What in God’s name was he doing?
Paige looked just as stunned as he felt, but she quickly composed herself. ‘I’d love to, but I still need to close up the shop and then go upstairs and change into something that doesn’t smell like, well, a bakery.’
‘I don’t know a person in this world who would complain about that smell.’ Cohen laughed. ‘And those are the perks of living above your shop, yeah? Getting to just run upstairs whenever you need to. I’m thankful every day that our house is directly behind the clinic. It makes things so much easier.’
‘I won’t argue with you about the convenience,’ she replied, turning the lights off in the display case beside the register.
Maybe that was why he’d invited her along on their walk. Because he and Paige had something in common. Even if that commonality was simply a business to run and a home that wasn’t far from that business. Maybe she would understand what it was like to struggle to maintain the division between the two. Yes, that was his reasoning for the invite. Nothing more.
‘Do me a favor and don’t argue with me about the walk, either.’ He gave her a faint grin, wondering if his own eyes shone with the amusement he saw staring back at him. ‘We still need to take these cakes home and pick up Jazz. Does that give you enough time to close up?’
Paige stared at him, her gaze fixed on his. Whatever she was searching for within his eyes, she must have found it, because she turned back toward the clock, scrutinized it, then whirled around. ‘I can be ready in fifteen minutes. How does that sound?’
‘I’d say it sounds … pretty perfect to me. Get ready for the grand tour of Port Landon, Paige.’
It had been on the tip of his tongue to use the old adage, ‘Sounds like a date.’ Even though the woman had proven she could handle a joke, he didn’t want to come across as presumptuous if taken the wrong way. Thankfully, he had managed to stop himself in time, before the foreign words slipped off his tongue and caused him to make a damn fool of himself.
Besides, it wasn’t a date. He knew that. He hadn’t meant it as such when he invited her along. He was just being a friendly neighbor. A good citizen. A friend to someone who had few others to spend time with in a new town. And he didn’t want it to be a date.
Or did he? No. He couldn’t.
No matter what Sonya Ritter thought. The older woman had always been good to him, a friendly face when he needed one, even when he didn’t deserve it. That was just how she was with everyone in Port Landon. They didn’t call her a mother hen for nothing. But he knew damn well the wheels in her head were turning. They always were, and she didn’t need any help with finding reasons to think things were something they weren’t.
Paige was just locking the big steel door that led upstairs to her apartment above the bakery as Cohen and Bryce strolled around the corner. From a distance, she looked much younger than her early thirties, and with her long, dark hair, trendy jeans, and sleeveless top, he knew she could easily be mistaken for a woman in her early twenties instead.
The second Jazz caught a glimpse of her up the sidewalk, she pulled relentlessly on the retractable leash, making poor Bryce stumble forwards. Cohen caught him before he fell, fisting the back of his T-shirt in his hand.
Cohen didn’t usually allow for it, but once he knew Paige had seen them, he unclipped Jazz’s leash from her matching purple collar and let her run full-tilt toward her, running in the bouncy way only Jazz did, with her front paws moving as one, prodding along like a not-so-graceful deer instead of the seventy-five pound dog she was. She plowed straight into Paige’s arms, who had crouched down and steeled herself for the dog’s weight to hit her. Jazz bounced, and licked Paige’s face, and hopped, and licked her face some more.
‘Wow, I think she likes you.’ Cohen had run to catch up to the dog, making sure Bryce was hot on his heels.
Paige laughed as Jazz attacked her the only way she knew how – one lick after another with her oversized tongue. ‘I think I like her, too.’ Paige ruffled the dog’s brindle fur, and the dog slowly began to calm, pushing up against her and relishing in the attention. ‘Ah, that’s what she really looks like. All I could see was the inside of her mouth as she came at me in a furry blur.’
‘Dad calls her the Jazzmanian Devil,’ Bryce informed her.
‘That’s a very suiting name, I must say.’
Paige couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from the boxer, and the sight of someone else falling instantly in love with the dog warmed Cohen’s heart. ‘Princess. Diva. Devil. Doesn’t matter what you call her, she’s still the perfect dog. With some quirks, of course,’ Cohen said.
