by Laura Pavlov
“Yeah. I’m the first to admit I have shit taste in men. That’s why I don’t date often. Todd was okay the first year we dated, I mean, there were probably signs that I missed. But the last few months he just got really possessive, and when I broke up with him—he really upped his stalker game. So I left for France, blocked him on everything, and I thought he’d given up. But with my picture in the paper, it just gave him the in he needed. Hopefully he stays away now.”
“What a fucking creep.”
“Yeah. How about you? You don’t strike me as a stalker. A player—probably. Possibly a cheater, but it doesn’t seem like your style.”
“Hell, no. I’m a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them,” I said, and my gaze locked with hers when I glanced her way.
“Yeah, for some reason I’m not surprised to hear that. And thanks for intervening that day with Todd. I never did get to thank you properly for that.”
“Don’t give it a thought. I should have kicked his ass, too,” I admitted.
She laughed. “I think we’re going to be good friends, Ford Montgomery.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I don’t really do friends, but we can give it a try.”
“What a shocker.”
So salty. I didn’t mind it. Usually people annoyed me in much less time.
But Harley DeLuca was full of surprises.
Chapter Eight
Harley
Another week moved by in a blur. We were swamped every day from opening to close. My new friendship with Ford Montgomery had surprised me. The man was such a moody asshole most of the time, but now that I was getting to know him, he could actually be fairly nice. Funny, even. He’d come in every morning for his coffee and chat for a bit. It was usually the highlight of my day because the man was very entertaining. But then he’d look at his watch and hiss at me about wasting too much time gabbing, and head upstairs. I’m sure today would be no different—and I couldn’t wait for him to get here.
“Hello,” Ford called out when he entered the bakery.
“I’m in the back.”
He waltzed into the kitchen like he owned the place, which I guess he did, and made his way to the coffee machine.
“Good morning. Hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he said. He was ridiculously good looking, with his chiseled jaw and full lips. I had to remind myself not to stare.
Focus.
I continued rolling the dough for the butter cookies and looked up to meet his gaze. “Go ahead, then.”
He chuckled. “My mom is interested in ordering pastries from you for the winery. Do you think you could handle a side job like that?”
“You have a winery?” I asked curiously.
“Yes. Montgomery Wines. It’s in Napa, which is where I grew up. That’s where Jack and Harrison spend most of their time. Mom still lives there. She’s nagging me every day to ask you about it. Of course, Jack can’t stop raving about your pastries because the dude has the palette of a five-year-old.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d call it fabulous taste. You have the palette of a ninety-year-old man. Live a little, Montgomery. Eat the cookie. Walk in the rain. Loosen up.”
“White sugar is the devil.”
“White sugar is my profession, you jackass.”
He laughed. “Fine. Your pastries are good, no doubt about it. So, what do you think?”
“Um, sure. I can always bake more. How much does she need? Would it be a weekly order?”
“I have no idea. You two can discuss it. She’d like to meet you. Are you free tomorrow?” he asked, fastening the lid to his cup.
His broad shoulders and lean physique caught my attention again. His brown hair was longer on the top and shorter in the back, and his piercing blue eyes were easy to get lost in. I found it hard not to ogle him when he wasn’t looking. But that was acceptable for friends. Molly was my best friend, and I thought she was beautiful. It’s completely normal to find your friends attractive, right?
It didn’t mean I was actually attracted to Ford Montgomery.
Nothing could be farther from the truth. He wasn’t my type.
It wasn’t like I thought about kissing him. Or touching him.
I didn’t.
Hardly ever.
“Tomorrow is Saturday,” I said when he finally turned to face me, and I shook myself out of the daze I was currently in.
“Thanks for the update. I’m aware. Are you free?”
“I guess so. She wants to meet here at the bakery?”
“No. I said I’d bring you out to Napa so you can see the winery and meet her. Does that sound okay?” he asked, studying me with his usual intensity.
“Napa? I don’t know if the Bug could make it that far.” I drove a vintage convertible Bug that I absolutely loved. It wasn’t the most reliable car, but I’d worked hard for it, so it was special to me.
He rolled his eyes. “What the hell is a bug?”
“A convertible VW Bug, you know, the car,” I said, my tone oozing sarcasm.
“Oh, okay then. No, we’d take the helicopter. We can be there and back in no time. How does ten in the morning sound? Jerome and I can grab you on the way, and we’ll take off from here?”
“Helicopter? I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.”
“Of course, you are. You drive a death trap for an automobile. And it’s a convertible. Even more dangerous. My form of transportation is much safer. Trust me,” he said, sipping his coffee and heading for the door.
“Are you always this bossy?” I hissed as I wiped my hands on a towel.
“Always. Get used to it.”
And just like that, he was gone. And I was equal parts annoyed at him and disappointed to see him go.
I walked out to see the line forming outside the door just as Molly entered.
“I see your new bestie was here again,” she said, wriggling her brows.
“Stop. We’re friends.”
“Sure, you are.”
