Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  “Honestly, I think the crew would love that,” Scott said, glancing their way. “It’s gonna be a rough few days.”

  “Done,” I said. “And not a problem. Maybe I’ll even sneak a little beer into a thermos,” I said, waving to everyone as I turned to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hey?”

  Scott laughed his approval before turning back to that gigantic mess.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about it as I hiked back. When you lived in a small town, these things tended to send shock-waves, and I definitely felt it. Already my mind was racing ahead to the next town meetings, of the money the clean-up would cost, the effect on businesses. I was so caught up in my thoughts, dodging the rain under heavy branches, I’d hiked back with barely a notice.

  And when I pulled open the door to The Bar, the landline was ringing again.

  It was Isabelle.

  “Iz?” I asked, hearing the jagged exhaustion in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can you come and get this fucking baby?” she asked as Lola wailed in the background.

  * * *

  Isabelle and Maya both looked like death warmed over.

  “I brought coffee,” I said, holding out large thermoses. Isabelle took one with grateful hands. I thought Maya was going to cry. Wrapping the two of them in a hug, I spotted Lola in her playpen in the corner, face screwed up in anger.

  “So what’s going on?” I said.

  “Oh, nothing… just that our baby is trying to fucking kill us,” Isabelle said, sinking into the couch with the coffee. Maya sat across the room, which I thought was odd.

  I scooped Lola from her playpen and held her to my chest.

  “She’s been getting into the knives again?” I asked, but neither of them smiled. Lola gurgled softly, and I ran my palm over her soft hair.

  “We weren’t expecting to be… stuck here,” Maya said, biting her lip. “So we don’t have her things. And your parents have been great, but they’ve been busy since the rockslide, and we’ve been stuck in this damn house.”

  “And Lola won’t sleep. Or can’t sleep. Or refuses… fuck, I don’t know,” Isabelle said.

  I grinned ruefully, rocking a half-asleep Lola.

  “But look, she sleeps for you,” Isabelle said helplessly.

  “It’s all good,” I soothed. “I get it. You’re exhausted and going stir-crazy. And of course I’ll take her. I had some errands to run before opening The Bar anyway. We can hang out, have an Uncle-Gabe-and-Lola day.”

  Iz and Maya were both nodding like I was informing them they’d just won the lottery.

  “From your reactions, I’m guessing that sounds good to you?”

  Maya was already packing a diaper bag.

  “Thank you,” Isabelle said, standing up and leaning against me. “I think we just need to sleep.”

  “Do whatever you need,” I said, grabbing the bag from Maya. “All I have to do is feed her. Change her diaper. Make sure she doesn’t fall off of anything, right?”

  “Something like that,” Isabelle yawned. “Oh God, are we terrible mothers?”

  I laughed. “Not at all. Remember that one time Austin threw a temper tantrum for a week straight and Dad threatened to leave him in the woods for the wolves to eat?”

  “But Austin is a dipshit.”

  “And Lola is just a baby. And you’re the parents to a six-month-old. They’re like tiny psychopaths.” I walked backward to the door. “Give yourselves a break. You’re doing a wonderful job.”

  But they were already snoring on their separate couches.

  I smiled, closing the door softly behind me. Snagged the car seat from their van. Buckled a sleepy Lola into my car.

  “Hey cutie,” I said, stroking her cheek. Drool dripped from her mouth as she giggled. “Looks like it’s just you and me today, huh?”

  * * *

  Lola was going to be the talk of the Big Sur Channel. Gladys and Gloria basically kidnapped her at the post office (I ended up having to bribe them with gossip to get her back). Ruth and Mrs. Manahan cooed over her at the grocery store. And now we were at the Big Sur Bakery, stopping for coffee and a bottle, and people kept coming up to exclaim over her cuteness.

  To her credit, Lola was adorable.

  I sipped my coffee and squeezed into the back of the room near the fireplace. It was packed, crowded with locals and tourists, and there was a low hum of conversation and laughter. Lola had a tight grip on my index finger, the windows were wide open to the rainy forest outside, and the server had just brought me an extra chocolate croissant because they’d baked too many.

