by Tara Sheets
He walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup from the new machine. His face looked drawn, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.
Juliette crossed her arms and opened her mouth to speak, but Logan held up a hand.
“Before you start,” he said, “you should know that my answer to everything for the next five minutes is going to be ‘coffee.’”
“You should know that you’re late,” she tossed back. “We open at eight o’clock here.”
He raised his mug in salute and took a sip.
“The lumber company stopped by this morning at eight-thirty,” she continued, “and since you weren’t here, they started dumping all the supplies by the front walkway. And this time, the store was filled with customers.”
Logan leaned against the counter and regarded her with bloodshot eyes. He took another slow sip.
“What is wrong with you this morning?” she blurted.
“You look like you drank one too many shots of tequila last night and had to crawl home on your lips.”
His mouth lifted at one corner as if he found her amusing.
“It’s not funny,” she said with growing annoyance. “You’re supposed to be here on time so you can handle all the remodel stuff.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with one hand. “A friend kept me up all night.”
An image of the pretty blonde from the bonfire flashed across Juliette’s mind. She’d been wrapped around him like a human pretzel, and it hadn’t seemed to bother him.
Juliette bristled. “Look, if you want to party all night long with Suzy Sunshine, go right ahead. But you’re still expected to show up on time and get some actual work done here. The rest of us have to do our jobs. I’m sure Romeo wouldn’t be thrilled to know you were dragging in two hours late on your second day of work.”
Logan stopped with his cup halfway to his mouth. “Suzy Sunshine?”
“That girl from the barbeque.”
He frowned. “You mean Bella?”
“Whatever.” She wouldn’t know. Because she didn’t care.
“We weren’t partying,” he said casually. “Not all night, anyway. I wasn’t up for it.”
She had the sudden urge to throw something at him. Instead, she smiled sweetly. “Stamina problems, huh? Not a shocker. It’s your second day on the job and you can’t even keep up.”
Logan set his cup on the counter with a thud, an unspoken challenge in his eyes.
All Juliette’s nerve endings went on high alert. She suddenly felt like a rabbit in plain sight of a wolf.
His gaze slid lazily down her body in a sensual caress, then back up to linger on her mouth before meeting her eyes. “I have no problems keeping up, Juliette.” He drew her name out on his tongue like he could taste it. “I’d be happy to prove it to you, if you don’t believe me.”
Heat scorched up the back of her neck, across her cheeks, her chest, her limbs. He was looking at her as though he knew all her dark secrets, which was absurd. No man knew her that intimately. Sure, she’d been with guys before; but she never gave herself away emotionally. She just wasn’t the type to go overboard into lovey-dovey territory and start blabbing all her secret feelings and desires. Juliette had learned a long time ago that the people you love tend to leave, and that’s just the way it was. No one had ever looked at her the way he was looking at her now. He made her feel vulnerable and exposed. She didn’t like it.
Pushing her feelings aside, she steered the conversation back into neutral waters. Must remain professional! “You should’ve been here on time.”
“Looks like you managed just fine, without me.”
“In the future,” she continued, using her best manager voice, “I expect you to keep to the schedule.”
Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “See, now that’s the tricky thing about expectations,” he drawled. “If you set the wrong ones, you’ll always be disappointed.”
“Is that what you had to tell Bella last night?” she shot back.
Logan blinked. Then he did the most startling thing. He tipped his head back and laughed.
It was mesmerizing. The sound of it filling the room like a favorite song she’d play over and over on a loop if she could. The look of him, head back, broad shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling at the corners. She could’ve grown roots and stayed there in that moment, bathed in the warmth of his laughter, for the next million years. This was madness. Definitely not neutral waters.
“How long will it take to build the redwood deck?” she demanded.
Logan’s laughter ended on a chuckle. “I’m not.”
“But you’re supposed to build it,” she insisted. “Romeo said so.” It was part of their plan to make the shop more inviting—someplace people would sit and relax. Right now, most of her bath products were on a repurposed bookshelf near the register. Once they moved the bigger plants to the deck, she’d finally have the space to set up a gift shop in the corner. That was the plan.
“I’m not building a redwood deck,” Logan said through a yawn.
All her annoyance shifted to anger. No one messed with her plans. Not even him. Especially not him.
“I discussed it with Romeo already,” she said. “We have a vision for this place, and this renovation is ours, not yours. You’re supposed to just follow the orders.”
All the mirth was gone now, his face unreadable. “Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I’ve got it all worked out.”
The endearment pricked against her skin like a tiny thorn. “I’m not your sweetheart.”
“No?” He frowned and tilted his head to the side as though trying to remember something. “That’s odd.”
A twinge of unease gripped her. Surely he wouldn’t remember something so stupid as a flowery love note written by a foolish girl.
“I seem to remember a note telling me otherwise.”
Crap. Juliette spun away and began washing her hands at the sink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s been a long time,” he said casually, like he was trying to recall something as mundane as the weather forecast. “But I clearly remember a note—”
“—I was fourteen.” She squared her shoulders and turned to face him. “Kids do stupid things.”
