“I got sidetracked. Bit of a long story, but I was at NYC in a three-year writing program when my mom got sick. My sister was just married, so I left school to take care of her.” He released a long breath. “My poor Mama fought a long hard battle but the damn cancer eventually won out.” He blinked against the sun. “Two years of chemo and radiation, and new experimental treatments, but nothing worked. During that time I wrote Dangerous Liaisons.”
“I’m sorry about your mom.” She touched his wrist. “But it seems something good came out of the time spent with her. Right?”
“I suppose. After Mom passed, I married my high school sweetheart and we moved away from Charleston into the city.” He tilted the brim of his hat for more shade. “Got the job in advertising, and it paid pretty good, so I just stayed. Too long, I’m afraid.”
“Why? Can’t be that bad, is it?”
“Not for some people, but there is no joy in it. I have a shot at writing this play, and I need to take it before it’s too late.” He bent to pick up a piece of driftwood that Max was sniffing around. He gave it a good toss. The dog chased after it, his short Corgi legs kicking up sand.
“I understand having a dream and not wanting to give it up. I had one myself. Dancing was the only life I ever wanted. Now I can say that I achieved my goal, lived my dream, but sometimes dreams don’t match your expectations. They can end up disappointing. Or in my case, a nightmare.”
“Wasn’t that bad, I hope.”
“Why do you think I came running home?”
“Is that what you did?” Max had delivered his prize back at his owner’s feet, so Chase bent once again to pick up the wood piece and toss it toward the sea. The dog ran into the frothy waves lapping along the shore, shook his head, splashing and barking, before giving up his attack on the water and going after the driftwood.
“Pretty much. Found out I was pregnant. The father-to-be was my manager. We toured together. He forgot to mention that he was still married to wife number three.”
“Nice guy.” Chase shook his head, and then looked at her. “Does he know?”
“What? That I lost the baby? No, and he’s not going to. I don’t want to give him a reason to rejoice.” She shifted her weight, feeling uncomfortable. Conversation was getting way too personal. “But we weren’t talking about me. We were talking about you and your dreams. I’m glad you’re doing this. If you never try, you’d never know if you might have been good. And that my friend, would eat away at your soul. Right?”
“I’ve been telling myself that for some time now. My ad job awaits.” He lifted his hat and mopped the sweat from his forehead again. “But it will kill me to go back into that office and have to work with some of these guys. A lot of them are pricks.”
“Must be other agencies you can work for.” She stepped away as the Corgi shook his wet furry body, spraying them both. He glanced at the piece of wood, and back at her. She smiled at the dog’s playful antics but didn’t want to play fetch.
“They’re all the same. Think they’re so clever and can get away with anything. Many of them do. The women are very glamorous, of course. And just as cut-throat.”
“Sounds like show business,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So how’s the writing going? Are you happy with it?”
“So far?” He grimaced. “I’ve written another forty pages. Gives me fifty pages of crap.”
“Yikes.” She grimaced. “I’m not a big reader myself. Can’t seem to sit still long enough. But I do like stories. I express my feelings, and have a story in mind while I dance.”
“Can’t imagine not reading. When I was a boy, I was a pirate, Tom Sawyer, a cowboy, and a thief.” He laughed. “We will see if I’m a playwright.”
“You’ve written before. What’s the difference with this one?”
“I’m still trying to figure out the plot.” He reached for the driftwood Max gripped in his mouth. “You see, I ran into an old buddy from NYC. We were in the drama program together. He’s doing pretty good, whereas I never finished. Anyway, we had a drink together a few weeks back and he was telling me about a producer looking for someone to write a fantasy. For children, like the Harry Potter stories. He suggested I give it a try.” He scoffed. “And he wants it on his desk within a month! Like that would be easy.”
“Sounds like a good idea though. And yet, wouldn’t they just ask J.K. Rowling to do it? Seems like a better choice to me. No offense,” she added quickly.
“No offense taken. I happen to agree, but she just came out with a screenplay. Her debut. Called Fantastic Beasts. Maybe she turned them down.”