‘Well, we’ve all got some quirks, don’t we?’ Paige held Jazz’s wrinkled face in her hands, talking directly to the dog. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Jazz.’
‘We’d better be careful, Bryce, or we’re going to lose our walking partner to Jazz and her charm.’
Paige looked up, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Hey, you can’t fault me for falling for her; you’re the one who brought her here,’ she reminded him. She gave the dog one last pat on the head and rose to her feet. ‘She sure is a great dog. You two are very lucky to have her.’
‘Maybe Paige can be Jazz’s forever home, Dad.’ Bryce nudged his dad’s arm to get his attention.
‘She isn’t your dog?’ Paige wore a confused expression as she looked between Cohen and his son.
‘Well, kind of,’ Bryce explained. ‘She stays at the clinic because Norman doesn’t like her very much.’
‘Norman?’
‘My cat,’ the young boy said. ‘Jazz doesn’t have a forever home, so she stays at the clinic with Dad and his coworkers because everybody loves her there.’
Paige, to her credit, glanced down at the dog, who was still gazing up at her with loving brown eyes and a waggling tongue, and wilted slightly. ‘Aww, Jazz, I’m sorry. That must be so hard, pretty girl.’
‘Trust me,’ Cohen added, ‘She’s not upset about it, by any means. That dog gets more attention and love from Bryce and me than the average dog with a real home. And frankly, the staff are crazy about her. We’re at the clinic more than we’re at home, anyway. As far as Jazz is concerned, we’re her family. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s exactly what she is, too. Our family.’
‘Unless someone special came along to take her home,’ Bryce countered quickly, giving his dad a knowing look and trying to discreetly point to Paige without drawing her attention.
Paige chuckled at the boy’s antics. ‘Jazz is wonderful, believe me. But I don’t think the bakery is the place for her, unfortunately.’
‘Agreed!’ Bryce exclaimed. ‘That’s why you need to take her home!’
‘I can’t believe no one has come forward to adopt her.’ She looked genuinely perplexed, which only added to Cohen’s pride of the dog and her gentle mannerisms. ‘She’s just so … friendly.’
‘Wait till she smiles at you with her lips tucked up, showing off her crooked teeth. She’ll steal your heart, then.’ He watched Jazz, who watched Paige just as intently. ‘The reality is, she’s four years old, so her chances of adoption are slimmer than most. People want puppies, not mature dogs.’
‘Dad, there’s nothing mature about Jazz,’ Bryce scoffed. ‘She’s a puppy trapped in an adult dog’s body. Obviously.’ The boy did his best Vanna White impersonation, framing his hands around the dog to put her on display, waggling his eyebrows at Paige, silently daring her not to fall in love with the brindle dog.
He couldn’t hold in his amusement, and Cohen let his laughter erupt, shaking his head. ‘Sorry, Paige. My boy is nothing if not persistent.’
‘Gee, I hadn’t noticed.’
‘We’d better get that ice cream quick.’ Cohen pointed down the street where the water’s edge was seen a few blocks away. ‘I think it’s safe to say it’s the only chance you’re going to get a moment’s reprieve from his relentless badgering about this.’
‘I won’t forget, you know,’ Bryce piped up, handin
g the leash to his father. ‘Even after ice cream.’
‘No,’ Cohen replied, heading down the sidewalk with Jazz in tow as Paige fell into step beside him. ‘I didn’t think you would.’
Chapter 5
Paige
Despite officially living in Port Landon for three months, Paige had made little time to really explore the lakeside town she now called home. She had spent every waking minute preparing for the grand opening of her bakery, making sure every detail that she could control was perfect, and that nothing was overlooked. Renovations, remodeling, plans for displays and specials. Paige Henley was a planner, an organizer. And now that the grand opening had come and gone, and been successful, she was glad for it.
