by Bria Quinlan
It was surprising how well they worked together. She was already trying to figure out how to make Spence take a paycheck. He’d not only been everywhere she’d needed him, but he’d known instinctively this was different than the shop for her.
This was more of a show. More of a presentation.
It wasn’t welcoming people into her kitchen and feeding them.
It was part of a grand affair.
He kept her calm and centered, letting her know everyone outside was enjoying the mini-desserts and letting her focus on assembling and frosting the last parts of the cake as he dealt with any issues.
It was like they’d been doing this for years.
“I’ll load this on a tray for Ms. Camilla’s niece, then we’re good to go. They have the toast and then dinner.”
Thank goodness for outside caterers.
“I saved you a lemon tart.” He slid her a treat wrapped in a napkin. “I know you keep your sugar count low, but you deserve it.”
She couldn’t believe he noticed she always went for the lemon…or that she avoided eating her own creations regularly.
“Thanks.” She hopped up on the barstool at the counter. “Wow, this is good. Someone really talented must have made it.”
Spence leaned in and kissed her. “Yup, lemony.”
“Do you think—”
Spence rolled his eyes as his cell rang. “Hold that thought.”
He strode across the kitchen in his no-nonsense way and grabbed the phone.
His head swung toward her, alert and excited.
“It’s a potential buyer.”
Lyra rushed over and looked down at it, the name lit up so well known even she was familiar with it.
He closed his eyes and pushed out a breath. “I need this whole part of my life behind me so badly.”
“You answer that. I’m going to run to the restroom.” She went up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck.”
She hurried up to the guest floor where the restrooms were. She couldn’t believe it. He’d said he doubted he’d get a call at all. Probably just an email saying they didn’t value his site at anything they’d spend the money he was asking for.
And there it was. On a Friday night.
These guys needed to get a life.
She hurried through washing her hands and heading back downstairs, hoping he had good news already.
“No. The new exposé is non-negotiable.” Spence’s voice carried through the hall to the stairway as she made her way down.
There was a long pause and then he went on, “It’s not just righting a wrong. It’s a great piece. The article would be a bit off from what’s been posted lately, but an occasional in-depth article would only create a feeling of a special exposé, something more interesting instead of less—Right. I understand, but—Did you see the other thing I sent you yesterday?”
Lyra wasn’t sure if she should go into the kitchen or wait in the sitting room across the hall. Either way, she’d be listening, but would it ruin his flow if she walked in? She didn’t want to put him off his game, so she dropped onto the sofa to wait. He knew she was coming right back, so it wasn’t like she was eavesdropping.
“I get it. Yeah. You can’t publish it, but you’re okay with everything else?”
Lyra froze. He wasn’t going to publish it? After all this, he was going to sell the site and not make things right first?
“Great,” Spence went on from the other room. “I’ll be back in New York tomorrow. I can get everything ready with my lawyer and we’ll go from there.”
She sat there, trying to pull it together. How could he do this? After all he’d done to make things right with her, with her business, with her town, he was just going to throw it all away?
She’d been so stupid. WWVD was all about risks and she’d taken one and look where it got her.
Lyra took a deep breath and headed into the kitchen, realizing this was not the place to have it out with him since she had this gig to finish.
Clearing her mind of everything she wanted to say, she pasted on a smile and strode in, hoping he’d tell her exactly what he’d done.
“Hey!" He tossed the phone down and came toward her, picking her up and spinning her around. "They're buying the site. I can’t believe I’ll be free of it finally."
She forced a smile on her face, and he was too excited about it if anything was off. "That's great. And everything went as you hoped?"
"It's a little different than I wanted, but it'll do.” He leaned down to kiss her, and she turned to give him her cheek. "But yeah, I have to go home and deal with the lawyers. And then I'm free."
Lyra couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he really think that once she found out about the article, everything would be fine?
"Any surprises?” she asked, hoping he'd come clean, hoping this would be the moment that he showed her that he was the person he said he was going to be.
No more singing sharks.
"Not really. Nothing I didn't plan for."
Her whole body flashed hot and cold. She wasn't sure she could feel the tips of her fingers. Reaching out, she brushed them across the table, wondering if the counter was that cold or her fingertips were freezing.
"Nothing?"
Spence shook his head. Looking pretty proud of himself actually. "Nope. It's good to go."
Lyra stepped away, holding up her hand to stop him when Spence came toward her.
“Really? And things are good for my shop?”
Spence nodded, looking confused and maybe a little annoyed. “Yeah.”
"I think you should go."
Spence froze looking at her in shock. "What?"
"Do you really think I’d want to be with someone who could do these things to me? Who hurt me and my town like this?"
"I thought we moved past that. I'm not that guy anymore. I'm not sure I ever was."
"Oh, I'm sure. You just proved that." Lyra rounded the kitchen counter, putting it between them. "You should leave and don't come back. And I need you to do that right now, because I have to get this cake finished and out there so that those wonderful people can celebrate what they have. Honesty, loyalty, and love. If you ever figure out any of those things… You know what? No. Don't bother."
