Grayton Beach Dreams

by Chambers, Melissa

She pulled up a search for chocolate chip cookie recipes. As the pages of cookie porn passed by her on the screen, all she could think about was that longish hair of Jesse’s that would feel so good between her fingers.

  Cassidy typically dated older men. She didn’t seek them out, but it seemed to work out that way. Most of the single men her age were divorced with school-aged children or teenagers, and that just wasn’t a road she was willing to travel down. If she’d wanted kids, she’d have had her own.

  Older men were her safest bet. They challenged her intellectually…usually…sometimes. They did appreciate her body. She was good about keeping thin, though it’d gotten tougher as she’d aged. Lean Cuisine was her BFF, but that was mainly because she was too exhausted at the end of the day to cook something. Working as a baker didn’t help matters, but she found being around the stuff all day long made her sort of impervious to it.

  The older men she dated liked sex, but it was on a schedule, timed out with their erectile dysfunction medication. They all hid it at first, taking it before their dates with her, but she’d learned the signs. Red neck, literally. The stuff doubled their body temperatures. She’d be sitting across from a man at dinner and he’d be eyeing her like a filet mignon. If she wasn’t ready yet, she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty for saying goodnight at the end of the meal and excusing herself, knowing he’d prepped for the night out of hope. The medicine took the spontaneity out of sex. But she couldn’t complain. She was starting to experience hot flashes and hair in places it’d never popped up before. Aging wasn’t for sissies.

  She imagined that Jesse did not need a pill to get a hard-on. He could probably have sex on command, just give him thirty seconds to think about boobs and he’d be there. She clucked her tongue against her cheek, shaking her head at herself. How old was she, anyway? Physically, her forties, mentally about twenty-two. And her mental self couldn’t help but daydream about a night with Jesse.

  2

  Two ships passing in the night. What the hell was he, the captain of the Love Boat?

  Gracie strolled past Jesse in her underwear and a tank top, headed to the kitchen.

  “Hey, what’s that guy’s name who’s the captain on that old Love Boat show we’ve been watching?” he asked her.

  She crunched on a carrot stick. “Captain Stubing.”

  That’s who he was. Captain Stubing. Jesse, who had once talked three extremely attractive girls into a foursome starring him, told Cassidy Anderson of Seaside Sweets that they were ships passing in the night. He winced again at his idiocy.

  Jesse had thought about little other the past four days than Cassidy Anderson. Ever since the night Marigold had introduced him to her, he’d been smitten. He’d come on way too strong, but that approach typically worked. Not with her though. She’d just given him that look like he was a silly little boy and walked away, never giving him another look the rest of the night.

  He’d spent the remainder of the evening eyeing her from behind the bar, but he’d not seen her look up at him a single time. He pulled back and took the all-business approach at her shop the other day, but she’d not seemed a bit interested, dismissing him like yesterday’s news when they’d finished their business talk. Jesse wasn’t used to this behavior from women. It’d been the rare occasion that he’d gone for a woman who’d been this disinterested in him. Sure, there was an age difference, but he was more attracted to this woman than any twenty-something girl who’d been in his bar in years.

  Gracie walked into the living room with the bag of carrots in hand and plopped down on the couch beside him. She gauged him as she chewed. “Do you want to have sex?”

  He looked up from his phone, perplexed. “I thought we weren’t going to do that anymore.”

  “We’re not. I mean, not regularly. Just once. I swear I won’t get weird on you or anything.”

  “You’ve never gotten weird on me.”

  She pointed a carrot at him. “Exactly. I’m just so damned lonely.”

  “Uh, hello. I’m in the room.”

  “I’m starved then, for male affection. It’s been like six weeks.”

  He went back to his phone, hoping if he ignored her she’d go away. Not that he wouldn’t mind having sex, but he wasn’t feeling it right then, not with her, at least. He loved Gracie, but living with her had made her feel more like a sister than someone to screw.

