The Story of Us: Sweetbriar Cove: Book 11

by Melody Grace

  “I’m fine,” Luke lied.

  “Sure you are. And pick me up some of those truffle things while you’re busy making a fool of yourself.”

  Luke didn’t argue this time. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, but he couldn’t stay away. He crossed the street determinedly, his anticipation rising. So what if their life-changing meeting hadn’t left so much as a dent in her memory? That just meant he had a second chance to make a first impression. This time, he’d sweep her off her feet.

  Luke saw Natalie’s stool wobble and picked up his pace.

  Never mind swooning, he just needed to stop her from falling flat on her face.

  Natalie was in meltdown—literally. The carpenter she’d hired had gone AWOL, a client had just canceled a big order, and she’d accidentally left the door to the walk-in refrigerator open overnight, melting everything on the front shelves into pans of goopy, chocolatey mess. Now, she was trying in vain to fix her window display, but the gold-dipped leaves she’d made wouldn’t stay in place. If she could just reach a little higher and get the wire fixed . . .

  Natalie reached up on her tiptoes just as the stool beneath her skidded.

  No!

  She pin-wheeled her arms desperately to try and keep her balance, but it was no use. She tumbled in a freefall, bracing herself to hit the ground—

  “Whoa there!”

  Instead of a painful landing, Natalie found herself caught at the last minute by strong, manly arms. She caught her breath, startled—and then promptly lost it again when she looked up into a pair of familiar brown eyes.

  “It’s you,” she managed, and Luke broke into a smile.

  “I thought that was my line.”

  Natalie barely had time to register the warm, solid feel of his body against hers before he set her down gently on her feet again and stepped back. “This is your place?” he asked, looking around. “I love these older buildings, all the original beams.”

  “It’s a work in progress,” she said, feeling flustered all over again. What was it about this guy that made her skin prickle hot with awareness? “Umm, thanks, for the save.”

  “No problem.” Luke gave her another smile, easy and sweet as fresh-made caramel, and for a moment, Natalie felt dazed.

  “I . . . Can I help you?” she blurted, darting back towards the counter to put a safe distance between them. “I have chocolates, gift bags, whatever you’re looking for. A present for your girlfriend, maybe?” she couldn’t help asking—then cringed inside.

  How much more obvious could she be?

  Luckily, Luke didn’t seem to notice. “No girlfriend,” he replied casually. He sauntered closer and leaned against the counter, surveying the display. “What about those?” he asked, nodding to the ruined pans of melted truffles. The individual treats she’d shaped in special molds had all blended into one big goopy solid layer, swirled with strawberry filling.

  “Oh, no, those are a mistake,” Natalie said. “I was just about to throw them out.”

  “Looks like a pretty delicious mistake to me,” he replied. “And if they’re heading for the trash . . . I hate to see things go to waste. We all have to do our part to save the environment, right?” He gave a rakish grin, and Natalie couldn’t help but smile back.

  “OK,” she agreed, setting a pan in front of him. “But don’t judge!”

  Luke broke off a corner and took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. All without saying a word. His face was unreadable, and Natalie found herself leaning closer, waiting for his reaction.

  Finally, when she was just about ready to explode, Luke gave a low whistle.

  “Damn, if this is what counts as a mistake, then please, keep messing up.”

  Natalie exhaled in relief—and pride. “Well, that’s a silver lining for today, at least,” she said, breaking up more pieces and scooping them into a cellophane confectioner’s bag for him.

  “What do you mean?” Luke asked, popping another shard of chocolate into his mouth.

  “Just a few teething problems with the store, that’s all. My last business was a catering company,” she explained. “We just worked out of my friend’s kitchen, so this is my first time dealing with a brick-and-mortar place. I fell in love with the building because it was so old and charming, but . . .”

  “Old and charming equals temperamental,” Luke finished for her with a grin.

  “Exactly!”

  The bell over the door announced another customer, so Natalie went to help her pick out some indulgent bonbons for a dinner party—and a box for herself, too. When she was done, Luke was still browsing, looking at the display of old saucepans and pottery Natalie had crammed on a ledge in the back of the shop.

