I’m Yours_Sweetbriar Cove_Book Four

by Melody Grace

  “Love it. Love the fact I don’t have to spend more than five minutes shopping even more. Things are crazy at the inn,” Ellie added. “And I’m the only one holding down the fort.”

  “Ouch.” Mackenzie gave her a sympathetic smile. “Good luck.”

  She quickly wrapped the bowl and rang it up—with a friends and family discount. Then she spotted a new customer. “Ooh,” she whispered. “I spy a lost-looking husband who had absolutely no idea what to buy. My favorite!”

  Ellie laughed. “I won’t stand in your way. See you soon!”

  Mackenzie sidled over with a smile, and sure enough, by the time she was done, he was walking out with a full set of dinnerware, with extra salt-and-pepper shakers, and even some matching plant pots to boot.

  “God, I love the holidays,” she said, shutting the register with a ding! of satisfaction.

  “I don’t know whether to be proud or scared.”

  She looked up to find Jake in the doorway. “Hey!” Mackenzie couldn’t deny the way her heart leapt, just a little, to see him standing there.

  OK, a lot.

  She leaned up for a quick kiss. “You’re really slammed today, huh?” he said, looking around.

  “It’s not just me,” she said, nodding to the busy town square outside. “The tour busses started running this week, ‘Quintessential Cape,’ and all the rest. They like to bring people down from the city for a day of shopping and local charm.”

  “Well, there’s plenty of that here,” he grinned, and Mackenzie laughed with pure relief.

  They were OK.

  “I can give charm for days, as long as they’re buying,” she quipped.

  “That’s my vicious saleswoman,” Jake said affectionately. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to drop by and see how you were doing. Want to grab dinner later?”

  “I’d love to, but it better be a late one. Eight-ish?”

  “Works for me,” Jake agreed with a smile.

  “Everything’s OK with you?” she checked, just to be sure.

  “Sure,” Jake said. “Fine.”

  She thought she saw a flicker of something on his face, but there wasn’t time to ask about it, not with a busy line forming at the register. “See you at the pub?”

  “Perfect.” She quickly went back to work, and when she looked up again, Jake was already gone.

  * * *

  After that, the flood of customers turned to a tidal wave, and by the time she closed the door that evening on the very last one and flipped her sign to “closed,” Mackenzie was worn out.

  Tired, and also elated at the empty spaces on all her shelves. She wanted nothing more than to go consume her body weight in fries and roll into bed—preferably with someone warm to snuggle up to—but there was work to be done. She closed out the register, then headed into the back to check her stock levels. Luckily, she’d been throwing extra pots and bowls all fall, and her shelves were full of the plain fired pots just waiting for a layer of glaze and their final turn in the kiln. She picked down a dozen pieces, and quickly set out her paints. The snowflake and blue styles had been selling best, so she mixed up the colors, and then efficiently smothered the pottery in their first layer. It would take a couple more to get the depth of color she really loved, but that could wait until morning.

  Fries waited for no (wo)man.

  She was just washing her hands when there was a tap on the door. Mackenzie went over, expecting to see Jake there, maybe with a hot cup of coffee if she was lucky, but instead, it was a slim, dark-haired woman dressed in a chic red coat.

  Mackenzie opened the door. “I’m sorry, I’m closed,” she said.

  The woman’s face fell. “No, really? I’m only in town tonight, and I so wanted to see your work.”

  She was English, with such a stylish air, it looked like she’d stepped off the cover of a magazine.

  “I went to dinner at a friend’s a few months ago,” the woman added. “And fell completely in love with this darling fruit bowl of hers. It was nautical, with little sea monsters and drowning sailors all around the rim.”

  “Oh, that one.” Mackenzie laughed, remembering the series. She’d been so sick of turning out Fourth-of-July-themed things for the tourists, she’d gone a little crazy. “There was a matching serving platter too, with ships getting wrecked on the rocks while the octopuses had their fun.”