Her hope that she would be welcomed in the little town was also fulfilled, it seemed. As she, Cohen, and Bryce ambled their way down the sidewalk, past the stone building that housed the town hall and the old Victorian-style houses that were the pride and joy of most of the population here, they were greeted by a handful of people. Some, she knew; others, she didn’t. Most of them, she thought she recognized, but Paige couldn’t put a name to the face.
They knew who she was, though. Everyone called her by name, whether it was the middle-aged woman in workout wear they passed on the sidewalk – Amelia Harris, the town’s treasurer, according to Cohen – or the older gentleman with sprigs of gray hair tufting out under his straw hat – Old Man Weston, Cohen called him affectionately.
‘He was already standing outside your bakery before you even opened the doors yesterday morning,’ Cohen advised. ‘I saw him on my way into the clinic.’
She had met so many people in the last forty-eight hours that Paige wasn’t sure she would ever get everybody’s names straight. But everyone she came across seemed to remember her and have a friendly wave or greeting. After only a few months as a resident and a couple of days as an official business owner, that made her feel pretty good.
They turned off Main Street onto Crescent Street, and she marveled at how perfectly aligned the row of tall trees was that lined the road. The leaves, dark green and lush in the high summer sun, created a canopy over the road, only permitting sporadic kaleidoscopic patterns of sunshine to make it through the thick veil. Everything about the town was picturesque, from the vintage-looking red mailboxes that marked the end of each driveway, to the tall houses with their unique moldings and fancy pillars. The downtown core wasn’t the only row of buildings to boast red brick and wrought iron pegs that jutted out toward the sidewalk to hold old-fashioned shingles. If the homes in Port Landon weren’t tall wooden-sided structures with a Victorian flare, nestled in big yards with feathery shrubs and oversized maple and hemlock trees, they were massive brick estate homes with elegant trimmings and high, pointed roofs. Many had towers, rounded rooms with or without windows. Paige idly wondered what those towers housed. Many places they passed had signs outside on their lawns or hanging beside the driveways – Cindy’s Sewing and Dressmaking, Port Landon Dog Grooming, Antiques For Sale.
The residents of Port Landon were industrious, it seemed.
They talked about everything and nothing. With Cohen’s prompting, Paige told him about the life she’d left behind in New York. Even as she described it, with its fast pace and its long hours, she realized that it was no kind of life at all. Not for her, anyway. Once she began, the words seemed to tumble easily off her tongue. Cohen was surprisingly easy to talk to, and New York was even easier to talk about. It only fortified her conviction that she had made the right choice. Her life in New York wasn’t something she yearned to close the door on and never revisit again, it was just a chapter that had come to a close, allowing her to turn the page and begin a new one.
‘I can’t imagine what it’s like to come from the heart of New York City to a laid-back town like Port Landon,’ Cohen said. ‘You must think we’re all country bumpkins.’
‘Hardly,’ she laughed. ‘I’ve only been here a few months, but people have been friendlier and more interested in what I’m trying to do than I ever experienced in the city.’
‘Most people would call that being nosy.’ Cohen didn’t miss a step, pointing toward the end of the street where the hill gave the illusion that it somehow ended in the middle of the lake. Paige just caught sight of Bryce and Jazz disappearing over the hill.
‘You say nosy, I say it’s different, that’s all.’
‘Do you miss it?’
Paige thought about that. ‘I was good at my job, and I lived for it. But there came a point where I had to ask myself … was I really living at all?’ For a brief moment, she was embarrassed. It was difficult to confide such a simple truth to someone – that she’d realized the ever-turning hamster wheel of the business world was no longer for her, that she was burned out and exhausted from climbing the proverbial ladder that she would never reach the top of, and that the trajectory of her own path had changed, almost without her realizing it. Especially to someone she barely knew.
That was the thing, though. She might have only met Cohen yesterday, yet the easy back-and-forth between them was effortless. Paige hadn’t realized she craved this kind of companionship until she experienced it. Maybe her job in New York had robbed her of more than just her time. Maybe it had prevented her from having the chance of having this kind of social interaction before now, prevented her from putting down real roots and finding someone to share her time with.