  “What about you?” She nodded toward his bedroom. “I haven’t heard you in there with a girl in a while. When was your last time?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. He really didn’t. How long had it been? Longer than usual for sure. He’d just not been into the game lately.

  She set her bag of carrots down and straddled him, pulling his hair out of his face. “Why didn’t we work out? Wanna give it another go?” He just rested his head back and stared at her. She wasn’t expecting an answer. She leaned forward like she was going to kiss him, but instead face-planted into the couch cushion behind him. “Ugh! I just want a decent man. Is that too much to ask?”

  He lifted her off of him and set her on the couch. “We’ve been over this. You’re beautiful. You just pick the wrong guys.”

  “Like you?”

  “Definitely like me. You deserve way better than that.”

  She let out a sigh, tilting her head against the couch cushion staring at him. “You’re right to reject me. Sex would just complicate this relationship, and I need one thing to be working in my life right now.” She eyed him. “So are you rejecting me because you want our friendship to survive, or is it some other reason?” She sniffed her armpit. “I don’t stink, do I? I took a shower last night when we got home.”

  “You don’t stink.” He rested back on the couch, closing his eyes.

  She grasped his knee. “Hang on. Are you seeing someone?”

  “No. Who would I be seeing?”

  “You want to see someone, though, don’t you?” He remained silent, crossing his arms over his chest. “Who?” she asked, with a hint of urgency in her voice. She shook him. “Jesse, who the fuck?”

  He opened his eyes. “Nobody. Shit.”

  “It’s somebody, because I haven’t offered myself to you in about six months, and I look damn good right now. Have you taken a look at my ass lately? Barre, baby.”

  He let out a hard breath. He liked Gracie, but she was twenty-three…a young twenty-three. They’d had plenty of fun together, in bed and out of it, but he craved something more out of both a friend and a girlfriend. Damn, did he just use the “G” word?

  “Your ass is beautiful, Gracie.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Why do you care? You don’t know her.”

  “Is she local?”

  He gave her a look. “If she wasn’t I’d have already sealed the deal and moved on.”

  She rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, a local chick. Let me live vicariously through you. Where does she work? Or is she one of these rich housewives who don’t work?”

  This was all-wrong. Cassidy was a beautiful, thoughtful, intelligent woman full of life experience and short on tolerance for bullshit, he guessed. The last thing he wanted was to be discussing his interest in her with Gracie, who while sweet and well-intentioned, was Cassidy’s polar opposite in every way, even physically. Gracie was five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet, and Cassidy had to be at least 5’10.

  He got up. “I’m getting in the shower.”

  “If you want some company, let me know.”

  Now she was just stoking him like a fire. She had no intention of following through on that offer. He ought to take her up on it, just to see, but he wasn’t in the mood in case she accepted.

  But he certainly wouldn’t turn Cassidy down. It wasn’t his thing to go for older women, but something about Cassidy interested him on a level he hadn’t experienced in a while. She had this way of looking at him that cut through all the bullshit…like she could see right through him. The idea both thrilled and terrified him. But most of
all, it challenged him.

  He showered and then headed to his bedroom and dressed for work. Checking himself in the mirror, he ran his fingers through his hair. He’d be thirty this year, and it was starting to show in his eyes. He’d been dreading turning thirty, but he couldn’t really pinpoint why. He could, actually, he just didn’t want to.

  He shook off the past, just like he did any time he felt it creeping back in. He lived his life for the present. Looking back was futile and ineffectual. Right now, he was living his best life. His bar was doing well. He was fit and healthy. He looked good and he felt good. What more could he possibly ask for?

  He pocketed his phone and wallet and grabbed his keys. “I’m out!” he shouted in the direction of Gracie’s bedroom as he passed by but got no response. She’d figure it out.

