by Skye Jordan
And . . . whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. A spinning burst of sparks lit off in her gut, like a pinwheel sparkler at a Fourth of July parade.
No, wrong direction, Avery.
Talk about turbulence. If today was any indication, Trace’s life was far more turbulent than Avery had ever imagined.
But even as she tried to beat her mind back into alignment with her goals as a single businesswoman, her thoughts were as ethereal as ghosts and kept drifting toward different scenarios. Scenarios she had no businesses dreaming about.
Shannon waved a paper in front of her, and Avery was grateful for the distraction. “Your sales are through the roof,” Shannon was saying. “I can’t keep your products in stock. Anytime you want to increase your deliveries, or mass-produce or incorporate or go IPO or something, let me know.”
Attached to the paper was a check. A nice check that eased the perpetual tension across Avery’s shoulders. “Wow.” She frowned, thinking back over the month. “Is this really what you owe me?”
“Don’t you keep your own books?”
“Uh, well, yeah. Sort of. I mean, I do, but, God, I’m so busy. When I’m dealing with someone like you, who I trust, I have to admit, I let the daily numbers slide. I just don’t have time.”
Shannon pushed the paper with all the accounting details of Avery’s sales into her hand. “Well, hire my bookkeeper with part of this.” She tugged a length of tape from the register and wrote down a name and a number, then offered that to Avery, too. “She’s fabulous and she’s affordable. Don’t leave your finances to chance or trust, no matter how much you like someone. You never know anyone as well as you think you do, especially not when money or emotions are involved.”
“Thanks.” She folded the paper and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Guess I should know better, right?”
“Oh,” Shannon said, frowning. “Honey, I didn’t mean you and David. I was talking about business.”
“It’s okay. I think it applies across the board.” Avery smiled. “I’ll call your bookkeeper and sit down with Delaney to talk about ways to increase production. Guess I need to hire even more people than I thought. Keep your eyes open for me, will you?”
“Sure thing. I may have a couple of leads. I’ll text you.”
She hugged Shannon. “Thanks.” Pulling back, Avery told Shannon’s belly, “Behave, young man,” making Shannon laugh.
Avery said good-bye to Rita and greeted several regular customers on her way out. She was thinking about where to reinvest the extra money burning a hole in her back pocket when she heard her name.
And cringed inside.
She stopped and turned to MaryAnn Holmes waving from her car.
“Ah, shit,” she whispered. And as the other woman hurried toward her, the worst kind of dread pooled in Avery’s stomach.
MaryAnn pulled her aside near the line of newspaper racks outside the store. Avery forced an easy smile as if she didn’t know what this was about. As if she could evade the inevitable by pretending it wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m glad I ran into you.” MaryAnn spoke quietly, her expression too intense for small talk.
“I hope everything is fine with Willow.”
“Yes, yes. Fine. But that’s why I stopped you.” She was already shaking her head, and tears of frustration and futility were already clogging her throat. “What happened at the café this morning—it’s a deep concern.”
“MaryAnn, it was all a mistake,” Avery said, using her best voice of compassion. “A rumor that was nothing but a lie. The police came, they looked around, they found nothing, and they left. End of story.”
Oh, but no. That was not the end of the story—not for MaryAnn. Her eyes flashed with anger. “Just because they didn’t find anything didn’t mean it was a mistake or a lie. And I don’t want Willow anywhere near that. What if she’d been there and the police had found something? What if she’d somehow gotten caught up in the blame?”
“MaryAnn—”
“I’m sorry, Avery. I know how much you need her, and I know how much she was looking forward to working for you, but she’s applying for colleges soon, and with all the cutbacks and how difficult it is to get in now, I can’t take any risks. Willow won’t be working for you.”
No, no, no. Avery felt the ground shift beneath her feet. She closed a hand on the other woman’s arm. “MaryAnn, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. I don’t need Willow to start for a couple of weeks. We can postpone training if that would make you feel more comfortable.”
