For some reason, she’d had a difficult time separating the teenage jerk from this kinder adult version of Jake. That had to stop. She might not have won her prince as she had dreamed about as a teen, but he was not the ogre she had made him out to be. At least, not any longer.
Jake dropped his arms to his side. “I’ve got to get back.”
Daisy reached out, her fingers briefly grasping his upper arm. “I’m going to take a walk up to the bakery while Serge is working on the carpets in there. Join me?”
He gave her a confused look, as if not sure what she was asking.
She laughed lightly. “We both have a lot to do, but we need to eat. Besides, I owe you. Come with me?”
Jake’s expression softened, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he also looked relieved. “Let’s do it—but you don’t owe me.”
She rose up on her toes and wagged a finger in front of his face. “One second while I let Serge know where I’ll be.”
After she gave Serge her cell phone number, Daisy rejoined Jake. Together they made their way down the residential street that led out of their neighborhood toward Main Street. When they turned the corner, she pointed to Brooke’s Beachside Bakery.
“Must be new,” Jake said.
“It is. I found it one day on a walk and fell in love with the place. Well, except …”
He slowed and quirked a look at her. “Except?”
“Except I ran into Lillian Madsen in there. She tried to get me to list my mother’s house.”
He opened the door for her. “You’re kidding.”
As she walked inside, she turned back toward him. “I wish!”
The bakery smelled like sugar and yeast with a side of fresh espresso. Daisy breathed it in. Today’s quote on the big chalkboard read: Love is like a beautiful flower. ~ Keller
She turned to Jake. “What do you think?”
He glanced around, seeming to take it all in, but he hesitated before answering. “Smells great.”
She frowned. “Too pink?”
He peered down at her. “A little.” He laughed. “But don’t forget, I grew up in a house of girls. I can take it.”
“Hey there, Daisy!” Brooke said. “Lovely to see you again.”
“You as well. This is my friend, Jake. He’s never been here.”
“Welcome, Jake. Thanks for coming in.”
“Pleasure meeting you,” he said.
“What can I get you two?”
Daisy turned to Jake.
“Why don’t you order for both of us,” he said.
“Okay then. We’ll have two quiches, two blueberry muffin tops, and two cappuccinos.” She looked at Jake. “Do you like oat milk in your espresso.”
“Absolutely not.”
She laughed and turned back to Brooke. “One of those cappuccinos with oat and the other with cow.”
Brooke smiled. “You got it. Grab a table and we’ll bring them over to you.”
They settled into a table in the corner, away from a window, which suited her just fine. No sense ruining another perfect breakfast with a visit from the town’s most notorious realtor.
Jake leaned toward her. “You know, I meant what I said. You don’t owe me anything. I’m picking up the check.”
“You certainly are not. I invited you.”
“And I’m enjoying spending time with you.”
Daisy was readying her next retort, but his words tripped her up. She forced herself not to read anything more into those words than what he meant—that he was simply having a nice time.
Although he had said with you.
She twisted her napkin in her lap and gazed idly around the room. Was it starting to get warm in here?
“Here are your cappuccinos,” Brooke said. She put a cup in front of Jake. “This one says ‘moo’.”
Daisy cracked up.
When Brooke had gone, another woman showed up with their food.
“Muffin tops?” Jake said.
“They’re the best part.”
He nodded, a goofy smile on his face. “I believe you.”
She took a sip of her cappuccino, lingering on it while gathering her nerve. Finally, she said, “Can I ask you something?”
“You can.”
“What did Jon mean that your name was in the paper? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
The smile Jake had been wearing since the moment that snotty old inspector drove away from her house dissipated. His eyes darkened and he seemed to close up both in word and body language.
She cupped her coffee mug, but didn’t drink. “I apologize. Maybe it was nosy of me to ask.”
Jake sighed. “Not really. My firm is involved in litigation that is of public record, so you could easily research it yourself.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“But you could if you wanted to.”
She eyed him, sensing that a cold drift had taken over. “Forget I said anything.”
He reached forward and laid his hand on hers. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Daisy.”
Wounded, she tried to pull her hand back, but he gripped it harder.
She glanced around, hoping others wouldn’t see the struggle happening between them. “I don’t understand what you mean,” she whispered.
He looked at her fully now, imploring her with a soft gaze. “I know that I’m not your favorite person, that this breakfast is your kind way of saying thanks—though you owe me nothing. But I think … I know … that I’m falling for you. And I don’t want to act otherwise any longer.”
Daisy’s heart thudded against the wall of her chest. She made herself look into those brooding eyes of his. Was he teasing? Because if he was, she would never, ever forgive him for this. She realized just how raw and emotional he was capable of making her feel, of how attached she still felt to him after all this time, and how badly this could go if she learned that this was all a joke.
He squeezed her hand. “Say something.”
“Are you … serious?”
Jake’s eyes held hers, but he shrank back slightly. He licked his lips. “I want to change your mind about me.”
“Jake.” She shook her head. “I don’t dislike you.”
