Wildest Dreams: Sweetbriar Cove: Book Seven

by Melody Grace

  “Come on,” Declan added, his smile deepening. “One little ride. I promise I won’t bite.”

  Please do.

  Paige had to clamp her lips together to keep from blurting her scandalous reply. She coughed. She supposed she could have left him, any time she liked. Smiled vaguely and drifted away into the crowd, found her sister and Cal, and hung out with them instead. But Paige didn’t want to play third wheel or eat her body weight in candy apples—not when there were more delicious, calorie-friendly diversions right in front of her.

  What would the harm be in one ride?

  “OK. Sure,” she found herself answering, and then before she could take it back, Declan was reaching for her hand and helping her into the swinging car. He sat beside her, pulled the safety railing over their heads, and then they were off—rising gently up from the ground, just the two of them alone in the small space.

  So much for keeping a safe distance. Paige had vowed to steer clear of him, but there she was, cozied up beside him on the most romantic ride around.

  Whoops.

  “So, Paige Bennett . . .” Declan relaxed back in the bench seat, filling out the space with his sprawling limbs. “Where have you been all my life? Or, at least, the past few months of it. I thought I’d see you around,” he added, giving her a sideways glance.

  So he’d thought about her . . .

  Paige tried to ignore the satisfaction. She shrugged casually instead. “I live in Boston, I’m a designer,” she added, realizing that they’d never traded the basics about their lives.

  “And you’re not tempted to follow your sister’s footsteps and move down to Sweetbriar Cove?”

  Right now, swinging besides him above the peaceful landscape, with the dusk light fading over the ocean, Paige felt plenty tempted, but she knew that was just the hormones talking. “Pack up and start over?” she replied. “I don’t think so. Besides, what would I do here, open my own store?”

  Declan looked interested. “Is that what you want?”

  Paige blinked. “No. I mean . . . I’ve never really thought about it.”

  But that was a lie. The thought had crossed her mind before, a familiar daydream as she sketched her hundredth cute woodland animal romper. A little studio, like the ateliers in Europe, where she could invite clients for private fittings and display a few carefully selected lingerie pieces from her collection. Not snooty and ice-cold, like the designer stores in the city, where stern saleswomen glared at you the moment you reached to touch the fabric; no, her shop would be warm and welcoming, a beautiful moment of luxury to brighten your day.

  Like that tiny storefront in Provincetown, with the red front door . . .

  She shook her head, flustered now. She couldn’t even tell her vendors she was the one behind Aphrodite Designs, and there she was planning to fit clients and sell them herself? “How do you do that?” she asked Declan.

  “Do what?”

  “Get under people’s skin.”

  He grinned. “It’s a gift. That, and cooking the best damn steak you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

  Paige grinned. “Do people put them anyplace else?”

  “Good point.” Declan laughed. He casually stretched, slinging his arm over the back of the Ferris wheel car so it was resting just a few inches from Paige’s shoulders.

  She looked away, her cheeks getting hot. This was getting precarious. So why did she feel a sparkle of excitement in her veins, that jolt of anticipation?

  “What about you?” she asked, needing to get the conversation back on solid ground. “You’re a long way from home.”

  “Nah,” Declan answered casually. “I grew up there, but Australia was never home. I don’t really believe in it. Wherever I lay my head and do my cooking, that serves me fine.”

  “You don’t want to settle down then?” Paige asked curiously. “Put down roots, start a family?”

  “Why, are you offering?” Declan flashed her another of his heart-stopping smiles, and even though Paige knew it was all for show, something inside her unfurled, like a flower turning towards the sun.

  She caught herself just in time. Never mind precarious, this chemistry between them was downright dangerous.

  “That depends,” Paige said, feeling like she was playing with fire—but not wanting to stop the rapid-fire back-and-forth. “On just how good that steak is.”

  Declan laughed. “Come by the restaurant anytime. I guarantee I’ll blow your mind.”

