“Thank you, ladies, for your confidence in my abilities. It’s been awhile since I surfed consistently, so I’m still getting my feet back under me. I would like to help you, though,” he said to Rosie again.
“It fits you better than just painting and fishing all the time. I look at you and just think that you were not an avid fisherman.”
“No, I’m not an avid fisherman. It’s not like I eat, breathe, and talk about it all the time. No, I like other things. So back to your question about my coming to the festival—do you need help tomorrow?”
“Oh yes, she does,” Birdie called. “You gonna rescue her? That would be wonderful. She really needs it. She’s gonna be so swamped tomorrow at that festival that she’s not going to know what to do. Her head is going to be spinning. Yes, she needs help.”
“Birdie,” Rosie called.
“Don’t Birdie me—you know it’s true.”
Mami said, “We’re going to try to help her, but we have commitments to other committees. And, well, to be honest, we would love it more if you would help her. I just think it’d be cute. You two, looking good over there at the muffin stand. Maybe think about opening up a kissing booth?”
Chapter Six
By the time they had made what Adam thought was enough muffins to supply the entire state of Florida, he and Rosie walked out of the bakery and she locked the door behind them. The ladies had finished everything they needed to do a couple of hours earlier and gone home. They were nice—a little scary, but nice. But, to be honest, he had not minded that they left and he and Rosie had some time to be alone. Not that they talked about anything important. A lot of the time they worked in silence, but it had been pleasant and that hum of attraction that was between them kept right on making its music. He wasn’t sure he was going to act on that attraction, but he still enjoyed it. Enjoyed the possibility that he wasn’t completely dead inside. Because until he met Rosie, he’d begun to think that he might be.
“Okay, we’re going to load your bicycle in the back of my truck and I’m giving you a ride home. Then, in the morning—however bright and early you need me to get up—I’ll load you up and I’ll bring you back here. I’ll help you take those muffins, however you plan to get them down there to your booth, and I’ll help you set up and, as planned, stick around to help. Deal?”
She turned toward him after locking the door. She was actually tired. She had been on her feet all day long, since she’d started at four in the morning. He didn’t start that early, although he didn’t sleep well at night.
“If you’re sure, I really could use the help. But my goodness, you’re the doctor in town. I mean, you don’t have to help me sell muffins. And coffee.”
“Did you see how many of those muffins I ate tonight? I plan on eating just that many more, too, as I hand them out. Everybody else gives you money for it. Besides, I have a feeling that if I don’t show up tomorrow, those four ladies are going to come after me.”
“You might be right about that. Although I would tell them to go easy on you, you know—because you’re a nice guy and my neighbor and all.”
“Why, that would be generous of you.” They walked toward his truck. On the way, he picked her bike up from where it was against the rail and carried it. He lifted it and put it in the back of the truck. He was on his way around to open the door for her but she already had it opened.
“I would have done that for you.”
“Do I look like I need you to open the door for me?”
He expected that from her. “No, you look plenty strong enough to open your own door, despite being about as big as a kitten. But you gotta be tired and, well, I like to open doors.”
“Well, thanks. Maybe next time.” She laughed and hopped up into the seat, winking at him as she pulled the door closed.
He stood there and stared in the window at her, then went to get in on his side. “You’re very independent.”
She looked thoughtful and nodded. “I enjoy being independent. Like I told you, I came here and started my bakery. I enjoy it and I like that I’m doing it on my own. I like that it’s mine. I do like my independence.” She paused. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me, and I would very much appreciate the lift to my shop in the morning and then your help setting up. After all, it will give Birdie and the other ladies a chance to see you again. You know, maybe you could wear a tank top or something—something to show your muscles off. Maybe you can flex them—get a lot of people coming over for a muffin or something.”
He looked at her and frowned. “Tell me you’re joking.”
She giggled. He really liked her giggle. “Of course, I’m joking. I have no idea whether your muscles would draw people over to eat muffins or not.”
He laughed at that. “You got me. And you’re right—they probably wouldn’t.”
“I don’t know. Those biceps were flexing pretty good when you were making muffins in there.”
She was funny, that was for sure. “How can you be this energetic? It’s like one a.m. Given you’ve been up since what—four?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Probably before that. As I get tired, I’m a little bit giddy and a little bit loopy. You know, I’ll probably fall on the bed with all my clothes on and just pass out. You’ll probably have to bang on my door in the morning and wake me up.”
“So you’re always this funny when you’re this tired?”
She smiled sweetly as he pulled into the drive. “I don’t know if I’d call it funny, but I guess I do get a little bit silly.”
“I like it. It’s good to not always be serious or worry so much about what people think, and that you can have a little fun. Keeps you healthy.”
And it was such a relief from where he’d been before he came here. He needed something to help him not be so serious. But when you were dealing with life-and-death issues and people in anguish, it was hard to keep your head above water sometimes.
“Where’d you go?”
“Excuse me?”
