Love on the Boardwalk: A Cinnamon Bay Romance - Book One

by Barrett, Nikki Lynn

  She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the poor woman was only trying to be friendly, and he’d been a dick. His punishment was the fantastic Wi-Fi that his landlord had promised but was seemingly nonexistent, so he hadn’t been able to check his emails or do any work at all. He had clients waiting, and he needed to get back to them.

  His stomach twisted at the thought of work. The mountains of it ready for his attention and the lack of internet determined to keep him three steps behind.

  He remembered the coffee shop had a sign saying free Wi-Fi, so he was up early and planned to kill two birds with one stone. He could apologize to Eva and work in her coffee shop. The thought spurred him out of bed.

  He pushed open the door and was greeted by the heady aroma of coffee and cinnamon and yeast. There were some tasty baked goods available here, and he’d be buying a few today. He had a weakness for pastries that he overcame by jogging and starting his day with crunches.

  He dumped his bag at a corner table that only had one chair and hopped in line to order. Mac was pleased to see the old ladies weren’t present, but Eva was, and she was manning the register while her coworker manned the coffee machine. She wore a tight-fitting pink t-shirt that matched her full lips, and her long hair was piled on top of her head in one of those sexy messy buns, giving him a great view of her delicious long neck.

  A neck he wouldn’t mind kissing.

  “Good morning, Eva,” Mac said with a smile.

  “What can I get you?” She didn’t make eye contact, and her voice held none of the warmth of the day before. No point thinking about her sexy neck when she wasn’t even talking to him.

  “I’d love a latte, a cinnamon roll, and a chance to apologize for being rude yesterday. I was having a bad day, and I’m sorry you bore the brunt of it. I’m usually a much better neighbor than that.”

  Her eyes met his, and he noticed they were flecked with gold, and he could tell she was mulling over whether he deserved to be forgiven or not. She barely knew him, so she didn’t have any reason to believe he wasn’t always a jerk.

  “No apology necessary,” Eva said, but her tone was cool and detached.

  “No, really. I was a jerk.”

  “I won’t argue that.”

  “Friends, then?” He put on his most cheerful tone, but Eva’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Sure, Mac. You’re forgiven,” she said. “No worries.”

  “I won’t even ask for the Café Amour today.”

  “Good thing too.” She took the cash from his hand, and Mac noticed that she never touched him. “It’s off the menu. For good.”

  Disappointment sank into his belly. Like the world was missing out on something wonderful, unique. More than just the luscious pile of hair casually pinned to the top of her head or that sexy, long column of her neck, Mac wanted to see that playful side of her he’d seen yesterday when the old ladies had been harassing her.

  Damn.

  Eva handed him his change and let him know that his order would be ready in a moment over at the next counter. Mac gave a quick nod and moved down the line. Yes, she could dismiss him, but he wasn’t willing to concede defeat.

  Minutes later, he settled at his table, flipped open his laptop, and slid a succulent bite of cinnamon roll into his mouth.

  Wow.

  There was something about the cinnamon that was off the charts delish.

  “I see you’ve discovered a precious secret of Cinnamon Bay!” A thin, elderly woman he remembered from his first visit stood close to him and then tapped his arm smartly with her rolled-up newspaper.

  Chapter Four

  MAC WINCED AS the paper rapped against his arm. Yup, right where that baseball bat had made homerun contact. He must be the proud owner of a good bruise there based on how stinking tender it felt.

  He gazed up at the dainty lady with the slightly wavy silver hair beneath a floppy hat set at a rakish angle. One of the trio from the day before if his memory served

  “I’m Trixie,” said a woman with a twinkle in her still dark and sharp eyes. “We met yesterday. Don’t believe we were properly introduced.”

  “Lovely to see you again,” Mac replied. Trixie’s gaze flickered toward the empty space across the table from him. “Care to join me?”

  Mac hoped his invitation didn’t sound forced.

  He’d entered into introvert hell. An old gossip and a stranger to boot. Trixie grabbed a chair from a nearby table, then dragged it over and slipped into the seat without a bat of an eye as if his invitation was a mere formality and that she’d been planning on crashing his table no matter what.

