, she felt as if someone had filled it with thick syrup and stuck them all together. She counted slowly to twenty, then tried to find the words she wanted to say. Seconds later she’d managed to retrieve a few she could turn into a reasonable conversation.
“Mr. Griffin.” She pitched her voice so he could hear. “I only want to have a word with you to discuss the offer I have with me for Café Gryphon.”
“No!”
“Could I prevail on you to make me a coffee before I go?” Willow tried again as she battled the panic inside her. If she could get him to come out and talk to her, he’d see what a good offer it was. “And something to eat? It was a long drive from Brook,” she added, raising her voice to be heard.
“There’s a general store in town. I’m sure they’ll have something in a package.”
Willow was suddenly revising every dream and opinion she’d ever had about this man. She’d put on four pounds because of him. Every day she had sat in the same seat, the one that was at the perfect angle just to watch him work. She’d imagined so many things about him, envisaged so many scenarios, and now she knew none of them were true. He wasn’t a struggling artist living in someone’s spare bedroom, or a doctor in his last year of med school who’d worked in the café so he could eat one good meal a day. There was no grandmother he visited once a week, taking her a favorite treat. There would be no silly, happy ending where he suddenly looked at Willow, really looked, and realized she was the woman he’d always loved.
Willow knew it wasn’t justified or rational to feel as if he’d let her down, but she felt it just the same. He’d been her wicked fantasy, the one thing in her life that she didn’t ruthlessly control, the one pair of pink socks in a drawer of gray ones. She’d never been able to stop herself from seeing him every day. Almost like a user, she’d needed her fix, and this man had been it.
I gained four pounds because of him!
“Asshole,” she muttered, and then slapped a hand over her mouth as she looked around her. The two tables of customers had left, and the father was putting coats on his children as he too prepared to face the cold once more. He wasn’t glaring at her, so he couldn’t have heard her curse. Willow didn’t normally speak without thinking, nor did she curse… Well, hardly ever. In fact, Willow Harper rarely did anything that wasn’t the right thing to do. Her personal reputation was pristine, her business reputation without fault… and her social life nonexistent, she added silently.
“I wish to be served, Mr. Griffin.”
“Funny things, wishes. They rarely come true.”
Willow snapped her teeth together to stop herself from saying anything else she’d regret. No one knew that wishes didn’t come true better than she. However, she didn’t want this man reminding her, especially as she’d had a few of them involving him. The combination of frustration and pan
ic was making the leash she kept on her temper slip. It was something else she’d worked hard to control because she’d learned long ago that anger didn’t help any situation.
“Let’s discuss this rationally, Mr. Griffin. Look over the offer I’m holding and if it’s not to your liking I can begin negotiations.” Willow used her no-nonsense voice. She was good at negotiations; there weren’t many who were better. That alone was why Michael had lured her to his company. She had sealed deals with persistence and the ability to read people that others had walked away from.
“Go home, New York.”
Willow waited for the father and his children to leave, then tried again.
“Mr. Griffin, I understand my arrival here has come as a surprise, but I assure you that were you to look over this extremely generous offer, you would see—”
“I don’t want to sell!”
Willow looked at the wall from behind which Aramis James Griffin was shouting at her, and wondered if it would just be easier to walk out there and join him. As she was about to do so, the door opened behind her.
“Pie, Griffin, stat!”
Willow turned to watch two men walk into the café. The first, the one who’d spoken, was wearing a woolen hat pulled low to cover his ears and a black jacket with the collar raised. He looked big and vital, his dark eyes snapping with energy as they surveyed the cabinets of food.
“Hey, Domestic Goddess, get your butt out here now! I need coffee!”
The second man had a slow southern drawl, and he was equally handsome. His black hair peeked out from a Longhorns cap that confirmed his origins, and he was wearing a thick caramel shearling jacket with brown wool lining. Bright blue eyes were studying the display case as he drew near.
“Go to hell!”
Willow couldn’t help it; she gasped at Aramis James Griffin’s words, drawing the eyes of both men.
“Pay him no mind, sweetheart. He’s just sore because I kicked his ass last night at cards.” The Texan then offered her a smile that literally dropped Willow’s heart to her toes, which just went to show how unsettled she was. Men, even handsome ones, didn’t have that effect on her. Except the one in the kitchen.