‘I think if you have to ask, then it’s safe to say you made the right decision by leaving.’ Cohen stole a glance at her. ‘And by moving here.’
A faint blush rose in Paige’s cheeks. ‘So far, I would most definitely agree with you. It’s good having Allison so close by, too.’
‘I still can’t believe Chris finally popped the question,’ Cohen stated following a chuckle. ‘It’s been years. I was starting to believe he was just holding out in order to drive the town nuts.’
Paige laughed, a whole-hearted sound that echoed off the treed walls of the canopy-covered street. ‘I knew it would happen eventually, even though Allison always made such a grand attempt at making it sound like she was okay with waiting to get married. She’s been waiting for this moment, she just won’t admit it outright.’
‘Women,’ Cohen quipped. ‘Saying one thing, expecting another.’
Paige gave him a playful, narrowed-eyed glare. ‘Trust me, I don’t think men always want to hear what women are really thinking. We might shock you.’
‘Now, that’s intriguing.’
The blacktop ended abruptly, making way for the boardwalk that lined the lakeshore, leading out onto the rows of docks. Multiple boats of all different sizes were tied to the metal anchors on either side of the wooden platforms, bobbing in the gentle breeze that Paige hadn’t noticed until they broke out from under the canopy of trees.
Bryce’s laughter carried through the air like a song, and Paige followed the sound to see the young boy and the dog bouncing happily farther up the boardwalk, which was where she could only assume the pier jutted out.
From here, the town seemed so much bigger, with the expanse of the docks and lakeshore stretching out far in the distance.
‘Wow, this place looks like heaven,’ Paige breathed out, her eyes locked on the boardwalk. She could feel the warmth of the wooden boards emanating from beneath her feet through her flip-flops.
‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Cohen looked back, realized she had stopped in her tracks, and made his way back to her, staring out toward the mouth of the pier, just as she was. ‘Still miss New York City?’
‘New York what?’ She offered him a coy wink, then shuffled out of her sandals, plucked them from the ground, and took off running in the direction of Bryce and Jazz. There was something magical about having the sun beating down on her, with the boats lined up on her right and the grid of streets and trees swaying in the breeze to her left. Paige had lived for her career in the city – at least, that’s what she thought she’d been doing.
Right then, she felt fr
ee. Real, true freedom. And it occurred to her that maybe there was a part of her that had been held captive during her time amongst the hustle and bustle. This, right here, wasn’t just existing.
This was living.
Paige jogged up to where Bryce stood, waiting impatiently for his father and her to catch up.
‘About time, slow pokes,’ he taunted. ‘Even Jazz beat you here, and she’s got a messed-up back.’
Paige was breathless, but it felt good to have her blood pumping through her veins with some fervor. ‘What’s wrong with Jazz’s back?’
It was Cohen that answered her question from behind her. ‘Diffuse idiopathic skeletal hyperostosis.’
Paige crinkled her forehead. ‘In layman’s terms, please, Doctor.’
‘DISH, it’s called.’ Cohen shrugged. ‘Basically, her spine has calcification that causes her to move more stiffly than other dogs, and there’s no real reason for it. It’s common in boxers, and Jazz’s case is relatively minor.’
‘Is she in pain?’ Paige asked, casting a glance at the dog. She certainly didn’t look in pain, with her tongue drooping from her mouth and her tail wagging wildly.
‘Not at all,’ Cohen promised. ‘She takes an anti-inflammatory every morning and every evening, but what you see is what you get. She’s a happy dog with a solid veterinary team behind her, monitoring her closely. Like I said, she just moves a little differently than other dogs.’ The corner of Cohen’s mouth turned up. ‘But in case you haven’t noticed, Jazz isn’t exactly like other dogs in any way, shape, or form, so I wouldn’t expect anything less.’
Paige chuckled, bending to give the dog an affectionate pat on the head. ‘I know, I know. She’s the Jazzmanian Devil.’
‘That, she is,’ Cohen agreed. ‘So, we made it to the pier. What’s next on the agenda, Bryce?’
The Forget-Me-Not Bakery Page 5
