Beautiful March

by Christy Pastore

  Ignoring his question, I say, “Yeah, go sit down and order. The french toast is amazing and so are the omelets. You won’t be disappointed.”

  Scott doesn’t seem to notice or care that I avoid giving him answer because the two of them turn and walk away. Calling Haven sloppy seconds after he admitted he was thinking about marrying her? Who has this guy turned into?

  This thing between Haven and me, I don’t know if it is a thing at all. As I get to know her though, I can’t help but wonder if there is something there—something real. I like that she’s so open and honest about what’s on her mind. It’s a rarity. I admire her for following her own rules and going after her ambitions.

  I definitely wouldn’t mind getting to know Haven better and since she’s going to be in town for the next few weeks, I’ll get my chance.

  Haven

  “Mom, I’m here,” I call out from the foyer of my parents’ home.

  The mid-morning sunlight pours through the windows spreading across the warm wood floors of the french country inspired home where I spent my childhood. I trek through the foyer, past the solarium and the drawing room, in search of my mom. The smell of apples, sugar and cinnamon hangs in the air and I inhale deeply getting my fill.

  “Ah, Haven, there you are,” she shouts from the kitchen. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” I take in the serious situation spread across the kitchen island—serious food situation. There’s enough food for an army. Biscuits, scrambled eggs, pancakes, maple sugar sausage and a juice bar.

  “Thank goodness the rain lifted,” she says, taking a muffin pan out of the oven. “I thought we’d eat out on the patio.”

  Good, we can swat horse flies away to burn calories. My eyes dart to the fruit plate. “Did you bake?” I ask, popping a grape into my mouth.

  “Yes, it’s a new recipe, apple cinnamon muffins.”

  My stomach growls.

  “Glad you brought your appetite.”

  I laugh. “I always do when I come home. Can’t get enough of this southern comfort food. Where’s Dad?”

  “Probably in his study, he’s got his eye on a new pony.”

  “Oh, really? Is he trying to keep up with the Queen of England or what?”

  That earns me a laugh from my mom. “Seems that way. So, how are things in Los Angeles?”

  “Good, I’m keeping busy. I have two clients with movies coming out next month.”

  “Anything you recommend that I should see?” she asks, keeping an eye on the timer.

  “Maybe,” I say, shoving another grape into my mouth. “One is a rom-com so you might like it. The other is a bit dark, murder and all.”

  “I’ve been reading this book, Big Little Lies—it’s very good. Murder, mystery and it has some funny parts. It’s a page-turner. Oh, and I saw that client of yours, Grady James, has a new show coming out on Netflix. He’s so handsome. The camera loves his face. Told your daddy he’s my free pass.”

  “Mom, please,” I groan. “I don’t want to know about that kind of stuff.”

  It’s nice to hear my mom talking about reading. I can deal without the pervy thoughts about Grady, though.

  I’ve never known her to take time for herself. She’s always so busy helping with various charities, working at the distillery or volunteering at the church. Up until now, I thought the only book she’s ever read was Little Women. She seems to be genuinely happy baking and talking about books.

  “It’s nice to see you slowing down, Mom.”

  She looks at me and her brows scrunch. “What do you mean? I’m running around here like a chicken with my head cut off trying get this meal ready.”

  I roll my eyes. “So literal. I just meant . . . you know what, never mind.”

  Footsteps approach drawing my eyes to the doorway. The hairs on my neck stand on end. My head turns as two tall men enter the room. My father walks in like he owns the room, which technically he does, taking powerful strides toward Mom.

  The other man stands six foot three, at least. Dirty blond hair and golden green eyes dressed in black pants and a blue shirt that amplifies the hue in his eyes.

  “Aaron Collins, what are you doing here?”

  His gaze skims to mine. “Your mother invited me.”

  Right. My mother.

  A deep breath escapes me and I feel my blood pressure rise. My parents are attempting to set me up. Aaron Collins is a nice guy, but not a guy that I feel any kind of attraction toward.

  “Okay,” my mom calls out. “Let’s load up our plates and take them to the patio.”

