by Melody Grace
4
So, they had a détente of sorts. A peace treaty. Jules knew she should be relieved, but a small part of her couldn’t help wishing they were still at each other’s throats. It was easier to resist Reeve’s charms when he was being a stubborn ass, instead of chivalrously helping her haul boxes in the afternoon sun. His muscles rippling, taut under that worn cotton T-shirt—
“… Jules?”
“Huh?” She turned, still lost in delicious daydreams, to find they’d reached the front of the line at the bakery. The woman at the counter was waiting for her order, and Evie was staring at her with a knowing smirk.
“Whatever it is, it must be pretty important to distract you from pastries,” Evie said. “Or should I say, he is.”
Jules flushed. “I was just trying to decide between the blueberry pancakes and the bacon roll,” she lied.
“Sure you were.” Evie laughed. “And for the record, we’ll get both.”
They placed their order, and then found a table by the windows. It was still early, but the place was packed with locals and tourists, enjoying their morning coffee and muffins as the sun streamed through the big picture windows.
“I mean it when I said I was taking the summer off from romance,” Jules reminded Evie—and herself—as they got settled. “Now Reeve has apologized, we can put the whole thing behind us.”
Evie just smiled and sipped her tea.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Jules protested. “You’re supposed to be supporting my dreams, here.”
Evie laughed. “I do! I just think you might be surprised, that’s all. He did come all the way out to the Inn to apologize to you.”
“Sure, give the man a prize ribbon for doing the bare minimum,” Jules muttered.
“Cleaning out the shed and towing all that junk is the minimum?” Evie retorted, teasing.
“Fine,” Jules agreed. “Maybe he’s a nice guy, in addition to being handsome, in great shape, and an amazing kisser.” Damn him. “But all of that’s besides the point,” she declared. “I’m focusing on my career now.”
She took a defiant bite of sticky bun. Not that she had much of a career to speak of, just a string of random office manager jobs, filing and answering phones like a pro. And, in recent years, pulling reluctant businesses into the modern era by kickstarting their social media. She’d done it for her ex, and Evie too: setting up their Instagram and Facebook accounts, and posting just the right kind of updates to catch people’s eye.
“Do you know of any other businesses around here who might need my magic touch?” Jules asked hopefully.
“Plenty,” Evie replied, before she added, “I just don’t know if they would be able to pay you enough to make it worth your while. Which reminds me, breakfast is my treat. The Beachcomber has a hundred thousand followers on Instagram now! How did you do it?”
Jules beamed. “My genius strategy is working.”
People thought that social media was just a waste of time, mindless gossip or updates for family and friends, but what they didn’t realize was that it was the best free tool a business had at their disposal. A way to reach thousands of potential customers, as long as you set yourself apart from the crowd. Plenty of local inns had a website and some photos up online, but Jules had crafted the Beachcomber profiles to transport weary browsers to a vacation state of mind.
“Which reminds me… ” She whipped out her phone, and snapped some photos of the bakery and their breakfast. “Your guests want to get a feel of Sweetbriar Cove, too. It’s part of the package you’re selling. I’ll take more photos around town, all this festival stuff, and schedule your posts for the next month.”
“Angel.” Evie said. “With all your talent, you should be getting big bucks.”
“Agreed.” Jules said with a smile. “But for now, I’d settle for medium bucks. Small, modest-sized bucks.”
As they laughed, an older woman with a chic grey bob haircut and wire-rimmed spectacles paused by their table. “Did I hear you say you were taking photos of the festival?”
Jules paused. “Just a few snaps,” she answered, as Evie shook her head quickly, mouthing something at Jules. She tried to lip-read, but she couldn’t make out what her friend was trying to say.
“Perfect!” the older woman exclaimed. “You wouldn’t mind taking a few more for the town website, would you?”
“I… ” Jules tried to think of a response, but the woman didn’t wait.
