by Susan Hatler
Thankfully, the drive into town was short, and beautiful. I’d forgotten to set my alarm last night, so I’d accidentally slept in until nine this morning, which was totally unheard of for me. I always got up bright and early, ready to get as much work done as possible. Blue Moon Bay was obviously having some kind of effect on me.
Bay Side Coffee was open, but less packed than yesterday, which was nice since I’d already slept a lot of my morning away. One of the harried baristas behind the counter waved at me. “Same as yesterday, hon?” she asked.
“Yes, please.” I blinked, surprised she’d remembered me with the chaotic line yesterday.
“Wendy, right?”
“Yes . . .” I nodded, totally impressed. One of the perks of a small town, I supposed. Maybe she’d had all of the other patrons memorized already, so remembering my name was only one more. Still, I marveled at the woman’s ability to multi-task well.
The barista wrote my name on two cups, which reminded me that, in addition to my latte, I’d ordered one for Brian yesterday. Maybe he’d actually get it this time. It’s not like there was any point in avoiding the inn when Max would be there the entire month now. I still couldn’t believe he’d changed his plans because of me. It was terribly romantic. Too bad we didn’t live in the same city, because the mere thought of a long distance relationship made my stomach churn.
I paid for my order, then moved to the end of the counter to wait for my drink. Holding my paper bag of pastries under my arm, I stared down at the notepad I’d brought with me. My eyes trailed over the ever-growing list of things we needed to have done to sell the inn.
The line started growing longer, just as my order came up. I smiled at the second barista, then turned away from the counter too fast, because I almost ran right into a woman with a mane of wavy red locks. Olivia! I jerked backward. Thankfully, the tight lids on my cups kept my estranged friend from receiving a caffeine bath.
“Oh, it’s you.” She pursed her lips, and gave me bland look that said she was still peeved at me. Time to rectify that.
I held my arms wide, a drink in each hand. “Sorry, Olivia. I didn’t see you there.”
She raised a brow, and twisted her lips to the side. “You haven’t seen me in a long time, so that shouldn’t come as such a surprise.”
Wow. She was capable of delivering a serious zinger first thing in the morning. She hadn’t even had her coffee yet. “Yeah, well . . .” My voice trailed off as I racked my brain for something nice to say that might please her. “How are your parents doing?”
She let out a loud sigh. “They’ve recently separated.”
“What?” I asked, sure I must’ve heard her incorrectly. “How can that be? They were like . . . the perfect couple.”
“Apparently not.” Olivia reached the front of the line, and she gave the barista a pointed look. “I need the biggest coffee you have. Give me an extra shot, too.”
The barista gave me an odd look, nodded, and turned away. Since I’d put my foot so deep in my mouth, I tried to redeem myself by asking, “Whatever happened to that guy I heard you dated after college? I forget his name, but Brian said he rode a motorcycle . . .”
“Oh, him. Yeah, he cheated on me. But thanks for bringing up that painful memory.”
Zero for two. Ouch! My face heated. If I stuck my foot any further in my mouth I was going to suffocate on shoe leather. Olivia leaned closer to the counter, which my back was against, effectively trapping me. The coffee heated my hands a bit too much, but surely Olivia would find fault with me if I asked for a sleeve. My goal was to get her to like me again, so I couldn’t risk it.
She waved at the barista, and her elbow got dangerously close to my nose. “Is my coffee ready?” she asked, even though she’d just ordered.
The barista stuck a container of milk under the little wand thing, making the milk bubble. “I’ll have it ready in just a sec, hon.”
“Thanks. I’m late for my meeting.”
“I hear you’re working on the Pumpkin Festival,” I blurted, before I thought about if it was another shoe-in-the-mouth response.
Olivia gave me a look that confirmed I’d blown it again. “I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got, anyway. We’re short-handed and we don’t have a venue yet either. So we’re holding meetings wherever we can. Today it’s at the park, which should be nice and distracting.”