She was studying him as he turned the key and cut the engine. “You were just kind of staring out there, watching the ocean. We were in park for a couple seconds. You thinking hard about something? And I noticed you sometimes, when I’ve gotten up late, sitting on the porch. You keep odd hours, you know.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. “I didn’t know you looked out your window. But yeah, I have trouble sleeping sometimes.” He felt self-conscious thinking about her seeing him when he was feeling lost and confused. But looking at her, he wasn’t feeling lost at that moment.
“I’m sorry you have so much trouble sleeping.”
“Thanks. One day it will get better, I hope.”
“Me too.”
They stared at each other in the dim light of the dashboard. He was reluctant to get out of the truck, reluctant to tell her goodnight. “I had a…good time this evening. Even with getting harassed by the ladies.”
“I can see you grinning in the dark. You made Birdie and Lila and the other ladies’ evening. They were just going to be stuck with me in there all evening, boring old me and boring themselves dipping those muffins in that chocolate. But then you walked in and boy did you give them something to talk about.”
He was grinning big now. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you? You enjoyed watching them give me a hard time.”
“I cannot deny what is the truth. It’s not often you see a handsome doctor dimple up and blush.”
He wasn’t too sure he liked the sound of what she just said. It didn’t really sound flattering. “Dimple up and blush—well, what a description.” Not exactly masculine, either.
She giggled. “I can’t help it. You do have some dimples. Speaking of which, do your other family members have dimples?”
“One of my brothers does and so does one of my sisters.”
“Tell me again how many you have—three brothers and two sisters?”
“Yes, so there’s six of us.”
“Big family.”
�
��Pretty big. I just came back from Windswept Bay—you know, across the bay a bit there—I have cousins living up there. That’s a big family, with nine brothers and sisters.”
“A very big family. Still, six—that’s a good size.”
“And then we had at least three friends who were practically in our house all the time, who are just like brothers. I’m sure you’ve met some of them at some point in time. My brother was here a few days ago and he actually told me about your coffee shop—told me I need to stop in and that he enjoys it. He looks a lot like me. I’m surprised when you saw me, you didn’t think I was him.”
“I see a lot of people coming in the bakery and if I have met him, I just can’t place him at the moment. Maybe he was only there one time or maybe he was there when I had helpers working. I do take some time off once in a while. Although I am a control freak and I try to do most of the baking myself.”
“Yeah, I get that, too. And understand it. I mean, you’re really good at what you do and I don’t care how many times you tell me that baking is all about science and ingredients—you put something in that stuff that nobody else can put in there.” She smiled at that and he felt the tight knot that was ever-present in his chest ease a little.
Adam’s words settled around Rosie and a flutter of butterflies rose through her chest. The silence of the late-night settled around them and she opened the door and got out of the truck. He did the same as they headed toward her house, she let his words sink in.
It was a wonderful evening, with the sound of the surf gently rolling in as the bright moon beamed an endless trail on the open water. The recent full moon gave her an easy view of Adam. She was very aware of how romantic a night it was, and if she let herself be honest, she could very easily give in to the romantic part of it. The connection that tugged between them like a tightening rope kept drawing her toward him. Her arm brushed his as they walked and her stomach clenched tight. Something about him made her feel that she would be safe with him. That her secrets would be safe and so would her emotions. That if she shared what she’d been through, it would be okay.
But she wouldn’t.
Because despite what her gut was telling her, there was still that doubt, that worry that revealing her life before moving to Sunset Bay left her open and vulnerable, and that was one thing keeping her secrets protected. Right now, she was not vulnerable. She was strong and invincible. She was a go-getter, getting what she wanted, doing what she wanted, making herself and others happy with her baked goods and good deeds. And she was doing it with confidence and vigor, and that was partly because no one reminded her of how far she’d come. Of how weak and helpless she had been.
She didn’t completely understand the feelings that she was having or why she didn’t want people to know her story. Back home, people had looked at her with pity and most of them hadn’t really believed she could overcome. She understood, but it hadn’t helped her. Hadn’t bolstered her spirits to fight for her life. She’d done that on her own, with the help of her doctor and her faith and her belief that she could.
Maybe keeping her past in the past was because she needed distance from that terminal patient she had been, who had no hope…she needed distance from that right now. She had been there but she wasn’t now. She was looking forward. If she told any of the people around her in her new home of Sunset Bay, then they would have the perspective of looking back on where she’d been and where she was now. Some might think that was a good thing. Some might say they liked what she’d accomplished—for what she overcame; her story was inspiring and her story could help others. That could be true, but she would rather look at it like she was inspiring people now without them knowing where she’d been.
And so she didn’t tell him and she didn’t get into the feeling that had her wanting to walk over, wrap her arms around his waist and lay her head on his strong chest. Because she did want to see that; she wanted to feel his heartbeat beating against her ear, wanted to feel the strong muscles of his back against her hands as she wrapped her arms around him. She wanted to feel the brush of his lips against her temple, against her eyelids, ending on her lips. She wanted to feel that. She wanted what so many people took for granted and she had never had. It wasn’t easy being twenty-five and never been kissed. But that was her. Hard to believe now with the person that she was. People would look at her and just assume that she dated all of her life. They didn’t realize that the person that she had been was too shy to be kissed and then too sick to be kissed and now too busy and too focused to be kissed.
