Fall for You (Flirting with Forever Book 4)

by Amanda Bailey

  Instantly, I’m filled with renewed determination. I don’t want whatever this thing is between us to be over. My chin juts toward the cake. “That’s for Olivia’s birthday.”

  “Oh.” She just stands there looking from me to the cake and back again.

  Meg elbows her and gives her the side-eye. “Would you mind putting it in the box, honey? I’ve got to get a strawberry tart for the cutest little girl ever.”

  “Right, of course, Mom.”

  Aha. This lovely woman is Quinn’s mother.

  Quinn seems to snap out of her thoughts and finally realizes Sophia and Ava are here. “Well, hi there. I didn’t even see you two. How’s school treating you, Ava?”

  “So fun, Quinny.”

  Quinn nods and smiles at the girl’s nickname for her, seemingly unbothered by it. She picks up the cake, expertly maneuvering it into the box. She’s just barely placed it inside when my focus shifts to Meg as she reaches into the case to get the tart for Ava. She pulls it out, and I hardly have time to note the shaking of her hand right before the tart hits the floor, the fruity red filling splattering both Quinn’s and Meg’s legs.

  Several things happen at once—Meg’s face flushes in embarrassment, Quinn gives a little shout, Ava’s hands slap her cheeks while she cries, “My tart!”

  Oh boy. I bend down level with Ava and give an exaggerated, “Oh no! Strawberry tart down! What will we do?” I slap my hands to my cheeks in mock horror just like Ava had and stare into her little face. I wrinkle my nose at her with a smile.

  Thank goodness for my experience with little girls because Ava’s giggles fill the air on our side of the counter, and Sophia shoots me a grateful smile. I nod and steal a peek over at Meg and Quinn.

  In hushed voices, I hear Quinn tell her mom it’s no big deal, and Meg fusses right back that she’s made a huge mess. I wince, feeling badly for her.

  Meg stands, after successfully retrieving a second tart out of the case, and sets it on the counter. “Quinn, would you mind ringing everyone up? I’m afraid I’ll never get this red stain out of these khaki pants if I don’t do something about it now.”

  “Sure, Mom. I’ve got it.” With a gentle nudge, she ushers her into the back.

  Spinning around on her heel, Quinn comes back to the counter. First, she makes eye contact with Ava. “Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?” Ava nods with a silly grin. Sophia hands two dollar bills across the counter and grabs some napkins and two forks. It would seem that this is something they do quite often, as Quinn tucks the money into the cash register, then puts the change into the tip jar.

  “Come on, pumpkin. Let’s eat that over here.” Sophia wrangles Ava over to a little table in the corner at the window, where they dig in.

  I jerk my thumb over my shoulder in their direction. In a low voice, I say, “I guess they come here a lot?”

  “Oh yeah. Ava loves my mom.”

  “And her strawberry tarts, obviously.”

  “Anything strawberry, so that’s a given.”

  I nod. “You and Sophia are pretty close, then?”

  “We work together. We hang out together. We’re relatively new friends, but yeah, we’re close.” She nibbles on her lip in a way that I find all too enticing.

  I force my eyes to meet hers and clear my throat. “How much do I owe you for the cake?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “Fair enough.” I reach for my wallet and hand her a fifty. She makes change for me, which I immediately tuck into the tip jar.

  Her lips part. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  I shrug. “It seems like your mom’s having a rough day.”

  Quinn grits her teeth, glancing back toward the kitchen. “It’s her wrist. I’m trying to convince her that she needs the surgery her doctor recommended, but she’s stubborn as a mule.”

  From the back we hear, “But I have excellent hearing.”

  Quinn grins at me and whispers, “That she does. Beware.”

  I make a mental note to ask Quinn more about her mom later. Right now, I’m more concerned with clearing the air with her. “Listen. I was hoping we could talk at some point.” I glance toward the kitchen and behind me. “Preferably in private.”

  “If you have a few minutes, there’s no reason we can’t talk now.” Quinn steps over to the side of the counter and crooks her finger at me. She leads me past it and straight down a hallway, farther away from both the kitchen and the front of the bakery.