“You know what? I’m happy to help if you really need an extra hand,” I said, which revealed just how far I was willing to go to get in Olivia’s good graces again. It’s not like I actually had extra time for worthy causes with everything that was on my plate right now. “I’m here for a month, and you guys are even welcome to hold the meetings at the inn.”
The sour expression on her face faded. “Really? Are you serious?”
“Totally.” I juggled the coffee from hand to hand. So hot!
She smiled this time, her mouth stretching wide. “I’m touched, Wendy. That would be fantastic!”
“Here’s your coffee.” The barista passed the cup to her over my shoulder. I held my breath, just waiting for it to scald my skin, so Olivia could yell, “Karma!” But she merely wrapped her hand around the cup, and moved the hot liquid safely away from me. Whew.
We stepped away from the counter, and I blew into the lip of the lid, hoping to cool the liquid down since my hands were still uncomfortably hot. She set her own coffee down, removed the lid, then dumped a ton of cream inside. She stirred the mixture, took a long swallow, and let out a happy sigh. “I really appreciate your offer to help with the Pumpkin Festival, Wendy. That means a lot to me.”
“No problem. I’m really sorry to hear about your parents. I’m also sorry bringing them up and, you know, the other thing.” I risked a sip of my coffee, which thankfully didn’t burn my tongue. Ah, caffeine. I so needed that right now.
“Oh, that’s okay.” She waved a hand, and we moved toward the exit. “That guy was a long time ago. I just started dating this new guy, actually. I have a good feeling about him. But we’re at that awkward stage, because we don’t know each other very well. It sounds lame, but I wish I knew another couple, who wanted to double date with us. To take the pressure off finding conversation, you know?”
Huh. I never had a problem talking to Max. It was more a problem to stop talking to him. Olivia looked so happy and so sad at the same time about her new guy, and that pulled on my heartstrings. “I just met a guy, too. I’m sure he’d be up for a double date if you really want.”
Olivia beamed. “Oh! You’re so awesome. I’m really glad we ran into each other this morning. Let me give you my number, so we can plan a time.”
Outside the coffee shop, she juggled her cup and her large phone, and managed to take down my number before we parted ways. Feeling like we had a real shot at rebuilding our friendship, I held her number to my chest as I walked to my car. Halfway down the block, I turned around, and then my chest filled. Olivia had turned around, too! She put her hand up, with her thumb to her ear, her pinky toward her mouth, and she winked at me.
I got into my car, elation soaring through me, since Olivia seemed happy with me again. But the happiness quickly changed to tension. What had I been thinking suggesting a double date? I’d just told Max last night that he had no shot in the world with me, and I’d meant it. Now I had to ask him out on a double date, without him thinking I wanted a relationship.
Yeah, this wasn’t going to be too hard or anything.
****
I got back to the inn, my mind tussling over the problem of having to ask Max out on the double date. He was sure to think I was interested in him when I asked him out, which I so was. But even if things were to go well between us, the problem still remained that we didn’t live anywhere near each other. I’d learned the hard way that long distance wouldn’t work out. Not going down that road again, no matter how tempting he was.
I strode into the inn’s lobby, then promptly stopped and stared at the mess in front of me.
Drop cloths covered the floors and there was blue painters’ tape up all over the place. I blinked, wondering if the barista had spiked my coffee with something a little stronger than an espresso shot, because surely Brian hadn’t done this much work all by himself in the time it had taken me to get my coffee.
My gaze shot to the corner of the room, where Max stood, spreading a drop cloth on the floor. His shirt had lifted a bit in the back, exposing the skin above his jeans. I imagined running my hand over his shirtless back, and shivered. The memory of the evening we’d shared on the beach resurfaced. His sweet words, his touch, his kisses. . . .
I shook my head to make those thoughts go away, which was hard. The man looked beyond hot today, wearing worn jeans that were faded in all the right places. Instead of throwing myself at Max like I had the urge to do, I handed my brother his cup of coffee. “What is Max doing with those drop cloths?”
He accepted the drink, with an appreciative look. “He’s helping to prep the room for painting.”