Logan said nothing. Just stood there looking at her as if he could read all the things she wasn’t saying. She hated that about him. Even back when they were kids, he always seemed to see beyond the front she put up for others.
“I’m surprised you even remember that,” she said lightly.
“Well, it’s not every day a guy gets a letter with . . . what were those? Pressed flowers?”
Embarrassment flooded her. She still remembered placing the forget-me-nots in the note she’d so carefully written on the full moon. He seemed so much older than her back then, but she’d been convinced he was her soul mate. The note had been an attempt at a love spell. She wanted to reveal her feelings so he wouldn’t leave. Why did people always leave?
“It was such a pretty note,” he said. “With swirly writing. You said you wanted to be my sweetheart. I remember that clearly.”
Juliette crossed her arms, annoyed. “I was kind of an idiot back then.”
Again with the secret smile. “I thought it was cute.”
“Well, Denise sure didn’t.” Denise had been his on-again, off-again girlfriend. She was one of those students with perfect clothes and a trust fund swagger.
Juliette felt the long-forgotten humiliation swell up inside her all over again. “Did you know she made copies of that note and plastered them all over the girls’ locker room to humiliate me?”
Logan’s easy smile faded. “I didn’t know that.”
She gave a half shrug to show him it didn’t bother her anymore, even though the memory was a painful one. “Denise was a mean girl, and I was just a dumb kid.”
“She was a mean girl,” Logan agreed. “And I was an idiot for going ou
t with her.”
The silence stretched between them for a few moments and Juliette found herself saying, “Well, good thing we’re older and wiser now. You were a terrible judge of character back then. Hopefully that girl you were with at the bonfire is a lot nicer.”
Logan dipped his head. “Bella’s all right.”
“Good.” Juliette fidgeted with the stem cutters beside the sink.
“We’re old family friends,” he said, as though it needed some sort of explanation.
“Great.” He might think they were just friends, but Juliette had seen the way the girl looked at him. She was obviously smitten. Juliette knew because she was pretty sure she’d once looked at him the same way.
“Our parents used to play golf together.”
Juliette tried to ignore the dull ache that settled over her like a well-worn blanket. After her mom died, her dad had never really recovered. Juliette had practically raised herself. If it hadn’t been for her cousin Emma, the loneliness would’ve eaten away at her until she was just a shell, like her dad. No one ever played golf in her family. No one played anything.
Concern etched his face. “What is it?”
Once again, he saw too much. Juliette shook off the old memories and steeled herself. It was time to focus on the important things that mattered, like the florist shop. Her future. She’d wasted enough time on Logan this morning. “Look, it’s going to be a busy day, and I don’t really have time to sit around and talk about your dating life. I don’t care who or what you do on your off hours, okay? Just show up to work on time and stay out of my way.”
He was silent for a heartbeat. Two. Three. Then he turned away and rinsed the mug in the sink. Juliette could almost feel the walls go up between them. Fine. It was better this way.
She blindly grabbed the nearest bunch of long-stemmed roses from a bucket on the floor and plunked them on the table, adding, “Please just start on the redwood deck like you’re supposed to.”
“Not going to happen,” he said coolly. “I need to set posts for the greenhouse this week. But don’t worry about the deck, sweetheart. I’ll get to it when I get to it.”
He was out the door before she could argue.
Juliette stood there after he left, running her fingers over the delicate blooms. The petals unfurled slowly, releasing a sweet perfume into the air. “I’m not your sweetheart,” she whispered. The flowers said nothing, but their significance was loud and clear. Coral roses signified desire.
Chapter Ten
“Bella shmella,” Juliette muttered as she pulled fresh carnations from a bucket, trimmed the ends with cutters, and arranged them in a glass vase. The morning rush had died down, which meant her mind could wander to places it shouldn’t.
What kind of a name was Bella, anyway? Twilight was so ten years ago. She yanked sprigs of greenery from a pile on the table and began adding them to the floral arrangements. Bella was obviously one of those high-maintenance, golf club girls. The kind who ordered half-double-decaffeinated-skinny half-caffs at Starbucks and wore zillion-dollar sunglasses and sensible shoes.
Juliette ran a hand over her messy braid and glanced down at her jeweled flip-flops.
“So what?” she said to the eucalyptus sprigs as she tucked them into the vase. She didn’t have the desire, or the inclination to be a basic Bella. And anyway, golf was just an insult to Mother Nature. All that neatly manicured grass clipped way too short. Too many chemicals for honest plants to grow. Plus, let’s be real. Those horrific golf outfits! Polo shirts and khaki shorts. Who willingly wears beige, for freak’s sake?
Juliette chopped the stems off a few peonies a little shorter than she should’ve. Really, she felt sorry for Bella. It couldn’t be easy living such a beige life.
“Hello?” someone called.
Juliette set the peonies back in a bucket of water and went to go help the customer. She came to a halt in the doorway, startled. “You.”
As if she’d conjured her from thin air, Bella stood in the middle of the room. Except she wasn’t wearing beige at all, the traitor. She had on a pair of denim shorts and a Seahawks T-shirt, with her hair pulled back into a shining ponytail. She looked cute and normal and exactly perfect for someone like Logan.
Bella arched a pencil-thin brow. “Me?”
