Wildest Dreams: Sweetbriar Cove: Book Seven

by Melody Grace

  Eliza gave her a nudge. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Paige took a deep breath and stood. “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need it.”

  “But I do need your car.” Paige was halfway to the door when she remembered. Eliza tossed her the keys.

  “Go get him.”

  * * *

  Paige drove over to the restaurant, her heart pounding. She felt the same way she did signing the lease on her store: like everything was about to change. But just like the day that had launched her into all of this, her instincts urged her on, more certain than she’d ever been before.

  It was time to take that leap into the unknown.

  She’d known somehow Declan would come here, and when she pulled up to find his truck in the empty lot, she smiled. And then quickly checked her reflection in the rearview mirror.

  Deep breaths, Paige, she told herself, her stomach flipping over. She got out and slowly made her way to the front door, but it was locked shut. She circled around the back, past the trash bins, to the kitchen door. It stood open, so she gathered all her courage and stepped inside.

  Declan was working at the center island, chopping something with sure, steady movements, and for a moment, Paige just watched him, drinking in the sight of him.

  The line of his jaw, the focus in his blue eyes. The way his broad shoulders were still so graceful as he slid herbs into a pot, stirred, and then took a sip. Everything was controlled passion and expertise, a man in his element.

  She could watch him cook like this for a hundred years and never be bored.

  She took a step forward, drawn closer, and knocked into the counter. “Shoot,” she said, wincing. Declan’s head shot up, and he fumbled; the spoon fell to the floor with a clatter.

  Declan swore aloud and cradled his hand.

  “I’m sorry!” Paige rushed forward. “Did you burn yourself? I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “No, I’m fine.” Declan sucked in a breath.

  “You’re not fine. Look, your hand’s all red.” Paige grabbed it. “Put it under the cold water,” she said, leading him to the sink and turning the faucet on. “Does it hurt?” she asked anxiously, checking the burn mark on the back of his hand. “I really am sorry.”

  She glanced up and found him staring back at her so intently, it took her breath away.

  “Paige, stop.”

  “But your hand—”

  “Forget about my hand.” Declan closed it around hers. He gripped her tightly. “Why are you here?”

  Paige faltered. He was so close, and the feel of his touch after so long was overwhelming. She swallowed and looked away. “I came, because . . . because . . .”

  She felt his touch on her face, tilting her chin up to look at him. And when she finally forced herself to meet his gaze, it was over for good. Because seeing the world of emotion on his face, Paige felt her heart open, blooming there in her chest.

  “I missed you,” she whispered, and Declan’s mouth curled into a tender smile.

  “I missed you too,” he murmured, leaning closer. Slowly, slowly, the distance between them melted away, until his lips were so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin. “I’m sorry,” he told her, resting his forehead against her. “I got scared. Wanting you like this . . . wanting a future. I panicked. But I swear I’ll never run from you again.”

  Paige searched his expression, and she saw it all, right there. His heart, wide open and ready for whatever she wanted next.

  “I believe you,” she whispered. “I forgive you.”

  And then she couldn’t wait any longer. Paige reached up on her tiptoes and found his mouth in the kiss she’d been waiting a lifetime to claim.

  Declan had her in his arms in an instant, pulling her closer and answering her kiss with pure passion. She savored the taste of him, the slow, intoxicating slide of their tongues, and God, how her body leapt at his touch.

  This was where she belonged, right here, where anything was possible, and she felt like she could fly.

  But before she could lose herself completely, Paige pulled back, gasping. “Eliza said you turned down the investment,” she said. “Don’t do that for me—”

  “Tough, I already did.” Declan kissed her again, and she felt him smile against her.

  “I mean it!” Paige playfully pushed him back. “I don’t want you to have to choose. If you need to travel and be away—”

  “What I need is for you to kiss me,” Declan said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her until she was breathless and liquid in his arms. “I didn’t want it,” he whispered, finally coming up for air. “I want to be here, with you. Building a life together. Something real.”