  “Funny, I’ve heard that from men before,” Paige teased back, her pulse racing. “It doesn’t always turn out so great.”

  “Well, shame on them,” Declan said, with another look. “But ask anyone, I always leave my customers satisfied.”

  “Five-star reviews, huh?” Paige asked.

  “All the way.”

  She shook her head, laughing. He was an incorrigible flirt, alright, but she was enjoying it, more than she ever expected. More than she should.

  Paige caught herself. Should was old news. This was a new day, remember? Reckless, selfish, adventurous. The world wouldn’t stop turning just because she flirted with a hot guy for a little while.

  She was supposed to be having fun.

  Paige relaxed back and looked out at the view. The wheel was turning so slowly, they were only just starting their descent, the shoreline visible for miles around. “It really is beautiful out here,” Paige said, searching out landmarks in the green. She could see Sweetbriar Cove, with its lush town square and gazebo, and the road winding all the way down to the ocean, dotted with houses and woodland. “I can see why Eliza made the change. She always jumps first and thinks later,” she added.

  “While you hang back and think things through?”

  When she glanced over, Declan was watching her with a thoughtful expression. Paige shifted, self-conscious under his gaze. “I like to figure out the consequences first,” she explained. “Make sure I’m not leaving a mess for someone else to clean up.”

  “Because that’s your job.”

  There he was again, being too perceptive. Paige shook her head weakly. “I like making sure everyone’s OK, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Nothing at all.” To her relief, Declan let the subject drop. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a sticky paper bag of taffy. “Sweets for my sweet?” he offered with a grin.

  Paige took one. They tasted homemade. “Bourbon and cinnamon,” she said slowly. “Just like . . .” She stopped.

  Just like the way he’d tasted on the beach that night.

  Declan raised an eyebrow.

  “Nothing,” she said hurriedly. “Did you make them yourself?”

  He nodded. “They wanted something for the barbecue. Or was it the charity picnic?” He chuckled. “I lose track of all the shindigs here in town.”

  “It’s nice, I think.” Paige smiled. “Back in Boston, I don’t think I ever met my neighbors. But somehow, here, everyone already knows my name.”

  “Word travels fast about a mysterious, beautiful visitor.”

  Paige gave him a look, and Declan laughed. “Too much?”

  “Just a little.”

  “I’ll dial it down,” Declan said, but it was with a twinkle in his eye, and Paige knew this man was incapable of doing anything by halves.

  Paige tore her gaze away and looked down at the fair, drawing closer now. “Oh, there they are, over by the big tent.” She pointed out her sister and Cal, just below them.

  Declan took a piece of taffy, and before she could stop him, aimed, tossing it over the railing and down towards the group.

  “Declan!” Paige gasped, and grabbed his arm. “You could hurt someone!”

  “Death by taffy?” Declan laughed. “Relax. I have a terrible aim, remember?”

  Paige snorted. “True enough.”

  She suddenly became aware she was still holding onto him: her hand wrapped around the warm curve of his bicep. Declan met her eyes, and his smile seemed to deepen to something hotter, more inti
mate.

  He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, his fingertips grazing her cheek. Paige caught her breath.

  Kiss him.

  The order came from somewhere deep inside and seemed to ricochet through her body, getting louder with every heartbeat.

  Kiss him now.

  Could it really be that easy? Her mind raced. One kiss was accident, acting on a crazy whim, but two . . .

  Would be even better than one.

  Paige swallowed, almost ready to tilt just an inch closer . . . closer—

  “Time’s up.”

  A stranger’s voice broke through her daze, and she looked up to find the carnival assistant waiting, ready to tug the railing back up over their heads.

  The ride was over. They were back down to earth again.

  Paige scrambled down, flushing. That’s what she got for putting her head in the clouds—literally.

  Declan joined her on the grass, still a spectacle in his too-tight T-shirt. Any other guy would have been embarrassed at the stares he was drawing from passersby, but Declan didn’t seem to care. “What do you say?” he asked, smiling roguishly. “Want to go again?”

