by Marina Adair
He was bigger than Kennedy remembered. Better looking, too. With the body of a pro-athlete, the smile of a bad boy, and a swagger that made women want to do crazy things. Looking at the way Fan Girl One and Fan Girl Two were sizing him up, crazy bed things.
Kennedy wanted to do crazy bed things. Only the bad boy thing wasn’t doing it for her. Nope, sadly, it was the town’s most eligible bachelor who came to mind.
“Good, then you won’t mind parting with the bottle you keep stashed behind the bar. The one you use when your cider isn’t enough game.” Ali leaned over the bar, her head dipping below the lip. She reappeared moments later with a bottle of bubbly and two stemmed glasses.
Ali grinned. Hawk scowled. And Kennedy moved over a chair. The tension between the two was so strong, Kennedy could almost feel it. She wasn’t sure if the tension was simple animosity—or something more interesting.
“Didn’t know you were paying that much attention to my game, sunshine,” Hawk said, his frown fading into a look of sheer amusement, confidence rolling off him like a man whose likeness had been plastered all over Times Square in nothing but his hockey stick and Calvin Klein’s. Which he had. “Does that mean you want to play?”
Ali set the glasses on the bar. “My mom warned me about men who carry their stick around in their hand all day.”
“Your mom loves me,” Hawk pointed out.
“She’s also been married six times, so I wouldn’t put much weight in that.”
Hawk went to say something else, but instead plucked the bottle out of Ali’s hand and filled both glasses. Even dropping a raspberry in each before sliding them over.
That was it. Ali had just told the most intimidating man Kennedy had ever seen what she wanted, then demanded that he deliver. To Kennedy’s surprise, he did. With a smile on his face.
If she’d known it was that easy, Kennedy might not be closing in on thirty and starting over for the umpteenth time in Nowhere USA. Not that Nowhere USA was a bad place to start over. In fact, Kennedy was beginning to believe that maybe there was something to the town’s name. Destiny Bay might be a bit whimsical for her logical brain, but the thirteen-year-old who dreamed of big adventures and life’s icing wanted to believe. Believe that there was more out there for her than being a rotating doormat.
But Kennedy wasn’t that girl anymore. She was competent, a determined business owner, who was the master of her own destiny. First step was getting her apples delivered. Second step, getting her house back.
Channeling her inner nut buster, she pulled out her cell phone and dashed off a quick text to Luke.
I want my apples.
Happy to be taking action, being pro-active about her future, and making her own destiny, she slid her phone back in her purse and reached for the champagne flute. But before she could take her first celebratory sip, someone scooted in beside her.
Kennedy didn’t have to look to see who it was; the scent of fresh apples and wicked promises had her lips tingling.
“I want your apples, too,” Luke said.
Kennedy turned, her expression cool and casual, showing not a glimmer of the heat simmering in her belly. She even ignored the melted chocolate eyes and heart-stopping smile—both of which advertised he wasn’t talking about the fruit hanging on the trees.
“You got a little something, right there.” He pointed to the glob on her top. “Apple?”
“Pear,” she said defiantly, resisting the urge to brush at the pie filling.
And it was that, right there, the easy humor that lit his eyes, the way he looked so damn comfortable in his body—in his world. It put Kennedy at ease as much as it put her on edge.
Then there was how close he was standing to her. Their bodies brushing every time he so much as blinked, slowing her mind down to a steady sway as her heart raced at the possibilities. And her mouth tingled, ached with the memory that the last time she’d been this close, she’d nearly kissed him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, kicking herself because if she knew that he’d be here, then she could have been at home. Showered, clean, and fast asleep.
In the bed.
“I own the place.”
“Half the place,” Hawk pointed out.
Luke ignored his friend, his eyes trained solely on Kennedy, making her want to smooth down her hair. “Why? Did you come looking for me? Maybe you got lonely at home and need someone to scrub your back?”
“No, I need someone to deliver my apples. You didn’t give me a time yesterday, so I waited until well after closing, but they never came,” Kennedy said.