He cracked a smile, albeit a small one. “That’s a start.”
He caressed her fingers with his, sending a shimmer of headiness through her. He was serious—at least, she thought so. She could feel it in his touch, see it in his gaze. Daisy wanted to believe him, but so many thoughts traversed her mind. Like, why now? Did it have something to do with Rafael’s hunky, daily presence? Or was he deflecting from the story that the inspector mentioned? The one about Jake’s name being associated with something suspicious?
If she were to lean into something powerful with Jake, only to learn that it was somehow tied to less-than-honest feelings … she’d be lost.
Jake inhaled and slowly disengaged his hand from hers. He sat back. “Let’s start again.”
“How?”
“I was going to ask you to tell me about yourself, but first, let me clear the air about what’s going on in my life.” He crossed his arms onto the table, a look of regret on his face. “I don’t want you to have any suspicions of your own about me.”
“Stop. I’m embarrassed now. I’ve been judging you like a lovesick fifteen-year-old, while you’ve been nothing but helpful and kind. I’m sorry.”
“Lovesick, huh?”
“Jake!”
He chuckled. “How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Pull me out of my funk so fast.” He grabbed her hand again and wrapped both of his around it. “I need you in my life, Daisy.”
This time, when she looked into his wanting eyes, felt the strong embrace of his hands around hers, she knew he meant it. What she didn’t know was if a relationship between her and Jake could actually survive.
After breakfast, they walked back to Daisy’s house. Even with a rise in the day’s humidity, her conversation at the bakery with Jake
had made her feel as if she was floating on a sea breeze—despite the problem he faced in Los Angeles. Though she didn’t know all the details, Jake’s setback fed a desire within her to help him as he had helped her, though she had no idea how.
When they returned, Serge was outside of his van, reassembling the parts of the cleaning machine. She sensed movement near the house and looked up to find Rafael standing on the stoop, watching them, his thick arms crossed across his bare chest.
Daisy turned to Jake. “I need to take care of paying Serge. Talk later?”
He grinned and reached out to play with a tendril of her wayward hair. “You bet. Let me take you to dinner tonight.”
“Tonight?”
He raised one brow. “Tell me you haven’t made plans with that pretty boy again.”
She grabbed his hand from where it played with her hair. “Jake,” she hissed. “Shush or he’ll hear you.”
Jake slid a glance toward the front door of her house. “Maybe I need to speak a little louder then.”
Daisy continued to whisper harshly, a laugh playing on her face. “You’re ridiculous. Yes, I’ll have dinner with you. Now, go.”
He chuckled and kissed her hand before she broke free of him. As he was walking backward across the divide to his family’s house, he called back, “And wear those stilettos!”
Daisy stole a quick glance back at him before returning her attention to Serge, who had just closed up the door to his van. She hoped her face didn’t look as red as it felt. “All finished?”
“I am. Got a lot of dirt and smoke out of there. You’ll need to stay off of the carpets at least a day, especially with this muggy weather we’re suddenly having.”
So she wouldn’t be able to move back into her mother’s house quite so fast … she tried to hide her smile. “Got it. Can I text payment to you tonight?”
“Sure thing,” Serge said.
Rafael leaned his arms onto the railing near her front door. “You have accomplished much in one day, Daisy.”
She looked up, shading her eyes with a hand. He wore an expression she couldn’t read. “You heard then … about the red tag being removed?” She didn’t mention how close she was to failing inspection and Rafael’s potential part in that.
He shrugged and darted a glance toward Jake’s. “I figured as much.”
“Such good news, right?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushed himself off the railing and raised both palms. “Yes. Excellent news. But what’s going on with you and Jake?”
She stepped closer to the stoop. “We’re friends.”
Rafael gave her a closed-mouth humph. “Thought he was dead to you.”
Daisy winced. “Did I say that?”
“You acted like it.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
He crossed his arms. “So you and that guy are a thing now?”
Daisy shrugged, though her mouth curled into a smile on its own volition. “Not a thing, but we have, uh, laid down our weapons, so to speak.”
Rafael groaned. He pulled his T-shirt out of his back pocket and slid it over his head and down his chest. “I’m happy for you, Daisy. I am.” He waved to his brother to wait for him.
“Will you be back?”
He leaned in close to her, his voice deep, heavy. “My work here is done. If you need anything, I’m sure your neighbor can handle it.”
She watched him hop down to the sand, jog over to Serge’s van, and jump in. They rambled away, leaving her there to relive the past few weeks. Had she somehow led Rafael to think she felt more for him than friendship? Had he given her any sign that he wanted something more?
Next time, it’s on me.
Rafael’s words about going out with him again breezed through her mind. She’d been a little caught off guard earlier today by his uncharacteristic intimacy, but really, she hadn’t thought all that much of it. Daisy blew out a long, slow breath, her gaze steady on the empty road. She’d had dozens of dates, but no serious boyfriend all of these years. Maybe her inability to read men’s minds had something to do with that.
