Sweeter in the Summer

by Olivia Miles

  Up ahead, at the corner, was Sunshine Creamery. Just the sight of it made Lila’s heart swell a little. So many happy times had been spent sitting on a swivel chair at the counter, licking whipped cream off her fingers, and giggling at her grandfather’s jokes.

  “Here we go,” she said, making sure not to slow her pace as she fished out her keys and turned the lock. She pushed through the glass door and flicked on the light, even though the sun was still filtering through the big windows at the front of the room. “Sunshine Creamery. My family’s business.”

  “You said your grandparents owned a store. I never knew it was an ice cream parlor.” Sam swept his hand over the old soda fountain and let out a low whistle. “Look at this thing!”

  “I guess we never talked much about our histories,” Lila said. It was easier that way. From an early age she’d learned to put one foot in front of the other, to focus on the present. It was the only way to move forward. The only way to keep on living.

  Lila eyed Sam across the room. No good ever came from lingering on the past.

  Just to the side of the cash register was a framed photo of Lila with Mary and their grandfather. She must have only been about five at the time, making Mary about three. It wasn’t long after they’d come to live with their grandparents. This place was the only thing that cheered them up then—that and the extra sprinkles Gramps added to their sundaes. “Ice cream Sunday,” he’d say every Sunday morning, and oh, how they laughed and laughed.

  “Ice cream Sunday,” Lila whispered. She noticed Sam looking at her, and shook her head, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s something my grandfather used to say. I hadn’t thought of it in a long time.”

  Sam’s smile was warm. “This place is amazing, Lila.”

  Lila looked around the room, trying to see it through his eyes. It was clean but old, with peeling linoleum floors and cracks in the corners of the yellow painted walls. Ghosts of another time seemed to be everywhere: the silent jukebox that had once filled the space with music, the neatly stacked scalloped bowls that once held banana splits. Sunshine Creamery had witnessed more of Lila’s history than she would ever know. It had known her as a child, known her mother as a child, her grandmother as a young wife. Her grandfather as a small boy.

  She blinked back tears and hugged her arms around her waist. There was a framed print of a dog licking a fallen cone near the back wall. She focused on it. She’d always loved that picture.

  “Why did it close?” Sam asked, dropping onto one of the counter stools. He swiveled to face her.

  Lila shifted the weight on her feet, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her emotions. “My grandfather died a few months ago.” Damn. No such luck. Her voice was shaky and now her lip was trembling. She cleared her throat, trying to pull herself together.

  She needed Sam to see how special this place was. She didn’t need to derail the effort by falling apart.

  “And you didn’t want to take it over?”

  Lila laughed softly. “I love this place, but no. I love what I do for work. My sister—” she stopped herself before she said too much. “My sister hopes to carry it on.”

  Sam jutted his lower lip and nodded as he looked around the room once more. “Good. I’d hate to see an old institution like this disappear.”

  “Me too.” Her voice felt thick. “Mary’s been making some ice cream on her time off,” she said, brightening. “If you’re hungry, I might recommend a scoop of the mint chocolate chip. It’s my personal favorite.”

  “Mint chocolate chip it is, then.” He turned in his chair as she came around the counter.

  Lila regarded him suspiciously. “Well, that’s a first.”

  “What is?”

  Lila opened the freezer, and her heart dropped when she saw the familiar white containers marked with her grandfather’s handwriting. They’d been sitting there for months, but Mary still hadn’t thrown them out. Lila was grateful for it.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, reaching for one of the newer containers labeled with Mary’s loopy cursive. “It isn’t often you take a suggestion from me, that’s all.”

  “I’ll have you know that I am more than happy to hear your suggestions, Lila. And if they’re good ones, I’ll agree with them.”

  Silence fell and Sam’s gaze bored through hers. He rubbed at his jaw, heaving a sigh, and Lila drifted her eyes to his mouth, recalling the way his lips felt against hers.

  Good grief. If she kept this up, the ice cream was going to melt all over her hands!

  She found Gramps’s metal scoop next to a pile of notes and paint swatches Mary must have left on her last visit, and reached for a bowl. She’d brought Sam here for a reason. To show him where she came from. To make him understand the importance of tradition.

  No better time than the present, she thought with a tightening in her stomach.

  “Here you go, sir.” Her smile was thin as she tucked a spoon into the ice cream and slid the bowl across the counter.