“What would make me feel comfortable is having her work somewhere where the other employees are not ex-convicts.”
“Trace isn’t going to be there when Willow—”
But MaryAnn turned and walked toward the store’s entrance, leaving Avery standing there with her mouth hanging open and a knife in her heart.
Avery took a breath and waited for the sting of hurt to subside.
Then she took another to control the wave of fear that rose in the wake of pain.
When both emotions rushed back in a moment later and tears blurred her vision, Avery walked past her car and continued down Main Street until she reached Wildcard Brews.
She pushed through the front door and saw Delaney toward the back of the open space, talking to someone on a ladder beside a huge metal tank in the pilot brew room. She glanced toward Avery with concerned curiosity instead of her normal cheerful greeting. Her sister had called earlier to check on her after word of what happened at the café circulated around town.
Then Avery had assured Delaney she was fine.
Now . . .
“Do you have a minute?” Avery asked.
Without hesitation, Delaney started toward her. Avery must have looked as bad as she felt because her sister slid her arm around her and pulled her into the office. After she closed the door, Delaney dragged Avery into a hug.
The unconditional show of support and love gave Avery the safety net she needed to let go, and once the tears started, they kept falling and falling.
Delaney held her tight, stroked her hair, and whispered reassurances with the confidence of a goddamned bullfighter entering the ring, just like she had when their mother left.
“I know how hard this is, but you’re strong, Avery. You’re so strong. So much stronger than I am.” Like she had all those nights Avery woke to nightmares. “Whether this is about Trace or the café or David, whatever it is, we’ll work it out together.” Like she had when the kids at school made fun of her. “I promise you everything’s going to work out.” Like she had when their father yelled or hit them. “You’re not alone, Avery.”
And just when she’d cried herself out, a soft knock sounded on the door.
Avery didn’t look up. She covered her face and wiped at the mess with both hands.
“Do I need to kick someone’s ass?” Ethan’s low, steely voice, laced with just the right amount of this-is-becoming-a-regular-thing made Avery burst out laughing.
But her exhaustion sucked away the relief like a vacuum. “MaryAnn Holmes,” she said, pulling in a shaky breath and cutting a look at Ethan. “Think you can take her?”
His handsome face went deadly serious. Eyes narrowed, mouth tight in a contemplative frown. His light eyes darted toward Delaney, who gave him a yeah-probably nod and shrug.
To which Ethan said, “She doesn’t drink beer anyway. Consider it done.”
And he left, closing the door.
Avery started laughing again, and only when Delaney gave him a thumbs-up through the glass did Ethan wander away to give the sisters privacy.
“God, he’s a dream,” Avery said.
“He is. And it took me a damn long time to find him.” Delaney reached out and tucked Avery’s hair behind her ear. “Want to tell me what happened with MaryAnn?”
That almost unbearable weight came down on Avery again, and she grabbed a box of Kleenex off the bookcase nearby to wipe her face and blow her nose. Then heaved a stuttering
sigh and said, “She doesn’t want Willow working at the café because of what happened this morning.”
Delaney frowned, shaking her head. “Because . . . ?”
Avery explained and Delaney made a that’s-ridiculous sound. “I’m sorry.” She propped her elbow on her desk and propped her chin in her hand. “We’ll have to put our heads together and come up with some alternatives. You might just have to train someone from scratch. Is that really all this breakdown was about?”
“I think it was just the straw. Everything’s been building.” She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms. “Why’d you hire Trace?” When Delaney frowned, Avery clarified, “You seemed to know he had good character even though he’d been to prison. How did you know you could trust him? Everyone is so ready to jump to the worst possible conclusion.”
Delaney thought about it for a second. “I first met Trace back when I was dating Chip. He was the one who—”
“Got in the fight at the bar and killed Ian.”
“Right.” Her smoky-blue eyes grew even darker. “But he was also a very successful drug dealer. And there were several times when Trace bought from him while Chip and I were together.”