When she turned back toward the house, reality hit her. She still had much to do to prepare for her mother’s return. On the stoop, she peered inside the house and breathed in that chemically laden scent. So much better than all that smoke from the fire and her mother’s occasional cigars.
She slipped out of her shoes and tiptoed around, noting how careful Serge had been with her mother’s things. Couch cushions were standing on end to dry against the wall and foam cups had been placed under furniture feet. For the first time since she’d been back, she could squint and just about make out the finish line.
Seven
Why had he agreed to this? It had been a certain form of excruciation having Daisy live under the same roof with him, feeling the way he did.
You’re a grown man. Suck it up.
Sunday had come. He gulped his coffee and stared out across the divide between their two houses. The fog had rolled in, giving the day a gray and ominous feel. He huffed. His mother loved days like this. She saw color in the gray, not darkness as he always had. He felt her loss painfully on days like today, which might be the reason for his sullen mood.
Or maybe it was the slow drip of a reminder that burdened him. Wren Mcafee would be coming home soon—as in, next week. He downed his coffee, mulling on that. At the same time, Maggie’s admonishment rang in his ears. His sister had told him to let the matter go, and though he found that he still harbored some resentment about the matter, he also felt dutifully ashamed. But should he be? What kind of son would he be not to care if his father had taken up with the neighbor woman when his mother was too ill to notice?
Then again, what chance did he have with Daisy if he were to cling to his suspicions? She had burrowed her way deep into his psyche. He wanted to know more about her. Where had she been the past ten years? What had she seen and done? Why all the cowboy hats?
Jake shook his head, a grunt of a sigh leaving him. His emotions had been an overactive slingshot lately, shooting every which way, and he wasn’t used to it. Nor did he like it.
From a young age, he knew what he wanted: success. He promised himself to get his architecture degree and build amazing structures to make the world stop and admire. He’d done that—and had become quite successful at it. It hadn’t hurt, though, that he had invested his first five-thousand-dollar profit in Netflix. He’d weathered their downturn and stayed invested, only to see an eventual three-hundred-plus-percent return. He had been investing ever since, using the money to grow his own company.
A billion dollars. That’s how much he was worth in dollars. Enough to buy this old beach house from his parents’ estate and hand it back to his siblings mortgage-free. But their will stipulated that they each must live in it for a month. Work on it themselves. And do it all on a budget.
And if they did not comply? The house, like all of their other assets, would be given to charity. The will’s executor would make sure that happened. He whistled and shook his head. Asking his parents why would be one of the first questions he uttered when his sorry self landed in heaven.
Speaking of heaven, a little slice of it just bounded down the steps of the Mcafee house wearing cut-off denim shorts, a bare midriff tee, and … a cowboy hat. Mercy. Suddenly the gray day brightened. He swung open the door and called out to her. “Coffee break?”
Daisy stopped. She was carrying a paint roller, a tray, and one weary smile. Just how long had she been over there painting?
“That’s music to my ears, Jake. I’ll be right over.”
He shook his head. “Give me a minute and I’ll come to you.”
Quickly, Jake poured a mug of coffee, adding some oat milk to it—even though that was pure madness—and put it on the island while he refilled his own mug and added cream. He found her outside cleaning the roller and pan in a bucket, her hands stained with paint. She grabbed the mug anyway and took a long sip. “So
good. Thank you.”
He chuckled. “You’re welcome. How long you been up?”
She sighed. “Since five. Couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d come over and prep for more painting. I started as soon as daylight showed its face.”
“Hmm. How about a break and then I help you out? If we worked together, we could probably slam out the rest of the painting by day’s end.”
She peeked at him over a sip of coffee. “That’s really nice of you.”
He took the coffee mug from her and set it on a step.
She gasped. “Now? Can’t I take my coffee with me?”
“In a minute.” He encircled her waist with his arms and cinched her closer. She smelled like citrus … with a dollop of paint mixed in.
She lifted her chin, staring at him. “What’re you smiling about?”
“Was just thinking about The Wizard of Oz.”
“What? Why?”
He grinned, closing the space between them.
She gasped, pulling away from him. “Munchkin! You were smiling because you’re thinking of calling me munchkin again!”
“Shh.” He cupped her face with his hand. “I’m trying to kiss you.”
Her eyelashes fluttered and he thought he’d lose his mind. She’d been here all along, but suddenly, all Jake could think was, where has Daisy been all my life?
Daisy had always imagined that kissing Jake Morelli would be like one never-ending fireworks show. That his touch would sear her with a passion that even her dreams could not conjure up. And that she would be forever changed—and spoiled—by the press of his lips against hers, and never even think about another boy again.
She had not been wrong. Nor disappointed. The only question now was whether she would ever be forced to think about another guy again. Daisy thought about this as she cleared away a tarp from her mother’s kitchen and inspected the paint job. She had chosen a soft yellow for the walls to counteract the often-gray weather that living on the coast brought with it. Her mother had always loved lavender and yellow together, so Daisy planned to cut some sprigs of lavender from her mom’s garden, plop them into vases, and place them around the kitchen.
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