“Well, that’s good for you then. Gives you an opening.”
“I have less than a month to write something brilliant. No—three weeks.”
“Well then, you better stop talking to me and get to work.”
“I came out this morning to clear my mind.” He pulled at his chin as he made the confession. “My heart’s just not into this. I’m not a Disney kind of guy.”
She wondered what kind of stories interested him. He seemed romantic but she couldn’t imagine him writing a romance. Mystery, adventure? That seemed more likely. “So write something different. Be true to yourself.”
“It’s not that easy. Opportunities like this don’t come along very often. Writing seems harder than I remember.”
It sounded to her like he was making excuses, which boiled down to procrastination. “You’re just rusty. Shake it off and get to work.” She was jogging in one spot. “Speaking of which. I’ve gotta run. I’m helping out at the Cafe this morning.”
“Sorry! I’ve kept you long enough.”
She hated to leave him so uncertain. “Look. Maybe this afternoon, I could check in on you.”
A slow smile lit up his face. “I’d like that. I could use a little inspiration.”
“Okay then.” She tilted her head toward the resort. “Catch you later.”
An hour later, Brittany waltzed into the Cafe. It was just before eight.
“Morning, Taylor.” Brittany sat down and sipped on the smoothie she’d made after her run.
Taylor removed her oven mitts and turned around with a sunny smile. “Good to see you up and about. Feeling better, hon?”
“Yes. Getting there.” She slipped off the stool and gave her sis a warm hug. “Enough sitting around and feeling sorry for myself. So what are we making this morning?”
“How does Orange Pecan French Toast sound?”
“Mmm—one of my favorites! You do it like a casserole, right?”
“Yes. Either individual size portions, which is trickier but looks very nice, or in a large rectangular pan. On the plate I add sweetened whipped cream and berries.”
“I can help with that. What do you need? Small bowls or the bigger baking dish?”
“Baking dish. While you’re working on the French toast I’m going to use the small dishes for a tomato and Canadian bacon egg muffin. Carb free, unlike the deliciously high calorie choices baking right now.”
“Sounds good, I’ll have one of those. But you’re sure you want me to do the casserole?”
“Here’s the list of ingredients. Just follow the directions, Brit. It’s pretty simple.”
“Awesome. Now I’m going to be as good of a chef as you.”
“Fat chance. I don’t dance like you. You don’t bake like me.” She grinned. “I’ve got two left feet and you always manage to burn the cake—so I’ll be setting the timer. Want some coffee?”
“No thanks. I’ve got a healthy melon smoothie. Orange juice, cantaloupe, honeydew, arugula, ginger and probiotic powder. Yum!”
Taylor lifted her mug of freshly brewed hazelnut coffee. “To each his own.”
They heard the bell jingle when the front door opened. “I love our first customer of the day,” Taylor said with a smile.
Colt whipped open the curtain used to separate the kitchen from the customers. “Hey, girls!” He kissed his wife, then gave Brittany a hug. “Feeling better?
”
Brittany shrugged. “I’m all right. Shouldn’t you be working or something?”
“I’m taking out your two new guests. They are both avid sports fishermen, hoping to catch something big. I told them to meet me here. Figured they could have a good breakfast and save me from making them lunch.”
“Oh, you did, did you?” Taylor put her arms around Colt’s neck. “So do I charge you or them?”
“Me. You can take it out in trade.” He gave her a very long, satisfying kiss, if Taylor’s sigh meant anything.
Brittany rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you just leave each other an hour ago?”
“Yes.” Colt kissed his wife’s nose before releasing her. “It was a long, lonely hour,” he said patting Taylor’s behind. “And she mentioned Orange Pecan French Toast. So what’s a guy to do?”
“Oh, so that’s what you’re here for,” Taylor countered with a saucy grin. It made Brit happy to see their happiness. She remembered how hard Taylor had fought her feelings for Colt. “Well, how about you grab some coffee and set the table for me. I’ve got Brittany preparing a second batch now, but the pan I have in the fridge will only take twenty minutes to bake.”