  She stops and turns to me, so we are standing only about a foot apart. Her hand extends, and she reaches for mine. The gentle contact hits me hard as awareness moves quickly through me. I run my thumb over the back of her hand and wait because it looks like she’s about to burst with something she wants to say.

  “Liam, here’s the thing—I’m just nervous. I saw the look on your face the other day when I said I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t mean to brush you off or completely disregard everything we’ve shared together.” She shakes her head and lowers her gaze to our hands. “That didn’t come out right.”

  I gently grasp her chin with my free hand and tilt her face up to mine. “We could proceed slowly if you think that’s best.” I chuckle and shrug one shoulder. “Maybe we could start with your phone number? It feels tremendously wrong that my ex-wife has a way of contacting you and I don’t.”

  “That makes sense, anyway, since you’re the one who will be picking Olivia up.” She bites the corner of her lip. “And you seem to be the one paying me, too, which I know shouldn’t be weird, but still feels strange.”

  I don’t want her to feel like anything we are doing is inappropriate. It’s not. There’s nothing wrong with two adults dating. Whether or not this is an issue lies in the hands of the people who surround us. “What if we just agree to take things one step at a time? See where it goes between us before we worry about easing the people in our lives into it.”

  She draws in a breath, holds it for a moment, then blows it out carefully with a nod. “Okay.” She makes a little sound that sounds like she’s trying not to laugh. “My friends are already cool with it. My mom? When she understands what’s been going on … well, let’s just say she’ll be looking for ways to shove us together.”

  “It’s really the people in my life we have to worry about.” I drop my gaze for a second before looking right back at her. “We’ll figure this out, okay? Together.”

  Hope glimmers in her eyes, and damn, I want to be the man who can give her everything she needs, fulfill every last thing she’s looking for.

  Standing this close to her, a familiar scent drifts toward me—some sort of coconut shampoo, maybe? And I think she must have been baking something in the back because I smell vanilla, too. And strawberries, but that’s probably just the splatter on her jeans. She steps closer, and my hand slides around to the nape of her neck, drawing her closer. I breathe in the air she’s just released. Our noses touch, then my mouth is on hers. I tug her into my arms, cradling her head with both hands. Her fingers clutch at the fabric of my shirt, pulling me to her. Shared breath, tongues twisting, we taste each other. It’s like a little slice of heaven right here in her mother’s bakery. I groan and angle her head better so I can explore every last inch of her mouth.

  “Oh, man. They doing the kissy-face just like you and Daddy do, Fia.” A tiny, exasperated voice sounds behind us, followed by Sophia’s stifled laughter.

  “Sorry, guys. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Sophia herds the pint-sized saboteur into the bathroom.

  Quinn drops her forehead to my chest. “I guess if we are going to get caught like that, Ava and Sophia aren’t the worst people to find us.”

  “Nope. I can think of a few worse things that could have happened.” I kiss her cheek and ease away. “Speaking of, it’s Olivia’s birthday. I need to get home with this cake and cook dinner. Thank your mother for me, would you?” I reach for my phone and hand it to her. “Put yourself into my contacts, please, Ms. Lockmore.”

&nb
sp; She shakes her head, smiling. “I think we’re a bit beyond Ms. Lockmore at this point. I hope you both enjoy the cake.”

  “I’m sure we will.”

  “Dad, thank you for the cake. It’s so yummy. Where’d you buy it?” Olivia brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear and picks up another forkful of cake.

  I settle my gaze on her. “I was going to go to the grocery store, but when I parked in town, I found this little place called Meg’s Sweet Treats. It’s from there.”

  For a second, I think I’m in the clear, but then Olivia’s brow furrows. “Isn’t that Ms. Lockmore’s mom’s bakery?”

  I cough to cover my discomfort. “Yes, I believe that’s correct. The owner’s name is Meg, but I didn’t catch the last name.”

  Olivia nods, chewing thoughtfully. “I thought it tasted familiar. Ms. Lockmore has brought cupcakes and cookies and a few other things to class this year.” She glances at me with a shrug. “I guess sometimes they have stuff leftover and they don’t want it to go stale.”

