Standing barefoot on the back counter draped with a drop cloth, Eliza stretched on her tiptoes to reach the chalkboard overhead, hand-printing the bakery’s new menu. With her silky blond hair gathered in a messy bun, Grant admired the slender curve of her neck as she tilted her head to the side, surveying her work. “How does it look?”
“Perfect!” Cassie nodded her approval, then frowned. “Wait… something is missing.” Turning to Grant, she asked, “Do you think you could add some artwork? A cup of coffee, a cupcake, stuff like that? Oh, and can you draw a big square, like on a calendar? We can list a different daily special inside.”
“Great idea. I’d be happy to.” Leaving Ben with a color wheel assignment, Grant kicked off his flip-flops and hoisted himself onto the counter.
He took the piece of chalk from Eliza, his heart undulating as their fingers grazed. Even after all this time, her touch left him woozy.
Trying to steady his pulse, Grant studied the menu, looking for inspiration. The coffee side of the chalkboard would be easy. A few coffee beans sprinkled here and there, a cappuccino topped with foam…. But when it came to the desserts, Grant could be more creative.
He scanned the options, deciding he’d draw one of Maggie’s enormous cinnamon rolls. A mulberry pie with a lattice crust would also make for an appealing design. What else? His gaze traveling the list of desserts, Grant froze as he landed on the second to last item—tiramisu cheesecake. One half of that combo was Grant’s all-time favorite indulgence.
His pulse quickened, although the reaction seemed foolish. It wasn’t as if Eliza had included it simply for his sake. Still, he stole a glance in her direction.
She stared intently at the chalk dust covering her hands, a faint blush tinting her cheeks.
Grant fought the urge to point out the tiramisu cheesecake and gauge her reaction, but before he even had the chance, Eliza hopped off the counter.
“Hey, Cass,” she called out, a nervous trill to her voice. “Is the espresso machine still on? I could really use a latte.”
“Of course.” Cassie set down one end of a shelf she was holding for Luke, telling him, “I’ll be right back.”
As Grant refocused his attention on the chalkboard, he couldn’t help wondering if he still had an effect on Eliza. Did he make her breath catch in her throat? Did he send goosebumps tingling across her skin? Not a day had gone by when he hadn’t thought of her at least once. Sometimes, he recalled a certain phrase or mannerism, like the way her nose crinkled when she laughed. Other times, a faint memory would push its way to the forefront of his mind, making his arms ache to hold her. She’d never stopped being a part of his life, no matter how hard he’d tried to block her out.
A few minutes later, Grant had completed a detailed sketch of a layered cheesecake, complete with a raspberry and mint leaf perched on top. He’d decided to make one slice missing, set on its own plate nearby.
“Grant, that’s perfect!” Cassie clasped her hands together, clutching them against her heart. “Don’t you think so, Liza?”
Eliza gazed over the top of a tall glass mug piled high with thick, white froth.
Their eyes locked, and Grant nearly lost his footing at the intense look that passed between them.
Eliza parted her lips, but before a single word escaped, Luke said, “It looks great, but I think you might have smudged something. Is that supposed to say goose pie?”
Cassie giggled. “I think it’s supposed to say gooseberry pie. Although goose pie doesn’t sound any more ridiculous than mincemeat pie, and we’re both fond of that.”
Cassie and Luke exchanged a dreamy, doe-eyed gaze, and Grant suspected there was a story behind her comment. A pang of envy shot through him. He missed stolen glances and the intimacy of inside jokes he and Eliza used to share.
He cleared his thoughts with a cough. “Sorry, I’ll fix it.”
“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Eliza set down her latte. “So the lettering is consistent.”
Grant reached out his hand to help her up, and Eliza hesitated a moment before accepting it.
As he lifted her onto the counter, Grant tugged with a little more force than necessary, nearly pulling her into his arms.
Eliza braced herself with one palm against his chest, and Grant felt the heat from her touch all the way through his T-shirt.