  I’m thirty years-old. Hardly an old maid. I’m good at my job and I’m on the fast track to becoming a partner. I’m not the girl who dreams of getting married and having two point five kids with a dog and a house in suburbia. Someday, yes. Funny, considering I thought that Scott was going to propose a few nights ago.

  When my parents exit the kitchen, I heap biscuits and sausage gravy onto my plate along with some fruit.

  “It was nice of your parents to invite me,” Aaron mentions, adding a few pieces of bacon to his plate.

  “I thought you said it was my mom who invited you, didn’t know my dad was in on it.”

  He laughs. “Well, she extended the invite, but your father insisted.”

  “Did you know that I would be here?”

  “I swear I didn’t.”

  I add home fries to my plate and then pour a glass of orange juice. “So, how exactly did my mom lure you here?”

  Before he can answer me, Mom comes barreling though the kitchen from the patio. “Come on you two.”

  I pick up my plate. “We’re not done with this conversation.”

  “I didn’t think that we were,” he jokes. “Come on, let’s at least enjoy the meal.”

  Getting through the meal is actually painless, mostly because every time my mom would serve up a comment remotely close to suggesting Aaron and I should spend some time together Aaron shot her down, respectfully.

  “Oh, man,” I say, curling up on the chaise lounge by the pool. “Every time my mom thought she had us, you took her down.”

  Aaron raises his glass of bourbon. “To be fair, I’ve had a lot of practice letting women down.”

  My brows scrunch together. “Highly doubtful.”

  He takes a seat opposite me. “Well, I don’t exactly play for your team.”

  “Oh,” I drawl out. “I didn’t realize.”

  “I’m not hiding it, but I’m not shouting it from the rooftops either.”

  “I’m not exactly shouting things from rooftops either,” I say into my tumbler. “I literally just got out of a relationship. If you can even call it that, but my parents didn’t even know that I had been seeing someone.”

  “My last relationship ended terribly,” Aaron mentions. “We were complete opposites and I was just drifting through hoping there’d be this ah-ha moment where I’d wake up and we’d both want the same things. I was kidding myself.”

  My head bops up and down in agreement. “Yeah, I realized when the dust settled that even though I was in a relationship it was definitely one-sided. Hell, he probably cheated on me. I guess we live and learn.”

  “When do you go back to Los Angeles?”

  “Whenever Reed and Sage get back from their honeymoon. I’m housesitting and taking care of Sage’s cat, Oliver.”

  “Sounds like fun,” he snorts. “How will you survive the summer here in Mayfield?”

  “One day at a time, I guess. How about you? Do you plan on staying in Mayfield forever or will you eventually go back to New York?”

  “I agreed to keep the practice for two years then after that I can sell it or take on a partner. Dad wants to keep it in the family. A legacy of sorts. But I’m not having any kids and who knows if my brother will ever settle down. I really don’t see the point in holding onto it. So, my end goal is definitely to get back to New York.”

  “Sounds complicated,” I assert.

  “Who knows,”
he says. “Maybe I’ll have a meet-cute and some sexy construction worker will accidently fall into my path and I’ll get to patch him up. It’ll happen just like it did for Jennifer and Matthew in The Wedding Planner.”

  I raise my glass. “Here’s to a summer meet-cute.”

  “What about you? Despite your recent breakup, is there something happening between you and Tyler Nichols?” Leveling his gaze at me, his brows shoot upward in amusement.

  “Yeah, about that.” I sit up and swing my legs over the chaise. “What were you doing in a strip club if you weren’t interested in the eye candy on stage?”

  He laughs a deep rumbling laugh. “One of the cocktail waitresses tripped and they called me in to look at her ankle. I can appreciate a nice pair of tits, a supple ass and long legs. The female figure is a thing of beauty. But you’re avoiding my question—dish.”

  Blowing out a deep breath, I gather my thoughts. “He’s handsome. I definitely enjoy talking to him. But I’m only in town for the next few weeks, and he lives here so really what can happen between us?” I leave out the part about him being friends with my ex.