“You’re delivering her apples?” Hawk asked as if this were an unreasonable request for the owner of the orchard to deliver produce to his customer.
“I was going to discuss delivery options over breakfast, but then you’d have had to actually come home for that to happen.” Luke grabbed a frosty bottle from behind the bar and popped the top, then slid onto the stool next to her. “But we can talk now.”
“Great,” Kennedy said, trying not to watch his throat work as he took a long pull from the bottle. Tried even harder not to notice that he hadn’t shaved that morning, which left him looking a little rugged, a little bit dirty, and holy cow, every time he smiled, it sent a whole lot of tingles to parts that had no business tingling. “When can you deliver them?”
“I can get them to you tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow we’ve got to harvest the east sector,” Hawk interrupted.
“But it will cost you,” Luke finished.
Kennedy rolled her eyes. “Oh, are we back to the kiss?”
“You kissed her?” Hawk said rather loudly.
Eyes on hers, Luke reached across the bar and palmed Hawk’s face, squeezing a second before delivering a quick shove. Not that it muffled Hawk’s growing concern that this was the worst news he’d heard all year. Maybe ever.
Kennedy felt herself flush. Not from chemistry, but from embarrassment. “I didn’t kiss him,” she said equally loud in case anyone was listening. Which she feared everyone was.
“But you wanted to.” Before Kennedy could argue the point, set the record straight, which would have meant lying, Luke added, “And I meant that the delivery will really cost you. Your deal was for the apples. Nowhere in the contract did it say delivery or the cost of harvesting was included.”
An issue Kennedy hadn’t run across until now because there’d been enough apples left over in the shop’s refrigerator from Fi’s last delivery.
“Who delivered them before?” Kennedy asked, her heart pounding so hard she could barely hear herself speak.
Luke set his bottle down. “Me.”
“Then you can see how I would have every reason to believe, based on past performance between our companies, that the apples would be delivered as promised.” There, that sounded professional.
“I can see how you might have come to that conclusion,” he said. “But that arrangement was between Callahan Orchards and the previous owners of Sweetie Pies. Who happened to be my mom and aunt. None of our clients get their apples delivered for free, especially clients who are only paying wholesale. If we did that, we’d lose money.”
He didn’t say it like she was an idiot. In fact, there was a gentle hint of apology beneath his words that Kennedy wanted to believe was genuine. But she knew better, knew that no matter how sorry he sounded, in the end there would be one winner and one loser, and he was rooting for the home team—and that, more than anything, made her feel like an even bigger idiot.
Of course Luke had harvested and delivered Paula’s apples for free. Then again she wasn’t just a client; she was family.
Kennedy was an outsider, whom he happened to share some chemistry with, standing in his way. The heat that flickered between them was as intoxicating as it was misleading, a fiery path that would surely lead to immense pleasure and complete disappointment. Because she wanted him as much as she wanted her next breath, but she wanted to make this new chapter a successfu
l one.
And she was determined and a hard worker who didn’t mind getting dirty.
“Taking a bigger loss on the apples isn’t a smart business move,” he said as if he were the Bill Gates of the apple industry. “My crew doesn’t work for free. Someone has to pay for the labor.”
And Luke seemed to think that someone was her. Too bad for him, she had negotiated with Callahan Orchards. Maybe not with the big, bad CEO of the family, but Paula was an equal owner, had sold her shop and all the assets with it to Kennedy in good faith. Even a first-year business major would know that.
“I can help you out with some comparable apples,” Luke offered.
“Nothing compares to the apples I’ve got,” she said, and Luke maintained eye contact, but she got a little thrill when he cracked a smile.
“I have to agree, sweetness,” he finally said.
Hawk blew out a long breath, then eyed his partner—who finally eyed him back. Not a word was spoken between the two, but a fair amount of communication happened. A few grunts, a shrug, then a super-secret nod that had Ali snorting.