“Jackson usually does it, but he’s out of town. And anyway, those modern camera phones are as good as the real thing these days, isn’t that what they say? And didn’t I hear you worked magic with social media?” she added, not pausing for breath. “I’ll send you all our login details, you can take that off my hands, too. Be sure to get photos of all the stalls and events, and the gazebo. Tourists just love the gazebo.”
And with that, she bustled out, leaving Jules’ head in a spin. “What just happened?” she asked faintly.
“Franny happened.” Evie said, smiling symmetrically. “I tried to warn you. She has a habit of roping unsuspecting people into town events. I’m signed up to run the next bingo night,” she added. “I can try and get you out of it if you want?”
“No, I don’t mind,” Jules decided. “I’m going to check it out anyway, and it’ll give me something to do. Other than trawling the internet for job postings and sending out another dozen copies of my CV.”
And watching the door for a sign of Reeve.
Jules couldn’t help glancing over as the bell announced another new arrival, but it was just a group of new moms, toting diaper bags and strollers. Jules looked away. She was supposed to be forgetting all about him, she reminded herself. Focusing on her own life, not his rippling muscles.
“Everything OK?” Evie asked, clearly noticing her distraction.
Jules took another forkful of pancakes and smiled. “Just fine,” she vowed. “Now, tell me, what am I in for with this festival of yours?”
* * *
After breakfast, Evie headed back to the Beachcomber to welcome some new arrivals, and Jules strolled into town to see what this JamFest was all about. She found the square lined with stalls touting all kinds of jam-related goods, from cute jars of preserves, to ambitious home jam-making kits, with plenty of sticky, delicious baked goods on offer, too. Tourists bustled, locals chatted, and the whole event was soundtracked by mellow music from the main stage.
It was adorable.
Adorable, and perfect material for her assignments. Jules pulled out her camera phone and was soon lost in the action, capturing photos of every happy face and jam-smeared cheek around.
“Warning, collision. Stand clear!”
She looked up from her phone to find the man she’d almost run into the other day: the well dressed English guy with a charming smile. Today, he was just as friendly, holding a plate of some kind of sticky, jam-drenched donut well out of her way.
Jules smiled. “You need to wear some kind of bell around your neck, so people hear you coming.”
“My old cat, Pickles, had one of those,” he replied, smiling.
“You called your cat Pickles?”
“Because he kept getting his head stuck in a jar,” he said with a twinkle, and Jules couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m Nick, by the way,” he said, introducing himself. “Nick Sterling.”
“Jules,” she replied.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Nick said, his accent like something out of one of the costume dramas Jules loved watching. “I seem to recall that I owe you an ice cream,” he continued. “Would you settle for some jam donuts? They’re illegally good.”
“As are you.” A voice came from behind them, and they were joined by a tall, dark-haired woman in a long printed sundress. She gave Nick an exasperated look. “I already sent out bouquets to two different women for you this week, are you really out here trying to charm another one? Watch out for this one, he’s incorrigible,” she added to Jules.
“Good to know.” She
smiled, amused by the interruption. “But don’t worry, my charm defenses are up. I’m on a break from men.”
“Pretty and smart,” the woman said, grinning back at her. “See, Nick, she’s already out of your league.”
Nick didn’t seem bothered by the insults. He just took another bite of his donut and smiled. “I don’t know why you’re complaining,” he said. “I’m single handedly keeping your florist in business.”
“Flowers!” Jules snapped her fingers in recognition. “I knew I’d seen you around. You do the bouquets at the Beachcomber, don’t you? They’re gorgeous.”
“Thanks. I’m Rose,” the woman added, smiling, and Jules introduced herself, too. Rose had wavy hair, and was wearing a pair of gorgeous dangly earrings, and soon, she and Jules were chatting about where to find the best jewelry around.
“There’s this cute boutique just up the coast, I’ll send you the details,” Rose promised, as Nick cleared his throat from the sidelines.