Briskly stepping aside, he silently scolded himself. He needed to get a grip. He couldn’t go weak in the knees every time she glanced his way or made the slightest contact. They were friends, nothing more. Which meant he needed to get a handle on his attraction before he made a complete fool out of himself.
“Looking good, guys.” Colt breezed into the bakery, instantly setting Grant on edge. Ever since Colt announced his interest in Eliza, he couldn’t look at the guy without his fingers curling into fists.
Colt zeroed in on Grant’s drawing. “Cake?”
“Tiramisu cheesecake,” Grant corrected, as if it mattered.
“Creative. But give me regular old New York style any day.”
“I suppose vanilla is your favorite ice cream flavor?” Eliza smirked, staring down at him from her perch on the counter.
“Maybe. What’s yours? Chocolate?”
“Tied with strawberry.”
“Perfect. Then we can share a scoop of Neapolitan ice cream on our date tomorrow night.”
Grant’s blood chilled, and his gaze darted to Eliza.
She looked equally shocked. “Our what?”
“Our date. The Secret Picnic didn’t count. I’d like to take you on a proper date. Just the two of us. Are you free tomorrow night?”
Grant held his breath, waiting for Eliza’s response. It took every ounce of self-control not to shout Not a chance on her behalf.
“Yes…” she said slowly.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
And in a matter of seconds, the day went from being one of the best in Grant’s life…
To one of the worst.
Chapter 10
Daylight filtered through tall stained glass windows, diffusing muted colors throughout the cluttered room. Squinting, Eliza did her best to focus on the dusty shelves overflowing with a random assortment of trinkets and collectibles. While she rarely ventured into the back storage room of Thistle & Thorn for fear she’d never come out, today the chaos served as a welcome distraction from the horror plastered across Penny’s face.
“Why on earth did you agree to a date with Colt?” Penny gaped at her from behind a stack of multicolored depression-era glassware.
“He caught me off guard.” Eliza squirmed, deciding not to mention her state of panic over the surge of unwanted chemistry between her and Grant.
“Can you tell him you’ve changed your mind?”
“I don’t know….” Eliza caressed a delicate rose-colored vase, drawn to the subtle pink hue. “Wouldn’t that seem kind of mean on such short notice? Besides, it’s only one date. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We could be picking out centerpieces for your wedding with Colt,” Penny said with a derisive snort.
Eliza laughed. “Not likely. He’s not the marrying type.” She set down the vase and lifted an amber apothecary jar. “Speaking of centerpieces, let’s go with the amber-colored glass. It’s more Cassie. And I think it’ll look beautiful with the flowers Reed picked out for the floral arrangements.”
“Good point,” Penny agreed. “I can’t wait until Cassie sees the surprise he’s been working on!”
“Me, too! Did you notice the way he guarded his greenhouse the last time we stopped by? I thought for sure she’d be suspicious.”
“She’s in love. Love makes you oblivious. Or so I’m told,” Penny added with a shrug.
Eliza studied her friend over the rim of a crystal candy dish. To her knowledge, Penny had never been in love. Although she’d had her fair share of interested suitors, no one seemed to tempt her away from her collection of treasured novels. But maybe Penny had the righ
t idea. Book boyfriends were far less likely to break your heart than real ones.
“Okay,” Eliza sighed. “I’ll call Colt and tell him the date is off.”
“I think you’re dodging a bullet.”
Digging her phone out of her back pocket, Eliza pulled up Colt’s number. As it rang, she sidestepped a leather steamer trunk and ducked behind a Tudor-style armoire, out of Penny’s earshot.
“Hey!” Colt’s delight reverberated through the speakers.
“Hi.” Eliza sucked in a breath, nervously fidgeting with the fringed tassel of a vintage lampshade that still carried the faint aroma of moth balls and pipe tobacco. “Listen. About tonight…”
“Don’t tell me you can’t make it,” Colt groaned.
“It’s just that Ben has this project due tomorrow and—”
“Then we’ll postpone.”
Gathering her courage, Eliza inhaled the musty scent permeating the room, then slowly released it. “The truth is, I’m not sure going on a date is such a good idea.”
