Warmth filled his chest. She was such a perfectionist! She’d blamed herself for letting work come between her and Tom. She’d blamed herself for not talking to him about wanting a family, but Tom could have brought it up! There were two of them in that relationship. She needed to stop blaming herself for everything!
He checked his watch and got to his feet. The quiet café was a good idea, bound to be a success if she could get it off the ground. Emilie had told him that she’d emailed Tom about the money. That was a start! Tom! Would he come through? He felt a twinge in his chest. Why was a small part of him hoping that Tom wouldn’t? He started down the path, feet sliding in the soft sand. When Emilie had told him about the money situation, he’d wanted to offer her what she needed, but he’d held back. She’d have only felt awkward, or embarrassed, and she’d been upset enough already, crying over the baby. But if Tom paid her out, she wouldn’t need his help. She wouldn’t need him at all.
The twinge in his chest was spreading into his gut. He stopped to catch his breath, swallowing hard. When Emilie had been crying in his arms, he’d felt an overwhelming desire to protect her, to never let anything hurt her like that again. Strings! He walked on. She’d needed him then and he wanted her to keep needing him. He stopped again. The twinge was fading, a strange, wonderful warmth flooding in, a glow that seemed to be getting brighter. He ran his tongue along his lip, trying to fathom it, and then it settled gently in his chest, pulsing a steady warmth.
He faltered, gathering the threads of his feelings together, then his breath stopped. I love her. He blinked. He wanted to be her everything...the one she ran to...the one who could make everything right... He felt a smile ghosting around his mouth. He was tangled in Emilie’s strings, but it felt like freedom, felt like flying the hull with the wind in his hair. Somehow, while he’d been giving his heart and mind a rest, his heart seemed to have made up his mind for him. He was in love—in love—and that changed everything.
* * *
Emilie tucked the last two sugar pelicans into the crumpled tissue paper, then looked down into the box, staring. The flying fish and the turtles, the hummingbirds and the pair of parakeets seemed nice and secure. She sighed, then clicked the lid shut and put the small plastic box with the bigger boxes which contained the sugar palm trees, the baby and crib, and the Moko Jumbie figures. The cake itself was boxed and in the fridge. Now, all they had to do was get everything to Boulder Cay in one piece. Joel had told her not to worry; he’d said he’d take it easy in the power boat, so nothing would get damaged in transit.
Joel! A warm sad ache filled her chest. He’d taken himself off sailing again, a familiar chink of distance in his eyes. She swallowed hard. He’d gone off on his own a few times. He was obviously still trying to piece together his feelings about Astrid, but she didn’t ask him about it. She wanted to—so much—wanted to listen, to help, to fix him, but she’d set the rules. No strings! That meant not getting close, not getting involved. She felt tears thickening in her throat. Too late!
She took off her chef’s jacket, folding it slowly. If Grandma hadn’t called that morning, she’d still have been blissfully ignorant about her feelings; she’d have still been looking forward to baby Ben’s party instead of dreading it.
Misery pooled in her belly. Grandma! She’d only been trying to help...
‘You know you were telling me about your wonderful idea for a quiet café? Well, yesterday I had a dental appointment in Salton and, as I was going along the High Street, I noticed a tearoom for sale. It’s all shut up, but I looked through the window. It’s lovely inside. It could be the perfect thing. It’s on with Cox’s Estate Agents so you should have a look online, see what you think...’
Her heart should have leapt! A café close to Grandma’s village was exactly what she had been hoping for, but instead her heart had withered. In that instant she’d realised that a café in Salton, or anywhere, wasn’t what she wanted any more. She wanted Joel. She wanted a future filled with twinkling blue-grey eyes, and sailing, and babies...
She stuffed the jacket into her tote and started walking. The tears she’d been holding on to all morning were stinging her eyes, making her throat burn.
I love Joel. She went down the steps, swallowing hard. I love him.