With that, she rolled the cake toward the catering door, leaving him standing there watching her go.
He was gone when she got back.
26
SPENCE
Spence headed back to Noah’s completely at a loss. He wasn’t sure what he could do right now. He didn’t want to ruin her big event, so leaving when she asked him to was the best plan.
But he was coming back. Absolutely.
Noah was out with Jamie fishing—a pastime he claimed bored him to tears but that he had all the gear for.
The relief Spence felt not having to tell the guys that he’d somehow gotten back on the wrong foot again with Lyra was immense.
Plus, he didn’t want Noah to have an opportunity to tell him he wasn’t welcome.
Grabbing the overnight and laptop bags he’d arrived with, he hit the road.
The drive home was quick. He was so focused on getting things done, he spent most of it on the phone organizing as fast a turn around as he could until everyone went to bed and it was just him and the truckers.
It was shocking, now that his parents had moved to Florida, really how little there was to do or keep. Since Noah’s place was furnished, Spence spent an hour putting almost all his belongings on Craigslist, clearing out so much junk he was shocked.
As soon as he could, he cut his lease, packed his must-haves, clothes, and equipment and computers in a small U-Haul and headed back to Maine, excited to get back home.
Home.
He’d been gone just over a week and all he could think was, “How did I live like this? Without sunshine and forever?”
He left Noah a message he’d be back that evening and hit the road, more than happy to pay the thirty-day notice on
his lease to get out of it. He hadn’t realized how stressed he’d become until his shoulders relaxed when he hit the Maine border.
It was nearly eleven when he parked in front of the cottage he’d be calling home for a while. Noah was probably passed out already with the hours he kept for the café, so Spence grabbed his essentials and headed in, ready to crash for the night.
He’d quietly opened the door, only to find Noah sitting in the front room, nursing a beer over a Blake Banner book.
“Hey.” Spence set the bag down and studied Noah, getting the vibe very quickly that all was not well in Starlight Harbor. He dropped into the other overstuffed leather chair and leaned forward. “Okay, give it to me straight.”
“Weren’t going to get it any other way.” Noah studied him a long moment, more inscrutable than usual. “How’d you leave things with Lyra?”
“Less than great,” Spence admitted.
“Yeah, you might want to downgrade that.”
Spence’s excitement at being home dimmed. “By how much?”
Noah glanced away before taking a deep breath and meeting Spence head on. “All the way.”
Spence collapsed back in his seat, shocked it had come to is. If he’d known, he would have stayed, not given her the week to get angrier, to settle into her decision.
He wasn’t even sure how she had gotten there.
She knew he’d have to go home to finish the deal, to make a clean break.
“Here’s the deal. I think you screwed up again, but maybe not how she thinks. Maybe it’s one of those small screw ups all guys make where we assume we can talk about something later and then it snowballs.” Noah kept going, more words than Spence had heard from him together at once. “If that’s what’s going on, then stick around. Fight for her. Figure it out. If it’s not, then I’d say lay low and figure out how to get through this. I offered you a place as a friend. It’s yours. But, if you’ve done something unforgivable, remember, I won’t forget.”
“Don’t tell her I’m back. I need twenty-four hours to put my plan in place. It’s been getting set up all week.”
Noah sat, silent and unreadable before finally agreeing. Once he had, he got up and went to bed without another word.
Spence knew this was his only chance to win her back. He wasn’t going to be like her family—there but not.
He was going to be the family she deserved.
27
Lyra’s stomach had ached all week, as if she’d eaten four pounds of fudge, then gone for a run. Which, why would anyone do that to themselves?
The run, not the fudge.
Skye did it all the time and she wasn’t dead.
Yet.
But she was pretty sure that’s what this must feel like.
If this was what heartbreak felt like, she was glad it wasn’t catchy.
Vivian and Skye had been even more supportive, if that was possible. Vivian saying that if he came back and didn’t bring the Golden Apple as an apology gift, she’d take care of him.
Skye was pragmatic, and while that was good, Lyra wasn’t ready to hear most of her thoughts yet.
So, when the bell over the shop door chimed before she was open, she was pretty sure it was a heart-check by one of her friends before they went to work.
“I told you. I’m fine. Stop checking up on me.” She shouted while she focused on her newest invention.
Lemon peanut butter cups.
So far, they weren’t coming out right. But as a woman who was renouncing men and also cats because she was allergic to them, she had plenty of time in her future.
“The thing is...” She froze at the voice, wanting it to go away, because how dare he? How dare he? “I’m not. I’m not fine at all.”
She braced, waiting for him to come into her kitchen and emotionally overwhelm her space. But instead, he didn’t. He waited, on the other side of the counter where he should be.
She brushed her hands off, floury bits of peanut butter flaking off them, and stared, wishing she’d brought something heavy to throw at him.
“That’s a shame. Had a rough week? Didn’t take down any small businesses lately?”