  “They were my grandmother’s,” she explained. “She’s the one who taught me everything I know about chocolate. I wanted to have a whole wall of shelves to display them properly, but my carpenter isn’t returning my calls.”

  “Break his heart, did you?” Luke asked, teasing.

  Natalie laughed. “No, but I might have been a tiny bit of a perfectionist when it came to the plans.”

  “A high-maintenance woman when it comes to woodwork, I’ll have to remember that,” Luke said, then turned to assess the space. “Hmm, it’s what, fifteen by twelve, twelve and a half?”

  “Um, yes,” Natalie said, surprised.

  “Any pipes or electrical running back there?” Luke tapped the wall.

  “I don’t know . . .” Natalie was confused.

  “Should be simple enough then,” he declared, standing back. “Were you thinking finished wood or paint? I can get you samples of both, but I think a raw wood would look best, maybe stained to match the beams.”

  Natalie blinked.

  “And I’ll need to see those plans,” Luke added, grinning. “So I don’t accidentally make you mad and need to flee the state.”

  She didn’t know what to say. “Listen, it’s very kind of you . . .” Natalie began.

  “Actually, it’s my job,” Luke replied. He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her.

  Luke Kinsella. Fine furniture and restoration.

  “Oh.” Natalie relaxed. “Are you sure? I don’t have much of a budget . . .”

  “I’m sure we can work something out,” he said easily. “I’ll put together a quote. And if you want to throw in a few more of those poor rejected chocolates . . .”

  Natalie laughed. “Well, that part’s easy.” She went back to the counter and finished packing up his candy. She tied off the bag with a length of blue-and-gold ribbon and scored the edges to make them spiral. She presented the bag to Luke with a smile. “Here, on the house.”

  “We’ll call it a deposit.” Luke took it. His hand brushed against hers, and again, Natalie felt that flush of heat radiate from his touch. She looked into his eyes again and wondered why he felt so familiar. She still couldn’t shake this sense of déjà vu . . .

  Luke turned to leave, then bent over to pick something off the floor.

  “You dropped something,” he said, holding out one of her leaf decorations. Natalie looked at him, hand outstretched, and just like that, it all came rushing back.

  Oh, God.

  Natalie’s stomach lurched. It was him! The man who’d found her earring, months ago. She’d been on her way to that costume party, feeling giddy with possibilities, when he’d stopped her in the street to return the lost gem. She’d babbled at him about The Great Gatsby and starting over like some kind of idiot, sharing way too much with a total stranger.

  A stranger who was now standing in front of her, real and solid, and way too handsome.

  “I . . . Umm . . .” Natalie’s brain froze, staring at him. How could a guy like this have slipped her mind? She’d been caught up in a blur of new faces, but still, she wouldn’t have forgotten his warm brown eyes now, even if she’d tried.

  “Are you OK?” he asked slowly.

  “Yes,” she said dumbly. “I just . . . remembered something.”

&nbs
p; Luke looked at her quizzically, then a slow smile began to spread across his face. “You did, huh?” he asked, his voice suddenly low. Intimate.

  Natalie nodded, her skin flushing again. “The summer . . .” she whispered. “My earring . . .” They were alone in the shop, and even with the sun falling warm on the floors, it suddenly felt like that night all over again. The breathless dusk, something shimmering in the air between them. Ready to ignite.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you,” she said, flustered. “I mean, you must think I’m so rude—”

  “I don’t.” Luke’s gaze was steady on hers.

  “Still, I should have . . .” Natalie paused, her thoughts scattered. Should have what? Known that he was the man she’d shared a strange, intense moment with? Their conversation came back to her now, how weighed down he’d seemed, his words edged with a wry kind of regret.

  It’s hard, letting go of the things you thought you wanted . . .

  But Luke didn’t look regretful now. He seemed lighter. Confident. At ease in his own skin.

  “How did it turn out?” she asked. “Letting go.”