She clenched her jaw, pushing hard, trying to push it all back inside. How had it happened? She’d set the rules. She’d been so careful, telling herself that she was cool with him not spending the night, cool with him going off on his own. She’d told herself that maybe he was even trying to underline to her that they were having a fling and nothing more. But somehow, in spite of being cool, her heart had latched on. Behind her back it had wrapped itself around him, all warm, because he was sweet and kind, and wonderful. Special!
She started along the forest path, hugging her tote. The past week had been better than any week she could remember. Joel had made her feel as if she were the one on holiday... He’d taken her sailing. Flying the hull! Such a glorious feeling, being up in the air, skimming through the water with the spray and the wind in her face, her ears full of the breeze and all the alien clinking and flapping and gushing of the boat, and Joel...pulling at the ropes—sheeting in—biceps bulging, the splashing spray making his firm, tanned body glisten. He’d taken her snorkelling too, had shown her a mesmerising underwater world of colour and movement and shimmering light. It had taken her breath away almost as much as the light in his eyes. He’d lined up so much: a hike through the national park, a lagoon swim. They’d drunk cocktails on the deck of a restaurant as the sun went down, ridden dodgy bicycles—which had made them cry with laughter—and in bed, he’d made her feel so good, so wanted, so cherished that it had almost felt...
She hugged her bag tighter, aching inside. Maybe her heart wasn’t to blame. So many times over the last week it had felt as if Joel was more than just a friend with benefits. In his arms, telling him about Tom and Rachel’s baby, she’d felt so safe, so protected, as if nothing bad could ever happen to her again. That thing he’d said about a different future, a better one... It had given her a boost. She’d been thinking about the café then, had fired off an email to Tom that night, but after that, she must have dropped the ball, started dreaming impossible dreams.
She looked up, blinking at the light glittering through the canopy. Impossible dreams seemed to be her speciality. Dreams of a life with Tom...brown-eyed and smiling in the college kitchen, his dark mop drawn into a ponytail, pale hands rocking the knife...short-haired at Le Perroquet, handsome and bustling in his chef’s whites...and at Blythe’s in his black tee shirt with the Blythe’s logo... She felt a sharp ache behind her eyes. She’d worked hard on the logo because branding was important. It set the vibe. White copperplate gothic font against black, Blythe’s—his surname—which she hadn’t minded because she’d thought that she’d be Emilie Blythe one day. Her belly knotted tight. Tom was the one who had wanted to leave Le Perroquet. Professionally, he’d hit a ceiling. She’d been above him. She’d been happy, doing well, but he’d always had her back and working there without him had seemed impossible, so she’d handed in her notice. She’d given up everything for him and, when the wheels were coming off, she’d hung on, trying to fix things, clinging to old dreams, clinging to Tom, clinging to the food she knew. Fool!
A week ago Joel had asked her if she’d have fought for Tom if there hadn’t been a baby. How hadn’t she known the answer when it was so obvious? She walked up the cottage path and kicked off her sandals against the veranda steps. It was a pitiful—yes! But it wouldn’t have been fighting. It would have been clinging because clinging was what she did best.
She sank down on to the swing. Would she never learn to stop tangling herself up in stupid dreams? This thing with Joel was supposed to have been a little thing, but she’d let it get bigger, allowed herself to imagine that the fond light in his eyes could be... Fool again! She felt tears burning in her throat, scalding her
lids. Joel had signed up for a fling. Nothing more. The writing was on the wall. He was still beset with Astrid, still taking himself off with distance in his eyes, and he was leaving in a week. Leaving!
Pain blocked her lungs. It was over. For a beat there was no air to breathe and then wetness filled her eyes, spilling down her face. If she didn’t put the brakes on now, then her heart would shatter when he left. It would be a fierce wrench, but she had no choice. She had to step away from Joel, protect herself as best she could. She locked her arms across her belly, holding back a spreading nausea. Going with the flow had been a bad idea. Bad! She wasn’t a fling kind of person. She was a person who got attached, a person who always got hurt. She swallowed hard. What would Joel make of her cooling things off? Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do, but telling him she was in love with him was impossible. He’d think she was like Lars, not letting a little thing just be a little thing.