  “I don’t suppose you have anything like that in stock?” The woman peered past her hopefully.

  “Not right now, no.” Mackenzie took pity on her. “But come on in, and I’ll take your details, if you want. I work on private commissions sometimes, and have a mailing list for my new collections.”

  She stood aside, and the woman followed her in. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I’m Vivian, by the way.”

  “Mackenzie.” She went to the desk and found a spare scrap of paper and a pen. “Here, just write it all down, and I’ll put you in the system.”

  Vivian pulled a heavy silver pen from her purse and started writing in elegant cursive. “Let me know if you do anything like it again. I loved the dark whimsy, so charming.”

  Suddenly, Mackenzie remembered something. “You know, I might have something for you. I started doing a series like the sailors, but inspired by Greek myths. You know, Icarus burning to death and all that.”

  Vivian lit up. “That sounds darling.”

  Mackenzie would have said “disturbing,” but she wasn’t about to stand in the way of a potential sale. “I have a couple of the pieces in the back,” she said. “If you wanted to make an order, I could finish the set for you.”

  She showed Vivian into the studio, and searched on her cluttered shelves. “Hmm . . . Oh, there they are.” She went up on her tiptoes, fetching down the plates. They were dusty from sitting in the corner too long, and she gave them a surreptitious blow to clean them off. “Is this the kind of thing you were talking about?”

  She turned, the plates in her hands.

  Vivian was looking at her sculptures.

  Mackenzie took a deep breath and tried not to freak out. Jake hadn’t run screaming from them, and she was an artist, remember? Artists should be able to stomach people looking at their work without wanting the earth to open and swallow them whole. “That’s just something I’m working on for fun,” she said, blushing. “I’m not . . . I mean, I’m not trying to sell them or anything.”

  “No?” Vivian arched an eyebrow. “They’re very interesting pieces. Yes,” she said, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “Very interesting.”

  “Oh.”

  Mackenzie blinked. Interesting-good, or interesting-waste-of-space?

  Vivian seemed to come to a decision, because she reached into her designer clutch purse and pulled out a card. “I have a gallery in New York,” she said. “There’s a show coming up in the spring, a small collection of exciting new voices. I could use some sculptural impact.”

  Mackenzie took the card slowly. Was Vivian saying what she thought she was?

  “When they’re finished, send me the pictures,” Vivian added. “I think they would work in the show.”

  “I . . . Umm, I mean, sure!” Mackenzie blurted in shock. For probably the first time in her life, she was speechless.

  Exhibit her sculptures in a gallery? As in, a real art show?

  She was still silent in stunned disbelief as she followed Vivian back out to the front of the store. “Let me know about the dinnerware,” Vivian said, “and the show, of course. Lovely to meet you.”

  She disappeared back onto the street, leaving the doorbell tinkering behind her.

  Mackenzie stared at the card in her hand.

  Vivian Blythe, The 8th St Gallery.

  Did that really just happen?

  Mackenzie locked up and practically sprinted across the square. She found Jake by the bar at the pub and threw her arms around his neck. “You won’t believe what just happened!” she exclaimed, and quickly filled him in with Vivian’s unexpected offer.

 
“That’s amazing!” Jake grinned, hugging her tightly. “And totally well deserved.”

  “I don’t know,” Mackenzie said, coming back down to earth. “She only got a glimpse of them, and the pieces aren’t even finished. The final series might not be what she’s looking for, and—”

  “Stop.” Jake silenced her with a kiss. “Don’t talk yourself out of this. Just enjoy it.”

  Mackenzie exhaled. “OK.” She smiled. “I will. What about you?” She perched up on a stool and smiled at him, at eye level this time. “How has your day been? Let me guess, training hard?”

  “Sure. You know, the usual . . .” Jake looked around and gestured Riley over. “How about some celebration fries?” he suggested.

