Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
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Playful Hearts
The Rocky Harbor Series
Book 4
By Marianne Rice
Playful Hearts
Copyright © 2017 by Marianne Rice.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: June 2017
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-114-2
ISBN-10: 1-64034-114-5
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To those we’ve lost too soon, and to those who blessed the earth with their generous hearts for over ninety years. Heaven is overflowing with angels.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
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Chapter One
Mackenzie
“Is that a paintbrush in your hand or are you happy to see me?” Mackenzie Pratt snickered, accidentally dripping brown paint down her hand. Her apron had seen better days. Normally covered in spilled coffee, milk, and chocolate crumbs, tonight it also hosted red and yellow acrylic paint splatters.
“If your wrist is worn out by the time you’re done doing this, you know you did something right,” Lucy Riley called from the podium in front of the class, and the women erupted in laughter.
Tonight was the third paint night Mackenzie had hosted at her coffee shop, Coast & Roast. The idea came to her when she saw Lucy’s artwork hanging in Maggie Riley’s office, not that Mackenzie spent much time on her best friend’s therapy couch. And since Lucy had also become a friend to Mackenzie, she’d struck up a deal with the wild child.
Paint bars and paint nights were all the rage now, so Mackenzie figured she’d give it a whirl. Lucy took home most of the profits, but the shop made money on all the coffee and baked goods sold during the session. Those who wanted something a bit more grown up brought their own wine. A win-win all around.
“Should my glass be full or half-full?” Maggie asked, pouting as she studied her painting.
Tonight’s picture was a bottle of red, a wine glass, and wedge of cheese. Next month they’d do a coastal landscape, hoping to attract the summer tourists. It was mostly locals from Rocky Harbor who stopped in the shop in May, with a few out-of-towners up to open their summer homes along the Maine shore. It wasn’t uncommon to have a five-million-dollar mansion sitting next to a simple Cape Cod style cottage. And across the road, with an obstructed view of the Atlantic, you could get yourself a two-thousand-square-foot home for around eight hundred grand.
Maggie was one of the few wealthy residents of Maine but she never let class or social status come between their friendship. Thanks to Maggie’s housekeeper’s connections, Mackenzie’s mom had landed a regular cleaning gig and the Pratts had been able to upgrade from their one bedroom rental on the outskirts of Rocky Harbor to a small trailer in Arundel. Which also meant Kenzie, at ten years old, had to switch schools. Rocky Harbor Elementary was divided between the wealthy coastal kids and the poorer families who lived on the west side of town, running the farms and working for the upper crust. She’d rather be in a poorer school anyway. There were fewer kids looking down on her, making fun of her for her outdated clothing and tiny home.
Being wealthy was never Mackenzie’s game plan, but she didn’t want to live paycheck to paycheck either. She had been frugal, tucking away the money she’d earned while waitressing at night, and was granted enough scholarship money to pay for her community college. In two years she’d earned her business degree and after a few more years of saving, she had enough to invest in her own business.
Coast & Roast had been Mackenzie Pratt’s baby for the past five years. The coffee shop sat in the touristy downtown area of Rocky Harbor and catered to visitors as well as the locals. She kept the décor simple, homey and in-tune with the rest of downtown. A few nautical prints on the wall, as well as the cliché sayings like ‘Life Begins After Coffee’ and her favorite, ‘Behind every successful woman is a substantial amount of coffee.’
Rachael Riley, her friend and baker for the shop, often wore cutesy shirts about baking or cooking and inspired Mackenzie to do the same. Under her apron she wore her fitted ‘Coffee is a Hug in a Mug’ shirt, which seemed to elicit smiles from all her customers.
“Your glass is always half-full,” Mackenzie said, flashing a glance at her best friend before lowering her gaze to the sleeping baby in the car seat at Maggie’s feet. “Although for the past year it’s been completely empty. You still nursing Katie?”
“I’m hoping to nurse for another nine months. Until she’s a year.”
“So I’ll be drinking solo for a while, huh?” Mackenzie dipped her paintbrush in the burgundy paint and filled the wine glass on the canvas.
“I wouldn’t call your social life solo.” Maggie shook her head, her long red ponytail whipping Mackenzie in the face. “Speaking of, how was your date with Isaac?”
“Eh.”
“Eh? You’ve had a lot of them lately. I’ve never seen you so picky with men.”
Her best friend was too intuitive. Since being so horribly betrayed by her fiancé six years ago, Mackenzie stopped taking relationships, or rather men, so seriously. Trust was something no man had yet to earn. They were all slimy bastards.
Well, maybe not in the family Maggie had married into.