  “Great day we’re having,” I said to Lola, who tried to shove the entire croissant in her mouth. I laughed, whipping it behind my back and replacing it with her bottle. She took it greedily, milk spilling down her cheek. I had that sensation again, the gentle comfort of being in the place you love the most. Of Big Sur wrapping me in her arms.

  But then I looked up toward the register and spotted Josie. And that gentle comfort was steamrolled by my intoxicating attraction to her. Immediately, there were whispers, several side-long glances directed my way, but I ignored them in favor of trying to both stare and not stare at Josie at the same time. She hadn’t wanted to see me again—hadn’t wanted to bump into each other while stuck here—and if I could have shrunk myself to honor her wishes, I would have.

  Except I was a giant man squeezed into the corner with a six-month-old baby. I stood out. And any second she was going to look up and see me.

  I hoped.

  I mean… didn’t hope.

  “This girl’s really got me twisted up,” I muttered to Lola, who responded by throwing up on herself and knocking over my coffee. I laughed despite my confusion, lifting her from her high-chair and cleaning her against my chest as coffee dripped down my leg. And that moment—when I was covered in coffee and baby puke—was when I happened to look up and find Josie watching me.

  Chapter 24

  Josie

  There ought to be a law that Gabriel Shaw—sexy bartender, hippie lumberjack, Viking with a man bun—should never be allowed to hold tiny infants against his broad, muscular chest. Should never be allowed to smile at that infant like she’s his whole world, to laugh and tickle her as he cleans up her mess.

  And definitely, Gabe Shaw shouldn’t have been allowed to hold an infant that looked like she could be my daughter. The light-brown skin, the dark, curling hair. For the briefest moments, standing in line for coffee, nerves frazzled with sleeplessness, I had allowed myself a five-second fantasy.

  Oh, look. There’s my adorable husband Gabe, holding our baby.

  Gabe looked up, eyes meeting mine, and every cell in my body softened.

  This had been what I was fucking worried about.

  I’d spent most of yesterday frantically trying to rebuild the fortress that protected my heart—the one Gabe had sent crumbling to the ground. And when I’d finally laid down to sleep, I was tortured by a nightmare I’d started to have after the wedding: that I was running down a long hallway, fleeing from something, but the walls were closing in. Pressing against my shoulders, squeezing my body. And just when I get to an open doorway, flooded with light, a hand grabs my wrist.

  I hadn’t had that nightmare in more than a year.

  I didn’t know if it was a response to Gabe—or the fact that Clarke’s voice had seemed to spike in volume recently.

  The nightmare had left me sleepless and anxious. I needed to get the fuck out of Big Sur’s only coffee shop. Except I was so tired. So on edge. And in the midst of this crowded space, Gabe glowed like the sun in the sky.

  Suddenly my feet were propelling me through the crush of bodies until I was standing in front of him and his tiny baby.

  “Hi,” I said weakly. Coffee was spilled everywhere, but Gabe didn’t seem to care. “Do you want to share mine?” I held out my coffee with trembling fingers. “Although I should warn you, it’s real coffee. Black, no cream and sugar.”

  A smile slid up
his face as he chuckled. He took the mug from me, lips touching where mine had just been.

  “I do want to share,” he said. “And hello.”

  I sat gingerly in the chair across from him, mind flooded with memories of our night together.

  “Who’s this?” I asked, stroking the baby’s arm with my finger.

  “This is my niece, Lola.” He looked down at her, waving her tiny fist my way. She was half-asleep. “Do you want to hold her?” he asked, and before I could even answer, I had an infant in my arms.

  “Oh… I…” I swallowed awkwardly, startled by the sudden intimacy of holding a baby. She didn’t even wake up, just turned her head against me, snoring softly.

  My nerves lost a bit of their jagged edge.

  “I think I needed to hold a baby today,” I said.