We opened the door and let the craziness start.
“I can’t believe I’m on a helicopter. This is not normal,” I said, checking again to make sure my seat belt was fastened.
I’d been awake for hours, as I was anxious about my trip to Napa. I didn’t know what I should even wear to such an occasion. Was it a job interview? A partnership? Just a chat? I went with my floral maxi dress and my newly-washed Chucks. My dress was fitted at the top and flowy at the bottom. It screamed ‘winery’. I decided to wear my hair down and straight, as I wouldn’t be baking today.
“It’s completely normal. You worry too much. Especially for someone who drives a tin can as their form of transportation.”
“Hey, I love that car. Don’t hate on the Bug.”
He chuckled. And when Ford Montgomery laughed, it did something to me.
“I like your hair down,” he said, completely surprising me with the compliment.
“Oh, thanks. I always wear it up to bake, but since I’m just chatting today, I thought it was fine to have it down.”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“So, tell me about your mom. What’s she like?”
“She’s great. You’re going to love her. She’s a lot like Jack. She has an infectious smile and a wicked sense of humor.” His whole face lit up when he spoke of his mother, and my chest squeezed a bit. I wondered what it was like to have a parent that you felt that kind of love for. I envied it.
“That’s nice that you guys are so close. How about you and your brothers? You all seem like you’re pretty tight.” I was very curious as they all three seemed so different. Jack came into the bakery daily, and he was the life of the party. Hilarious and fun. Harrison stopped by a few times a week, and he was a bit more serious, but had a good sense of humor and always complimented the pastries
he’d order. They’d both been quicker to open up to me, but I was most drawn to Ford and his broodiness. I wondered what the three of them were like outside of work.
“Very. They would probably say I don’t spend enough time with the family. They’re out in Napa every day. I’m in the city during the week and try to go see my mom every other weekend. My brothers don’t always understand how much time Montgomery Media takes from me. They don’t have a clue what it takes to keep the company running,” he said, and I saw something in his expression as he spoke. Disappointment? Hurt?
“So why don’t you just tell them?”
“Tell them what?” he asked.
“Tell them how much time it takes. Lay out all the facts. Maybe it’ll help them understand,” I said.
“Well, they’ve never asked.”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell them. It might give them a better grasp on what exactly you do and how much time is required,” I said over the sudden noise from the propeller as we started to move.
“I’ll think about it.”
I grasped the side of the seat. I probably should have mentioned that I was terrified of heights. Or, as Molly explained to me, I was afraid of falling, not actually of being up in the air. Either way, I was terrified. When I flew to Paris, the doctor gave me something to help settle my nerves. I wish I had that now.
“Are you okay? Your face is pretty white.” He studied me as we left the ground, and I forced my eyes shut.
“I don’t think so,” I said, digging my fingernails into the seat, when a hand covered mine.
“Relax, Harley. We have the best pilot out there. I wouldn’t do anything to put you in danger. I mean, you’re my only friend, right?”
I laughed and peeked one eye open. “Good to know.”
He leaned in closer to me and intertwined our fingers. Ford Montgomery was sweeter than I would have guessed. “Look out the window. It’s stunning.”
I forced myself to open up both eyes and check out the scenery, but I quickly squeezed them closed again. “I’ll just have to take your word for it.”
“It’s a quick up, then down. I promise, we’ll be there before you even have time to get too nervous.”
“Um, I’d say I’m already well past nervous,” I mumbled as I squeezed his hand harder.
He leaned closer and whispered against my ear, “We’re already landing. You did it.”
Chill bumps covered my arms as his lips tickled against my skin. Once we were on the ground and the pilot informed us we could unbuckle, I let go of his hand, and quickly got the hell off that thing. I’d take my little Bug any day of the week over this.
We walked toward Ford’s car. Apparently, they went back and forth from Napa to the city often, so they had cars ready to go wherever they went. It was a lot to wrap your head around.
It was a short trip to the winery, and I put my window down and let the breeze blow my hair all around. It smelled like flowers and sunshine. I’d never been to Napa, but I could already tell I’d like it here.
“Sorry about the helicopter ride. If you aren’t comfortable flying back, we can just take one of the cars and I can drive us back,” he said, surprising me with his thoughtfulness. I wouldn’t have guessed him to be an empathetic person, but he was proving me wrong.
“No. I can muscle through it. I’m a big believer in overcoming your fears.” I followed him up the walkway to the gorgeous winery. Lavender shrubs lined the path and overgrown trees offered shade over the entrance. “Wow. This place is stunning. Is your home far from here?”
“Just up the road. Mom walks back and forth most days, or just takes the golf cart.”
When we stepped inside the lobby, there was a little gift shop and a café. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls that offered views of the grape fields. It was really something to see. I could only imagine the creativity a place like this would stir. The peaceful, serene setting would be hard to beat.
“There they are,” a woman said, walking our way.
“Mom, hello. This is Harley DeLuca, owner of DeLiciously Yours. Harley, this is my mother, Monica Montgomery.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” we said in unison and both chuckled before she pulled me in for a hug.