  He locked the front door behind him and hopped down the stairwell, through the small hallway, and then opened the back door to his bar. The clanging of pots and pans and voices of Juan and Stevie giving each other shit indicated all was well and moving forward for the day in the kitchen. If his line cooks were there for the day, he could deal with anything else. But Kelly coming out of the ladies room tying her apron around her waist indicated no major call-outs today. Life was good.

  He headed behind the bar where he was most comfortable, checking that all was left in working order last night. He counted down the register like he did every morning, and then headed to his office to pull the bank bag out of the safe.

  Closing the office door behind him, he stopped in his tracks as Cassidy Anderson stepped into his bar, glancing around, presumably looking for him. Her long wavy hair hung down over her bare shoulders, thanks to her thin-strapped tank top that she wore tucked into a pair of tattered jeans, a big, sort of rustic buckle on her belt. Fuck, was she wearing a bra? He didn’t see any straps. He swallowed hard, instructing his cock to stay down, and headed that way.

  When she met his gaze, she smiled like they were old friends getting ready to settle in for a catch-up. He wondered how she could make him feel so special without saying a word.

  His instinct was to hug her, but as he approached her she handed him a glass dish. “I’ve been playing around. See what you think.”

  He took the dish, his body adjusting to the letdown of not getting to touch her. “Great. Thanks.”

  “I think a turn in the skillet for a quick couple of minutes will achieve the goal. Marigold and I only tested about thirty or forty of them for quality control.” She smiled at him, resting her slim fingers against her flat stomach just above that belt buckle.

  “Thanks for taking one for the team,” he said.

  “No problem.” She glanced around his bar for a quick minute while he fumbled for words to keep the conversation going. She moved toward the door. “Let me know if you’d like to take next steps.”

  Just as she was walking away, he found his voice. “Yes, I definitely would.”

  Her eyebrows went up.

  “I’m ready…for the next steps, that is,” he said.

  “Would you like to test them out first?”

  “Nah. I trust you…and Marigold.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, then. Is now a good time to work out details?”

  “Yes, it is.” He indicated a chair at an empty table. “Have a seat. Would you like a drink?”

  “Oh, um,” she said, looking in the direction of the bar, “I think I’m okay.”

  “I’ve got a new berry sour beer on tap I’d love to get your opinion on. Do you like sour beer?”

  She met his gaze, a gleam in her eye. “I love sour beer. Nobody ever has it on tap.”

  God he was glad he’d fallen for that sales pitch from that local brewer. “Sit. I’ll be right there.” He set the dish and the bank bag down on the table and then headed behind the bar. He returned with two cups of the sour beer and sat across from her.

  She pointed at the bank bag. “You just left me with an unlocked bank bag.”

  “Did you steal any money from me?”

  “I may have. You better recount it all.”

  He smiled. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

  She sat back in her chair, her hair falling against the freckled skin on her chest. “How do you know what I’d do to you, Jesse?”

  His body ignited with heat. This was the moment where he’d typically give it right back to the girl and go in for the close, but he somehow found himself fumbling for words. He messed with the zipper on the bank bag. “I guess I don’t know, do I?” Holy fuck what was wrong with him? He inwardly coached himself. You can do this. Get back on the bicycle, you idiot.

  “Do you have a figure in mind?” she asked.

  Hell yes he had her figure in mind. “Um…”

  “What’s your planned price point?”

  Heat seeped into his neck as he glanced up at her. Cookies. They were talking about fucking cookies, he reminded himself. “I was thinking maybe two-fifty? Two-ninety-nine?”

  She lifted her cup. “I’d go at least two-ninety-nine. An extra dollar ninety-nine to make it a la mode.” She paused before putting the cup to her lips. “That’s just my suggestion. You may have other ideas.”

  God, did he have ideas…ones that would keep the two of them in bed for days. “That sounds right.”

  “If you went with a two-ninety-nine price point, I wouldn’t feel so bad about charging you a buck fifty per cookie, plus delivery fees.”