  He took a bite, managing a rueful smile. “It’s delicious.”

  “A family recipe,” Lila explained. “Mary’s been practicing them for when she takes over.” If she takes over, was more like it. There was only so long they could go on carrying the cost of this empty place.

  Sam looked at her quizzically. “You’re not having any?”

  Lila shook her head. “I have an idea I’d like to go over with you.” She was proud of what she had come up with, but she had no idea how Sam would react.

  Or what would happen if he shot it down.

  “When you think of ice cream, what do you feel?” she asked. Sam gave her a long look, but she just said, “Work with me on this.”

  “Summer. Sweet. Cold. Creamy. Childhood. Carefree.” A shadow crossed his face.

  Lila’s pulse began to race. “I think of holidays, weekends, staying up past my bedtime, sitting on a park bench, licking a cone, my hands getting sticky. I think of peace, quiet. The sun on my face. Sitting in silence, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. Happiness.” She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “I think of this place.”

  She said nothing more as she walked to the back room, grabbed the industrial-sized bag of sugar, and somewhat awkwardly carried it back into the main room. Depositing it on the counter with a loud thud, she pointed to the label.

  “Reed Sugar.” She watched Sam for a reaction. He was careful not to offer one. “None of this would have been possible without Reed Sugar.”

  Sam slid his empty bowl to the side and blew out a sigh as he set his elbows on the counter. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “An ice cream parlor is . . . a cheerful place. A celebratory place. A special place. It’s innocent. It’s tradition. It’s timeless. You come here after a bad day to cheer up. Memories are made here. Happy ones. Ones you want to share with your kids. Ones you want to hold on to, ones that make you just feel good. Reed Sugar can make all that possible. Reed Sugar . . . the sweeter side of life.”

  Sam nodded thoughtfully, saying nothing, his gaze never straying from hers. Lila held her breath, waiting for his response, bracing herself for a snide remark.

  He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chuckled. “I think you may be on to something.”

  “Really?” Lila gasped.

  Sam’s gaze traveled over her face. “I’m impressed, Lila. It’s not what I usually go for, but . . . I like it. I like it a lot.”

  She regarded him suspiciously, waiting for a hint of a smirk, but none appeared. “Well, good. Excellent. I’m glad we’re moving forward.” Just stay professional, Lila. Don’t let him see how much this means to you. How badly you need it.

  She came around the counter and slid onto the stool next to his. “My grandfather’s up there smiling.” She grinned at Sam, but his smile slipped.

  “I’m sure he’s proud of you.” There was an edge to his tone, a sadness to his eyes. “You know, as much as I wish we could change the past, part of me feels like you ended up exactl
y where you were meant to be.”

  “You mean the ice cream parlor?” Lila laughed softly.

  “I mean, here, near your family, doing your own thing. Doing it well. You always believed in your ideas, even if I didn’t. Now you’re free to pursue them. Not everyone is so lucky.”

  “Says the man who is revered—”

  Sam was shaking his head. “Says the man who is still waiting to make someone proud.”

  Lila searched his face for a hint of the ego, the big personality, the swagger. But the man sitting next to her seemed lost and sobered. “You look tired,” she said quietly.

  He nodded. “I am tired. Tired of letting people down. I let you down.”

  “Sam . . .” She shook her head.

  “You know you’re still the prettiest damn girl I ever kissed.” Sam grinned, and Lila pushed back the emotions that were firing to the surface.

  Before she could react, Sam leaned in and skimmed her lips with his. The kiss was light and slow, causing a current of desire to dash down Lila’s spine and a wave of hunger to throb deep within her. She’d missed this. The feel of his mouth on hers, the warmth of his body. The touch of his hand.

  Slowly, she opened her mouth to his, letting him in. He kissed her slowly, then, coming off the stool to pull her closer, with more need. She sighed into his mouth, as their lips explored each other and her insides pooled with warmth. His hands were on her back, and then lower, on her hips. She set a hand tentatively on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under her palm, and wrapped the other around his back, holding him tight.

  Breaking the kiss, he pulled away, his eyes tearing through hers, dark with unspoken emotion.

  Lila brushed her hair off her face and brought a finger to her lips. “You know, I think I might have some of that ice cream after all,” she said, edging backward, toward the counter.