Standing here on the moonlit beach of the beautiful ocean, she wished her neighbor—her new friend —would kiss her. She wished even though her heart and her mind told her that if she got what she wished for, she might not be able to handle it.
So what was a girl to do? “You know, I think you might be right about me and that baking thing, because when I bake—muffins or pastries or cakes or pies—I want so much for what I bake or the coffee I brew to make someone happy, to brighten their day and to make them smile because of the flavor that bursts in their mouth when they bite into something that I created. Much as the name of my bakery says, I want to bake someone’s day beautiful. ‘Bake my day’ is my attempt to make my day, and yes, that connotation came from a movie so long ago that was more about mindless violence. But this is my twist on it and it’s a good thing—it’s not a bad thing. I really want to bake something that makes someone feel special, to make someone’s day beautiful.” It sounded kind of silly sometimes to think that she believed baked goods could be something like that, but Rosie believed that everyone had the power of passing on something nice, that a small something could make the difference. Big things started with little things—even a muffin baked to perfection.
“That’s exactly what I think it is,” Adam said. “I didn’t know exactly how you would describe it, but now I think you’re just what the doctor ordered. I think that if I were seeing some of my patients, that I’d be singing your praises—that if I saw someone and they were having a bad day, I would say why don’t you go by Bake My Day and get a cherry muffin or orange muffin or any muffin that delights you, and if you like a cup of coffee with caffeine or one of those other concoctions you make that are low-calorie. I would say grab one of those and then head to this beautiful beach and sit down or stroll along this beach as you eat and drink and enjoy. I think that would be a good thing for the doctor to order—it would help with blood pressure and then if they ate in moderation, it would be okay—unless they’re diabetic. Are you making things that diabetics can eat?”
“Oh yes, I’ve started baking some of my muffins with monk fruit, a sweetener that doesn’t raise your blood sugar. So, yes, I even make that for diabetics or others who just don’t need sugar, which would be most people. But you can’t convince everybody, you know.”
“I know, definitely. You know, working the trauma unit, it was so sad that I saw people who had more gunshot wounds and things like that than I did people who were overweight and needed to lose weight or had low blood sugar or high blood sugar—diabetes. Yeah, I saw seizures and you know, people going into shock from things like that, but it wasn’t often that I told someone that they needed to change their diet in order to feel healthy. Mostly I pulled the bullet out of somebody…” He paused and looked out at the scene.
She wondered suddenly whether this was what was bothering him. This peek into his life as a trauma doctor sounded rather depressing.
“Do you think working and seeing so much trauma from violence—did that get to you? Or, now that I think about it, you probably worked a lot of car accidents, too, and I’m guessing that maybe a lot of that was from drunk drivers? Things that could be prevented or seemed senseless. Did you see things along that line?”
He turned to stare at her as if seeing her for the first time. His expression was troubled. And she knew right then that she had hit the target of what she had been feeling from him—that something wasn’t right. She wondered whether th
is was what drove him to sit on his porch at all hours of the night.
“You’re right. I saw a lot of senseless, terrible things that could have been prevented. If people just didn’t drink so much, or had a designated driver, or just hadn’t gotten on the road… Innocent families—innocent children—through no fault of their own are being harmed by senseless acts of someone else, whether a drunk driver or someone texting—just senseless things. A drug sell gone bad. Drug overdoses. It all got to me—”
Unable to stop herself, she placed her hand on his arm, felt his muscles tense and she squeezed gently. “I can tell you that I agree that life is full of things we don’t understand—illness, violence. I know in my heart that this world is full of trouble. I also know that it’s full of beauty, too, and if you let the ugly steal the joy and the beauty, that’s very sad. I’m glad you’re here. I’m sure your family is glad you’re here. I know Doctor Coleman’s glad you’re here and I know that all of his patients who see you will be glad that you’re here. You have skills, I’m quite sure.
“I’m so glad you’re going to help me tomorrow. I think it’ll be good to see our little town and how cool it is. People are going to turn out. They’re going to be smiling about muffins and going to buy all kinds of stuff up and down the street. And they’re going to enjoy the music. It’s just going to be the best of small-town living. I think it would be good for you. Because I know that while you’ve been here, you’ve pretty much been a recluse. So getting out and about will be good. I can pay you—I am grateful for your help. And I promise I haven’t been spying on you.” She thought of the blonde.
“Hey, it’s your kitchen window. You have a right to look out of it. And you’re right. I haven’t had many visitors. One of my sisters came by and a couple of my brothers have dropped over briefly. Other than that I’ve stayed close to home working. Going to the office has gotten me out some. And hanging out at your shop and interacting with the ladies and you—that’s probably about the most I have been out there.”
Longing for Forever (Sunset Bay Romance Book 1) Page 5