Duh. “I can see that. Why is he helping?”
He sipped the coffee. “This is good. Where’s my bear claw?”
I handed him the pastry, and frowned. “Max Huntington is a guest of the inn. He has better things to do on his vacation than help us paint.”
“Apparently not,” he said, through a bite of his pastry.
“He’s a guest, Brian,” I repeated, pointing out the obvious.
He shrugged. “He saw me with the supplies this morning and offered to help. Grandma always said free labor was a terrible thing to waste.”
I sighed. He had a point. But why was Max helping out when he could be off sailing in the bay? That made no sense.
Brian went back to work, with his latte in hand.
I downed the last few drops of my coffee, while I watched the two of them taping up the trim and baseboards. Max squatted down to work on some low spots, and my gaze automatically zeroed in on his backside. It should be illegal for a man to look that hot in old jeans.
I forced my eyes away, and sucked in a breath. I needed to ask Max for a favor, which felt oh-so-awkward. I waited until Brian moved across the room, then I strode over to Max. I gave him my best smile, but it felt forced. I’d never been good at asking for favors.
“Good morning, Max.” I stood next to him, the toes of my black leather heels pointed toward his white sneakers.
He bent his head to the side, and grinned up at me, “Good morning, beautiful.”
A zing of pleasure zipped through me. I cleared my throat to remind myself not to flirt with this sweet, gorgeous man. “You don’t have to help Brian paint the inn you know.”
“Yes, but I want to help you.”
My brows quirked. “You mean you want to help Brian.”
He shook his head. “You were feeling overwhelmed, so I thought you could use my help.”
“Really? That’s very sweet.” My stomach warmed at his thoughtfulness, but I reminded myself that he’d be off doing business in Japan in a month, so I needed to keep things on the “friends only” level. “To thank you for your help, why don’t I take you out to dinner? I’ll bring another couple along, too. It will be fun.”
He squinted up at me, then stood. “Are you asking me out on a double date?”
“No . . .” This was more awkward than I thought it might be, and I had thought it would be pretty awkward. I sighed. “Well, sort of. But you and I would just be going as friends.”
“As friends,” he repeated.
“Yes.” I nodded, squeezing my empty coffee cup in my hand. “I ran into one of my oldest friends at the coffee shop just now. She wanted another couple to come out to dinner with her and this guy, and I sort of agreed to go. Would you like to come? Don’t think of it as a date, though. More like a free meal with a friend, and her friend.”
He lifted my chin. “It’s a double date, Wendy. Admit it.”
My skin tingled from his touch. “Not a real one. We’d just be going for fun, and as a favor for my friend since she’s not really comfortable going out with this guy alone.”
“Are you talking about Megan?” Brian interrupted, his brows coming together.
“No. Olivia. Do you have to be so nosy?” I glared at him, and he stuck a piece of tape right on the end of my nose. I swatted at him.
Brian ducked out of my reach. “So, you’re trying to get back into Olivia’s good graces.” He threw Max a look. “Olivia’s pretty mad at Wendy here.”
“How could anyone be upset with Wendy?” Max asked, fingering a lock of my hair.
My fists balled. “She’s not mad at me anymore. Not since I offered to help her with the Pumpkin Festival, and go on a double date with her.”
Brian shook his head. “Wendy seems pretty desperate for this favor, Max. If I were you, I’d hold out for a homemade cheesecake. She makes dynamite cheesecakes.”
My mouth dropped open. “You can’t extort a cheesecake from me.”
“No, but he can.” Brian pointed at Max.
Max grinned. “That’s an exciting prospect. But I won’t do this favor for a cheesecake.”
My stomach sank, at the thought of letting Olivia down, and, I realized, at not getting to spend the time with Max.
He tucked the strands behind my ear. “I will do this favor for you, though. If you want to make me a cheesecake, then that would be a bonus. But you don’t have to.”
“You’ll really do the double date with me?” I stepped forward, a huge weight lifting off my shoulders. I was so excited I could kiss him. Well, I wanted to. Instead, I retreated a step.