  “Lola is the cure to all of life’s sorrows,” he smiled, sipping my coffee. “My sister and her wife are stuck at my parents’ house because of the slide. They called for backup, so I thought we’d have a day together. Let her hang out at The Bar. Take her first shot.”

  I laughed, tracing my finger around Lola’s miraculously small ones. Trying to pretend I wasn’t impressed with my Viking’s love and support for his family.

  “I’m sorry. About how I left the other morning,” I blurted out. “And I’m sorry if that makes… me coming over here awkward.”

  He laughed, rubbing his hand through his beard. “I was desperately wishing you’d come over and trying not to be totally obvious about it.” Hawk-sized butterflies beat their wings against my ribcage. “Also, you don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I looked back down at a sleeping Lola, aware I was blushing.

  “Do you ever just get… too in your head sometimes?” I asked, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Absolutely,” Gabe replied kindly. “You mentioned something happening a few years ago. Is that part of it?”

  I traced Lola’s cheek with my finger, then finally met his gaze. “Yes.”

  I didn’t feel comfortable saying more, and luckily Gabe seemed to sense that, nodding at my answer. “You look pretty…”

  “Exhausted?” I said, arching an eyebrow.

  “You do. Did you sleep last night?”

  I shook my head. “I did not sleep. At least not in the traditional sense of the word sleep.”

  Gabe grinned. “You missing the bright lights, city girl?”

  I smiled since that was part of it too. I wasn’t ready—would probably never be ready—to talk about what happened with Clarke. But I did miss Los Angeles.

  “I miss the fuck out of it,” I laughed. “It’s the Best Place on Earth after all.”

  Gabe scoffed. “No way. That’s here.” He indicated the people around him.

  “This small town in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do… that’s your pitch? For Best Place on Earth?”

  Gabe handed my coffee back to me, tips of his fingers brushing mine. “Absolutely. But I will hear opening arguments.”

  “So nice of you,” I teased.

  He laughed, nodding his head at me. “Go ahead, city girl. Make your pitch.”

  I thought for a moment, leaning back in my chair. “My parents are from Guadalajara, a huge city in Mexico. They married young and, as soon as they had enough money, immigrated to the United States. Specifically to Los Angeles because we had a few other family members who already lived there. In East L.A., where I grew up and still live, just a few blocks down from my parents. And my four brothers and their families.”

  “Four brothers?”

  I flashed him a smile. “Yes. All older.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Gabe said.

  “It’s why I’m so independent,” I said, tapping Lola’s cheek. “Everyone always dotes on the baby girl in a family of all boys. Dotes and coddles.”

  “Ah,” Gabe said. “Josefine Torres is not a woman who likes being coddled.”

  “Nope,” I said. “Not at all. Although my brothers still do it. Growing up they were overly protective. Although,” I said, tilting my head, “they also taught me how to kick some serious ass.”

  “You do have the look of a fighter about you.”

  My skin warmed under his appraisal. Although it had been my brothers who wanted to fight on my wedding day. They’d been livid with barely concealed fury and protectiveness. A trait of theirs I usually despised, but the day of the wedding was different. And as I clung to Lucia in my wedding dress, listening to my parent’s fretful conversation in Spanish, it was wholly comforting to hear the numerous ways my siblings would make Clarke’s life a living hell.

  They never did, of course. In the end, I’d begged them not to. I was so confused and miserable that a small part of me still thought we’d get back together—after Clarke explained the simple miscommunication that led to him standing me up on our wedding day.

  The things your brain will do to protect your heart.

  “So they all live within spitting distance of you in East L.A.?” Gabe asked, and I drop-kicked those memories away in favor of the sweet Viking in front of me.

  “Yes. And I love it. It just works for us. There’s an ease to our neighborhood, the ability to stroll down the street and see your loved ones. Informally, not just around the holidays. Although my parents also ‘stop by’ often with some made-up excuse.” I smoothed my hand through Lola’s curls. “Even though we all know it’s just that they miss me.”