The Rileys were a rare lot. They came from a variety of backgrounds, all adopted by Doreen and the late Keith Riley. Mackenzie had formed friendships with all the brothers and sisters since Maggie met Graham a few years ago.
Well, all but Blake. They almost hooked up at Maggie and Graham’s wedding awhile back. Close call. His black-as-sin hair and sultry latte eyes had called to her the second his fine ass walked through the church doors. Late as usual, his family had mumbled before his brothers greeted him with slaps to the back and his sisters with kisses on the cheek.
Mackenzie had stood on the outer edge of the circle, mesmerized by the family dynamics. She�
�d always thought her family to be close, but they didn’t have the special bond that the Rileys had.
She’d never forget the moment Blake noticed her. She’d nearly dropped the silly bouquet of ribbons she’d held for Maggie when his gaze met hers and his lip tugged up in the sexiest grin she’d ever laid eyes on. The man had to have known the effect he had on women. The easiness in his swagger, the confidence in his stare, the slow, predatory lick of his lips.
Unaccustomed to being looked over like a piece of cake after a six month diet, she dropped her gaze and fiddled with the pink and white and silver ribbons in her hand, pretending she had a purpose.
“You must be the best friend I’ve heard so much about.” Blake Riley practically pounced on her, his scent spicy and rustic, heat emanating off his too-near body. Personal boundaries he did not respect.
“I highly doubt you’ve heard so much about me.” She didn’t come off as coy or playful and later she’d regretted the bit of snark that followed. “If so, what exactly do you know?”
His lips had quirked, as did his eyebrow, and he’d leaned against the pew behind him, not one bit abashed at her sullen attitude. “You’re the gorgeous coffee shop owner who is friends with Maggie.”
“I stand corrected. You do you know all there is to know about me.” Mackenzie had pushed past him and tried not to stumble when his laughter followed her retreating back.
She didn’t like how his cocky good looks made her quiver, or how his confidence made her blush. It reminded her too much of the old Mackenzie. The one who was a sucker for a pretty face and a convincing lie. Who forgave too easily and got burned too often. She’d worked hard to build her wall and with one quick grin Blake Riley had dented her fortress.
The rehearsal dinner had been busy and chaotic, even with Sage Riley’s meticulous planning, and Mackenzie was able to hide from Blake’s smooth lines and smoldering look. But when he’d taken her hand and pulled her on the dance floor after the wedding—
“You’re flushed, Kenz, but you haven’t had a sip all night.”
Maggie’s concern brought Mackenzie back to the present. She looked at her painting, the glass on the canvas sloppy and uneven, and picked up the real deal, gulping the chardonnay down quickly.
“I didn’t mean you had to play catch up. At least you’re not driving.”
“Sorry. Distracted. I suck at this.” She looked at her painting, then around the room at everyone else’s. Lucy was a great teacher; each student in the class, no matter their level of talent, had been able to follow her directions and had a decent looking piece of art in front of them. But Mackenzie wasn’t feeling the love.
“The muffin and coffee mug canvas you painted last month came out beautifully. What’s going on? You okay?” Maggie set her paintbrush down and swiveled in her chair so she faced Mackenzie. She’d do anything for her friends and family. And her clients. Mags was an awesome therapist, so calm and gentle and comforting. Nothing like Mackenzie, all hard lines and abrasive.
“Just lost in my thoughts. All is good.”
“Is it your mom?”
Her mother’s dementia had gotten worse over the past few months and her father wasn’t holding up well. Mackenzie woke at the crack of dawn to open Coast & Roast and would take off mid-day when things were slow, leaving Diane to run things, to help her mother around the house until her father got home from work.
Simon Pratt should have retired years ago from the sanitation department, but with Renee’s health issues, he couldn’t afford to. The Pratts weren’t in dire need, but never had enough to live carelessly.
Renee hated being waited on, always the one to do the cleaning, cooking, and shopping when she had been healthy, and often snipped at Mackenzie when she stopped by to check in or help.
“Mom’s okay. Obviously she’s not going to get better. Dad’s coping. Logan stops by every few weeks.” Being one of four kids should have meant that her siblings would help out with their parents. Since she was the only girl, her older brothers expected her to take care of their mom, claiming ignorance in the domestic department, which was true. Still.
Renee didn’t raise her boys to learn to cook or clean, wanting them to be big, brave tough men who would support their damsels in distress. Instead, Mackenzie was blessed learning how to do the “woman” chores around the house. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, waiting on her man. None of which she did well.
She loved her family, she really did, but their ideals in life were way off base. Being the helpless female didn’t pan out so well for her.
“You’re not one to brood.”