  “And burgers,” Mackenzie agreed. “Oh, wait, I’m supposed to be supportive of your new fitness routine, aren’t I?” She looked at the menu for the first time. “I mean, I guess we could get salads?”

  Riley whistled. “I never thought I’d hear the words.”

  “Don’t bother,” Jake said. His voice had an edge, and Mackenzie turned. “I mean, get whatever you want,” he added. “We’re celebrating, remember?”

  Mackenzie beamed. “Thank God. I was worried I’d have to chew through a bowl of rabbit food. No offense,” she said to Riley. “I’m sure your salads are delicious.”

  He grinned. “None taken. Extra cheese?”

  “Always.”

  * * *

  They took a table by the fireplace to eat, and Mackenzie chattered happily about her day, and the long, long lines at the gallery. “It’s only going to get busier this month,” she said with satisfaction. “Especially now there are only a few days to go.”

  “Until what?” Jake asked.

  “The festival!”

  “Oh. Right. That.” Jake picked at his food, and Mackenzie paused. He’d barely touched his burger, and had been quieter than usual all night. He’d even lost a game of pool without comment, which for Jake, was unheard of.

  “Is everything OK?” she asked quietly.

  “Of course.” He gave her a smile. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “No reason. You just seem, distracted, that’s all.”

  “I’m just a little tired, that’s all,” Jake said, then tugged her closer, so he could murmur in her ear. “Plus, I’m thinking about all the things we can do when I take you home.”

  Mackenzie’s breath caught. “Oh really?” she said softly. “Well, you better get started showing me.” She got to her feet and reached for her coat.

  “You haven’t finished your fries,” Jake said with a lazy grin.

  “I know. Priorities,” she winked, and Jake chuckled out loud.

  “If that isn’t the greatest compliment you could give a man, I don’t know what is.”

  He followed her to the door and outside to where he’d parked on the street. There was something different, though, and it took Mackenzie a moment to realize he was moving slower than usual, cautious on the sidewalk. She opened her mouth to ask if his knee was OK, then stopped. Jake was probably sick of people asking about it, and if he wanted to talk to her, he would. So, she bit back her concern and talked about the festival plans instead, and the thousand candles she’d ordered for the closing carol concert.

  They arrived at her place, and she unlocked the door. “So, about those things you were planning . . .” she said, drawing him inside with a kiss. Jake’s mouth was hot on hers, and she shivered with anticipation, letting her coat slip to the floor as they stumbled backwards, hands cool and searching.

  Jake wrapped his arms around her, kissing with a hunger that thrilled her. She responded instantly, leaning into him, locking her arms around his neck and shifting her weight—

  Jake winced, and immediately, Mackenzie stepped back. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  He reached for her again, but she could see it on his face, and when he leaned in, she could tell he was keeping his weight shifted to one side.

  “Jake,” she finally said, unable to keep it bottled up any longer. “You don’t have to lie to me. It’s your knee, isn’t it? You’ve been trying to protect it all night.”

  Jake clenched his jaw. “Great. So it’s obvious.”

  “No,” she said gently, “I just know you, that’s all.”

  Jake turned away, and for a moment, she was worried he was leaving. Instead, he stripped off his coat and then cautiously walked over to the couch. He sank down with a sigh.

  “I messed it up again.”

  Mackenzie’s heart ached to see the pain on his face. “Oh no, how?” She went to him and curled up beside him on the couch. “What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jake said angrily. He sat forward, fists clenched with frustration. “None of it matters now. If I can’t even do the most basic things without setting it off, how the hell am I supposed to play again?”

  “Don’t say that,” Mackenzie urged him. “With time, and healing—”

  “Stop.” Jake cut her off harshly. Then he exhaled. “Look, I know you’re just trying to be supportive, but I can’t deal with anymore platitudes, OK?” His expression was desperate. “I’ve heard it all before, how these things take time, and how the body has its own pace, but none of that means a damn thing if I can’t play again.”