  Paige felt the happy tears coming, a wave of pure emotion, so she just held him tight.

  “That’s not to say we won’t be having adventures . . .” Declan continued, flashing her a wicked smile. “After all, Aphrodite needs to stay inspired.”

  Paige laughed. “True. What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, there’s this . . .” Declan dipped his head to kiss along her shoulder. “And this . . .” His hands slid over her body, and Paige let out a shivering breath of pure desire.

  She ran her hands over his chest, not satisfied at the fabric under her fingertips. She tugged it playfully, and Declan grinned, stripping it off and tossing it aside. “Keep going,” she said, her breath catching in delicious anticipation, and he laughed.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Their clothes tumbled to the floor, and they did too, until she was under him, skin to skin, lost in the rush of it and that pure, exquisite friction. He moved inside her, and Paige felt her whole world unravel—and reform again. Brighter and more vivid than she ever could have imagined. A world of possibilities in every kiss.

  A lifetime of discovery in this one, indescribable man.

  She closed her eyes, held him tightly, and she leapt.

  23

  A few months later

  Declan woke with a yawn. Paige was curled beside him, still sleeping, pale autumn sunshine falling through the drapes of her apartment. He rolled over and saw her hair spilled across the pillow.

  He smiled.

  Waking up every morning with her in his arms was a pleasure he’d never expected, the feeling that everything was right with the day before it had even begun. It didn’t matter if they were in her bed, or at his place, or even—sometimes—still sprawled on a couch or floor in a mess of clothing from the night before, he still felt that same wave of gratitude hit him all over again.

  He’d finally found his home.

  Declan slipped out of bed, bare feet cold on the floor. He grabbed a robe and navigated the three long strides that took him to the tiny galley kitchen. He’d done his best to make the space work—moving over utensils and cooking supplies—but he was still like a bull in a china shop trying to cook a decent breakfast on her tiny stove.

  “Cute look.”

  He heard Paige’s voice from the bed. He looked over with a grin. “You know I make anything look good,” he said, flexing his biceps like a body-builder. Paige laughed and flopped back in the pillows.

  “Don’t be long. It’s cold without you!”

  “We need to get the furnace fixed.” Declan was only a few more moments in the kitchen before returning with a tray. Eggs, bacon, steaming hot tea . . .

  “Thank you,” Paige said gratefully, greeting him with a kiss before taking the tray. Declan dove back beneath the cozy covers and she yelped. He re-emerged, hair rumpled.

  “You need a bigger kitchen,” Declan said, taking a slice of toast. “Hell, you need a bigger apartment.”

  He looked around. Her small studio, perfectly sized for one, was now cluttered with their stuff, spilling out of the antique dresser and draped over every chair.

  “I know,” she sighed. “And I’m running out of space downstairs, too. Especially now that I’m hosting the group bachelorette fittings.”


  “So move in with me,” Declan said through a mouthful of food. He spoke without thinking, but the minute the words were out, it made perfect sense. Paige in his bed every night, waking up to the ocean sunrise with her every morning—and with a fully-stocked kitchen, too?

  It was the best idea he’d had since ditching Rich Crawford in Vegas and booking a one-way ticket back here.

  Paige looked stunned. “Seriously?”

  “Deadly.” He grinned. “Come on, I have tons more space, and then you can convert up here into more workshop space.”

  It was the perfect solution, but Paige paused, and he understood why. Sure, she was way more spontaneous now than she’d ever been, but this was still a big change. “Maybe,” she said carefully. “Why don’t you think about it, and we see in another couple of months.”

  Declan smiled. “No thinking necessary. I mean it,” he added, leaning in to kiss her. “I’m here all the time anyway, and you’re there. Let’s just make it official.”

  Paige bit her lip, and then nodded. Declan whooped and kissed her again.

  “You do realize what you’re getting yourself into, right?” she teased.

  “A gorgeous roommate who walks around in sexy lingerie?” Declan winked.