“Okay. I’ll watch out for the guys. If it’s not ready, we’ll eat whatever you have.” He sniffed the delicious aromas coming from the oven. “The smell is driving me insane. Is that apple?”
“Sometimes I wonder if you fell in love with me, or my cooking,” she grumbled good-naturedly. “Zucchini-apple and carrot cake muffins. Should be done right about now.” The timer on the oven dinged.
“I can’t help it if I love your cooking. Can’t I love both?” He poured his coffee and added a heavy dose of cream.
“As long as I’m the only one in your bed.” Taylor took the tray of muffins out of the oven and set them on a rack to cool. “No food in there with me.”
“But you know how I like to eat. It’s my favorite,” Colt replied, raising his eyebrows comically.
“Enough, you two.” Brittany shot an elbow into Colt’s ribs, making him splash his coffee. “I’m standing right here, and this is more information than I need before eight in the morning.”
“Since when did you get so prim and proper?” Colt tossed an arm around her shoulder.
“Since I’m not getting any,” she replied, and moved aside. “Those muffins do smell awfully good.”
“Just a few more minutes,” Taylor told them. “Did you finish with the casserole, Brit?”
“Yeah.” She gestured to the pan. “I think so.”
“You think?” Taylor’s voice rose. “Did you add everything you were supposed to?”
“Pretty sure I did.” Would her sister notice the alteration in the recipe?
Taylor used a fork and checked the dish, then she read off the ingredients one by one.
“Check. Check. And Check.” Brittany downed her healthy smoothie. “I skipped the white sugar—it’s not good for you.”
“For the record, that would be like me changing your dance routine.” Taylor rotated the dish, studying it. “We can probably get away without it. It’ll be sweet enough with the sugared whipped cream and strawberries.”
She had a point.
Colt stood looking out the window. “Here they come now. We want to get out while the fish are still biting.”
“That’s never a problem around here, is it?” Brittany stepped up beside him, checking out the two men.
“Not really. The fishing is great anytime. Speaking of which, when might you be fishing again? You shouldn’t have any trouble catching a good one. Show a little leg and they’ll be biting.”
“My luck, it’ll be a shark.” Brit’s grip on her cup tightened. “Heck, no way am I ready yet, but one day, sure.”
“What about Chase?” Colt asked. “Seemed like a decent guy.”
“Since when do I go for decent guys?” she asked with wicked grin.
The door opened and not one, but two smoking hot men walked in. “Hey, Colt. We were down at the marina, and then Jason remembered you said to meet here.”
Jason, dressed in cargo shorts and a loose tee, sipped from his to-go cup of coffee and his nostrils twitched. “What’s that delicious smell? Can we take it with us?”
Brittany, wanting a better look, stood in the curtained doorway blocking the kitchen. Jason saw her and grinned. “If you’re Taylor, Colt’s the luckiest guy in the world.”
She was used to being the center of attention, but after losing the baby she didn’t feel all that glamorous anymore. “No, I’m her sister, Brittany.”
“Well, Brittany, how about you ditch whatever you planned to do today and join us on the boat?”
Jason was tall, dark-haired, with striking features and a solid build. He was also arrogant, and sexy as hell.
She felt a wariness she’d never felt before. She knew the kind of man he was—the kind who didn’t ask, but took what they wanted. That had been exactly her type, but not anymore. Her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. Last thing she wanted was to be a plaything for a rich, hunky, delicious guy like this. She’d never be blinded by love again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brittany worked through the morning and lunch crowd, but by two in the afternoon her back was aching, and she felt as if she needed a nap.
“Go home,” Taylor told her. “It’s going to take a few days. Rest.”
Perhaps she hadn’t rebounded from the miscarriage as well as she’d thought. She had told Chase she’d drop by and check on him. See how many pages he’d written. Motivate him, so he didn’t have to go back to that old job he hated so much.
