112 Bliss Blvd. (A Cherry Falls Romance)
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112 Bliss Blvd.
Cherry Falls Romance, Book 2
Frankie Love
Contents
112 Bliss Blvd.
Chapter 1
Grant
Chapter 2
Goldie
Chapter 3
Grant
Chapter 4
Goldie
Chapter 5
Grant
Chapter 6
Goldie
Chapter 7
Grant
Chapter 8
Goldie
Chapter 9
Grant
Chapter 10
Goldie
Chapter 11
Grant
Chapter 12
Goldie
Chapter 13
Grant
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
More Cherry Falls…
About the Author
Copyright © 2020 by Frankie Love
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112 Bliss Blvd.
A Cherry Falls Romance Book 2
By Frankie Love
I’m a small-town guy, through and through. And I don’t like change. If I had it my way, everything would stay the same, forever.
So when Goldie Greyhound sweeps into Cherry Falls with grand plans to renovate the old theater that’s right next door to my house, I’m not exactly thrilled.
Goldie’s my opposite in every way. And I’m not referring to the glitter that seems to follow her everywhere. She’s a night owl who’s never met a stranger, and is extra in everything she does.
Extra in ways that drive me crazy.
This girl glows — she’s sexy as sin and it’s causing me some serious problems.
Goldie followed her bliss and believes she’s here for a reason.
She thinks that reason is the theater… but I think it might just be me.
Cherry Falls is filled with returning characters and iconic destinations that will begin to feel like family. When you leave the city and drive into Cherry Falls, it’s like you’ve finally come home.
The cherry on top? Each book delivers a swoon-worthy, sexy romance!
So welcome to Cherry Falls, we hope you stay awhile!
Chapter One
Grant
You know you’re from a small town when you know every customer by name, make, and model. I swear I could list the cars owned by everyone in Cherry Falls without missing a beat.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Most days, I figure it’s good considering I own Blake Brothers Repair along with my two brothers.
“Want anything?” Garret, my younger brother, asks Grayson and me. “I’m headed over to Cherry Tree.”
“I’ll join you,” Grayson says. “I’m starving.”
I look at the clock. Ten o’clock on the dot, and time for our daily mid-morning break. And with it being the middle of winter, in a cold auto shop, I wouldn’t mind something to warm me up. “I’ll take a coffee. They have some peppermint mocha thing.”
Grayson snorts. “With a sweet tooth like yours, I’d think you’d be less of an ass.”
“I’m not an ass,” I grunt, running a hand over my jaw, and leaning over the hood of the Ford I’m working on. It’s Holt Stone’s truck and he’s expecting it by the end of the week.
My brothers chuckle as they both head out the front door of our shop. I wipe my hands on a rag, trying to gauge which size wrench I need.
The shop is my pride and joy, and although my brother called me an ass, it’s not my usual reputation.
But the last few days I’ve been in a sour mood. The other day I got an invitation to an old roommate’s wedding out in Vermont. Last night I got a Save the Date card for a girl I went to high school with. This morning I got an email about an engagement party out in Kissme Bay — an old hiking buddy of mine is getting hitched.
And it’s all starting to piss me off.
Hell, I’m happy for all of them, I am. Just a little jealous. Because I’m as single as I’ve ever been. I found myself in my kitchen this morning at the crack of dawn, looking at my big old house I’ve renovated, the yard out back with a fire pit, my beagle Otis looking up at me asking the same thing I’m asking myself. Will it always be so damn lonely? What’s point of a big house if you live in it alone, what is the point of a picket fence if there aren’t 2.5 kids to keep safe?
And Cherry Falls may be an idyllic town, where everyone knows your name, but there isn’t anyone here who has me looking twice. Which makes me wonder how long can I stay here and be happy. Maybe I should go to the wedding out in Vermont and stay. Start over somewhere new.
My phone rings and I see it’s a friend of mine. “Hey, Hailey, what’s up?”
“Just calling to make sure you were still on for class tomorrow.”
“Of course,” I tell her, not wanting to reveal the fact I’m nervous as all get-out. She asked if I would come to her second-grade class for career day, but I’m not exactly known for my public speaking skills. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“And you’ll be there at 8:30 sharp, right?” she asks.
“I’m an early bird.”
“Okay, just make sure you check in with the main office. And don’t be late. Keeping a class of eight-year-olds focused is no easy feat.”
“Don’t make me more nervous than I already am,” I say, laughing.
“Are you nervous?” she asks. “Because seriously, be yourself. Everyone in Cherry Falls loves you. I’m sure these kids will feel the same way.”
I end the call, and hear bells chiming on the door. Assuming it’s my brothers, I holler out to them. “You losers finally back?”
“Losers?” a bright voice calls out. “I don’t know who they are, but that’s not me.”
