The Truth in Tiramisu (A Poppy Creek Novel Book 2)

by Rachael Bloome

  Before Grant could respond, Sylvia turned on her heel and scurried toward the kitchen.

  Grant lingered in the entryway, his stomach wrenching as he mulled over Sylvia’s admission. He knew all about regret. A single haunting memory from one weak moment frequented his thoughts daily.

  Fidgeting with his keys, Grant paced the Persian-style runner, pausing when movement outside the window caught his eye. As the two figures came into focus, illuminated by the porch light, Grant’s keys clattered to the floor.

  He watched, his heartbeat raging against his rib cage as Colt leaned toward Eliza, lowering his mouth to hers.

  “Don’t eat too many of these tonight.” Sylvia’s warning tore Grant’s gaze from the window. “They’re full of caffeine and will keep you awake for hours.”

  When she noticed Grant’s blanched features, Sylvia squinted in concern. “Are you all right? You look like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window when he witnesses the murder.”

  “I… I’m fine,” Grant stammered, stooping to grab his keys. “Thank you for the dessert.” With shaky hands, he accepted the Tupperware, careful not to smudge Ben’s painting, and turned toward the door. But how could he go outside after what he’d seen?

  “Good night, dear.” Sylvia shot him one last quizzical glance before retreating to the kitchen.

  Grant stood facing the solid oak door, unable to open it, knowing what awaited him on the other side. Any minute now, Eliza would come bounding up the front steps, her cheeks flushed, and an I’ve just been kissed glaze in her dazzling eyes. Grant couldn’t bear to see it. But what choice did he have?

  Gripping the nickel-plated doorknob, Grant forced his wrist to turn, and his feet to step out into the brisk night air. But he moved slowly, with an apprehensive gait.

  The low hum of a car engine and crunch of tires on the gravel drive drew his attention to the one spot he’d been too afraid to look.

  Eliza stood at the bottom of the steps, completely alone.

  Turning toward the house, she blinked in surprise. “Grant?”

  “Hey.” Grant hoped the waver in his voice didn’t betray his heartache.

  “What are you doing here?” She climbed the steps to meet him on the porch.

  “I, uh, came to show you a few more ideas for the website but… you weren’t home.” Obviously. Dummy. Get it together.

  “Right.” Eliza glanced at the ground, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Attempting to fill the uncomfortable silence, Grant blurted, “Look what Ben made me.”

  Eliza’s gaze flickered to her son’s painting, then to Grant’s face. She wore an unreadable expression, but her dark eyes shone with a wistful, almost pensive glint. “It’s you,” she murmured in a voice so soft, Grant barely heard her.

  “What did you say?”

  “It’s you,” she repeated, reaching out to graze the edge of the paper with her fingertips, before jerking her hand back to her side.

  Grant glanced at the painting, focusing on the blurry figure with black curly hair and rectangular framed glasses. He attempted a rueful smile. “My first portrait. What do you think? Do I have what it takes to be an art model?”

  A small smirk tugged at the corner of Eliza’s mouth. “Maybe for Picasso.”

  “Ouch.” Grant chuckled, feeling a weight release around his heart. Why couldn’t it always be like this? The two of them together, comfortable and uncomplicated?

  “Well, it’s late….” Eliza shuffled closer to the door, and taking the hint, Grant sidestepped out of the way.

  Ask her about the date…. The thought pushed its way to the forefront of Grant’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it. He didn’t need to ask. He’d seen Colt lean in for the kiss. Why would he torture himself with the details?

  “Good night,” Eliza called over her shoulder, one hand on the doorknob.

  “Good night, Lizzy.”

  Grant stood on the porch and watched her duck inside, closing the door behind her.

  The click of the latch, though barely more than a whisper, sounded deafening in his ears.

  If he’d ever had a chance to win Eliza back, it was long gone now.

  Chapter 12

  The warm late spring air buzzed with excitement as half the town converged at the Poppy Creek trailhead, clothed in swimsuits and water shoes.