  “Makes sense. No need to be wasteful.” I pause for a few seconds, then take another bite of cake. Once I’ve swallowed, I’m ready to bite the bullet and ask. “Speaking of Ms. Lockmore, are you looking forward to working with her again next week?”

  “Yeah. She’s pretty nice. Smart, too.”

  I nod, trying to act as if I don’t know her at all. Jesus, if my daughter knew the ways I know her teacher, she’d die of embarrassment. The knowledge that this may be more difficult with Olivia than I thought slams into me, full force. “Huh. Well, that’s good. And you haven’t had any problem catching up on what you were having trouble with?”

  “Dad. Can’t I just enjoy my cake?” She rolls her eyes a little, her expression turning glum.

  I press my lips together and nod. “Sure, baby girl. But you’d tell me if something were wrong, correct?”

  “Sure.” She wipes her mouth on her napkin, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. “I’ve got homework to do. Can I go up to my room and get started?”

  “On your birthday? It’s a Friday night.” I narrow my eyes, studying her.

  “You don’t want me to need a tutor in other classes, do you?” Her brows raise.

  Oh my God, these teenage years are going to kill me.

  Chapter 10

  Quinn

  We eat a lot of late dinners around here. Mom insists on keeping the bakery open until nine to catch as many customers as she possibly can. I wish she didn’t work so hard, but I get it. If we don’t sell our inventory each day, the food goes to waste, as does the money spent on creating the items we don’t sell. And if we close too early, we could miss all the people out on dates wanting dessert or the odd husband making the last minute my-pregnant-wife-needs-a-cupcake run.

  All of this means we’ve adapted to a very quirky dinner schedule, often not eating dinner until ten or later. It’s why I try to eat plenty at lunch—if I eat too much right before I sleep, it just sits on my stomach like a lead brick. Ugh.

  “We’ve got leftover veggie lasagna, Mom. Want me to heat that up?”

  “Sure, honey.” She sits down at the kitchen table with a glass of water.

  “Don’t get mad at me for saying so, but you look exhausted today.”

  She gives me a look. “I’m fine.”

  “How’s the wrist doing?” I cringe internally. I never know how far I can push until she gets upset. She needs to face facts—she needs that surgery and sooner rather than later.

  “I’m fine.” Oh boy. She sounds miffed. Time to try for a little comic relief.

  I send a tiny smirk in her direction. “Tell that to the sacrificed strawberry tart.”

  She eyes me. I really should have known better than to poke at her today because I’ve given her ammunition to fire right back in my direction. She swiftly changes our topic of conversation. “So, tell me how you knew that man who got the cake for his daughter.”

  She’s unleashing her diversion tactics on me. Mom’s a freaking master.

  “Remember, I told you I’m tutoring right now after school on Wednesdays?”

  She nods.

  “It’s his daughter, Olivia.”

  She gives me a shrewd look, “So why did it seem like he knew you better than that? Knew Sophia, too.” My mother misses nothing. Her eyes twinkle. “He seems like a nice enough boy.”

  “Mom. He’s a grown man. His daughter is sixteen now.”

  “Right. He said he was getting the cake for her birthday. That’s a good dad.”

  I cut two squares of lasagna and put them on a plate, then pop them into the microwave to warm. I can tell Mom is trying to work out what she wants to ask next, and then she hits me with it.

  “He mentioned this is the first birthday Olivia’s mom isn’t making a cake. Are they divorced?”

  “Apparently. Mom, I really don’t know their family very well. They’re new here this year. Liam owns that new cider mill, that’s where I first met him. I was checking out the place with the girls while having a few drinks. Sophia and Heath are having their wedding and the reception there this spring.”

  “Well, he seems really nice.”

  I bite my lip.

  “Do you think he’s nice?”

  This lasagna really needs to hurry up and be hot enough to eat. “Yes, Mom. He seems like a nice man.”

  “Is that why you were kissing him in the hallway?”

  Slowly, my eyes widen. “You really do hear everything, don’t you?”