  Paige had to laugh at the suggestion. Tempt fate all over again? She would be lucky to make it back down on solid ground with all her clothing still intact, let alone her dignity. “I don’t think I’ll risk it.”

  “See, that’s your problem,” Declan said, moving closer. He gave her a tempting smile, blue eyes intent in the fading light. “You scare easy.”

  Paige shook her head. “I’m not afraid to take risks,” she protested, her smile fading.

  “No,” Declan smirked back. “You’re afraid you’ll like it.”

  Paige felt like they weren’t talking about carnival rides anymore. “And you know me so well?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “After . . . ooh, the whole twenty minutes we’ve spent together?”

  “Admit it, those twenty minutes rocked your world.” Declan winked, and Paige had to laugh again. He had a way of doing that, defusing any tension with a well-placed joke, but this time, he didn’t change the subject. “I’m just saying, maybe you’re not the woman you think you are.”

  Declan leaned closer, as if murmuring in her ear.

  “Maybe you’re a hundred different things you haven’t even tried yet.”

  He winked, and then before she could wrap her head around his words, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. The briefest of touches, his lips on her skin, a breath of cloves and popcorn, a ripple of heat.

  Then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd at a saunter, leaving her breathless, with her head spinning, watching him go.

  5

  Paige tossed and turned all night, puzzling over Declan’s cryptic words.

  “Maybe you’re not the woman you think you are.”

  She got up and went to the window, looking out across the moonlit bay. Even though she knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her, she couldn’t shake it. Of course she knew herself: she was nearly thirty years old, a grown woman. She had a job, an apartment—a life. She’d been out in the world on her own for years, and now he’d rolled up for all of twenty minutes and thought he had her figured out? Arrogant didn’t even begin to cover it.

  Arrogant and hot.

  But he was wrong, Paige thought stubbornly. There was nothing holding her back from her new adventures. She could do anything she wanted! She could strip naked right now and go skinny-dipping in the midnight waves, just her and the ocean tide.

  Except, the water might be rough out. And she could catch a chill. And somebody might see.

  OK, so maybe that wasn’t the best idea.

  She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, closing her eyes a moment to remember the feel of his fingertips brushing her bare shoulder. Her body tightened just thinking about it, the delicious rush of sensation she could feel echoing through her, even now.

  She exhaled. This was why she stayed away from men like Declan: the charmers, the chancers. Men who were used to getting everything they wanted, walking in the room and seeing women’s heads turn. Their confidence could be intoxicating, but the next morning, they would be off craving another adventure, another conquest, while the last one was left still dizzy from the adrenaline, feeling like nothing would live up to the thrill again.

  Paige had fallen for someone like that once. She was just out of college, and he’d been a regular at her local bar. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark leather jacket . . . Looking back, she couldn’t believe she’d fallen for his whole “bad boy” thing, but what could she say? She was young, and he knew all the right lines. It had been thrilling, that summer—a whirlwind of heat, and sidewalk kisses, and nights they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. And then, of course, summer had ended, and he’d figured it was time to move on. “You knew what this was,” he’d said, almost kindly, as she’d tried her best not to let him see her cry. “I’m just not a ‘meet the parents’ kind of guy.”

  He was right, she should have known better, and Paige remembered that, every time another dazzling stranger wandered into her life. When someone tells you who they are, believe them. Declan had made it clear exactly who he was . . .

  So why couldn’t she shake this restless desire, still itching in her veins despite all her better judgment? She was letting him get under her skin, when all she really wanted was—

  Him in her bed.

  Paige flushed. She wondered what would happen if she just showed up on his doorstep, dressed in the new nightgown she’d been working on. Purple silk, dark as dusk, a sinful scrap that barely covered her body . . . She’d brought it with her for the weekend, to work on the embroidery. She went to her bag and lifted it up, imagining the look on his face as she peeled off her jacket to reveal the seductive curves . . .