  “Can you explain the Creek Walk to me?” Cassie asked, her features scrunched in confusion. “Luke’s been talking about it all week, but I have to say… the way he describes it doesn’t make any sense. And it doesn’t sound anything like a walk.”

  Eliza and Penny laughed.

  “That’s because it isn’t.” Eliza grinned, fastening her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. “At least, not anymore.”

  “The Poppy Creek Historical Society started it decades ago as a way to commemorate the town founders who had to cross the creek when they first settled here,” Penny explained. “According to folklore, the creek was several feet wide in those days, and crossing with all of their supplies was no easy feat. Now, since the creek is so narrow, we walk downstream instead of across.”

  Cassie frowned. “If it’s just a walk, why have Luke and Colt been warming up all morning? From their competitive banter, you’d think they were about to run a marathon.”

  Eliza leaned into a deep lunge, stretching her arms over her head. “Because traditions in Poppy Creek have a way of escalating. Several years ago, a few of the guys decided to turn it into a race. Now it’s a free-for-all. Some of us still walk it. But some compete to be the Creek Walk king.”

  “Or queen,” Penny added. “Sadie won three years ago.”

  “That’s true. The look on Jack’s face when she sprinted past him at the finish line was priceless,” Eliza giggled.

  “You don’t compete?” Cassie took in Penny’s white capris and peplum blouse.

  “I stay behind and help set up the celebratory barbecue in the town square for after the race.”

  “You ladies ready?” Sadie Hamilton approached wearing a Nike one-piece topped with knee-length board shorts.

  Eliza smiled at the goggles draped around her neck. Although sweet as saltwater taffy, Sadie, the owner of the local candy store, was as competitive as they came. And her tall, muscular frame gave her an edge on the competition.

  “Ready!” Eliza cinched the double knot on her hot-pink swim shorts before slipping on her water shoes.

  Cassie twisted the end of her long braid, casting a nervous glance at the creek. “I don’t know… the water looks cold.”

  “It’s freezing,” Penny told her, before Eliza shot her a warning glance.

  “Don’t scare her,” Eliza chided. “You get used to the temperature after a few minutes. Besides, once you start running, it’ll feel nice.”

  “I’m not sure I’m coordinated enough for this.” Cassie gazed at her knees, which bore a couple of small scars. “I’ve been known to trip walking off escalators.”

  “I’ll hang back with you.” Eliza slung her arm around Cassie’s shoulders.

  “Me, too!” Sadie offered.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Penny chided. “You give those boys a run for their money. Colt’s back this year. You don’t want to listen to his smug bragging all week, do you?”

  “Good point,” Sadie chuckled, securing her nose clip.

  “Remember, no foul play,” Eliza added, still feeling guilty about last night. He’d looked so hurt when she’d rebuffed his kiss, she almost hoped Colt would win, if only to bolster his wounded pride. “The rules clearly state no physical contact.”

  “Okay, but I’m not above splashing a little water in his eyes.” Sadie laughed as she positioned the goggles on top of her head. “Let’s move to the starting line, shall we?”

  “Good luck!” Penny called out as they joined the rest of the runners on the bank of the creek.

  Eliza scanned the mass of brightly colored bathing suits and tanned skin, her heart stopping when she laid eyes on Colt and Grant
stretching a few feet ahead.

  Both men wore nothing but their board shorts, their broad, toned backs on full display. Though Colt’s physique boasted more rippling muscles, Eliza couldn’t tear her gaze from Grant’s lean lines, preferring the svelte form of a dancer over a bulky, athletic build.

  Her throat went dry as she noticed the palpable tension surging between them. Was it purely the competitive spirit of the race?

  Or was there more behind their adversarial glances?

  Normally, Grant wasn’t the competitive type. As kids, he’d participated in the Creek Walk with an all in good fun mentality, never minding that he always finished several minutes behind the rest of the guys. But today, adrenaline coursed through his body, providing energy and agility he didn’t know he possessed. Keeping Colt in his sights, he managed to pass Luke, Jack, and Reed. Sadie came next. He had to hand it to her; she made the exertion seem effortless, while he panted like he might pass out any second.