  “What’s East L.A. like?” he asked.

  “It’s almost an entirely Hispanic neighborhood, so I think for my parents they felt comfortable living there at first. Everyone speaks Spanish. It’s culturally similar to Mexico. It has community. So they stayed. And then we all did. Different from Big Sur, where I get the distinct impression I’m the only brown person here.”

  Gabe nodded thoughtfully. “My sister’s wife, Maya, is Black, and they’ve said before it’s why they live in Monterey, not here. Not that Monterey is that much more diverse, but they feel like there are more people who look like her and Lola. And more gay couples too.”

  Lola’s big brown eyes opened, looking up at me with complete trust. “I totally get it. Los Angeles is incredibly diverse, ethnically and culturally. I’ve never felt like an outsider there. Does that make sense?”

  “It does. Although, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t have thought L.A. would have much community.”

  “Because it’s a city?”

  “I guess… yeah, I think of community as being fostered in small towns. Like Big Sur. Everyone knows each other, their neighbors. It’s supportive.”

  I considered his point. “L.A. is huge. Huge, that’s true. If you ever go there, you’ll be overwhelmed with the sprawl and the smog and the freeways and just the enormity of it all.”

  Gabe grimaced. “It’s why I’ll never go.”

  “Never say never,” I said softly. Then immediately wanted to shove the words right back in my fucking mouth. Because Gabe’s face lit up so ardently… I knew what he was thinking. Hoping.

  “You know, it’s not so bad,” I said, steering us back. “Because the trick to living in L.A. is to find that community, which usually exists in these pocket neighborhoods that become their own small towns. Suddenly, the city doesn’t feel so big because your world is just fifteen city blocks of friends and neighbors.”

  We were interrupted by a server, dropping off another chocolate croissant and smiling broadly at Gabe.

  “Popular guy,” I mused, but he only shrugged, breaking the fluffy pastry into two pieces.

  “They’re all just here for Lola,” he countered, but I knew differently. Gabe emanated the same energy here as he did on the patio that night—an energy that welcomed. People were desperate to be around him—it was obvious to me.

  Gabe held the pastry out and I took it. It was warm and sweet with a hint of bitterness.

  “Describe it for me,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Your neighborhood,”
he said. “Because you’ve seen some parts of Big Sur already—”

  “—Most of Big Sur,” I interjected. “Right? I mean, how much more is there to see?”

  Gabe shook his head in mock horror. “Josefine,” he said.

  “Yes?” I tossed my hair, very aware that I was now flirting.

  Eating a croissant… sharing a cup of coffee… This was starting to feel like a fucking date.

  “I’ll take you to the best places in Big Sur,” he promised. “You just tell me when. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Hidden waterfalls. Secret streams.” A pause. “Private beaches.”

  Another searing fantasy: my back pressed against hot sand, Gabe’s head between my legs, tongue on my clit.

  I wanted to think about Gabe’s cock. That perfect, thick shaft I’d taken to the back of my throat.

  But I hadn’t taken him inside of me. Something I was just now beginning to regret.

  Because I’d never know that pleasure.

  “Maybe,” I hedged, attempting to claw myself back to higher ground. Gabe’s eyes trailed hotly up and down my body. “What was… what was your original question?”

  A sexy grin. “Tell me about your neighborhood.”

  So I exhaled and closed my eyes. Talking about L.A was something I could do.

  I pictured a hot summer’s night in my neighborhood. “Sticky heat,” I started. “Mariachi music blaring from someone’s speaker, overlaid by the beats of a hip-hop song being played by someone else. A house party, probably, that will spill out into the street, and then everyone in the neighborhood joins in. Abuelas and little kids and even the loner down the street that no one knows. People walking around everywhere—people of every skin color and ethnicity. Languages you’ve never heard before. The smell of wet asphalt and that feeling when the entire night unfolds in front of you, like a dream. There’s always something to do. New art or music or films or just sitting on your porch and people-watching for hours. Never bored. Never sitting still. Always moving.”