by Addison Cole
“She left so Des and Rick could go on their honeymoon. Why?”
He gently unfolded her arms and said, “Because I’m starting to see a clearer picture of the way Lizza works. She doesn’t like to take credit for the things she does, either.”
“What do you mean, either?”
He waved around the room at her artwork. “Does anything in here have your signature? Your unique stamp? A hidden V somewhere?”
“No, but what does that have to do with Lizza? She signs all of her artwork.”
He lifted one shoulder, thinking that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree, and said, “Maybe nothing.” He guided her hands around his waist.
Amusement rose in her eyes. “Pretty sure of yourself right now?”
“When it comes to you, I’m sure only of myself, but that’s not going to slow me down. Have you ever heard that song that talks about not making things harder than they have to be?”
“Nope.” She smirked and said, “Is this when you sing to me? Because in case you’ve forgotten, I hate sappy stuff.”
“You don’t hate sappy stuff, but since you don’t like to admit that, this is when I suggest we get out of here for the evening. My bike was delivered today. Let’s go for a ride. You can show me your favorite haunts. Let me discover the new you. The you that puts down roots and tried unsuccessfully to forget me.” He brushed his lips over her cheek and felt her breathing quicken as he said, “What do you say, Violet? Want to see if we’re as good together here as we were overseas?”
“My haunts, my bike,” she said without moving a muscle, and he loved seeing her take control.
He slid his hand down her backside, holding her closer as he nipped her earlobe, and she moaned. “I see you’re still a control freak.”
“And I see you’re still pushy,” she said heatedly.
He drew back so he could see the fire in her eyes and said, “I look forward to breaking you of that habit…again.”
THIS IS A mistake, Violet thought as she cruised down the highway toward Harwich with Andre pressed against her back. How was she supposed to concentrate on anything other than how good it felt to be close to him again? Even through her leather jacket his body felt familiar and safe wrapped around hers. She had almost forgotten how much he called her on her crap, too—and how much she liked it. Some guys were all brawn and bullyish tactics. They were cold steel, while Andre was soft, worn leather, the kind she’d wanted to sink into from the first time she’d set eyes on him. His appeal had little to do with how he looked, regardless of the fact that he was insanely hot, and she was totally digging his longer hair, and the ink that reminded him of her. It was the understated strength and confidence he resonated that had drawn her in. His ability to soothe or take control with a single glance, a single sentence. When they’d met he was a busy physician with no time for bull—Trust me or trust me. There is no other option. It had taken him no time to strip her of all her defenses, though he’d done so with such artfulness, she’d never even seen it coming.
As they cruised along one of her favorite stretches of road forty-five minutes from Wellfleet, with woods on both sides and the man she craved like a drug wrapped around her, she was already lost in him. She’d tricked herself into believing they weren’t as real or powerful as they were, but he’d opened the gates, and now those emotions flooded her. She was riding a raging river of Andre, and she wanted to let go of everything that grounded her and give herself over completely.
Holy cow…
He’d done it to her again, and he hadn’t even tried.
As she turned off the road and drove down another narrow street, her mind spinning, her body thrumming, she knew only one thing for sure.
She was not driving home.
She cruised down the one-lane road that led to Common Grounds Coffeehouse. She parked out front of the unassuming café feeling a mix of nerves and relief. Like Justin’s studio, the coffeehouse had become another safe haven, one she’d kept private. Her friends at the inn didn’t even know she went there, but she’d never hidden anything from Andre. Well, until that fateful night when she’d left him behind. She hadn’t thought she was hiding then. She’d thought she was setting him free. The hiding had started only once she’d left, when she’d found the only way to keep her head above water was to keep herself busy enough and bury her feelings deep enough to hide from the thoughts of them that had the power to drown her.