  Mackenzie took a breath. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through. Because it wasn’t just about the pain in his knee right now, it was the end of his career: all those dreams he’d spent his life working for. All that training, day in and day out. It was all slipping away from him, and the only thing she could do was watch.

  “So what would help?” Mackenzie asked simply. “What do you need from me?”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if anything’s going to help me now.” His voice caught, raw with emotion, and his face crumpled, like he couldn’t keep it together a single moment more.

  “Shhh . . .” Mackenzie drew him to her. She rested his head against her chest, and just held him, feeling the tension and terrible fear in his body, and wishing like nothing else that she could take it all away. “It’s going to be OK,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “We’ll figure it out. I promise, we’ll find a way.”

  Jake held her tightly, taking ragged, gasping breaths as he fought the tears. Mackenzie didn’t move, she just held him in the quiet of the dim room until finally, Jake’s body seemed to relax.

  He slowly sat up. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking away, clearly embarrassed.

  “Don’t be. I’m here.” Mackenzie took his hand. “Is there anything you can do, for your knee, I mean?”

  He shrugged. “I made an appointment with my doctor for tomorrow. She’ll take some more scans, and see if I completely fucked it up.”

  Mackenzie squeezed his hand. “What time should we leave?”

  He looked surprised. “You don’t have to come.”

  “I know. I want to,” Mackenzie said firmly.

  “But the gallery . . .” Jake frowned. “You said it yourself, this is your busiest time of year.”

  “The gallery will survive,” she reassured him. “I’ll get someone to cover for me. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue again, but then slowly, he gave a nod.

  “Thank you.”

  It was almost a whisper, but she knew, it couldn’t have been easy for him—acknowledging that something was wrong enough to need the support.

  “We’ll figure this out,” she said again, praying that the answers from the doctor would be good ones. “Whatever happens, I’m here.”

  21

  Jake tapped his good foot impatiently, staring at the pale Boston skyline just outside the windows. They were back in the city, and it was snowing again, but romance was the last thing on his mind. He’d spent the morning getting fresh scans on his knee, and now they were just waiting on the results: sitting out in the quiet waiting room, ignoring the magazines on the table as every
hour stretched into an eternity.

  The wait was killing him. He’d been here before, too many times. Waiting on tests, and news, and the latest doctor’s report. He’d thought he was finally past it, but here he was, all over again.

  Mackenzie’s hand came down gently on his thigh. “It won’t be much longer,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile.

  Jake didn’t reply. He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he’d almost forgotten she was there. He gave her a guilty nod instead. “You want a coffee or something?” he asked, getting up. “They have a cafeteria downstairs—”

  “I can go.” Mackenzie bobbed up. “You stay here. Sit.”

  “I can walk, you know,” Jake told her, trying not to get annoyed. He could catch her anxious glances out of the corner of his eye, checking if he needed help.

  That wasn’t how he wanted her to look at him.

  “I know.” Mackenzie’s reply was steady. “But I don’t want you to miss the doctor when they’re ready with your scans.”

  “Oh. OK.” Jake sat again and watched Mackenzie head down the hallway. She exchanged a few words and smiles with a nurse by the elevator, then disappeared out of sight.

  He was being an ass. He knew that, but somehow, he couldn’t stop his fears and insecurities boiling over in her direction, which only made him feel guilty, as well as scared. He’d thought it would be easier with Mackenzie there by his side, but now, he just wondered what she was thinking, having to spend her day playing babysitter to an ungrateful ass like him. He hated that she’d seen him fall apart like that last night, and although he’d found something close to solace in her arms, now he was staring down his future again, and he knew the outlook wasn’t good.

  “Jake, there you are.” Padma joined him with a file under her arm, just as Mackenzie reappeared. He introduced them, and then Padma said, “Why don’t you come into my office?”

  Jake started to follow her before he realized Mackenzie was waiting behind. He stopped, and held out his hand to her.

  Are you sure? her expression seemed to ask.