“Well, this is turning out differently to how I imagined,” he said, finishing his donut.
Jules laughed at his hangdog expression. “It’s still early,” she consoled him. “And there are plenty of other women here. What about that blonde over there? In the red shirt. She’s been checking you out.”
“She has?” Nick perked up again.
“Don’t encourage him!” Rose exclaimed with a laugh, but Nick was already assessing the blonde.
“I think you’re right. Have fun, ladies,” he said, and then strolled off to work his charms on some other unsuspecting woman.
“Should we warn her?” Jules asked, but Rose smiled.
“I was just teasing, he’s harmless really. And actually kind of a catch… If you like rich bachelors with a new date every night of the week.”
“Clearly, she does,” Jules said, nodding to where the blonde was batting her eyelashes at Nick.
“Good luck to her.” Rose said cheerfully. “Now, how about we go get some beers?”
* * *
By evening, the crowds had swelled, the music turned lively and upbeat, and Rose had filled Jules in on all the local gossip.
“See, this is exactly what I needed!” she exclaimed, over drinks at the makeshift bar tent. “Evie just moved to town a few months ago, so she doesn’t have the inside scoop yet on the most scandalous gossip.”
“That’s because she was it,” Rose said, laughing. “Her and Noah were burning up the airwaves when they first started dating. Eligible men in this town always make headline news.”
“You mean, like Nick?” Jules asked, not convinced there weren’t some sparks flying beneath Rose and Nick’s bickering.
But Rose didn’t seem interested. “He’s fun, sure, but we’ve all written him off as an hopeless bachelor. He’s been visiting for a while now, ever since he sold his company to Wes.”
“Who’s with Cassie Kinsella, who has a bunch of brothers… ” Jules tried to recall the tangled web of connections.
“That’s right!” Rose toasted her plastic cup. “You’re getting the hang of it.”
Jules smiled. “And what about you?” she asked, as her gaze drifted over the crowd. “Anyone on your radar?”
Rose paused, like she was about to say something, but before Jules could go digging any deeper, she caught sight of a familiar face across the street.
Reeve.
He was chatting with a couple of guys, and he looked more relaxed than she’d seen him before, dressed in faded jeans and a classic white T-shirt.
That man sure knew how to wear a pair of pants.
Rose followed her gaze. “A new face, and Aunt June hasn’t sent out a bulletin yet?” she said, smiling. “She must be losing her touch.”
“I think he’s an old one,” Jules said casually. “He owns the vineyard, just outside of town. Or, his family does. Seems like it’s been there a while.”
“Wait, Reeve Hastings?” Rose peered closer. “Well, hasn’t he aged like a fine wine?” she said appreciatively. “He was this gangly kid when we were teens. He must be back to help out his dad,” Rose added. “Frank had a stroke last month, and then there was the fire at the vineyard, too. They’ve had a run of bad luck, for sure.”
Someone called Rose’s name in the crowd, and she turned, lighting up when she saw who it was. “Be right back!” she exclaimed, and hurried away before Jules could ask anything more.
She turned back to watch Reeve, wondering how he was handling everything but just then, he looked over, and saw her staring. Busted. She lifted her hand in a half wave. Reeve said something to his friends, and then sauntered over.
“I heard you’re on official photography duty,” he said, greeting her with a smile.
Jules groaned. “I forgot!”
“Debra’s punch will do that to you,” he said, nodding to her red cup. “And I’m guessing she’s worked on her recipe over the years.”
Jules pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of him. “There. Local man enjoys festival,” she declared.
“I don’t know if I qualify as a local,” Reeve replied. “Not anymore.” His smile slipped a little, and Jules recalled what Rose had told her about his family problems. Clearly, it wasn’t anything good that had brought him back to town.
Jules felt a pang of sympathy. She knew how it felt to have other people’s choices change all your big plans. She hadn’t expected to wind up here, either.