Avery sat forward, frowning. “Then how could you—”
“One, because he was buying prescription drugs. You don’t have to hang around drug dealers long to figure out that men Trace’s age don’t buy prescription drugs for themselves. They buy them to sell or they buy them for someone else.”
“And two?”
“He didn’t buy enough to sell.”
“Is there a three?”
“His father was always waiting in the car.”
Yes, Avery could see it. She nodded.
“You don’t look surprised,” Delaney said.
“I figured it out on my own. Why didn’t you tell me this?”
Delaney lifted a shoulder. “Because it was really neither here nor there. He bought drugs illegally and went to prison for buying drugs illegally. He knew it was wrong, but he still did it. I’m not saying I don’t feel for the guy—I mean, who would understand more than us, right?”
Avery nodded.
“But the biggest reason I didn’t bring it up,” Delaney said, looking a little sheepish, “is because from the first day you met him, I saw the spark between you two. And because I know you’ve got a heart the size of Asia. And because I knew you’d do what you’re doing right now.”
“And what’s that?”
“Discounting the fact that he was convicted of a crime because he did it for what he thought was the right reason.”
Avery propped her elbow on the desk and leaned her forehead into her hand, glad she was so tired. If she weren’t this would have started a fight. “And that would be bad because . . .”
“It’s a little hard to adequately put into words.” Delaney took a deep breath and released it in a measured stream. She thought for a moment before speaking. “Regardless of the reason Trace did what he did, regardless of the circumstances under which he did it, the bottom line is he ended up in prison. He spent three years in a maximum-security prison. For three years, one thousand days, twenty-four hours a day, Trace lived, ate, drank, slept, and breathed with real criminals. Men who murdered, raped, stole, conned, cheated, lied, and otherwise broke heavy-duty laws to get in there. Chip ran with guys like that. Hell, I’ve dated guys like that. And when I told you that Trace has scars, I meant that there is no way Trace could have lived through that and come out the same harmless kid who went in.”
Delaney heaved a breath, sat back, and leaned her temple against her fist. “I trust Trace with the business, with the building, with your opening date. But do I trust Trace with my baby sister?” She made an I’m-not-so-sure face. “Do I trust Trace with my baby sister who loves all creatures great and small, and who just got out of a shitty marriage and deserves the world?” She made another face, this one pained. “I would love to say yes, because I recognize the look in your eye when you’re with him. But . . . I can’t. I’m sorry, Avery. Your safety comes first for me.”
Avery’s head came up, and she gave her sister a disbelieving, “My safety?”
“You know what I mean. The safety of your heart. The safety of your future. The safety of the life you’re trying to build here. This incident with MaryAnn is the very problem that will forever plague Trace, the same way my past will, in some ways, forever plague me.” Delaney squeezed Avery’s hand and blew her own struggles off with, “I’ve tarnished the Hart name enough for three generations. I’d like you to have a life that’s bright and shiny.”
Avery laughed softly, torn between appreciation for Delaney’s love and frustration over . . . over what? Over the fact that Trace wasn’t all he should be for Avery to risk her heart?
Her phone chimed, and Avery closed her eyes with a groan. “Oh my God, if this is bad news, I seriously think I might go postal.”
Delaney offered her hand, palm up. “Let me look.”
Avery handed the phone over to her sister and covered her face. “If it’s bad, I don’t want to know.”
“Mmm, doesn’t sound bad.”
Avery took a cautious peek from beneath her lashes.
“Sounds like Trace has a surprise waiting back at the café.”
“Really?” Avery’s load instantly lightened. “Does it say what? Dare I hope it’s a finished roof?”
Delaney handed the phone back with a smirk. “Telling what the surprise is generally ruins said surprise. And he’s a man. I doubt his surprise has anything to do with a roof.”
Avery took the phone and tried not to seem like her whole day had turned around with one text from Trace, but . . . “If it’s not a roof, I hope it’s a clone of me. Or maybe five. One for baking. One for marketing. One for business. One for recipe development.”