Chase seemed like too nice a guy for the ad business. The only nice guys she knew were Sean and Colt, her brother-in-laws. Her sisters had snagged really great men, but she’d always had a thing for the black-leather, bad-boy types. Nice had meant boring. And boring, Brittany didn’t do.
She thought about the way Chase had left school, given up his writing career in order to take care of his ill mother. Nope. She couldn’t think of one guy she’d ever dated who’d do such a thing. Selfish, heartless pricks.
On top of that, Chase had known nothing but heartache while he was married. Guy couldn’t catch a break. And now he had one. She had to make sure that he didn’t blow it. Help him stay on track. Be his muse.
He deserved his chance at happiness, having been so selfless all these years. And she would help him, if she could. Just not right now. She had nothing in reserve, no energy, no motivation to spare.
With only a fleeting moment of guilt, she walked the short path to the cottage she shared with her mother, let herself into the cool air conditioning, and dropped onto her bed. Still dressed, she fell asleep almost at once.
The sound of the blender whirring in the kitchen woke Brittany just before four. She checked the time on her Apple watch and buried her head back into the pillow.
Happy hour already? The highlight of the Paradise Cove day. She’d make an appearance tonight—it had been a week since she’d shown her face, and she couldn’t hide out forever.
Besides, in all likelihood Chase would be there, and she could explain why she hadn’t come to see him after work. She really hoped for his sake that he’d had a productive day.
She slid out of bed, and headed toward the bathroom for her shower. “Hi, Mom. What’s the house special today?”
“Mango mojitos. Wear one of your pretty dancing dresses. We’ve got some interesting guests. They showed up two days ago.” She smiled mysteriously. “Could be your lucky night.”
“I think I already met them. At the Cafe, with Colt. Not my type, Mom, and I hope they aren’t yours,” Brittany returned.
“They are handsome devils,” her mom replied. “But I understand if you’re not ready.”
“I’m not. And you go easy on them, Mom.”
Laughing, her mother winked then sashayed out the door.
Brittany hit the bathroom and shower. Her mother might be an even bigger flirt than she was. A c
lose second, at least. They were alike in a lot of ways. Both had a sense of adventure and liked to have fun. They were both resilient, and determined. No matter what life threw at them, they’d keep smiling, their spirits intact.
Once she was showered and her hair blown out, she put on a racy, red dress—far too dressy for a simple cocktail party at their pool. Paradise Cove was not the Ritz. Just a simple, laid-back, family-friendly fishing resort. They had a marina right next door, and a few kayaks they loaned out. Swings and bikes and snorkel equipment for the kids. Humble and unpretentious. The only glamour around the place was the four women who owned it.
So be it. She had nowhere else to wear her fancy clothes, not anymore, and she’d be damned if they’d stay locked away in a closet. She still had to go back to Miami, deal with her stuff, her lease, and officially resign. She hadn’t spoken with her friends yet and was starting to wonder if they were ignoring her on purpose. Had they only pretended to befriend her because of her closeness with Jose? She hoped not. It would be another crushing disappointment.
Now that she was no longer pregnant, she had options. She could find another dance company in Miami. But right now, her heart had come home, and that gave her some peace.
She heard the music and sounds of chatter and laughter as she pranced down the garden path. Shoulders back, chin high she strolled into the pool area, and appreciated the number of heads that turned. She was not in the least surprised when Jason left her mother’s side and made his way to her.
“Can I get you a drink?” His eyes slid over her.
As a performer she was used to schmoozing with the patrons, it had been expected and part of the job. Jose had even encouraged it, knowing the flirtation was part of the performance. Although an inner part of her might still have insecurities, she’d learned to project confidence, which in turn attracted confident men.
“No, thanks. I haven’t decided what I’m drinking yet.” She flicked a glance over Jason’s cream pleated shorts and long-sleeved crisp white shirt, with his sleeves rolled up. His dark hair was thick and lush. His mouth, sensual. Definitely yummy. Definitely bad news.
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