  “I can come get them in the mornings. My bank is in Seaside. I come that way most mornings to make the deposit anyway.”

  “And you’ve never stopped in for a muffin before. Shame on you.”

  With every word out of this woman’s mouth, Jesse had to struggle harder to keep his cock at bay.

  “When would you like me to start?” she asked.

  Right fucking now. He pointed at the dish. “I’ll use these for samples today. I’ll take a dozen for tomorrow, if you can do it?”

  “I most definitely can.” She stood from the table, and he hoped he could without embarrassment.

  “Let me cut you a check,” he said.

  She waved him off. “Pay me in a week or two. We’ll see how this goes.”

  “Okay,” he said. He walked her to the door, trying hard not to stare at her heart-shaped ass in those jeans.

  She turned back toward him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Is about this time okay?” he asked.

  She gave him that same smile as when she first walked in—the one that made him feel like a king. “It’s perfect.” She headed down the street, pulling her keys out of her pocket.

  God what he’d do to her if she’d let him.

  He turned around to find Kelly in his face holding the bank bag. “You left this unattended on that table.”

  “Nobody’s in here yet,” he said, noticing a few people at the bar for the first time.

  She glanced at them and then back at him, wordlessly.

  He pursed his lips at her, taking the bag. “Thanks.”

  “Who is that woman?” she asked, craning her neck to see Cassidy who was out of view.

  “She’s a baker. She’s the one I’m getting the cookies we talked about from.”

  “She doesn’t look like any baker I’ve ever seen.”

  Jesse squinted out the front window in the direction Cassidy just walked. “It’s not just me, right? She’s like, sexy, isn’t she?”

  Kelly let her head drop to the side. “Oh, Jesse. You are not thinking about this, are you?”

  “Thinking about what?”

  “You just said you were doing business with her.”

  “So?”

  “So you’re going to fuck this up. You’re gonna sleep with her and then we’ll be down a cookie vendor.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with her,” he said, grabbing the cups of sour beer and taking them to the bar.

  Kelly followed behind him. “You will…if you can.”

  He stopped and jerked his head around. �
��What do you mean, if I can?”

  “I mean that is a full-on woman. She’s seasoned and sharp. She’s got an air about her. She’s low on bullshit tolerance, I can promise you that.”

  “You think I’m full of bullshit?”

  “Oh, definitely.”

  Jesse knew he was full of bullshit. It was part of his bartender persona, the one that kept him protected and guarded. “That’s hurtful.”

  Kelly followed him to the back door. “Don’t do it, man.”

  He pointed at the bar. “That guy needs a refill.”

  When she turned around to see who he was pointing at, he slipped out the back door.

  She was right. He had no business sleeping with Cassidy Anderson. Who was even to say she would have him? How do you know what I’d do to you, Jesse? His name coming off her puffy little lips was enough to make him sweat. That was a flirtation. She was flirting with him, right? Of course she was. He was Jesse Kirby. Girls flirted with him every day. Why should Cassidy Anderson be any different?

  Because he cared what Cassidy Anderson thought of him. He wanted to know more about her. What did she do when she wasn’t at the bakery? What did she eat? What did she read or watch? And more than anything, who did she date?

  3

  Cassidy’s cheeks were so hot she could bake those cookies she’d just dropped off on them. Why had she gone there with him? She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t. She was going to drop off the cookies and leave. She had no intention of sitting down with him and talking business today, and she’d certainly not planned on shamelessly flirting the way she had.

  How do you know what I’d do to you, Jesse? Jesus. She’d have been less obvious if she’d lifted her shirt and flashed him.

  She parked behind Seaside Sweets and headed in through the back door, dropping off her purse in her desk drawer. She passed through the double swinging doors to find Marigold tapping away into her phone at the front counter. She looked up at Cassidy, a smile spreading across her lips. “Guess who just asked for your number?”

  Cassidy gave her a look. “The pope?”