“Then you can be an outsider with me,” she said brightly. “I’ve heard there are forty-two flavors of jam on offer tonight, and you can get a ribbon for every one you taste.”
“Uh oh,” Reeve cracked a grin. “That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
She smiled. See? She could do this friend thing, no problem. Just because she wasn’t going to hurtle headlong into a passionate affair with the man, it didn’t mean they couldn’t spend a chaste, platonic evening together.
After all: jam tasting. It didn’t get more chaste than that.
“First, strawberry!” Jules declared, leading the way to the nearest booth. They sampled three different varieties on thin slices of pound cake, and got a ribbon for their time.
“One down, thirty-nine to go,” Reeve said with a grin. “Think you can go the distance?”
“I know it.” Jules took another sip of punch as they moved to the next stall. “So, California… ” She started, unable to hide her curiosity. “That’s a long way from here.”
“As far as you can get without taking a dip in the Pacific,” Reeve replied. “Besides, the winters are better when it’s sunny and seventy-five.”
“You mean, you don’t like freezing your ass off every year?” Jules said, in mock-surprise.
He chuckled. “I like snow on the slopes, not piled in my driveway.”
“I know, it’s a mess, but it’s my favorite time of year,” Jules confided. “At least for the couple of days when it snows. Everything’s so peaceful and calm.”
“Peaceful, you?” Reeve quirked an eyebrow.
“What?” Jules protested, tasting another jam. “I can do calm.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Reeve smirked.
“Hush and eat your jam,” Jules pretended to scold him. She held out a spoonful for him to taste, and Reeve leaned in to lick it clean.
Jules’ stomach turned a slow pirouette
Damn him. He even made jam look sexy.
She took another gulp of punch to quench her thirst, searching for a way to change the subject. Thankfully, someone else did it for her.
“Reeve Hastings, I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
It was Aunt June, sashaying over in one of her trademark kaftans. Jules had met her at the opening party for the Beachcomber, and immediately bonded with her over her zest for life—and string of wild adventures with all her many ex-husbands.
But Reeve seemed surprised to see her. “I, uh, don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he said politely, and June s
mirked.
“No, I’d definitely remember that.” She gave Jules a wink. “Staking your claim early I see. Smart girl.”
“I’m not, I mean, we’re not... ” Jules tried to protest but June laughed.
“Don’t worry, I’m here to talk business, not pleasure. Alice said you need a local realtor?”
“Oh. You’re June.” Reeve exhaled in what looked like relief. “Yes, she recommended you.”
“Of course she did. Here, take my card and come by the office to chat more,” June said, producing one from the folds of her dress. “Anytime: day or night.”
Reeve cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“Have fun!” June sailed away, and Jules had to laugh.
“You’re blushing,” she teased.
“Am not.”
“The tips of your ears are bright red.”
“That’s just from the sun,” Reeve argued, tucking the card in his pocket. “What’s next: blackberry?”
Jules followed him to the next stall. She knew they’d made that whole deal about the vineyard being off-limits for conversation, but she was too curious now to keep quiet. “You’re thinking about selling the property?” she couldn’t help asking.
Reeve paused. “It seems like the best option. The only one. My dad never had a head for finances,” he added. “I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to screw things up so completely.”
“I’m sure it’s not so bad,” she said, trying to be upbeat, but he just gave her a look.
“There was a fire last month, the insurance papers are a mess… ” Reeve sighed. “And he gets to take the easy way out, sitting around with his feet up, while someone else tries to put it all back together.” There was a flash of bitterness in his voice, but Reeve caught himself. “I’m sorry,” he added. “My dad and me don’t have the… easiest relationship.”
“Hence the brooding frowns and grim muttering,” Jules said lightly, and Reeve relaxed again.
“Something like that. The truth is, we don’t have much of a relationship at all these days. He’s recovering at my sister’s place,” he added. “Which means I’m the one stuck dealing with things here until he’s back on his feet again.”