“I have a nice table for us out on the patio. It’s private out there, so we can chat. I ordered some wine and a few appetizers just in case you’re hungry.”
“Sounds great,” I said.
Ford’s mom was stunning. She wore jeans, a white blouse, and a cute sun hat. Her dark hair was pulled back in a chignon at the nape of her neck.
The waiter came over and poured us each a glass of chardonnay and set down a veggie platter, and some cheese and crackers. We sat in the midst of a picturesque winery. It was lush and green, and lavender wafted in the air. The sun was out, but the patio offered shade.
“So, Jack has brought me several of your pastries, and I have to say, yours are the best I’ve ever had,” she said.
“Oh, wow. Thank you. I’m flattered.”
“Were you just born with the gift? Or did it take years to perfect?” There was a genuineness about Monica Montgomery that I was drawn to. She appeared truly interested.
“Well, my grandmother taught me everything she knew when I was young, and it just grew from there. I’d dreamed of opening a bakery since I was a little girl, so honestly, this has been a long time coming. I’ve worked really hard to get here, so I’d say it was a combo of having a great teacher, combined with hard work to keep perfecting my craft.”
“That’s quite impressive. Well, it shows in your work. Obviously, you’re quite passionate about baking, and it’s refreshing to see someone chase their dreams in that way. Tell me about your family. Were you raised in the city?”
I shifted in my seat, and when I looked up my gaze locked with Ford’s sapphire blues. “Jesus, Mom. I thought you were placing some orders, not grilling her.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I just wanted to get to know you,” Monica said.
“It’s completely okay. I’m an open book.” I fidgeted with my hands under the table. “I was basically raised by my grandparents on and off. My mom has a lot of, um, issues. I’ve never met my father, and my grandparents took full custody of me when I was in middle school. I was raised in Oakland and attended Berkley for undergrad. I spent a year in Paris working with some of the best pastry chefs in the world this past year. So, that’s me in a nutshell,” I said, holding my arms out. I had nothing to hide. People could take me or leave me. I certainly wasn’t going to try to make myself into something I wasn’t at this point in my life. I’m proud of where I am and how I got here. But talking too much about my mother was a different story. I didn’t like to go there. That was the only chapter in my life that I’d closed. I’d been judged for her actions enough for one lifetime.
“Well, your grandparents must be incredibly proud of you now. Your hard work has paid off. I’m so impressed,” Monica said, clasping her hands together and dabbing at her watery eyes. I would never have guessed my life story would bring out so much emotion, but she was warm and kind, so it didn’t completely surprise me.
“My gram passed away a few years ago. She had breast cancer. It was really hard on Gramps and I, but it helped that I was close to home while attending Berkley. But yes, Gramps is very proud. Ridiculously proud, really.”
“Yes, I can imagine that was tough on him. I lost my husband five years ago, just when Ford was graduating from college and both Harrison and Jack were away at school. Ford was going to attend grad school in Europe, but he immediately came home. Harrison did the same. I don’t know if I would have survived that first year without them,” she said, shaking her head.
My gaze locked once again with Ford’s. He had a bigger heart than I would have guessed, and I didn’t miss the way he looked at his mother. Like the sun set there. He reached over and sque
ezed her hand before pulling away. “Okay, so how about we place some orders. You’ve gotten her life story, let’s move on.”
Monica rolled her eyes and patted his cheek. “My stoic boy. He hates the mushy stuff.”
I chuckled. “It’s nice that you all rallied and supported one another.”
“Always,” she said. “So, how would you feel about just making me a combo of pastries. You know, whatever you’re doing that week at the bakery, so we can keep it simpler for you. Maybe start with three dozen mixed pastries or cookies. Do you think you can handle that?”
“I do. That actually sounds perfect. And if you ever want anything seasonal, just let me know.”
A waiter approached the table, and attempted to whisper, “Monica, there’s a little issue in the kitchen and Josh asked me to come get you.”
“Okay. Well, I’m excited about this. I need to go put out a fire, but I’ll be back. Enjoy. Order something from the menu if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” I said, nodding at Monica before she stepped away. “Your mom is really sweet. I like her.”
“Yeah. She’s one in a million. Always has been. But she’s also nosy as hell. Sorry she grilled you,” Ford said. He wore dark jeans and a white button-up. Only he could make casual clothing look formal.
“It’s no problem. I have nothing to hide.” I leaned over and grabbed a few crackers and some cheese and placed them on my plate, before digging in.
“I’m sorry about your grandmother,” he said, gazing off at the grape fields.
“Thank you. She was an amazing woman.”
“And where’s your mom now? Do you keep in touch with her?”
“I try not to,” I said with a laugh, and his head turned to look at me. “It’s always better when Valentina DeLuca is not around, trust me.”
“Really?”
“Really. But she knows about the bakery, so Gramps said she’s been inquiring about me, which is never good. But I know how to handle her.”