  “Girl, you can have yourself a fling. A little afternoon delight with a sexy man.”

  “You’re terrible. Besides I don’t know that I have time for a man or fling in my life right now. I have a lot to prove to my boss. She’s offering me a partnership at the agency, if I surpass her expectations over the coming weeks.”

  His green eyes pop wide. “Well, that is something, but you can’t spend the entire time you’re here buried in work. Don’t forget to let loose. In fact, I demand that you and I grab dinner or lunch at least once a week.”

  “Deal,” I agree and take a swallow of my drink. “I do have dinner plans with Tyler tonight. He’s cooking for me.”

  “I hope that you’re the dessert,” he says, giving me a wink.

  “I’ll let you know you what happens.”

  He stands and downs the rest of his drink. “Well, thanks for the conversation and bourbon. I need to be going. I’m helping my mom move some furniture.”

  “Well, tell your mom and dad I said, hello.”

  “I will. I’m counting on lunch this week.”

  After saying goodbye to my parents, Aaron leaves and I decide to take a dip in the pool. It was nice hanging with Aaron. He’s definitely not the shy boy he was when we were growing up. I’m glad to see he’s gained confidence. And I’m extra glad that we didn’t dive into the subject of his brother, Sawyer.

  Maybe time does heal old wounds.

  Maybe.

  Tyler

  After a long run, I shower and then stop by The Tea Room. Their Kentucky Woodford Pudding is an absolute must.

  Maybelle skirts up to the hostess stand. “Tyler Nichols, welcome to The Tea Room.”

  She rarely calls me by my first name.

  “Maybelle, hello.”

  “Running into you twice in one weekend, must be my good luck.” She takes the menu from the hostess. “Right this way.” She leads me to a table in the back of the restaurant. The scent of bourbon and buttercream swirl around the room.

  “Let me guess,” Maybelle says. “You’re going to order the pudding.”

  My brows crinkle. “Yeah, I guess that I’m a creature of habit.”

  She smirks and pours me a glass of water. “You wouldn’t be trying to steal my recipe, would you?”

  I laugh. “Not a chance, darlin’. I don’t need to steal recipes when I have the best chef in the tri-county area working for me.”

  Maybelle props her hand on her hip. “I’ll go ahead and put that order in. Would you like anything else?”

  “How about a bourbon?”

  “Your request is my pleasure, darlin’.” She pivots and walks away.

  I’ve been a regular since they opened the restaurant. It never hurts to drop in on your competition from time to time. But the honest truth is that I like this place. I’ve rejected Maybelle’s advances numerous times. She’s nothing short of persistent, I’ll give her that. Beautiful and smart, yeah, Maybelle possesses both of those qualities in spades, but I don’t like to mix business and pleasure. And with Maybelle being the owner of this place, she’s a competitor. And I don’t need a sleeping with the frenemy situation in my life.

  This is the first time I’ve ever felt an iciness from Maybelle. Maybe she’s sore that I’ve been spending time with her cousin.

  “One bourbon,” says a blond server as she places my drink on the table.

  “Thanks.”

  I swallow down the liquid and scan the dining room. A man with grey hair sits in the corner reading the paper. Something about him seems familiar. I shake off the feeling and tap at my phone’s screen. In a few hours I’ll be having dinner with Haven.

  Maybelle appears at my table with my pudding order. “Here you go, Mister Nichols.”

  And we’re back to formalities.

  “Thank you very much.”

  A ghost of a smile touches her lips as she holds my gaze. “Sure thing, don’t be a stranger, ya hear?”

  I huff a laugh and watch as Maybelle glides toward the kitchen. Either she’s screwing with me or she just poisoned my dessert.

  Haven

  When I step up to the doors at The Saffron House, my heartrate kicks up and my hands mist over with sweat.

  “Okay, this is ridiculous,” I tell myself before taking a long cleansing breath.

  He’s just a man. A very handsome man.

  It’s just dinner. Nothing more, and then I’ll go back to Sage’s place—alone.