Andre climbed off the bike, looking sexy in dark jeans and a simple white T-shirt beneath his leather jacket. He offered his hand as she climbed off the bike. Habit kept her from immediately accepting his unnecessary, though thoughtful offer, but desire brought her hand to his. It felt strange having him help her from the bike when her entire existence before and after him had been one of never looking for, asking for, or wanting help with a single thing.
He pulled off his helmet and his bangs tumbled to the edge of his brows. He raked his hand through his thick hair, brushing it casually away from his handsome face. As Violet removed her helmet, she wondered how she was going to do this. How could they start over when her heart and body wanted to dive in where they’d left off? She felt exposed and vulnerable, as if he could read her thoughts, and she hated that feeling. But no part of her wanted to run. She had a second chance with the man she loved, and who knew if he’d ever fully trust her again, or what would happen at the end of his stay, but she’d missed him too much to give up a chance at even a few weeks of happiness.
She set her helmet on the bike and reached for his.
“You don’t want to bring them in or lock them up?” he asked.
“No need. It’s not that kind of crowd around here.” She set his helmet beside hers.
As they headed inside, he didn’t take her hand or drape an arm over her shoulder. That made her even more nervous, but she knew this wasn’t going to be easy.
He held the door open as she walked inside, and they were greeted by Elliott Appleton’s broad smile. Elliott was twenty years old, with longish sandy-blond hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a personality that was bigger than life. He also had Down syndrome, and he’d worked at his sister’s coffeehouse for several years, along with several other people with disabilities.
“Violet!” Elliott gave her a high five.
“Hey, handsome. How’s it going?”
Elliott pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose and said, “Great. Are you going to take the mic tonight?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, wondering if she’d have the courage to get up and speak in front of Andre.
Elliott leaned closer and said, “The guy behind you is checking you out. I’ll take care of him.” He stood up taller and glared at Andre.
Violet touched Andre’s arm and said, “It’s okay, El. He’s with me. Andre, meet my friend Elliott, host extraordinaire. He also bakes like a pro.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Andre offered a hand.
Elliott ran a scrutinizing gaze over him as he shook his hand and said, “Violet usually comes alone and leaves alone.”
“Well, I’m honored to be here,” Andre said as he put a hand on Violet’s back.
“Will you be taking the mic tonight?” Elliott asked as he picked up two menus.
“They have an open mic from six to ten every night,” Violet explained. “People get up and read poetry, sing, or sometimes they just chat with the other customers.”
“We call it Say Anything,” Elliott added.
“Ah, I see,” Andre said. “I think I’ll skip it tonight, but maybe another time.”
Gabe, Elliott’s older sister and the owner of Common Grounds, hurried toward them. Her long red hair billowed over the shoulders of her pastel maxi dress. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Vi.” She was a curvy gal with a heart of gold and had a solid three inches on Violet.
“Violet brought a friend,” Elliott informed Gabe as he handed her the menus.
“I see that,” she said with a smile. “I’m Gabe, the owne
r of this joint and Elliott’s older sister.”
“I’m Andre. Nice to meet you.”
Gabe motioned for them to follow her. Andre leaned closer to Elliott and said, “Violet’s lucky you’re looking out for her.”
Elliott grinned proudly, and Violet melted a little inside.
Gabe led them toward Violet’s usual table just outside the open doors to the patio. Flames danced from the masonry fire pit, and several familiar faces sat around tables listening to Gabe’s brother Rod playing the guitar.
“Hey, Vi!” Rod called out as he played.
She waved.
“That’s my brother Rod,” Gabe said to Andre. “Live-in entertainment.”
“Hey, what does that make us?” Cory Blaze asked as he pushed to his feet and came around the table, where he was sitting with two more of Violet’s friends.
“Groupies,” Gabe teased.
Cory grinned and embraced Violet. His shaggy dark hair brushed against her cheek as he said, “Got something good for us tonight?”