“One for sex,” Delaney added in a smart-ass I-know-you’re-going-to-do-it-even-though-I-told-you-not-to tone.
Avery stood and matched Delaney’s playful smirk with an extra dose of attitude. “Oh, hell no. No freaking clone is going to take the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Delaney rolled her eyes. “So much for one night.”
Laughing, Avery hugged her sister. “Thank you. And I do hear you. I just . . .” She pulled back and met Delaney’s eyes.
Delaney shook her head and stroked a hand down Avery’s hair. “You don’t have to explain. I’ve got my own ‘I just’ right out there.” She hooked her thumb toward the door.
As soon as Trace caught sight of Avery’s Jeep on the road below, he shut down his floodlights, tossed his supplies into a secured box, slid his hammer into his tool belt, and hurried to secure the tarp over the small portion of the unfinished roof.
By the time he reached the ground, Avery was pushing her car door open, and Trace stood near the porch with the grin of an idiot and the anticipation of a five-year-old at Christmas. Only his anticipation was all for Avery.
“Hey,” he called to her as she collected some bags from the backseat.
“Hey. How’s the roof coming?”
She didn’t sound right. He wasn’t sure why, just sure that extra little spark of Avery was missing. But the days were growing shorter and shorter, and it was already dark, so he couldn’t read her face as she started toward him.
“Good. Almost done. Need another hour at the most.”
“That’s great news.” Instead of stopping a couple of feet away to talk, she walked right into his arms, pressed her face to his chest and sighed. “God I needed this.”
Her distress shaved the edge off his excitement. He held her tight. “Rough day, baby?”
She nodded against his chest, and the fact that she didn’t talk about it told him just how bad it had been. It also told him she wasn’t ready to rehash it quite yet.
“I think I can put a smile on your face.”
She laughed. “You know you can put a smile on my face.”
He reached down and swatted her butt. “Get your mind out of the g
utter, Cupcake. This is totally unrelated to sex. Though you’re welcome to share your excitement over what I’m about to show you with me later.”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s with your dad?”
“Zane’s got him tonight.”
“Mmm.” She lifted her face, pressed her lips to his neck, and kissed him there. “Then I might take you up on that.” She stepped back and finally looked up at him. “What’s the surprise?”
Trace took one look at her puffy, tired eyes and her drawn features and knew she’d been crying. All his excitement drained. “What happened?”
She shook her head and tried to brush it off, but Trace cupped her face and forced her to meet his gaze. “What. Happened?”
She sighed. “I lost Willow.”
Ah shit. Willow was going to be Avery’s backbone. “Why? You were giving her an awesome job and a real leg up.”
Avery lowered her gaze to the bags in her hands, straightening them as she shook her head. “She’s getting ready for college, has a lot going on. Her mom wants her to focus. Thought it was too much for her to take on right now.” She returned her gaze to Trace, and he immediately knew there was more to that story. He could see it in her eyes. “But I talked to Delaney, and we’ve got a couple of other possible replacements we’re going to contact tomorrow.” She patted his chest. “It hit me hard initially, but once I put it in perspective, I’m fine. So, I’m really ready for good news. And your surprise couldn’t have come at a better time. Let’s see it.”
Anger rumbled through Trace; he was sure the fiasco here earlier in the day had contributed to Willow backing out of the manager/assistant-baker position. But he didn’t want to add his own emotions onto those he could see still weighing Avery down, so he took her hand, threaded their fingers, and walked her around to the far side of the building, where he’d parked the rental truck.
“Culinary Depot called,” he told her.
She gasped and her grasp tightened in his. “Oh my God, really?”
“There’s that spark I love.” He grinned at her as they rounded the front of the café. “Really. And I took a break from the roof to go pick up your appliances because I knew the sight of these babies on your property would make you feel a whole lot better than a finished roof. Even though I’ll be done with the roof tomorrow morning.”