Luke finally looked back at Kennedy. “I can give you a fair bid.” He said it in a way that made Kennedy think he was being genuine in his offer. But who wanted a fair deal when the original deal was for free? It was kind of like promising someone forever, only to cha-cha into the sunset when a slinkier option came along.
“Oh, I know you will because, like you said, any smart businessman would. And as soon as you get over this good-guy act where you have convinced yourself that you are doing me a favor, you’ll realize that while I may not have negotiated with you, I did negotiate with the other owners of Callahan Orchards. And I’m sure Paula will attest that, although not detailed in the contract, your company delivering my apples for free was implied.”
Hawk looked at Luke, who wasn’t giving away much, but he didn’t need to. Hawk’s nonverbal communications skills had come to include Holy Fuck. Add to that a little sputtering, and it was enough to know that while Luke may have had the advantage, Kennedy had just delivered the winning play.
Kennedy downed her champagne and stood. “Thanks for the drink, Ali.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Ali said, standing, too—as if in support.
The gesture was so unexpected, Kennedy felt her heart smile. Felt some of the growing stress release and give in to the feeling that right now, in this moment, she wasn’t taking on the world alone.
Kennedy hadn’t just lost her house and her job in the breakup. Since most of her friends were also Philip’s friends, and she hadn’t wanted them to choose—especially since she was pretty sure they’d choose Philip—she’d lost them as well. But Ali had a lifetime of history with these guys and this town, yet when faced with a choice, she had chosen Kennedy.
“You were right,” Kennedy said. “A drink was just what I needed. I feel much better now.”
Confidence bubbling, she turned to leave and found Luke was standing—in her way. Sure, to a random onlooker, it would appear as if Luke was living up to his gentleman persona, rising when a lady took her leave. But it was strategic. She was stuck between the bar and his hard, unwavering body.
“You’ll feel even better when you crawl into bed,” Luke said lowly, leaning in until his lips grazed her ear. “I put fresh sheets on. The silky ones that hug your body like a second skin, hold you just so.” His arm tightened around her, not quite touching her but definitely teasing. “They make for one hell of a good night, sweetness.”
Kennedy thought about him on her like a second skin, how it would feel to have him hold her just so, and her brain went fuzzy. But when his grin widened, as if that was exactly what he wanted, she placed a hand on each of those impressive pecks and pushed him back, but he didn’t move.
Realistically, there was really nowhere for him to go without bumping into another patron. That didn’t mean he had to bump closer to her, making her hands slide down onto the top of those gorgeous, flat abs of steel.
“Thanks,” she said, refusing to let him know he was getting to her. “That was thoughtful, but my night couldn’t possibly get any better.”
She had a plan to get back her apples—and her cottage.
* * *
Confused and feeling a bit turned on, like he’d just participated in some kind of twisted public foreplay, Luke watched Kennedy strut out of the bar. His eyes locked on her sweet ass, as it swished back and forth, creating a hypnotic vortex that was impossible to resist.
Oh, she kept her swag light and natural, as if she knew he was watching, but didn’t want to appear to care. But she did, because right before she walked out the door, she turned back and caught his gaze and—Holy Christ—all sorts of interesting things happened.
Things that made sitting down in his jeans an impossibility. Clearly, she felt it, too, because suddenly she was looking at him as if she couldn’t stop thinking about those sheets, a real slip-and-slide event that would end with her moaning and begging for more.
It was that promise of more, he was sure, that had her turning for the door like that ass of hers was on fire. Smart woman, since he wouldn’t mind taking her up on that fantasy.
Which would blow the whole she’s an obstacle and nothing more thing he had going on.
“If you’re done eye-fucking the Shop Girl, I’d like to point out that if she gets to your mom first, we’re sunk,” Hawk said, pulling out his cell and shoving it Luke’s way. “Call her.”
“My mom is a bleeding heart, but she is also a savvy businesswoman,” Luke said but he reached for another drink anyway, bypassing the cider and going for the Scotch. “And she isn’t home tonight, she’s at her book club.”
Hawk put the phone away. “I hope so, because if Kennedy gets your mom to agree, she’s here for good.”