A long pause filled the silence, and Eliza’s stomach tumbled with nerves.
“Okay, I can respect that,” Colt said at last, surprising Eliza with his sincerity. “Let’s not think of it as a date, then. Just two friends hanging out. We’ll get a bite to eat. Maybe some ice cream afterward.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Sounds an awful lot like a date to me.”
“I’ll only let you get one scoop. Plain cone, not waffle. And definitely no sprinkles.”
Eliza giggled. “Gee, you’re a stingy friend, aren’t you?”
Colt’s deep, rich laugh rumbled through the phone, causing her heart to flutter. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night. Same time.”
“See you then.”
After exchanging goodbyes, Eliza ended the call slightly breathless.
What had just happened?
And even more importantly, how would she explain it to Penny?
The time span between the moment Colt asked out Eliza to the evening after their date had almost killed Grant. He’d contemplated tying himself to a chair to keep from skulking about town with the intent of sabotaging their date. Instead, he’d focused his pent-up energy working on Eliza’s website. Fortunately, it also happened to be the perfect excuse to stop by her house. And if he received an update on her date, so be it. He wasn’t one to pry.
Yeah, right….
Who was he kidding? He’d definitely pry.
A surge of fond memories washed over Grant as he mounted the broad porch steps leading up to the periwinkle-blue farmhouse.
The Carter residence had always been like a second home to Grant. After school, they would often split their time between homework around the kitchen island—devouring whatever baked good Eliza had concocted for them—and helping Hank at his hardware store.
To his surprise, Grant noticed most of the landscaping had remained the same. A brick pathway Sylvia had dubbed The Red Carpet cut through a lush English garden, ushering visitors to the house. Long strands of bistro lights canopied the lawn, casting an ethereal glow Sylvia fondly referred to as “stage lighting.”
Grant smiled at the memory, grateful Eliza had inherited her mother’s warm, vivacious personality, without all of her other idiosyncrasies.
However, the more Grant surveyed the familiar surroundings, the more the similarities bothered him. As if the unaltered details hid the fact that everything inside the house—at least, everything that mattered—had completely changed.
Adjusting the strap of his leather portfolio strung over his shoulder, Grant rapped on the front door.
Seconds later, Sylvia greeted him on the other side, her broad smile momentarily distracting Grant from her frilly feather-trimmed house coat.
“Did I… come at a bad time?” Grant faltered, trying not to gawk at the ostentatious plumes of her matching slippers. “Why, Grant Parker! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Sylvia pulled him into a hug so tight, Grant’s glasses nearly popped off his face. “Don’t be silly. Come in! Come in! To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I was hoping to show Eliza some new ideas I had for her website.” As Grant crossed the threshold, familiar sights and scents bombarded his senses. The plush, whimsical furnishings befitting the dressing room of a headlining actress, complete with framed movie posters. And the mouthwatering aroma of vanilla bean and warm chocolate chip cookies.
Sylvia’s smile faded. “Oh, honey. Didn’t you hear? She’s on a date with Colt tonight.”
“I thought that was last night?” Grant’s gaze flickered around the entryway, as though Eliza would appear any second.
“Well, it was. Except Ben had a big project due this morning so they postponed it to tonight. That child runs her life, you know.”
Sylvia laughed but Grant didn’t know what to say. Feeling foolish, he took a step toward the door. “Sorry to bother you. I’ll—”
“Grant!” Ben’s bright, exuberant greeting carried down the hallway as he skipped toward them. “You’re here!”
Something about the boy’s excitement in seeing him tugged at Grant’s heartstrings. “Hey, Ben. I stopped by to show your mom something, but I’m on my way out.”
“Do you have to go?” Ben’s dark eyes pleaded with him to stay. “I have something to show you.”
“Oh, um…” Grant hesitated, caught off guard by the invitation.
“Yes, please stay,” Sylvia encouraged. “In fact, you should join us for dinner. Hank would love to see you.”
“Thank you, but I couldn’t impose.”