  Finally, it was Grant and Colt in the lead.

  A few feet up ahead, the creek emptied into a large swimming hole, too deep to stand. Grant expected Colt to dive in headfirst, then kick off with a skilled breaststroke. Much like he’d done in high school.

  Instead, Colt veered to the right, making a beeline for a massive fallen tree stump that acted like a bridge across the swimming hole.

  Grant followed, curious as to what move Colt would make next.

  To Grant’s surprise, Colt hoisted himself onto the log and took off running, his footsteps echoing against the hollow trunk.

  Grant’s chest expanded in irritation. It was so like Colt to look for the shortcut.

  An image of Colt leaning in to kiss Eliza flashed before Grant’s eyes, and suddenly, his focus shifted from winning the race to making sure Colt didn’t win. At any cost.

  Pulling himself onto the log, Grant pursued his rival with a dogged intensity, never once taking his eyes off his mark.

  Colt must have heard Grant’s footsteps close in behind him because he turned and flashed a devilish grin.

  “Give up, Parker. I’ve as good as won!”

  The image of Colt and Eliza flickered in his mind again, but this time, his imagination filled in the gaps. Envisioning Colt’s lips on Eliza sent a surge of outrage coursing through Grant’s body. And before he knew what had happened, he’d tackled Colt, plunging them into the icy water.

  Grant resurfaced first, followed by Colt, who gasped for air.

  “What the heck, man?” Colt sputtered. “What was that for?”

  The reality of what he’d done slowly dawned on Grant, and he glanced around to see if anyone had witnessed his impulsive outburst.

  His gaze landed on Eliza, who stood at the juncture where the creek spilled into the swimming hole. The shocked look on her face told Grant that she’d seen everything.

  Colt followed his sight line. “Oh… I get it.”

  Grant snapped his focus back to Colt. “Get what?”

  “Look,” Colt said with a sigh. “You don’t have to worry.”

  “What are you talking about?” As the adrenaline left his body, Grant struggled to tread water. His entire body felt weighed down, either by exhaustion or embarrassment at acting like a jealous idiot.

  “She shot me down,” Colt confessed. “And if I had to guess, I’d say she’s hung up on someone else.”

  Grant didn’t know what to say, but he instantly felt lighter, as though the anchor tied to his ankles had been cut loose. He opened his mouth to respond, then got a face full of water.

  “Hey!” Jack called out, splashing them again as he swam by. “Do you want to practice water aerobics all day? Or win a race?” Chuckling, he flipped to a backstroke, kicking more water in their direction.

  Colt raised an eyebrow at Grant. “We’re not going to let Geriatric Jack beat us, are we?”

  Grant grinned. “Nope.”

  “Then let’s go. Although, he’ll probably get a cramp before he reaches the other side.” Colt laughed, taking off after Jack.

  Grant followed behind, but his heart wasn’t in the race anymore.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about Colt’s words.

  If I had to guess, I’d say she’s hung up on someone else….

  Could it be him? Or was it Ben’s father?

  Chapter 13

  Grant couldn’t stop smiling even though his calves ached and his left ear contained a creek’s worth of water.

  Eliza had called things off with Colt!

  And the kiss he’d imagined never actually happened.

  The day couldn’t possibly get any better.

  After the exertion of the Creek Walk and hardly eating anything during the last forty-eight hours, Grant suddenly felt ravenous. It had been years since he’d been around for one of Poppy Creek’s town-wide barbecues, and his mouth watered just thinking about the monstrous hamburgers and surplus of inventive side dishes.

  As he finished toweling off, Grant scanned the town square, searching for Eliza, wondering if he could somehow finagle sitting together. His breath strangled when he caught sight of her across the lawn. As she stepped out of her pink swim shorts, his gaze traveled the length of her long, lean legs to her sleek black one-piece. How was it possible she could look so alluring in such a simple, modest outfit? He tried to swallow, but his throat had gone completely dry.