  She smirks at me. “Little Ava practically squealed about the kissy-face. I didn’t see it, I just put one and one together and it made two.”

  “Fine, Mom. Yes. I like him. More than a little bit. But his daughter is my student, and it’s problematic. Not to mention, he’s paying me to tutor her.”

  “Couldn’t another teacher do that? Or a student?” One brow lifts as she watches me fidget.

  I shrug one shoulder. “Maybe. But her mom specifically asked if I’d do it.”

  “Does she know that there’s something going on between you and her ex-husband?”

  I turn away as the microwave beeps, cringing. I take a deep, fortifying breath. “No. No, she doesn’t.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  When I glance at her over my shoulder, I know my face is pink. Lasagna in hand, I join her at the table, sliding a piece onto each of our dinner plates.

  Mom shakes her head, and I’m sure she wants to say something else.

  “We’re going to figure it out, Mom. We’re going slowly.” Sort of.

  She presses her lips together. “I want the best for you, but you should tread cautiously here. He’s a student’s dad … and he’s paying you.”

  I open my mouth to assure her that I’m scared enough about the potential pitfalls to be beyond careful when she holds up her hand. “I know, honey. It’s just that you’re always looking out for everyone. This time, be sure you’re mindful of your own feelings as you work things out.”

  I nod. “Okay. I hear you.”

  She pats my hand calmly, picks up her fork to get started on her dinner, and promptly drops it. I pretend not to notice as she switches it to her nondominant hand. Fuck. I couldn’t get someone else to tutor Olivia even if I wanted to. Her wrist is getting worse, and I need that money for Mom’s surgery. I don’t have a damn choice.

  Chapter 11

  Liam

  Bad dad strikes again. After almost forgetting the birthday cake last week, I’d thought I was in the clear but nope. This morning I realized I’d screwed up by not going to the grocery store yesterday like I’d intended to. So, when Olivia attempted to fix herself breakfast, we’d been out of bread for the toast she’d wanted. She’s never been terribly picky, and to her credit, she’d rolled with the punches, pouring herself a bowl of cereal instead. Then she’d promptly discovered that we had no milk either. Oops.

  And that’s what brings me to the grocery store on a Tuesday afternoon—I sure as hell can’t risk one of her teenage woe-is-me
attitudes tomorrow morning. She’s good about cutting me a little slack; one goof-up she can handle, but a second morning in a row would be tantamount to tragedy, and I’d like to avoid the end of the world.

  What it comes down to is I need to implement some sort of system for doing these everyday tasks like grocery shopping. When we lived in Boston, Becky used to place orders online, then swing by the store on her way home from the office. I don’t have that option because in a small town like this, they don’t offer grocery pick up.

  Armed with my list, I walk into the store on a mission to get in, get what we need, and get the hell home. At least, that’s the plan until I spy a certain leggy brunette pushing her cart through the produce section. Judging by the leggings, sweatshirt, and hair swept up into a ponytail, I’d bet she’s just come from the gym. I can’t help but drink in every damn inch of her svelte, long legs. It’s felt like forever since that first time she’d come to see me at the cider mill. I’d stripped her naked, wrapped her around me, and driven my cock deep inside her. It had been a mind-blowing, hotter-than-hell experience, and I wanted it to go on and on. I’m not ashamed to admit that once I’d started running into her on a semi-regular basis, I was not upset about it at all. She’s so fucking sexy.

  And now I’m getting turned on right in the middle of the damn grocery store. I blow out a quick breath, grab a cart of my own, and head straight for her, paying no heed to the fact that I’m passing by a bunch of the items on my list. I haven’t seen Quinn since the birthday cake pick up at the bakery on Friday … but we have been texting.

  I’m discovering Quinn is generous and caring, always asking about me and my day and how Olivia is doing. I wasn’t sure if our encounters had been anything more than a booty call at the start. I thought maybe she’d just been looking for a release. I don’t have much opportunity to date and there was no way I was turning down a beautiful woman offering herself up to me. At first it was just physical, but now it feels like we’re connecting on a whole new level.