Violet had been known to take the mic and ramble about whatever happened to be on her mind. “I might skip it, actually. Cory, this is Andre. Andre, these are my friends Cory, Steph, and Dwayne. Cory’s a glassblower, Steph writes poetry and runs an herbal shop in Brewster, and Dwayne—”
“Needs no introduction,” Dwayne said. He was Justin’s cousin, a stocky ex-Marine with closely shorn blond hair and the ability to size a person up in two seconds flat, though you wouldn’t know it by his laid-back demeanor. From what Justin and Steph had shared with Violet, the suicide of Dwayne’s younger sister, Ashley, had changed him. He acted like he didn’t care about much of anything, though they all knew that wasn’t true.
Dwayne eyed Andre and said, “How’s it hanging?”
“If you don’t say something like to the left or long and hard, he’ll ask again,” Steph warned. “So please say something like that.”
“Hey, I’m just being your wingman, sweet cakes.” Dwayne winked at Steph. “Wouldn’t want you wasting your time with men who aren’t well endowed enough for you.” He lifted his cup as if toasting, then took a drink.
“Ignore him. He’s like a tick you can’t pull off. He’s been attached to my hip since I was six, and I have a feeling he’ll still be there when I’m sixty,” Steph said as she came to Violet’s side. She was a curvy brunette with big brown eyes and purple streaks in her hair. “How was Desiree’s wedding?”
“The wedding was gorgeous, but Lizza caused a headache, as usual.” She glanced at Andre and said, “But it’s all good now.”
Steph wrinkled her nose. “That stinks about Lizza, but I’m glad things are cool. Did you see Rowan inside? He was looking for you last night.”
“No. He must have left already. Is everything okay?” Violet asked.
“Yeah. He just wanted to talk about Joni.”
“Joni is our friend Rowan’s daughter,” Violet explained to Andre. “He lost his girlfriend to cancer when Joni was a baby and he’s raising her alone. Joni is amazing, but she’s an anxious kid. I’ve been working with her, using art to try to ease her frustrations.” Art had always been a big part of Violet’s life. When she was little it had given her something to focus on other than their next move.
He smiled and said, “I’m glad to see you’re still working with kids.”
“I’ve never stopped working with children,” Violet said, then to Steph she said, “Andre’s a pediatrician and an artist. We met overseas a couple of years ago.”
“Awesome. I like you already,” Steph said with a wide smile. “We’re all pretty kid-and-art-centric around here.”
Steph went back to her seat and Gabe sidled up to Andre as they headed for their table and said, “Everyone wants a piece of Vi.”
“I don’t blame them.” He shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it on the back of his chair.
When he moved to help Violet with her jacket Gabe raised her brows in approval. “Must be someone special,” she whispered.
Andre pulled out a chair for Violet and hung her coat on the back of it, then sat beside her.
“What can I get you to drink?” Gabe asked.
“The usual,” Violet said.
Andre set his warm dark eyes on Gabe and said, “I’ll have whatever she’s having. Thank you.”
“I like a man who knows what he wants,” Gabe said, before leaving them to look over the menus.
“You don’t even know what I ordered,” Violet said.
“Don’t I?” He reached for her hand and said, “Why are you so nervous?”
She bit back the urge to lie and say she wasn’t, but there was no use denying it. It may have been years since they’d seen each other, but he knew her, the real her.
“Andre.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to do this. How do we start over when we were so close before? I have no idea if you’ll ever trust me again, and that makes me feel like I’m walking a tightrope—”
He pressed his lips to hers, silencing her worries with a sweet, reassuring kiss. It did the trick, calming her nerves and reminding her just how good he was for her. As their lips parted, he pushed his fingers into her hair just above her ear and brushed his thumb over her cheek. He’d held her face like that so many times, she wanted to stay right there, gazing into his eyes forever. She didn’t want to think about hurt of the past, or if he’d ever trust her again, because the way he was looking at her, touching her, made her feel like everything was exactly as it should be.
“Oh…” she said under her breath. “You and your magic frickery mess with my head every time we’re together.”