  “Did I see you over on Cassia Street yesterday?” Trixie kept eye contact as she raised her steaming cup to her lips, her gaze boring into his.

  “Might have.” Mac tried not to choke on his drink. Had this old chick followed him? He prayed no one had witnessed Elizabeth Parker trying to de-nut him. He cleared his throat. “I cruised around Cinnamon Bay yesterday. Just getting the lay of the land.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about your name,” Trixie said. “I’ve only met one other Macklin in all my years, and something about you reminds me of him.”

  “What did you say his last name was?”

  Mac hoped he sounded sincere. He was a complete newbie at playing amateur sleuth and hunting for clues to his family heritage. He didn’t want to sound obvious. Or as if he was even aware that he was related. Or might be the blood descendant of Macklin Parker.

  “Parker.”

  “Well, I’m a Jenssen.”

  “I went to school with him, you know.” Trixie lowered her chin toward her shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes. “I remember his gorgeous, glossy hair. Rather like yours.”

  “I’m flattered,” Mac said and prayed she was acting the coquette over her memories and not actively flirting with him.

  “Trixie?” A tall woman with lots of cuddly, grandmotherly curves stood with her arms planted on her ample hips. “What are you doing monopolizing the most handsome stranger in the coffee shop?”

  Ah, another one of yesterday’s Terrible Trio. The one without the hat.

  “He is a hottie, isn’t he, Hattie?” Trixie replied and placed a wrinkled hand on his.

  Mac’s cheeks flamed, and he knew it. He glanced around the shop. Was there anyone to rescue him from two flirtatious gossips? For an instant, the dark-haired Eva winked at him, but she turned and helped a customer. She wasn’t coming to bail him out.

  “You’re just flapping your gums to hear the sound of your own voice,” said Hattie in a disapproving tone.

  “What do you mean?” Trixie pivoted that pointy chin of hers up in the air. No doubt she was proud of her charms.

  Hattie drew up a chair, and Mac edged his chair sideways to make room. “Do you have a point to harassing this poor young man?”

  “No. Not really,” Trixie replied. “I just can’t help that he reminds me of old Macklin, and I suspect he’s about the right age to be Macklin’s grandson.”

  “You always did have a crush on him even in elementary school.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did. Now leave this boy to his business,” Hattie said as she indicated his laptop. Mac kept his mouth shut. This was way too dangerous for him to jump in the middle of. “Besides, Macklin’s only child died before he was able to give the old man a grandchild.”

  “Well.” Trixie’s tone was irritated but beaten.

  “Exactly.” Hattie wiggled her shoulders at her triumph. She stood and prodded Trixie’s arm who rose, if somewhat reluctantly.

  They murmured their farewells and bustled out the door.

  Mac drummed his fingertips on the tabletop. That had been surreal. Did Trixie really think he looked like his supposed grandfather? Maybe it could really be simple to track down his birth family without everyone getting in the way.

  No way. Things were rarely simple or straightforward.

  Yes, he bore a resemblance to Mack
lin Parker, that much was clear. And of course, the same first name, but if everyone thought old Macklin Parker was grandchild-less, there was likely some kind of long-buried secret going lurking in Cinnamon Bay.

  Man, he could be the product of some clandestine romance or one-night stand with a surprise ending that his family had wanted to bury. And if it finally came to light…

  No. He’d better keep a low profile and be careful about what types of questions he asked. Emotional landmines were likely everywhere. The inhabitants of Cinnamon Bay liked to gossip. At least the three little old birds did.

  Mac lingered for an hour while he polished off his cinnamon roll and kept a surreptitious surveillance of the inmates of Brewed with a View all while answering emails and doing a couple of quick mock-ups for clients. Thank goodness the Wi-Fi was stellar at the café.

  Kolby strolled by to chat and pick up his empty plate, and Mac tried, and failed, to catch Eva’s attention. Somehow, she was constantly in motion. He had tantalizing glimpses of Eva, but she never made eye contact with him again.