“I’m not brooding.” Mackenzie tilted her head and showed a cheeky smile before refilling her glass and chugging again. Classy, she was not.
“Avoidance.”
“Don’t turn shrink on me.”
“It’s a guy.”
“Margaret Anne.” It hadn’t been a guy. Or at least, not until recently. She hadn’t paid Blake much thought until he started showing up around every corner, at the grocery store, her friend’s houses, the coffee shop. And in her dreams.
“Oh, the full name. I pushed a button. A guy. Okay. I get it. I don’t think he hurt you or you’d be pissed. I’ve never seen you so…distracted.” Maggie scrutinized her and Mackenzie squirmed in her seat. “You like him.”
“Who?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ignoring her BFF, Mackenzie picked up her brush and pretended to study Lucy’s painting up front. She dabbed her brush in the brown and added a hint of gold and red to give the wooden tabletop some depth, only the amber color reminded her of a pair of laughing eyes that made her belly flutter with nerves.
“More avoidance.” Maggie chuckled. “I had planned on setting you up with…someone, but if you’re already interested in a man…”
“Nope. Not interested in a man and not interested in being set up.”
“Sure. If that’s how you want to play it.”
“You know, for being a happily married wife, a new mom, and a reputable therapist, you sure can be a bitch.”
Maggie laughed loudly, startling little Katie from her sleep. “I haven’t seen you like this since Troy Carmichael.” She unbuckled her crying infant and cradled her tight.
“That was like, so forever ago. Eighth grade.”
“And it’s bringing the middle school back in you.”
“Whatever. Give me my goddaughter. You’re in a mood to stir up trouble and Katie shouldn’t have to put up with it.” Mackenzie dropped her brush in the cup of water and took the tiny bundle from Maggie. “Your mommy’s a mean old crab. You remember who the cool, fun people in your life are, okay, princess? Your favorite auntie will always protect you.”
Mackenzie never had a longing for babies, but Katie Riley was one adorable little cutie. She was happy that her BFF found what she’d always been looking for. A place to belong, someone to look at her like she was the center of the universe and who would always be home at night. And now a little nugget to hold and nurse and love as well.
When Katie started gnawing on her fist and then rooting for Mackenzie’s chest, she handed her back to Maggie. “Sorry, sweet cheeks. That’s one thing auntie can’t help you with.”
Lucy gave out the final instructions to add depth and dimension to their artwork, and the class finished their wine and their paintings. When pictures had been taken and prizes given out, the students slowly piled out, all thanking Lucy and Mackenzie for hosting a great event.
“Thanks again for tonight. Everyone had a good time. You’re a great artist and teacher.” Mackenzie picked up the remaining coffee cups and empty wine glasses, loading them onto her tray.
“I never pictured myself giving art lessons. It’s kinda fun. And hell, I’ve sold a few of my own paintings and gained two clients through classes, so I’d say it’s a win-win. I feel bad that you’re not making much on the gig. We should go fifty-fifty.”
“Nah. All I’m doi
ng is opening my doors. You’ve got all the work of picking up the supplies and teaching. I get to paint for free, hang with the girls, and people buy my coffee. Works for me.”
Lucy followed Mackenzie, her arms loaded with paint bottles and dirty brushes, into the kitchen where Rachael once baked for the shop before she got hired to cook for the Rocky Harbor Inn.
There were two deep sinks in the kitchen. Lucy used the smaller one to wash her tools and a few cabinets to store supplies. The rest of the kitchen was underutilized. It held a few ingredients for emergencies and baked goods for the shop. Rachael did most of the baking at the Inn—it had a killer state-of-the-art kitchen now that Colton was around to do upgrades—and delivered baked goods every morning for Coast & Roast.
Over the past year or so she’d added simple soups to the menu and she kept them plugged into crockpots along the counter in the kitchen. Small, simple, just enough to have a good, easy-going life. That’s all Mackenzie wanted. Nothing glamorous, although she wouldn’t turn down a winning Powerball ticket.
She didn’t like getting dolled up or having to worry about offending someone by not being PC. Not that she was crude or rash, like Lucy—although she’d matured a lot over the past few years—but she wanted to be free to be herself and not mold into someone else.
Rachael had an ex who tried to do the same. Mackenzie didn’t know her then and only saw the new, awesomely perky and funny Riley sibling who snagged a tattooed biker boy.
Yeah, biker boys, cowboys—not that there were many in Maine—and contractors were more her type. Dark haired men with coffee ice cream eyes and lickable lips.
A man who worked with his hands, had a killer body and loved the outdoors. Hell, the last thing she needed was Blake Riley invading her thoughts before she went to bed.
Again.
***
Blake
Playful Hearts (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 4) Page 1