  Unless he burst out laughing at her for even trying to play the femme fatale.

  Just then, she saw headlights approaching down below. She stuffed the negligee away and watched from the window as a car pulled up out front. The engine cut, and she could hear the sound of Eliza and Cal’s laughter as they opened the front door and made their way upstairs, hushing their whispers, and giggling in the dark hallway until their bedroom door clicked shut.

  Paige slipped back into bed and closed her eyes. Her sister never cared what people thought of her. Paige had always envied that. While Eliza stomped around their high school in chunky boots and grungy dungarees, she’d labored to fit in with the rest of the girls: sleek hairstyle, the right denim, the little pink backpacks everyone was wearing that year. No scandal, no gossip. She’d become an expert at flying under the radar, so agreeable, that it surprised people when she dared stand up for herself. She wasn’t a pushover, but Paige preferred to keep a low profile rather than make trouble.

  Now, she wondered if she should have risked a little more. Practiced, so that now that she was older, she might have been more comfortable stepping out of line.

  But maybe it wasn’t too late to try . . .

  * * *

  Despite her restless night, Paige woke to such a blue-skied, bright morning that all her turmoil was forgotten. Now this was a summer day just made for relaxing. She showered and dressed quickly in cut-offs and a loose, breezy shirt, tying her hair up in a ponytail with her favorite silk scarf before bounding downstairs.

  “Look at you, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed.” Eliza was in the kitchen, hugging a mug of coffee like it was her favorite childhood security blanket. “You must have got back early last night.”

  Paige gave a vague shrug. “I was tired from the drive,” she lied. “Where’s Cal?” she asked. “Do you guys have plans for the weekend?”

  “Nope.” Eliza beamed. “I mean, he’s around, but I cleared my schedule for you. I haven’t seen you properly in months.”

  “We chat all the time!”

  “I know, but it’s not the same.” Eliza got up. “Ready for breakfast? I thought we could head to the bakery for our sugar fix. How do fresh
maple morning buns sound?”

  “Like heaven.” Paige laughed. “I’ll drive.”

  “Wait!” Eliza brightened. “I have a better idea.” She grabbed her purse and led Paige out to the garage, throwing open the doors to reveal their old bicycles. “Do you remember, we used to ride them all around town.”

  “Do they even work?” Paige looked dubiously at the rusted frames.

  “Oh, ye of little faith.” Eliza wheeled hers out and mounted it. “Race you to the top of the hill?”

  She took off before Paige could stop her, leaving no choice but to follow. Paige quickly swung her leg over the saddle, and set off after her, pumping hard on the pedals. Her spinning classes were good for something, at least. She crested the hill just behind Eliza, and then overtook her, coasting down the other side. The morning breeze rippled her linen shirt, and she laughed, feeling weightless for a moment.

  “Hey, wait up!” she heard Eliza’s voice behind her.

  “I win!” she called, sing-song.

  “Did not!” Eliza laughed. “That was a tie.”

  She slowed until they were riding side by side, winding down the empty country lane until they reached the quaint bakery, set amongst the blackberry bushes that gave it its name. It was early, but there was already a crowd filling the tables outside in the morning sun. They took their places in line, and were soon at the counter, admiring the spread of scones, pies, and other delicious treats.

  “I can’t choose.” Paige’s mouth watered as she gazed at the spread. Airy muffins, glazed fruit tarts . . .

  “Then let me.” The baker herself, Summer, appeared from the kitchen with a tray of croissants. “Fresh from the oven,” she said, her blonde hair pulled back with a brightly patterned headband. “And you have to try the sticky buns. I threw some chocolate chips in today.”

  “It would be rude to argue,” Eliza agreed, accepting the plates that Summer piled high with flaky pastries. “Come join us, take a break.”

  “I will when the rush dies down.” Summer eyed the line behind them. “Which will be sometime next year at this rate.”