I groan inwardly, and turn to face a beautiful woman who’s certainly not my brothers. There isn’t a lick of gruffness to her, no mechanic’s grease on her jaw, and definitely no dirty coveralls.
She’s wearing a glittering gold winter coat — which is a showstopper considering I’ve never seen sequins on a parka before — black jeans ripped at the knees, and boots with heels. Her hair is long and wavy, strawberry blonde and to her waist. She has blue eyes that sparkle as much as her top, which is saying something. She looks like a walking billboard but I’m not sure what she’s selling. Whatever it is, with a smile like hers, I’m buying.
And then she laughs, a laugh that has the hair on the back of my neck on edge. It’s not tight or tinny, no. Her laugh is pure joy and it’s catching.
I step toward her, shaking my head. “You’re not my brothers.”
She licks her lips, steps toward me. “No, I am not. I’m Goldie Greyhound.”
“Greyhound?” I cock my head. “Do I know that name? Because you’re not from town.”
“How can you be so sure?” she asks, pressing her lips together, her eyes teasing.
“I know everyone in Cherry Falls but I don’t know you.”
“It’s because I just rolled in, Mr….” She scans my uniform. “Grant.”
“Blake, Grant Blake.”
She nods. “Ahh, of the infamous Blake Brothers Repair.”
“The one and only.”
She crosses her arms, walking past me into the shop. She eyes the Ford.
“So, Grant Blake, can you fix anything?”
“If it has four wheels, yes.”
“And two?”
I shake my head. “Nah, our guy Tristan works on bikes. Do you need help with a motorcycle?”
She smiles. “That would be pretty badass, wouldn’t it?” She sighs. “Actually, my problem doesn’t have four or even two wheels. It’s an issue with my electrical panel.”
I frown. “You’d probably be better off calling an electrician.”
“I know, but I couldn't get a hold of anyone. And I just got into town and really hoped for some lighting in my place.” She talks with her hands, animatedly, and without pause. “But the electricity isn’t working and so I came to get a coffee while I waited for someone to call me back, and then I saw this mechanic shop and thought, heck, you never know. Alas, your expertise is four wheels and not electricity, so—”
I cut her off, knowing if I don’t jump in she might never stop. “I can take a look.” Eyeing the Ford that I have a week to finish, I make an unexpected decision. I rarely spontaneously change my plans… but then again it isn’t every day a woman like this shows up at my shop.
Just then the door of the shop opens and my brothers enter.
Goldie turns to them, eyeing the coffees in their hands. “Oh god, I need in on that. The coffee there’s good, I take it?”
Garret smiles. “Best in town. You visiting Cherry Falls?”
She smiles. “Nope, I just moved in about,” she looks at the clock on the wall, “two hours ago.”
“Where do you live?” Grayson asks, handing me my mocha.
“In the old theater,” she says. “It was my grandma’s place, 112 Bliss Blvd. I’m opening it back up.”
Suddenly it clicks — that’s why I recognized her name, Greyhound. Greyhound Theater was an iconic playhouse in Cherry Falls for decades, but hasn’t been open in years. Its owner, who I now take it is Goldie’s grandma, moved to live with family.
“Really?” Garret grins. “That’s next door to Grant’s place.”
Goldie smiles up at me. “I guess it was meant to be. I followed my bliss to Cherry Falls, and on my first morning here, I found you.”
Chapter Two
Goldie
Grant and I walk down Love Street to Cherry Falls Coffee Co, even though he already has his to-go cup of caffeine. It’s January, so we are both in winter coats. I didn’t wear gloves and my hands are freezing. I have a sudden itch to reach for Grant’s hand — but I don’t because I’m not a creeper.
Though, oh my god, I could become one if it meant getting too close to him. He’s handsome as all get out; a full foot taller than me, perfect scruff on his jaw and dark brown eyes.
“The town is as charming as I remember,” I say as we walk down the sidewalk, taking in the bustling businesses that are all one-of-a-kind shops. We turn right, and I smile, taking in the town’s iconic fountain on the corner of Hope and Love.
“You’ve been here, then? Because I don’t think I’d have forgotten you if we’d met before.” His voice is low and warm, and it sends a spark of heat through me. Considering the temperature outside, I don’t mind it one bit.
“Oh, well I’ve heard plenty about the Blake Brothers from my grandma.”
Grant winces. “Nothing too bad, I hope?”
I laugh. “Mostly stories about how your brothers were a bit wild, and that you were a bit more… reliable. You were her paper boy for five years and she says you never once delivered the Cherry Falls Gazette a minute late. Are you still as punctual?”
He chuckles, running a hand over his jaw. “Honestly, I’ve gotten even more set in my ways as I’ve gotten older.”
“Well, to answer your other question, we haven’t met before. I’d come as a kid to visit my grandma but I stayed put in the theater. It was my favorite place in the whole wide world. And Grandma, well she’s always been larger than life. Still is, really. She lives with my mom in the city, and even though she doesn’t have the energy for community theater anymore, she’s always managing to create drama.”