  “Yes, and throw pillows,” Paige said, laughing. “And tablecloths, and blankets, and cute coffee mugs with puppies printed on them. You know me, I can’t help it. Say goodbye to your bachelor pad, and hello to little sachets of lavender in your linen closet.”

  “I’m supposed to have a linen closet?” Declan joked, unconcerned. “Damn, I didn’t get the memo on that.”

  “You know what I mean.” Paige nudged him. “Things are going to change.”

  “I know,” he said confidently. “And I can’t wait.”

  She kissed him, so hard the tea almost spilled in their lap. “Mmm,” Declan murmured, his hands roving under the covers. “What time do you have to be downstairs . . . ?”

  Her alarm went off with a chirp.

  “Now.” Paige reluctantly pulled away. “I’m meeting Brooke for another bridal showing at the hotel. But I’ll see you later, with Eliza and Cal?”

  “I’ll be there.” Declan tapped her ass as she scrambled out of bed. “You need any help in the shower?”

  * * *

  It turned out she did, but eventually, Declan headed back to his place, and Paige got started on her day. Now that summer was over, fewer people were dropping by the store, but that just meant she had more time to focus on her private clients. She’d built a thick book of custom commissions, and now that she was partnering with Brooke as a deluxe wedding service, Paige couldn’t believe how business was booming. That day, she was running a private trunk show at the hotel for a bridal party, and as the women sipped champagne and gushed over the gorgeous trousseau pieces, they kept adding just one more garment to their order.

  “Ooh, and these panties, with the garter belt,” the bride-to-be insisted.

  Her friends laughed. “How many lingerie sets can you wear in one weekend?”

  “That depends.” She winked. “How many can he take off me?”

  Finally, they headed out to the florist, leaving Paige and Brooke to pack away her samples. “You think you’ll be able to get all this done in time?” Brooke asked, looking concerned. “The wedding is in the spring, but I know you’re slammed.”

  Paige nodded. “I’ll be fine. Only the bride wanted custom pieces, the rest of them I can re-purpose from my regular stock.”

  “Good.” Brooke smiled. “I don’t want to overload you, but everyone I talk to now has already heard about Aphrodite, and they insist on getting an appointment in, too.”

  “That’s great.”

  “You’re getting a real reputation,” Brooke added, looking impressed. “You could probably add a second boutique location soon at this rate.”

  “Whoa, slow down,” Paige laughed. “I’m just fine with what I have right now. Besides, I like my free time too much to give it up and dive into a whole company again.”

  “Does that free time come with an Australian accent?” Brooke teased.

  “Maybe,” Paige smiled. She checked the time and realized the whole day had passed. “I better get over there. Same time next week?”

  “With tassels on.”

  Paige headed over to the restaurant and was pleased to see cars were still out front, lingering after the lunch service. Cal had finally convinced Declan to add a couple of extra spots a week, and he’d agreed on one condition: that he used them to experiment with whatever dishes he chose. Of course, the unpredictable menu had become a cult favorite, and people were lining up to taste whatever Declan decided to cook that day.

  She headed in the front and found Jenny at the bar, texting on her phone. “Hot date?” Paige came up behind her, and Jenny snorted with laughter.

  “Only if you count Hannah’s soccer coach.”

  “Is he hot?”

  Jenny grinned. “I’m sure Mrs. DeWitt thinks so, they’ve been married fifty years.”

  Paige winced. “Maybe not. Still, what happened to the guy Mackenzie was going to set you up with?”

  “It never happened.” Jenny sighed. “I kept having to reschedule because of Hannah, and there’s nothing sexier than a tween’s orthodontist appointments.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” Jenny gave a wry smile. “To tell you the truth, I don’t have the time. I’m so busy pulling double-shifts here and running carpool . . . When you can find a hot guy to just show up on my doorstep with a bottle of wine, let me know.”

  Paige laughed. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

  “For what, my competition?” Declan’s voice came behind her, and he greeted her with a kiss.