  WITH HER BLUE leather tote slung over her shoulder, Eva stepped out into the balmy, late afternoon air. She tasted salt on her tongue, and the humidity kissed her skin. Thank goodness her hair was up off her neck, or she’d be drenched in sweat by the time she made it a half a block.

  She locked the door of Brewed with a View and then patted the side of her tote to make sure the deposit bag was accounted for. With a quick squint down the boardwalk, Eva spotted the bank’s sign, but her gaze detoured to The Rolling Pin and a woman holding three giant pink bakery boxes as she pushed out of the shop.

  Donuts! Yes. She needed donut holes. Maybe a whole bag of them.

  Donuts didn’t care what kind of day she’d had.

  Donuts didn’t ask questions or second-guess if she’d been too mean to Mac Jenssen. Or if the matchmakers were trying to set her up with Mac, or if she wanted to banish the Café Amour from the menu.

  Donuts were simple. She could have them for dinner. That might make the calorie count okay, right?

  Minutes later, Eva strolled along the boardwalk’s wooden planks with her cell phone clasped in one hand and a sweetly fragrant waxy bag of glazed and cinnamon-sugared donut holes in her other.

  Humming a few bars from the latest Dierks Bentley song, she smiled at couples and families dawdling in front of shop windows in the summer sunshine.

  A rumbling noise tickled at her awareness, but she didn’t take her eyes off the pair of twin toddler girls in frilly yellow skirts posing next to the colorful wood statue of Leo “Lionheart” DeVane, the Pirate. They were too adorable as they waved at their father as he snapped a series of pictures with the dashing pirate with his wild mane of golden hair, jaunty expression, and extended arm pointing at some unknown treasure.

  The happy little family disappeared into the toy store right as Eva turned to identify the thundering rumble over the boardwalk planks. A bicycle whizzed past her. Then another.

  “Hey! Watch out, lady!”

  A whoosh of air. A smack against her shoulder. Eva staggered and wildly grabbed at the proffered arm of the golden-haired pirate statue. Her cell phone launched into the air and was chased by her bag. The donuts scattered. She sprawled to her knees.

  “Sorry, lady!”

  A stampede of bicycles with teenage boys screamed by. Squish went a lovely donut.

  “Eva! You all right?” a male voice called from a distance. It sounded almost familiar.

  Okay. There was her phone ten feet away. She couldn’t see her purse.

  A flicker of shadows and a nasal squawk gave Eva the warning she needed as she shielded her face with her arms. A swarm of seagulls swooped down from the blue sky, pecking and squabbling over the dozen donut holes.

  “Shoo! Get on!” A pair of manly, muscled legs in shorts stamped at the marauding birds. She looked up.

  It was Mac to the rescue.

  One bird grabbed the torn donut bag and took flight, but a furry black streak shot through the air and swiped at the fleeing seagull.

  “You show them, Hook!” Eva cheered on the black cat. “Don’t let them steal my donuts.”

  Hook the Cat landed on all fours and then pounced after the next bold white bird. And again, as the seagulls screeched and flapped, Hook dashed in circles as two more gulls soared off in a huff.

  “Let me help you up.” Mac reached to Eva, and she eagerly slipped her hand into his. Strong and reassuring. A tingling awareness rippled along her arm.

  “Thank you,” she said. “That was nuts. I can’t believe those boys didn’t even stop.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  She glanced at her knees, shins, and palms. They were pinkish, but no signs of scratches. “I don’t think so. Only my pride.”

  “Vanquished by a flock of seagulls and a pack of teenyboppers on bikes.”

  “And rescued by a stray cat.”

  “He’s a valiant hero,” Mac said.

  As if on cue, the last seagull flew off, and Hook sauntered over and let out a growly purr as he head-butted Mac’s leg. The sooty, sleek feline approached a woebegone, half-moon of a sugared donut. He sniffed it then settled onto his haunches with a multitude of seagull feathers surrounding him like a throne. He studied Eva and winked.

  “You’re a good ol’ alley cat, Hook,” Eva said. She rubbed his head and scratched behind his nicked ear. “I’ve missed you and your antics.” Hook accepted his praise, but then returned to the lone, bedraggled pastry and sank his teeth into his trophy. With his head held high, he slinked off to a narrow space between two buildings.