She wiped her face, dragging in air, tasting the salt on her lips. Joel would be okay. He had plenty of other stuff to think about. Astrid! She swallowed hard, gulping in more shaky breaths. It would be all right. She would be all right. She licked her lips. It wasn’t too late to put herself back on track, to find happiness in her own skin, on her own terms, standing on her own two feet. No more fantasies! No more impossible dreams.
She got to her feet. Her dream had been Café Hygge before everything had skewed in a Joel-wise direction. It was still a future she could believe in and the place in Salton might well be perfect. She sucked in a big breath, felt her pulse steadying. There was time to look online before she got changed for the party, time to check if Tom had deigned to reply to her email.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ERRIS HELD THE DOOR. ‘Will this do?’
Emilie scanned the space. It was a storeroom, a bit pokey, stacked with bright plastic crates full of empty beer bottles but there was a smallish table against the back wall which looked clean and just big enough for a spot of covert cake assembly. ‘It’s perfect, better than I’d expected.’ She smiled. ‘I hadn’t realised there was going to be a beach bar.’
Erris leaned from side to side, hitching up his shorts. ‘We’ve got our own food, but we hired the bar and the DJ. The private beach comes with it!’ He grinned. ‘Melinda knows how to throw a party!’ His eyes darted to the boxes she was holding. ‘And it looks like you know how to make a cake!’
‘This is the cake!’ Joel was coming in with the big box, pretending to stagger. ‘What Emilie’s got are the decorations.’
Erris’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh, my!’
Joel grinned, eyes darting to hers. ‘It’s going on the table, right?’
She nodded, watching him fake-stumbling towards the table. It was impossible not to smile. Why did he have to be being even more charming than usual just when she needed to distance herself? And why did he have to be looking so handsome? His pale khaki shirt made his eyes seem brighter and bluer and he’d shaved his beard closer. He smelt good. Clean. Sexy. She wanted to fold herself into him, breathe him in, but that was off the table now. She steadied the boxes she was holding. Ever since he’d got back from his solitary sail, Joel had been warm and attentive, sweet and affectionate. It was making everything harder, making her heart ache. She’d kept having to dodge his arms, pretending that she was preoccupied with the cake, anxious about how it would fare in the heat and about her decorations breaking or getting knocked, which had only made him even more attentive, more careful. As they’d gone down the steps to the jetty, he’d kept looking back, checking that she was okay with her boxes, such a sweet, protective kind of light in his eyes that she hadn’t been able to hold his gaze.
‘Erris...?’
Her heart bounced. ‘Go!’ She parked her boxes lopsidedly on a beer crate, then steered Erris towards the door. ‘Melinda can’t know we’re here! Go!’
Erris tapped his nose, grinning, then moseyed out into the narrow passage.
She shut the door behind him, pausing for a beat. The prospect of being alone with Joel in such a small space was making her belly quiver. She took a breath and turned around.
He was standing by the table, a new looseness around his shoulders. He seemed relaxed, happy, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He smiled. ‘What can I do to help?’
She swallowed. If only she didn’t need any help, then she wouldn’t have had to be cloistered in this little room with him, but the table was too small to take the cake and all the other boxes so she’d need him to help juggle things. At least assembling it all would keep her legitimately bent to the task, too busy to catch his eye. She crossed to the table and peeled the lid off the cake box. ‘Well, first we need to get the cake out. It’s on a base and there’s a cloth underneath, so we just have to grab the ends of the cloth and lift.’
‘Okay.’ One corner of his mouth lifted and then he moved behind her, his hands sliding around her waist. His lips grazed her ear. ‘I really, really want to kiss you...’
She closed her eyes, fighting an ache of desire, trying to ignore the warm weight of his hands and his clean irresistible scent. She wanted to turn around, slide her hands into his hair, feel his warm perfect lips moulding to hers, but she couldn’t. Her heart buckled. It was over, but telling him now, especially when he seemed so happy, would only make things sticky. There was a whole afternoon ahead of them. A whole afternoon to get through. She took a careful breath, then twisted her head to look at him. ‘Joel, Melinda’s here! We’ve got to get this done before someone barges in and spoils the surprise.’
