* * *
“You told him you’d had a crush on him?” Melissa asked from the bottom of the stepladder the next day.
Jules removed the next in a cluster of ’50s movie star portraits that hung on a wall of the restaurant. “I was trying to... I don’t know.” She’d had more than a few hours to regret her words.
“Did you not think it would sound flirty?”
Jules handed the portrait of Grace Kelly down to Melissa and reached for Elizabeth Taylor. “I didn’t mean for it to be flirty.”
“It was flirty.”
“I realize that now.”
“What were you thinking then?”
“That it would be charming. I was being open and honest, sharing a slightly embarrassing story. I thought it might make me seem human.”
“He knows you’re human.”
“In the end it was just humiliating.” Jules handed down the Elizabeth Taylor.
“So, you learned something.” Melissa crossed the room to set the portraits in a cardboard box on the bar.
“I learned that he has zero interest in flirting with me.”
“I was thinking maybe a broader point about relationships, time and place, and appropriate comments.”
Jules climbed down and moved the ladder, settling it into place where she could read the next three portraits. “Oh, that. No.”
Melissa grinned. “Tell me more about the crush. I wish you’d told me about it back then.”
“You were too young.”
“It still would have been exciting.”
It had certainly been exciting for Jules. “I was fifteen. He was tall, and he shaved, and he lived in a mansion on the hill. And I was fresh out of grade nine English class. Between the Brontë sisters and Shakespeare, I spun a pretty interesting fantasy.”
“I don’t even remember him from back then.”
“That’s because you were only twelve.”
“What I remember most is Grandma’s hot chocolate. It was so nice, coming here, spending time with her, especially after Mom died.”
“I miss them both.”
Melissa gave Jules’s arm a squeeze. “Me, too. But I don’t miss the squirrels waking us up in the morning.”
Jules handed Audrey Hepburn to Melissa. “I hated those squirrels.”
“You really should have thought of that before we moved back here. They’re going to wake us up every morning.”
“Do you think we could livetrap them, relocate them like they do with bears?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Jules thought about it for a moment as she handed down Jayne Mansfield. “I wonder what we’d need for bait.”
“Going fishing?” The sound of Caleb’s voice startled her, and she swayed, grabbing the top of the ladder to steady herself.
“Whoa.” Caleb surged toward her.
“Steady girl,” Melissa said.
“I’m fine.” Jules regained her balance.
She focused on his forehead instead of meeting his eyes. She’d pretend nothing awkward had happened last night. Hopefully, he’d play along and they could both ignore it.
“Should you be up on that ladder?” he asked.
“I was fine until you scared me.” Jules turned back to her work and reached for Doris Day.
“You were talking about fishing?”
“We were?” Jules couldn’t figure out why he thought that.
“You said we needed bait,” Melissa put in.
“Matt can take you fishing,” Caleb said. He was hovering beside Melissa, looking like he wanted to take over the operation. “Do you need a hand with that?”
“Why are you suddenly being nice?” Jules asked as she handed over the next portrait.
She’d prefer it if they were cordial to each other. But after their argument yesterday and their encounter last night, she’d expected him to avoid her, not to drop by and pretend they were friends.
“I’m not being nice,” he said.
“Who’s Matt?” Melissa asked as she crossed the room with Doris in her hands.
“He owns the marina.” Caleb took over from Melissa and braced both sides of the ladder.
“All those yachts?” Melissa asked.
“He has a charter service.”
“Out of our price range,” Jules put in. She could only imagine the exorbitant cost of renting one of the lavish-looking yachts.
“He won’t charge you.”
Jules took a step lower on the ladder, expecting Caleb to move back and give her room. “We’re not going fishing.”
“Let’s not be hasty,” Melissa said.
“I can set it up.” Caleb didn’t move.
Jules turned before she took another step down. Deciding she’d prefer to face him while edging into his space.
“We’re far too busy to fish,” she said, meeting him at eye level.
“Exactly how long would we need for a trip like that?” Melissa asked.
“How are you not suspicious of this?” Jules spoke to Melissa but kept her gaze locked on Caleb. “An enemy bearing gifts?”
“I’m not your enemy.” Caleb’s deep voice seemed to rumble through her. There was a challenge in his gray eyes. One more step down, and she’d practically be in his arms.
She wasn’t going to be the one to back down. She took the final step. “So why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?” She told herself to ignore the sizzle of arousal that skipped across her skin. He was a great-looking guy, and she had some emotional baggage where it came to him. But she could handle it. She could easily handle it.
He drew a deep breath, his broad chest expanding. A few more inches and they would be touching. She wondered how he’d handle that. She should make it happen and find out.
“The contractor’s here,” Melissa said, as a vehicle engine sounded outside in the parking lot.
“You need me?” Jules made to move, thinking she’d probably just been saved from...something with Caleb.
“Nope. I’ll just show him around,” Melissa said and headed for the door.
“We don’t need to be competitors.” Caleb firmed his stance as he spoke to Jules.
“We’re not competitors.” She wondered how long he intended to keep her trapped. She eased slightly forward to test his boundaries. “I have a noncompete agreement, so you can’t build Neo.”
Caleb leaned in himself, as if he could read her thoughts. “Neo’s not your competition.”
“I know it’s not. Because it doesn’t exist.”
“I mean, if it did exist. We’d cater to a different clientele.”
“The Crab Shack caters to seafood eaters. What does Neo do?”
“Neo’s high-end. The Crab Shack is casual.”
“What makes you say that?”
He seemed surprised by her words. He glanced around the building, taking in the aging brick, the torn linoleum and the rustic wood beams. “It’s humble, basic, kitschy. Don’t get me wrong—”
“How could I take that wrong?” She crossed her arms, and her elbows touched his chest. She tipped her head, recapturing his gaze and letting her annoyance tighten her expression.
“If you were to go high-end,” he said.
She waited. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t backed off yet.
Instead, he increased the connection between them, his chest pressing along the length of her forearms. It was a firm chest, a sexy chest and an amazing chest. For a second, she lost her train of thought.
“If you were to go high-end,” he said. “We’d be complementary. We could feed customers to each other. You’ve seen it, a restaurant district or an auto mall. We could become a seafood res
taurant cluster—the place to go in greater Olympia for terrific seafood.”
“That’s pretty good.”
“So you’re interested?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a pretty good argument, Caleb. It’s not true, but A for ingenuity.”
Something flashed in his eyes. It was either admiration or annoyance, maybe a bit of both. “There are examples of it all over the world.”
“Neo’s a nationally known and renowned chain. You’d annihilate the Crab Shack.”
Melissa’s and the contractor’s voices were muffled as they talked outside on the deck.
“You’re not going to agree to this, are you?” Caleb asked.
“No.”
“We’re not going to be friendly?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Okay.” He nodded. He let go of the ladder and rocked back, breaking their contact. “I guess I’ll go back to my corner and come out swinging.”
She wasn’t disappointed, she told herself. And she definitely didn’t miss his touch.
“But first,” he said, surprising her by reaching back to cup her cheek with his palm. “Since I probably can’t make the situation much worse...”
His intent was clear. She told herself to say no, to turn her head, to step sideways. There was nothing stopping her. She was free to move and shut this down.
But she didn’t. Instead, she surrendered to nine years of fantasy and parted her lips as he closed the space between them.
Copyright © 2017 by Barbara Dunlop
ISBN-13: 9781488011788
Little Secrets: Claiming His Pregnant Bride
Copyright © 2017 by Sarah M. Anderson
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