“Oh, I meant, can I help? You, that is.” Juliette cleared her throat. “Can I help you?” She slapped dirt off her hands, suddenly feeling drab.
Bella picked her way carefully toward the back counter, sidestepping the ferns and taking extra care not to brush against a large ivy plant that spilled over one of the shelves.
“You can touch them,” Juliette said. “They don’t bite.”
Bella gave her a once-over. “You’re that Holloway, right? The one who makes all the bath bombs and stuff?”
Juliette nodded. That Holloway? It figured. Bella came from a family like Logan’s. Fine, upstanding pillars of the community. Council members, business leaders, board directors. Those types of families didn’t think much of the Holloways. In their opinion, the Holloways were just the resident weirdos.
She watched as Bella began digging through the basket of hand-wrapped soaps on the counter, grabbing each one, reading labels, then shoving them aside. She seemed to be on a mission.
Juliette gathered the discarded soaps and carefully placed them back in the basket. “Are you looking for something in particular?”
“Sort of.” Bella was now searching the old bookshelf filled with Juliette’s bath products. “I’ll know it when I see it.” She opened testers of body lotion, sniffing each one.
After a couple of minutes, Juliette said, “I think I saw you at the bonfire.”
Bella glanced up, finally showing some interest. “Yes, I was with Logan. Is he here? He told me he was working here for the next few weeks.”
Juliette jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “He’s out back.”
“Good.” Bella tightened her ponytail. “But first, I’m looking for something very important.” She glanced left and right, then lowered her voice even though they were the only people in the shop, and whispered, “I need to buy one of those special potions you make.”
Juliette waited for her to elaborate.
“My friends would laugh at me if they knew I was doing something so silly,” she said in a rush. “But I thought I’d give it a try because what the heck, right? We’re not getting any younger.”
“Who’s not?”
“Us.” Bella wagged a finger between them. “Women our age.”
“I’m twenty-seven,” Juliette said defensively.
“Exactly. Our clocks are ticking, and on this island, that’s a death sentence, am I right? There are like, no good guys here. Trust me, I’ve been on the lookout. And I’ve got plans, see?”
No. Juliette didn’t see. Twenty-seven was still plenty young. And her clock was most definitely not ticking, thank you very much. If Bella was looking for a cure for aging, she was going to be disappointed. Holloway magic was special, but nothing could stop the passage of time.
“The things I make are intended to inspire good feelings and help people,” Juliette said. “I don’t make antiaging creams or anything like that.”
Bella let out a squawk of laughter that ended on a snort. “That’s not what I’m here for. Look, you know how some women love to work and do all this stuff?” She flapped her hands around, gesturing to the shop. “Well, I’m not one of those working types.”
Juliette pressed her lips together. “You don’t say.”
“It’s true. I’m a Sinclair. Sinclair women know where their place is, and that’s on the arm of a good man. You know what I mean?” Her smile showed lots of teeth, and there was a glint of overeager zeal in her eyes à la Patty Simcox from Grease.
Juliette’s brows drew together. So weird. Bella looked normal, but . . .
“I’ve been planning my wedding for years,” Bella continued with enthusiasm. “The dress, the flowers, the colors. I even have my ch
ina pattern all picked out.”
“That’s . . .” Stepford wife cray cray. “Remarkable.”
“And now,” Bella said triumphantly, “I finally found the perfect groom.”
“Don’t you mean husband?”
“Yeah, that.” Bella leaned forward, excitement saturating every word. “He’s perfect for me. He’s good-looking, so that means our kids will have a genetic advantage. And he’s from a nice family, too. He’s the kind of guy who listens to everything I say and wants to please me all the time, you know what I mean? He never argues with me, either. Just lets me talk and talk, and he hangs on my every word. I can tell he’s one of those guys who’ll do anything I say. Forever.”
Juliette half expected that last word to echo like in a scary movie. Was this lady for real? “He . . . sounds perfect for you,” she managed.
“I know, right?” Bella seemed so happy that she understood.
Oh, Juliette understood, all right. She understood that Bella was the walking poster child for Crazy Ex-Girlfriends Anonymous. It was no wonder she was single. Whoever got stuck with her was in for a world of hurt. Suddenly, Juliette began to smile because she knew exactly who the lucky target was.
“It’s Logan O’Connor,” Bella gushed.
Bingo.
“He’s The One.”
“How fantastic.” Juliette couldn’t stop grinning, imagining all the problems someone like Bella would cause him. He had no idea what he was in for. This woman was going to sink her hooks into him and make him dance like a puppet on strings. It would be fun to watch him struggle.
Bella picked up a vial of perfume. “So do these things really work?”
“They do if you’re open to change. What exactly are you looking for?”
“Never mind. I think I’ve found it.” Bella held up a glass spray bottle labeled Desire. “What’s this do?”
“It invokes yearning. But it only works if the person shows interest to begin with.”
“Oh, he’s plenty interested,” Bella said with confidence. She gazed intently at the dark red bottle and murmured, “A love potion.”
“Not exactly,” Juliette said. “It’s more for couples who already like each other and want to spice things up, if you get my meaning.”