He caught her face with his hand, stroking her cheekbone slowly. His gaze was so heartbreakingly tender that it was hard to hold it. And then he leaned in and his lips brushed hers. ‘Later, then...’
She nodded, biting back tears.
He moved back to the table, pulling at one of the loose fabric edges with interest. ‘The cloth’s a neat trick.’
She pulled the cloth out on her side of the box, steadying herself. This was so much harder than she’d thought it was going to be and the way he was looking at her was making it even harder. She took a breath. ‘I have a friend who makes wedding cakes! She passed on a few tips.’ She gripped the cloth. ‘So, we’ll lift on three, okay?’
‘Yes, chef!’
She couldn’t not smile. It felt like a relief, like a moment of normality. She looked up. ‘Okay! One...two...three...’
The cake went up and landed perfectly.
As the cloth fell away, Joel’s eyes popped. ‘Wow! This is amazing! The way you’ve got the texture of the sea...and the waves...and the sand... Even without the extras it’s a work of art!’ His eyes caught hers. ‘You’re a genius!’
‘It’s a simple rectangle...’
His eyebrows arched. ‘No, it isn’t and you know it!’
She pressed her lips together. He was right. There was nothing simple about the cake. For one thing, it was vast, enough to feed sixty guests. She’d added height at the beach end, modelling texture in the sand with toasted coconut, and she’d sculpted waves in the sea, as well as adding a ombre effect—turquoise through to deep blue—which she’d continued over the edges and down the sides. Simple wasn’t part of her culinary vocabulary. She was always pushing herself, going for the wow factor...except for the food she’d made over the past week. She’d toned things down, making Joel the simpler foods he enjoyed...grilled fish, stews, salads and bread rolls...and it had felt just as rewarding as making the complicated stuff. Maybe it was because every time, he’d looked at her as if she’d been giving him the world.
She blinked. Voices were filtering in from the beach, growing louder. Guests were arriving and she needed to get the cake assembled. She went for the boxes she’d left on the crate and put the biggest one into Joel’s hands. She peeled off the lid. ‘It’s going to be a bit dull for you now.’
He smiled. ‘Things are never dull with you.’
/> Despair pooled in her belly. If only he would stop being quite so adoring. It was making everything hurt more. She pinned on a smile. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’
‘Yes, chef!’
His smile was too much. The sooner she was finished and could go out and mingle with the crowd the better. She needed to put some distance between them, otherwise her heart was going to break.
* * *
‘You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble, honey...’ Melinda was drawing her along the beach away from the throng, one warm, plump arm hooked through hers, consternation warring with affection in her deep brown eyes. ‘I mean, it’s a beautiful cake, Emilie—exquisite—but so much work!’ She was shaking her head, making little clicking noises with her tongue. ‘And there was me thinking you were having a break, enjoying some downtime.’
She squeezed Melinda’s arm. ‘I enjoyed doing it.’ It had been worth all the effort to see Kesney and Will’s delight, and so lovely to see Melinda and Erris beaming, the guests smiling. Even baby Ben’s eyes had popped wide when Kesney had held him close to the cake, probably because of the bright colours. ‘Besides, you’ve been so kind inviting me and Joel along that I couldn’t not bring something.’
‘Bringing yourselves would have been more than enough.’ Melinda’s voice became firm. ‘More than enough.’ She stopped walking, pulling her arm free, her gaze suddenly serious. ‘You know, Emilie, you need to believe that you’re enough, by yourself. You don’t always need a passport.’
She felt something small working loose in her chest, something that made her want to cry. She swallowed. ‘I know that...of course I do. It’s just that...this is such a special occasion. I mean, Ben’s your first grandchild! I wanted to make something special, that’s all.’
Harlequin Romance April 2021 Box Set Page 59