“My magic frickery? It was a kiss, Violet,” he said in a low voice. “A kiss to tell you we’re on this rediscovery tightrope together. Let’s just be ourselves and take it one step at a time.”
“Easier said than done.”
When Gabe returned with their drinks, Andre leaned closer and said, “Ginger chai. ‘Anything else is either overdone or not worth the time it takes to drink.’”
You remembered.
“Hey, that’s what Violet says about it, too,” Gabe said as she set their drinks down. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu, or do you want Vi’s usual for dinner, too?”
“I think I can skip the fish tacos,” he said with a cocky grin.
Gabe laughed. “Where have you been hiding him, Vi? The guy obviously knows you well.”
“I don’t know all her secrets yet,” Andre said. “But I’ve got a month to try to weasel them out of her. I’ll have a chicken panini with swiss and a side of fries, please.”
“A month, huh? Guess we’ll either be seeing a lot of you, or a lot less of Violet.” Gabe winked and walked away.
“You have changed,” Andre said. “When we were at the clinic, you were edgier. Now you’re a social butterfly.”
She scoffed. “If you said that to Desiree or the others, they’d laugh in your face. They don’t even know I hang out here.”
“No? With all those friends at the inn who clearly care about you, why have you kept this place a secret?”
“I don’t know. Why do I do anything?” she said, hoping to discourage more questions, although the truth was, he made her want to figure the answers out. But that came with its own dose of fear.
“That’s what I intend to find out.” He sipped his drink and said, “Your ginger chai is better.”
“Thanks.”
His eyes found hers again, and he said, “What do you usually do during open mic night?”
“I don’t know. Whatever comes to mind at the moment.”
“Such as…?”
She shrugged noncommittally and glanced around the patio, remembering what he’d said at the gallery about rediscovering each other. It wasn’t fair for her to avoid his questions, but revealing her truths had never been easy. As Rod played another song and a woman got up to sing, Violet mustered the courage to try to at least answer some of them.
“You asked why I hav
en’t told anyone about this place,” she said softly. “When I first decided to stay here with Desiree, I was pretty much a mess. I was out riding one night and I saw a food truck on the side of the road with a flat tire, and Rowan, the guy Steph mentioned, standing there with a casted arm. I pulled over to help him out, and as I changed the tire we got to talking and ended up here. I don’t know if you noticed the sign above the door? The one that reads COMMON GROUNDS, LEAVE YOUR BIASES AT THE DOOR? Well, that spoke to me before I even walked inside. Then Rowan introduced me around, and I sort of fell in love with him, Gabe, Rod, and Elliott. They’re just so warm and welcoming, and their hearts are in the right place.” She looked down at their teacups and said, “They don’t serve alcohol here, which means the people you meet aren’t hiding behind it, and as I got to know their friends—Steph, Cory, Dwayne, and the others—this became my go-to place.”
“They obviously love you, but I still don’t understand why you haven’t brought your other friends here.”
“Do you always have to ask such hard questions?” she said with a smile. “When I’m at the inn, I have all these conflicting emotions. I love it there, and you know I love Desiree, but she’s the reason I came back and the reason I stayed and helped bring the inn to life again, all of which is great. But she and the inn are also a constant reminder about leaving you behind and the hurt I caused both of us. I don’t have that here, and I guess I’ve tried to keep my two worlds separate.”
“I guess I can understand that.”
“Thank you. That makes me feel a little less guilty for doing it. From the moment I walked in here, I felt like I belonged in a way I didn’t at first with Desiree or our friends at Bayside. I just fit.”
“Which you don’t often feel,” he said thoughtfully. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I remember that, too.”
“And I remember how you fit in with everyone, no matter what their backgrounds were or how they acted.”
“Because I was groomed for that, Vi. You were left to fend for yourself as the newcomer in foreign lands every few months and had to teach yourself to be resilient and resourceful so you didn’t fall apart like many young girls would have. From what you told me, you were more of an adult at sixteen than I was at twenty-five. It’s one of the things that makes you so special.”