  My knuckles rap on the door and then a few moments later I see Tyler striding toward me.

  “Hi,” he says, pushing the door open. “It’s great to see you, Haven.”

  He’s wearing a black button down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and dark dress pants. My gaze sweeps over the long lines of his body taking in his height and heft. He’s commanding and beautiful at the same time.

  “Hey.”

  Once Tyler turns away from me, I press my hand to my chest in an effort to calm myself. Good lord, I’m losing my edge if all it takes is for this man to look at me and utter my name to send my heart banging against my ribs.

  What’s with the nerves?

  “So, I thought we’d start with a pre-dinner cocktail while I finish the pasta.” Tyler drops ice into two tumblers.

  I place my clutch on top of the bar. “Sounds good to me.”

  Tyler adds bourbon, blood orange juice and honey into a cocktail shaker. “This is called a Blood Orange Bourbon.”

  “Sounds delicious.”

  After shaking the contents of the mixture, he pours the liquid into our glasses. “So, how was your day?”

  I prop my hand under my chin. “Kinda weird, honestly.”

  His brow lifts as he places the tumbler in front of me. “Oh yeah, how so?”

  “Brunch at my parents, they invited Aaron Collins over without telling me.”

  “Trying to set you up?”

  I nod and take a sip of the concoction. “Yeah, but the joke’s on them because I’m not exactly Aaron’s type. But you would be—seems that Aaron and I prefer men.”

  Oh shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. My eyes close and I feel a twinge of guilt telling Tyler about Aaron. Then again, Aaron did say he isn’t keeping it a secret.

  He let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I figured as much,” Tyler says. “So, aside from the failed matchmaking anything else happen?”

  I shake my head. “Nope, what about you?”

  “I saw your cousin today.” He glances at his watch. “She asked me if I was trying to steal her pudding recipe.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, she mentioned the same thing to me the other evening. She’s suspicious by nature.”

  “Any reason why?” He comes around the bar to sit beside me.

  “Her parents divorced when she was eight. Her mom, Shipley, always told Maybelle she’d come back to see her. A string of promises and usually the
y were all broken. Basically, she grew up being let down on a regular basis. And Maybelle’s dad, Royston, well, he was always so busy working at the distillery—anyway, Maybelle spent the better part of her childhood alone. She made up for it by participating in pageants. She had tons of friends in school. I think that having so many friends kept her from feeling so lonely. Shipley came back when Maybelle was eighteen and tried to repair the damage. She ended up staying for a few months. Long story short, Shipley ended up stealing all Maybelle’s graduation money and took off for parts unknown. No one has heard from her since.”

  “Wow, that’s some heavy stuff. I can understand why Maybelle’s suspicious.”

  My finger traces the rim of the glass. “Yeah, and now that I’ve managed to bring the mood down . . . we’re in need of a subject change.”

  Tyler’s gaze shifts, his eyes land on my lips and slide down the neckline of my blush maxi dress. My tongue swipes over my bottom lip to find a hint of sweet orange.

  He stands. “How about you join me in the kitchen while I finish making our dinner.”

  I pick up my glass. “Lead the way.”

  Tyler pushes through the doors to the kitchen; the scent of espresso beans and butter twirls up my nose. It smells heavenly.

  “Wow, it smells amazing back here.”

  “I hope you like pasta and chocolate.”

  My nose wrinkles. “Together?”

  His humor-filled smile meets my concerned stare. “Not together, but I’m sure there’s a recipe for chocolate pasta somewhere.” He picks up a bottle of olive oil, drizzles it into a large sauce pan then adds a pinch of salt.

  “Do you need me to help box up the food for the shelter?”

  “Funny enough, Jace and George did all that before they left.” He steps away from the stove and glances at his watch. “Maria will be here soon to pick it all up. Which, reminds me, there was another weird thing that happened today.”

  My brows furrow.

  “Scott showed up here this morning.”

  “Oh no,” I breathe. “Should I be sitting for this?”

  “I don’t think so, it’s nothing that dramatic. But I do think that he’s going to call you and apologize.”