  Luke’s mouth curled in an irresistible smile. “Right now? Pretty damn good.”

  Natalie swallowed hard, staring at his lips. For some reason, she couldn’t look away. She suddenly wondered how they would feel against hers . . .

  How he would taste.

  Clearly, her staring was obvious, because Luke wiped at his mouth. “Do I have some chocolate . . . ?” he asked, and Natalie finally dragged her gaze away.

  “No! You’re fine. Just peachy!”

  Peachy?

  “Thanks for, you know, the things,” she blurted, stumbling back. What was she doing, fantasizing about making out with a complete stranger? Romance was the very last thing she needed in her life right now.

  The reminder brought her back down to earth with a thud.

  “My pleasure.” Luke looked amused. “I’ll put that bid together for the shelves, just send me the plans you had in mind.”

  “Will do!” Natalie gave a panicked smile and then bolted back to the safety of the kitchen. She headed straight into the walk-in and leaned against an icy shelf, waiting for her racing heartbeat to slow.

  Thank heavens something in this shop was working right, because she needed some serious cooling off.

  3

  Natalie woke early the next morning, determined not to let herself get distracted again. Because that’s all Luke was, or could ever be: a distraction. She was in no shape to be even thinking about romance or relationships, not when she’d been working so hard to start over, standing on her own two feet this time.

  Sure, he seemed like a nice guy, but they all did. In the beginning. And Natalie didn’t trust herself to be able to tell the difference just yet.

  So, she put all thoughts of Luke—and his tempting smile—aside and focused on what really mattered: turning her little chocolate shop into the thriving business she knew it could be. After brainstorming ideas all night, she leapt out of bed and got started assembling some decadent, delicious gift baskets, full of her favorite treats. Based on the rave reviews she’d gotten at movie night, the town was full of chocolate lovers. She just had to let them know that the shop was ready and waiting to fulfil all their indulgent needs—and what better way than with some freebies?

  Natalie wrapped up warmly against the fall winds and set off around Sweetbriar Cove, delivering the baskets to local businesspeople. She felt like Red Riding Hood, toting them around town in her scarlet woolen hat, but it turned out to be a great way to introduce herself to everyone, and sure enough, they all fell on the goodies with delight.

  “These truffles are amazing!” the woman at the real estate office swooned. “Stanley, come over here and taste!”

  “I also make them with dark, bitter chocolate and cognac,” Natalie said, noting the man’s snazzy tailored suit and the vintage Rolex on his wrist. Now there was a man who clearly liked the finer things in life. “Come by the shop anytime to sample.”

  “A chocolatier,” he said, beaming. “Now this takes me back to my time in Paris. There was a little place on the Rue de la Roquette, they made the most exceptional eclairs . . .”

  “I’m afraid I don’t do pastries,” Natalie said. “But my lavender white-chocolate swirls will take you straight to Provence!”

  “We’ll be there!” the woman, June, declared. She paused a moment, looking Natalie up and down. “I don’t suppose you’re in the market for anything I can help you with? A condo? A man?”

  Natalie thought she’d misheard her for a moment, until she saw the twinkle in June’s eye. Oh. Memories of Luke’s body pressed against her flooded Natalie’s mind, but she pushed the breathless thoughts aside. “Neither at the moment,” she said firmly.

  “Shame, I have a couple of options that would be perfect for you.”

  Natalie didn’t stick around to find out whether she meant apartments or prospective dates. “I’m right across the square, just down Maple Lane,” she said, “Drop by for a visit any time.”

  “Oh, we will!”

  Natalie hitched up her remaining basket and stepped back outside into the brisk, bright morning. People were out in the square, walking their dogs and getting coffee, and there was even a group of seniors doing tai chi in the middle of the green.

  Natalie smiled. It was a long way from the busy downtown streets of Seattle, jammed with traffic and pedestrians, cyclists whooshing by. But she didn’t miss that life at all. Waking up those first nights to the pitch-black quiet had been a change, for sure—no sirens, no cars, no drunken revelers heading home—but now Natalie treasured the calm: nothing but gentle birdsong and the distant waves and—

  CRASH!