  “You’re making a big mistake.”

  Startled, Grant whirled around to find his mother standing behind him. She wore a scowl like an accessory, complementing her Gucci sunglasses.

  “Geez, Mom. You scared me. Practicing your ninja skills?” Grant teased. Even her pinched features couldn’t dampen his good mood.

  “This isn’t a laughing matter,” Harriet scolded through clenched teeth.

  “Right. It’s a very serious matter, indeed.” Grant tossed the towel on the back of a folding chair and slipped on his T-shirt. “What monumental mistake am I making this time? Am I supposed to wait thirty minutes to eat after I swim? Or is it the other way around? I can never remember.” He chuckled at his own lame joke, but the laughter died in the breeze as Harriet’s glower intensified.

  “Do you think you’re funny? Because I don’t. Especially not after the stunt you pulled today.”

  “You mean tackling Colt?” Grant asked sheepishly. Okay, he did feel a little bad about that. But it hardly seemed deserving of a tongue-lashing from his mother as if they were sixteen again.

  “We all know who that was about,” Harriet hissed, sidling in closer so no one would overhear their conversation.

  “Who?” Grant asked innocently. Had he been that obvious? Did Eliza know? And, ultimately, did he even care if she did?

  Seeing Colt with Eliza had solidified Grant’s feelings. And not simply because of his jealousy. Colt had forced him to confront the truth. He wasn’t over her. Not even close. And while he may not have wanted to admit it at first, he’d come back to Poppy Creek to see if there was still something between them. It took almost losing her again to get his answer. Now, if only he knew what to do about it….

  “Stay away from her, Grant. I mean it.”

  Grant flinched at her frigid tone. “You make Eliza sound like some… I don’t know. Like a felon or something.”

  “There are things about her you don’t know.”

  “Like what?” Grant felt the frustration build in his chest, stifling the joy he’d hoped to savor for as long as possible. “What is this all about?”

  Harriet lowered her voice another octave. “I’m not at liberty to say. But you have to trust me. She’s not who you think she is.”

  A chill ran up Grant’s spine despite the late afternoon sun beating down on them. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just stay away from her. Or I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

  “Mom, you’re starting to sound a little crazy. This is some kind of joke, right?” Grant attempted a laugh, but the fierce look in Harriet’s eyes as she raised her sunglasses
silenced him. Running his fingers through his hair, Grant sighed. “Look. I appreciate your… concern, I guess. But I’m telling you, you have the wrong idea about Eliza.”

  Harriet crossed her arms in front of her chest, parting her lips, ready to challenge him.

  “But…” Grant interjected quickly, hoping to end the conversation, “if it makes you feel better, I won’t go rushing into anything. Okay?”

  Grant leaned in to kiss her cheek, and Harriet stiffened. “Try to relax, Mom. It’s a beautiful day. Have something to eat.”

  He squeezed her shoulder before heading across the lawn to join the guys around the grill with Jack. But as he put distance between them, the odd exchange echoed in his mind, stirring an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  What exactly did his mother know that he didn’t?

  As Eliza loaded up her plate with five different pasta salads, she hummed softly to herself.

  The moment she saw Grant tackle Colt into the swimming hole, she knew he still had feelings for her. She could see it written across his face when their eyes locked across the water.

  “Someone seems happy.” Penny squeezed in beside Eliza and scooped a huge spoonful of seven-layer dip onto her plate, followed by a handful of tortilla chips.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Sensing a telltale heat creep up her neck, Eliza shifted her attention to the plethora of potato salads, trying to decide between classic and Cajun-style. “It’s a lovely day. The weather is perfect. The food is delicious….”

  Penny leaned in, lowering her voice. “Are you sure it doesn’t have more to do with the fact that Grant dunked Colt in the swimming hole?”

  “How’d you hear about that?”

  “Honey, everyone knew about it five seconds after it happened. I’m only sorry I missed it,” Penny giggled.

  “Don’t you think you’re a little hard on Colt?” Eliza asked, trying to detour the topic away from Grant.