And if she didn’t get her apples, she’d lose the shop and most likely move on. To another town. Which shouldn’t matter to him, but it did. Every time he thought about it, this acute pressure started at the back of his shoulders and worked its way through his chest, where it settled—and grew.
“She’ll sell—she has to,” Luke said, confident that she would. He just hoped that it was in time to deliver on their orders. Hawk didn’t look confident or hopeful; he looked stressed out. “When have I ever let you down?” When Hawk didn’t answer, Luke poured his buddy two fingers. “I’ve got this handled.”
“You sure?” Hawk gave Luke a long assessing look, which pissed him off. Luke had never not come through—at least for Hawk.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Not that I’m one to question your skills with the ladies, but she looked to be handling you. In fact, she just walked out of here with your nuts in her hand, which I have to admit freaks me out as much as it impresses me.”
Luke knew exactly what Hawk felt; she impressed him, too. Every time she faced an obstacle that would have most people packing it in, her stubborn chin would shoot up, her determination would increase, and it was the biggest turn-on in the world.
“One tear and Paula will have you out there picking Kennedy’s apples and sinking this deal. A deal that I wanted to hold off on signing for this exact reason.”
It had taken Luke the better part of the week to get Hawk to sign. Luke knew it was the right move, knew that Rogers wouldn’t wait for them to figure out how they were going to deliver. Suits like Rogers didn’t give a shit about how people delivered—just that they did.
And he had less than three weeks to make it happen.
“Kennedy isn’t a crier,” Luke said, finding it hard to imagine a straight-shooter like Kennedy using her emotions to get ahead. “And I’ll figure this out.”
“Well, I hope so because this is a done deal and there are no more apples in the entire fucking state.”
Luke polished off his glass in a single swallow, letting the liquid burn its way down, only to catch fire in his belly. “I saw the financials she sent my mom,” Luke admitted, a wave of guilt hitting hard. He
had no right to go snooping through his mom’s papers. In fact, it bordered on unethical, but he’d done it anyway. “My guess is that she’s a few weeks away from going bust.”
“She looked pretty damn happy for a woman on the verge of bankruptcy,” Hawk pointed out. “What if she doesn’t sell?”
“She will,” Luke said, pouring himself another glass because a few weeks was a generous estimation.
“I just need a little more time with her.”
“We’re running out of time,” Hawk pointed out. “If we don’t harvest those trees by mid-October, we won’t get them fermenting in time to make Rogers’s timeline. And once the rain starts, we’ll lose the rest to rot.”
“Which is why I’m meeting Jason Stark from Bay View Orchards in the morning before he heads to Seattle. We need those apples, sooner than later, if we are going to fulfil all of the cider orders. So I want to make an offer to buy his apples early, separate from the offer on the land.” Luke knew Hawk wasn’t going to close the bar down until one, which would put his friend in bed after two, so he hated what he was about to ask. “Can you run the crew tomorrow morning so I can get to his office in time?”
Hawk rested a hand on Luke’s shoulder and gave him a nudge that always managed to lighten Luke’s mood, take some of the pressure off so he could breathe easier.
It was Hawk’s way of saying he had Luke’s back. No matter what. It was that kind of unconditional support that made Hawk such a great business partner—and made Luke even more determined to make this happen. For the both of them.
Partnering with Rogers had been Luke’s idea, but Hawk had just as much to lose if it went south—maybe more. Not that he’d ever hold it against Luke if it did. Hawk wasn’t the kind of guy to pass the blame; he was too loyal for that.
Hell, he took care of his wife for years after she walked out on him. For another man.
“You think they’ll go for it? The Starks?” Hawk asked.
“My option expires at the end of the season. If I end up passing, they will have to move the apples fast. Finding a buyer will be easy; harvesting fifty acres before the rain starts will take a lot of time and energy.” Energy that Stark’s kids obviously didn’t have. “Plus it will let Kennedy know that she’s not the only option in town. That she doesn’t have me by the nuts.”