“Like what?” Grant asks, pulling open the door of the coffee shop.
“Last week she created an account on a dating app. Some guy named Joe, a good thirty years her junior, showed up at the apartment asking for her. I about died.”
Grant laughs. “Did they go out?”
I grin. “No, my grandma was already in bed for the night. It was 7:30.”
At the counter, I ask Grant what he’s drinking. “A peppermint mocha.”
Lifting my eyebrows I reply, “I wouldn’t take you for a mocha drinking man.”
“No, why is that?”
“It seems frivolous and you seem no-nonsense. But I like it,” I admit, finding a man who can confidently order a holiday drink comforting. I order the same from the barista, who I notice giving Grant a big smile while batting her eyelashes. She is unabashedly flirting with him but he doesn’t seem to notice any of it.
Grant seems really nice, what you see is what you get — which is a good thing. A great thing, really. He’s the exact opposite of every man I’ve ever dated. “Anything else for you, Grant?” the barista asks him.
“Actually, Cora, I’ll take one of those Cherry Blossom Cookies.”
With our drinks in hand, we head back out to the blustery morning and head down Hope Avenue, toward the theater and, apparently, Grant’s home.
“So you plan on staying awhile?” he asks when we reach my place. We instinctively look up, at the empty marquee.
“I do,” I say. “In fact, I’m holding auditions for a play this weekend.”
“So soon?”
I smile, unlocking the front door. “If we get heat and lights.”
Inside, it’s dark, the only light from the front windows. I sip the coffee as I walk to the light switches, flipping them on and off. “See, nothing.”
“Mind if I look at the breaker box?” he asks.
“Please, have at it,” I say. “Though to be completely honest, I have no clue where it is.”
Grant points to the only hallway leading toward the front of the theater. “Let’s check it out.”
I follow him in the dark, and when he stops to open a door, I run into him.
“Oops,” I say.
“No worries, Goldie.”
I bite my bottom lip, though I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m in the pitch-dark with a stranger. Maybe it’s because when he reaches in his pocket for his phone, his arm brushes against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. Maybe it’s the fact he is incredibly handsome and we are all alone and it’s been so long since I felt any sort of thrill. It’s why I moved to Cherry Falls in the first place.
He turns on his phone’s flashlight and suddenly he seems really close. To me. I swallow. “Hey,” I whisper, feeling flustered. So naturally, I make thing awkward. “How’s your cookie?”
His eyebrows lift. “Cookie?”
I point to the little bag he’s holding and he grins. “It’s delicious,” he says, pulling a piece from the bag. “Wanna bite?”
“Yes please.”
“Polite too. Tell me what else you are, Goldie Greyhound.”
I breathe him in. He doesn’t smell like a man from the city. He smells like fresh air and gasoline and peppermint. He smells so good.
“I’m wondering why it’s so hot in here considering there’s no heat.”
He gives me a half-smile, but I see the dimple in his left cheek and I swear to god I melt. Knees buckling, heart pounding, swoon.
“Right, the heat. Let me check on that.” He hands me the phone. “Hold that.”
I want to kiss him. Which is a thousand kinds of crazy considering we are strangers. But there are stranger things than kissing a man you just met. I came to Cherry Falls to finally find a bit of happiness with my career and didn’t plan on meeting a gorgeous neighbor the first morning here.
With his phone in hand, I watch as he opens a breaker box and flips a few switches. A mom
ent later the room brightens from a single bulb above us and we ear the hum of a furnace kicking to life.
“Magic,” I say.
“Something like that,” he says with a chuckle, taking back his phone.
We walk back to the lobby, and he asks where all my stuff is.
“It was kind of a last-minute decision to move here. I have what I need in the car to get me by, and Grandma’s apartment in the back of the theater is furnished.”
“It’s awesome she never sold the place,” he says. “I remember coming here to the Christmas play every year growing up. Grayson was an elf a few times if memory serves me.”
“You never had a part in a production?”
He shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “Nah, never my thing. I hate public speaking. Any kind.”
“Really? You don’t strike me as shy.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Any pointers? I have a gig tomorrow I can’t botch.”
I crinkle my nose. “What kind of gig?”
“It’s career day at the elementary school. My friend Hailey teaches there and asked if I’d come talk about what I do.”
“That’s nice of you,” I say, wanting to ask how good of a friend this Hailey person is. “Well, number one, know your topic — so you’ll ace that part. Two, don't fear a moment of silence. And three, focus on your material, not on your audience.” I smile, trying to imagine him in front of a bunch of elementary school students. He seems so big, so strong. He might be intimidating.
“Know my audience huh? Can’t say I’ve been a kid in a long ass time.”
“Well, kids love jokes. So bring a few good ones. About your career, though. Stay on brand, you know?”