  A sudden noise nearby made her startle. She whirled around, her pulse suddenly racing in panic.

  CRASH! CRASH!

  There went another one. It sounded like plates smashing, coming from behind a gate nearby.

  Natalie edged closer, concerned. She didn’t hear yelling, but she wasn’t about to just go about her day and pretend she hadn’t heard. If somebody needed her help . . .

  She tapped on the gate. “Hello?” she called. “Is everything OK?”

  A moment later, it flung open, revealing Mackenzie, wearing a pair of paint-splattered overalls and a brightly printed headscarf. “Hi Natalie,” she said, smiling. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, hi,” Natalie replied shyly. “Sorry, I heard the noise, and just wondered . . .” She trailed off, feeling awkward.

  “If I was trashing the place?” Mackenzie finished for her, not at all awkward. She grinned. “Sorry if I startled you. Jake keeps telling me to post signs. ‘Warning: broken pottery, carry on!’ ”

  Natalie exhaled in relief. “So, you’re OK?”

  “I’m great. Just smashing some of the broken stock. Want to try?” she asked, already ushering Natalie through. “It’s very therapeutic.”

  Curious, Natalie followed her through to the small backyard, crammed with terracotta urns, mismatched patio furniture, and a strange brick structure against one wall.

  “My kiln,” Mackenzie explained. “It’s where I fire all my pottery. But there’s always breakage, and people knocking things over in the store, so . . .” She gestured at the far wall, which was scratched and stained and surrounded by heaps of smashed, broken ceramics. “I store it all up and then have a big smashing session.” Mac handed Natalie a bowl with a huge chip in it. “Go crazy.”

  Natalie didn’t know what to say. She lifted the bowl and tossed it towards the wall. It didn’t even make it that far: falling short, it bounced, rolled, and came to a stop beside a small clay sculpture of an owl.

  “Come on, you can do better than that!” Mackenzie laughed. She handed Natalie another piece of pottery, a large serving plate, this time, with a warped edge. “It helps to think of someone you really hate, like the guy who stole your parking spot. Or the woman who said she could get plates just as nice at Crate
and Barrel.”

  Mackenzie grabbed another bowl and hurled it at the wall. SMASH! It exploded in a mess of bright-blue-glazed shards. She let out a whoop of triumph. “Crate and Barrel my ass!”

  Natalie laughed. She was right, it did look fun. “OK, give me another try.”

  “Take your pick!”

  Natalie selected a small bowl with a crack running down the side. She tested the weight in her hand, then drew back her throwing arm like she was back on the high-school softball team again. She didn’t need to search to find her anger, it was right there beneath the surface, locked up tight.

  SMASH!

  “Now you’ve got it!” Mackenzie cheered. “Go again!”

  Natalie hurled a set of plates at the wall in quick succession, her heart pounding with exhilaration as they shattered loudly on the ground. “It feels so naughty,” she laughed. “Like I’m breaking all the rules.”

  “A little rebellion is good for the soul,” Mackenzie agreed. “I spend so much of my time trying not to break anything, it’s nice just to let loose.”

  “These are beautiful,” Natalie said, pausing to look at some of the dishes. The pottery was glazed in bright colors, and some of them had intricate designs hand-painted on the edge. “Even the chipped ones are lovely.”

  “Thank you,” Mackenzie said. “I do sculpture, too, but that’s all weird and abstract. It’s the boats that pay my bills. Boats and fall leaves and serving bowls with tiny Christmas trees on the rim, until I can’t see straight anymore.”

  “I can tell you’re just being modest,” Natalie told her, smiling.

  “Oh, believe me, I’m never modest.” Mac laughed. Then someone called her name from inside, and she sighed. “Want to bet it’s someone asking for more anchor prints?” she asked. “I’m coming!” she called back, and she headed into the store.

  Natalie followed. Inside, there was a messy, colorful studio space, and then the gallery beyond, the shelves arranged with brightly glazed bowls and, sure enough, boat designs as far as the eye could see.