“No. Worse. I thought I was falling in love with this girl—and I was—but she wasn’t falling in love with me.”
“Oh! How dare you! Don’t you accuse me of not falling in love with you! You sold me out.”
“Did I?” Spence sounded completely surprised by that. As if he didn’t know what he did.
“Yes! You told them they didn’t have to correct the issue with the Tiny Tacky Town and make things right with my business.”
Spence froze and crossed his arms in a defensive move. “And you thought that meant I’d sold you out?”
How could she believe he thought that was okay?
“Yes. Absolutely. You went back on your promise.”
“And you know this because you asked me. You said, Spence, I overheard something that didn’t make sense and figured I’d ask you what happened? Because I don’t remember that conversation, so that might be why I’m so confused.” The sarcasm was so thick she thought even Skye would spot it.
But sarcasm wasn’t a defense. It was deflection.
“It was pretty clear.”
Spence stepped back, his eyes narrowed and jaw tight. “You know what, Cupcake? Maybe before you throw someone away, you check to make sure they’re really garbage first.”
He turned and stormed out of her shop, leaving her completely confused about what just happened.
He’d broken her heart. What did he have to be angry about?
Well, if he was sticking around, he’d see the answer was nothing.
As in, he’d get nothing from her—he wouldn’t see her hurting. He couldn’t win her back even if he figured out how to make peanut butter lemon cups work.
“You,” Vivian pointed at her over the crumble cake she was devouring, “are out of control.”
Lyra froze elbow deep in dough, a little put out that Vivian was complaining while she ate crumble cake happily. She glanced at Skye for back up.
“Don’t look at me. I’m not the one having a sale because I’m baking seventeen hours a day and not sleeping.” She bit into the asiago bun. “By the way, this new recipe is fabulous.”
She wasn’t sure how much of their support she could take. One of them seemed to be with her at all times and they were beginning to wear on one another.
“I have a right to be angry. He betrayed me.”
“Okay, drama queen. Let’s slow down a bit. He had a point with the whole not asking him. And, I’ve got a friend monitoring his site. The sale went through a couple days ago, your post is still hidden, and nothing new has gone live. It’s not much of a betrayal.”
“But he kept promising he’d fix it. That was not fixing it.”
“Honey.” Vivian put her cake down, so Lyra knew she was serious. “Neither of you talking to one another isn’t going to fix this either.”
“Who says I want to fix it?” She hadn’t. She’d tossed him out and yet no one had run him out of town or needed to hide the body.
Noah was still offering him sanctuary.
“Thought bubbles,” Vivian said, making a show of reading the blank space above her head.
“It’s just, I took the plunge.” She tried to hold back the tears. “And I hit the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. My mom finally got back from wherever the heck she’d been and told me, well, Lyra, broken hearts make the best artists, picked up a tart, and flounced out.”
“Why in the world were you asking your mother for advice?” Skye looked at her like she was nuts.
Maybe she was.
“It’s just—”
The front door chimed and Vivian glanced out the kitchen door. “Speak of the devil.”
“Lyra, darling. I’m so glad you got everything straightened out. Those Google alerts were so much better than the last ones. That new site is lovely. Absolutely lovely. And it looks like the writer is even off on a
new adventure already. He’s at a small former shaker village over in New Hampshire, teasing the next exposé. Very exciting.” She patted her daughter on the cheek and took a cookie. “See? Your stars have realigned and everything worked out for the best. Bye, girls.”
The door fell shut behind her and silence reigned.
“Hurricane Linda.” Skye shook her head as Lyra pulled out her tablet.
“What do you think that meant?”
It took exactly one second to find.
THE BACKYARD TOURIST
Starlight Harbor, Maine
A town filled with Everyday Magic
#LoveHappensHere
by Spence Côte
“Oh.” Lyra rushed through the article amazed what he’d done. It was a brand new site focused on local travel, seeing your own backyard, enjoying short, affordable vacations, and even the occasional splurge.
The entire thing was already set up with announcements for each of the Starlight Harbor pieces.
The first one was an introduction, posted yesterday. The second was about her bakery, raving about her food and then going on a personal bend.
“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to meet the baker. Lyra Grigor is as sweet as her treats. Her heart goes into everything with full abandon, rushing in with a bravery that shows in her work.
“I can’t recommend her shop highly enough.
“Although, I should give a disclaimer. I fell even more in love with Lyra than I did with her sugar cookies.”
There was another paragraph wrapping it up with her bakery’s info and then a link to his newsletter. Along the sidebar was an Instagram feed, a picture of Spence at the farm he was touring, pounding on a hot piece of metal in a blacksmith’s shop.
“What do I do?” Lyra couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. “He was right. I should have asked.”
“Yes, well, he should have told you. You’re both idiots.”
“Thank you, Skye.”
She shrugged. “Well, he’s been moping around all week at Noah’s and now he’s back moping again instead of coming over here and talking to you—”