  “We’re trying to find Jenny a date,” she explained.

  “An attractive, single date with no commitment issues or creepy fetishes,” Jenny added. “Which just about rules out everyone I’ve met this year.”

  “Any of your chef friends fit the bill?” Paige asked Declan.

  “Nobody worth her time.”

  “Thanks. I think.” Jenny looked around at the quiet dining room. There were only a couple of people left now, lingering over their coffee. “I can close up here, if you want to head out.”

  “It’s OK,” Paige said, “we can wait.”

  “Please, it’s fine. I’m stocking up on overtime,” Jenny explained. “See you tomorrow, boss.”

  * * *

  Paige and Declan left her to it and drove over to the beach house to meet Cal and Eliza—and to check out the plans for the house they’d decided to build . . . right next door. “He’s a brave man, being so close to your mother,” Declan remarked, teasing, as they pulled up out front.

  Paige laughed. “I think they figured either way Mom would be showing up every summer to stay with them, so it was safer to keep her in a different building. Plus, Cooper can run the project and make it their dream home.”

  They found Cal and Eliza in the living room, cozy with a wood fire burning. They spread the plans out on the coffee table, showing off the designs. “Here’s where my library nook is going,” Eliza said happily, pointing to the corner. “Have you heard of anything so romantic?”

  Paige laughed. “What did you get out of the deal, Cal?”

  “Making the love of my life a happy woman,” he replied. “Plus, a man cave in the basement.”

  “Now that’s more like it.” Declan gave him a high five.

  Eliza gave Paige an amused look. “Come on, let’s go steal the last of the pie,” she said in a stage whisper, getting to her feet.

  “I heard that,” Cal laughed, but the guys stayed discussing the plans while Eliza and Paige decamped to the kitchen—and the Tupperware container of homemade pumpkin pie.

  “You baked this?” Paige asked, impressed.

  Eliza hooted with laughter. “Um, nope. Summer’s prepping for Thanksgiving already,” she explained. “Which means leftovers from her crazy experimen
ts.”

  “This is great,” Paige said, digging in. Eliza nodded, her mouth full.

  “Bourbon pecan tastes a lot better than the aniseed tequila she tried.”

  “Ew.”

  “Ew indeed,” Eliza laughed. “So . . . moving in together, huh?” She glanced back towards the living room. “That’s a big deal. And . . . fast.”

  “Says the woman pouring foundations next week.”

  “True.” Eliza grinned. “I’m happy for you guys, if you’re ready.”

  “I am.” Paige glowed. She’d been surprised when Declan suggested it, but only because she knew it was a big deal for him. He’d spent so long as a bachelor, she’d half-expected them to hit a few bumps adjusting to life together, but it had been smooth sailing from day one. Sure, getting woken at dawn when he headed out to surf wasn’t her favorite thing, but the kiss he always greeted her with was.

  A knock came at the door. Eliza’s head bobbed up. “Ooh, did you order food?” she called through to Cal. “Because I knew I loved you, but this is next-level.”

  “Not this time,” Cal replied. They heard footsteps as he went to answer, and then a moment later, a familiar voice came.

  “Calvin Prescott, look at you. When do I get to call you my son-in-law?”

  Paige and Eliza exchanged a look. “Mom?” Paige asked, slipping down from her stool.

  They hustled into the hallway, and found Linda swathed in winter clothes—with luggage set beside her on the floor. “There my girls are.”

  “What are you doing here, Mom?” Paige asked, moving to hug her. “We didn’t even know you were back in the country!”

  “We just got in.” Linda beamed, and that’s when Paige noticed the tall man standing in the hallway just behind her, with a kind face and salt-and-pepper hair. “Paige, Eliza, there’s someone special I’d like you to meet. This is Jean-Luc. We’re getting married.”

  There was a beat, and Paige’s jaw dropped. “You’re . . . what?”

  “Congratulations!” Cal and Declan quickly stepped in, shaking Jean-Luc’s hand and offering their best.