“Not sure you want to wear this all day.” He chuckled, peeling the blue piece of tape off my nose that my annoying brother had put there.
I covered my nose with my hand. Oh, embarrassment.
“Let me know where and when for dinner?” He touched my nose in a playful way, then turned and went back to work, placing some tape over a light switch plate. Under his shirt, his smooth muscles flexed and moved in a very nice way that had my heart beating a little too fast.
The phone rang, causing my eyes to flare. I raised my palms. “I’m not answering that phone, Brian. I meant what I said.”
He shrugged, then sauntered over to answer it. Max climbed up a stepladder, his thighs flexing a little as he did. The man was in great shape. Just looking at him made my heart beat a little too fast and my breath catch in my throat. Not good. Time for me to get to work. I needed to return a call about a bid on the exterior paint job.
“Thanks again for the favor, Max. We’ll have a good time. I promise.” I swiveled, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor as I headed for the stairs.
“Hey, Wendy?” He spoke over his shoulder, his gaze meeting mine. “Am I going to get a goodnight kiss at the end of our date?”
I swallowed. Oh, that sounded tempting, way too tempting. “This is just a friendly dinner, Max. Friends don’t kiss each other.”
“That’s too bad.” He winked at me, then turned to tape a spot on the crown molding. His jeans cupped his bottom and his arm muscles flexed. I bit my lip. It was totally not fair that he looked that good doing manual labor. Painting clothes should be lumpy and shapeless and ugly, not hot and tight enough to show off a great body.
My cell beeped in my purse, so I pulled it out, to check the message. “Olivia wants to know if Saturday night at eight works for us.”
He nodded. “I don’t have any other plans. I asked out this smart, caring, beautiful woman I met on the beach, but she shot me down.”
I moved toward him. “Max—”
“Are you going to console me?” He hurried down the ladder, pulled me to him, then lay his head against my shoulder. “Because as my friend, I could use quite a bit of consoling.”
“Max.” I laughed, loving the feel of him against me. “I’ll buy you dinner. Maybe make you a cheesecake. But that’s all.”
“Mmm.” He buried his head in my neck, breathed in deeply, and pressed his lips to the spot just belo
w my ear. Then he gazed down at me with a smile. “That’s enough for now.”
My head felt woozy from his one, light kiss. I swayed a little as I watched him climb back up the ladder. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven-thirty tomorrow night,” I said. I’d have to bury myself in work, and stay away from him until then. Otherwise, I’d very likely take him up on his offer to console him, which was all I could think about right now.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, with my Bay Side Coffee latte in hand, I taped two paint samples to the wall of the lobby and stared at them. One was a sea-foam blue, very near to the original paint color on the wall. The sea-foam blue was beautiful, and it brought a lump to my throat. Grandma had loved that color, and she’d had the inn’s interior repainted twice with that color, while I was growing up. I could almost see her now, standing over the painters as they worked, her eyes sharp, making sure there were no runs or lumps in her paint.
The other color I’d whittled the choices down to was a lovely, shining beige. Using a light and bright color is an old Realtor and interior design trick. We use it because it works, making spaces seem larger and more open than they might be. Brian and Max had finished prepping late last night, after they’d scarfed down the pizza I’d ordered for them.
Max had thanked me for the pizza with a light kiss on the lips, assuring me that it was just a friendly kiss. The problem was I’d wanted more. Somehow I’d resisted, but I’d gone to bed dreaming of that one sweet, simple kiss. Every little kiss he gave me was magic.
I sipped my coffee and sighed, trying to focus on my real estate decision: sea-foam blue or beige. Which would Max think I should choose? Not that I would call him. He’d taken off for a run down the beach with Lucky earlier, and I hadn’t seen him since.
Focus, Wendy. Paint colors. I had my cell in my hand, my index finger hovering over the screen. I tapped the address book and the paint store’s number came up. I hoped that would help me make a decision, but the screen went blank again before I could.