“Don’t be silly!” Sylvia waved her hand with a dramatic flourish. “I always make plenty. And goodness knows there’s enough dessert around here to feed the entire cast of Les Mis.”
Grant chuckled as Sylvia’s affable banter put him at ease. “Okay, then. I’d be happy to stay for dinner. Thank you.”
“Hooray!” Ben cheered, grabbing his hand. “Come see what I made. I used the color wheel, just like you showed me.”
As Ben tugged him down the hallway, Grant marveled at the sensation of Ben’s small hand in his, as though one simple gesture carried an unspoken pact of trust and confidence.
One Grant realized he would do almost anything not to break.
Chapter 11
Eliza ended the night thankful Colt had insisted on their “non-date.” If only because it confirmed, once and for all, that they had no future together.
Not only had she spent the entire evening at the Buttercup Bistro wishing she’d shared the plate of chili lime sweet potato fries with Grant, Colt seemed every bit as impulsive and irresponsible as Penny claimed.
In the years since high school, he’d lived in five different cities and had dozens of jobs ranging from skydiving instructor to exotic car salesman. He had a pilot’s license, but rarely flew. Learned French, but never spoke a word. Spent a year in culinary school, but didn’t cook.
The man was an enigma. And one Eliza had zero interest in figuring out.
Ben needed stability. For his sake, she couldn’t fall for anyone who didn’t have plans to stay in Poppy Creek. A rule that extended to San Francisco–based web designers, too….
Colt rolled to a stop beside Eliza’s Honda in the driveway and killed the engine.
Eliza suppressed a groan, dreading the awkward goodbye.
Colt reached for the door handle.
“You don’t have to walk me inside.” Eliza hastily unbuckled her seat belt.
“This may not be a date, but I’m not a monster,” Colt laughed, striding around the car to open the passenger door for her.
Her heart thrumming nervously, Eliza trudged beside him to the front porch.
The bistro lights shimmering overhead lit their path, a strong breeze swinging the strands back and forth creating curious shadows across the brick walkway. Eliza shivered, wishing she’d thought to bring a lightweight sweater. Oh, well. The evening would be over soon enough. Gnawing on her pink-tinted bubblegum lip balm, she po
ndered what she’d say if Colt asked for a second date.
“Here’s fine.” Eliza paused before the bottom step, turning to face him. “Thanks for a fun evening.”
“My pleasure.” His mouth quirked in an adorably crooked grin, Colt took a step toward her. “We should do it again sometime.”
Eliza parted her lips, ready to let him down gently.
But Colt must have misread the signal.
Taking another step closer, he dipped his chin, lowering his lips to hers.
As Sylvia walked him to the door, Grant clutched Ben’s painting in his hand as though he were holding a priceless Monet, lightly grazing his thumb over the smears of red paint in the upper-right hand corner that spelled out his name.
“Thank you for dinner. I had a great time.”
“No, thank you!” Sylvia gushed, pressing a hand to her heart. “Seeing the way Ben lit up when you showed him that watercolor trick where you wet the paper first…” She released a dramatic sigh. “Well, that made my heart so happy. The poor boy’s had a rough time at school lately, so I know tonight meant a lot to him.”
“He’s a great kid.” The words slipped from Grant’s lips before he realized it. And he was surprised by how adamantly he meant them.
“He is. All thanks to that incredible mom of his. And no thanks to his delinquent father,” Sylvia scowled.
“He doesn’t have any contact with Ben?” The thought sent a jolt of fury blazing through Grant’s chest.
“No. And he completely fell off the face of the earth, far as I can tell. Liza doesn’t like to talk about it. She loves Ben, don’t get me wrong. But I know that moment in her life fills her with regret. She still beats herself up about it. But heartache makes people do stupid things. And she was never more heartbroken than when she broke up…” Sylvia’s eyes grew wide, as though she’d only recently been made aware of Grant’s presence. Her mouth snapped shut and her face turned a shocking shade of puce. “You know what… I almost forgot to box up some desserts for you to take home. I’ll be right back.”
The Truth in Tiramisu (A Poppy Creek Novel Book 2) Page 7