  A few passersby shot curious glances at them, but they smiled indulgently. Clearly, they hadn’t seen the herd of biker boys screaming by. Well, she’d just been grazed.

  “I’m guessing that’s your bag?” Mac gestured toward the pirate.

  Her blue leather tote dangled by one strap on his outstretched arm, but by the looks of it, half of the contents of her purse were scattered everywhere. Eva smothered a colorful curse word and bent to pick up her wallet and a couple of lip glosses. Mac joined in.

  “I hope we’ve got everything,” she said.

  “What’s back behind the pirate? Is that yours?” Mac stooped and picked up a rectangular zippered bag.

  “Holy crap!” Her heart lodged like a grenade in her throat. “That’s the shop’s deposit bag. How did I miss that?” She cradled the bag against her chest. “A whole day of sales.”

  “Nothing to worry about. We found it.”

  Eva squeezed his arm but resisted reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you so much.”

  Hell, she wanted to throw herself in his arms and sob with joy. She didn’t have enough of a cushion in her bank account to handle losing a day of cash receipts. Yikes.

  “Glad to help.” Mac grinned, but it seemed lopsided like he wasn’t sure how to handle her burst of emotions.

  “I think I need a cocktail after that.” That hadn’t come out right. Just lovely. Eva backed up but kept a determined smile planted on her face.

  “Excellent idea! Let me take you to dinner too,” Mac said.

  “Oh. That isn’t what I meant.” Eva wished the planks beneath her feet would open up and swallow her. “I’m not begging you for a date. Why would I beg?”

  Chapter Five

  RELIEF HIT MAC. Fate had given him a second chance to make a good impression.

  “No, I’m asking you.”

  “You don’t have to keep on saving the damsel in distress,” Eva said, and she avoided meeting his gaze. “I’m fine now that you and Hook have chased off those pesky seagulls.”

  “I don’t know anyone in town, and I would prefer to sit and talk with the prettiest lady in Cinnamon Bay. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  Eva colored a delicate shade of pink.

  Mac eyeballed the signs of the two establishments that were within sight. The Wooden Spoon and, a block over with flashy beckoning banners, Shenanigans. The first looked like an
old-style diner that likely had mouth-watering fried chicken and to-die-for pie, and then the second screamed bar and grill. Hot wings, burgers, and adult beverages.

  “The choice is yours,” Mac said. “Shenanigans or The Wooden Spoon?”

  “Shenanigans, but on one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  “Let me pay for my own drink.” Mac started to object, but Eva held up her hand. “Otherwise, everyone in town will be sure that we’re dating and will start the June wedding bells countdown.”

  “Is it that bad? I’ve never lived somewhere as small as Cinnamon Bay.”

  “Word spreads fast, and everyone loves to speculate on romances.”

  They walked side by side down the boardwalk, pausing at the curb to wait for a lull in traffic. “By the tone of your voice, you don’t sound like you’re a fan of the gossip circle.”

  “I’ve been the center of attention before.” Eva paused and nibbled on her lower lip, then poked her chin up in the air and continued. “I had a busted engagement a little bit ago, so I don’t want them to have any grist for the mill. Now that I’m back in town, they will have me paired up with each guy I’m spotted with. I guess you should be wary.” She waggled a finger at Mac.

  “I won’t be here long enough to be in danger. I will risk it.”

  “Good. That’s settled,” she said. “Now, let me drop this precious bag off at the bank. It’s only a few doors down.”

  They paused at the entrance, and Mac gestured toward the neon sign above the door. “Then, a drink at Shenanigans.”

  “It’s early enough we should be able to snag a table by the windows. You can see the ocean.”

  Hours later, the sun had set, and the sparkling lights of the boats in the marina flickered in the distance. Laughter and drinks with Eva had turned to dinner and stories of her childhood years in Boston and his in Maine.

  Mac heard about all the time she’d spent at Brewed with a View and her dear grandmother, told in a delightful Boston accent he came to enjoy immensely. In return, he shared silly tales from his summers at camp as a kid and then as a camp counselor.