  Sam stood where he was, watching her but saying nothing. She took a bowl from the stack and lifted the scoop. She had forgotten to put away the ice cream and it was already soft.

  “Seconds?” she asked Sam, lifting a brow.

  He nodded. “Seconds would be great,” he said, and Lila bit her lip to hide her smile as she dug into the ice cream.

  If she didn’t know better she might just think he was referring to something other than dessert.

  ***

  Sam’s mind was still on Lila as he stepped out of the cab and breathed in the chilly night air. The hotel glowed in the night, casting a warm light over Michigan Avenue and the high-end retailers that were now closed for the day. He knew this should be his reality check—a reminder of how far he had come—but as he stood outside the grand entrance, alone with the stiffly uniformed staff, he felt as conspicuous as if he were standing in a spotlight. Exposed for what he was. He could almost see his grandmother looking down on him, shaking her head in disappointment.

  The hotel lobby was empty and quiet. Sam wandered toward the elevator bank, his tread silent despite the heaviness in each step. He pressed the button and stuffed his hands into his pockets, rolling back on his heels as he waited for the doors to open.

  It was late, and he hadn’t been sleeping well lately, but he needed something to take the edge off, to rid his mind of everything that was clouding his judgment and leaving him restless. If he went to bed right now, he would do nothing but lie there and stare at the ceiling. He stepped off the elevator and walked straight to the bar.

  “Scotch,” he told the bartender, as he settled onto a stool. He studied the television, noting the baseball scores, and then accepted the glass tumbler with a nod. He swirled the ice and took a sip, waiting for it to take its desired effect.

  Lila thought he couldn’t understand where she came from, what mattered most. It had taken everything in him not to tell her just how wrong she was—how alike they were. That he knew what it was like to come home to a cramped apartment, but to not care. That he did value family over money, contrary to popular belief.

  He took another sip. His stomach burned—not from the drink but from the decision he’d made all those years ago. He’d told himself it was about finding out where he came from, but sometimes, when he thought back on his childhood, happy and simple as it was, he wondered if all he’d really done was turn his back on the person he really was, and the man he was meant to be.

  He supposed he should be relieved that the pitch was coming along. That he would most likely secure the account. That the agency would maintain its reputation. That his father might be proud. That his brother might stop reminding him of his place in the family.

  But all he could think of was that creaky old rocking chair his grandmother used to sit in when she read him stories, and the picture of her he kept in his apartment, serving as his only reminder of her.

  He wished he could have told Lila about her tonight. Hell, he’d wished he could tell Lila about her many times. She would have understood in a way that other girls wouldn’t have cared to—they wanted to see Sam Crawford, son of Preston, with all his money and flash. But Lila . . . She didn’t really like that side of him, did she?

  He took another swig of his drink, hoping to numb the memory of her, to curb the excitement he felt at seeing her again tonight. It was no use. She had wormed her way into his mind, and nothing he tried made him capable of banishing her. She was an itch that needed a scratch—he couldn’t escape her or the memory of her smooth skin under his. He was never one to get attached to a woman like this before; normally it was easy for him to walk away, to enjoy a night together and move on. But with Lila . . . one kiss was all he needed to leave him wanting more.

  An uneasy feeling began a slow creep. Something told Sam he had met his match. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam slid his key card into its slot, waited for the beep, and let himself into the quiet hotel suite. He’d thought a run along the lakeshore path would help him clear his head, but there was no escaping the noise that jumbled his thoughts and clouded his judgment. He grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and checked his phone. No missed calls. He scanned his inbox, skimming a few e-mails and making a mental note to come back to several others once he had powered up his laptop.

  From the phone at the wet bar, Sam called the front desk and placed an order for lunch. Stripping his sweaty clothes from his body, he turned the shower to the hottest setting, until steam fogged the mirror. His muscles ached, and a chill had settled into his skin from the air-conditioning. He contemplated scheduling a massage at the hotel’s spa, but decided against it. He’d already taken a long enough break for the day. It was time to get down to business.

  He turned off the taps, toweled off, and dressed quickly. Padding barefoot into the living room, he called the office. Rex answered on the second ring.

  “Any new developments I should be briefed on?” Sam inquired.

  “I just can’t reiterate enough how much we need this Reed account, Sam.” Rex’s voice was gravelly, but there was a hint of a threat in his tone that couldn’t be overlooked.

  Sam felt his temper stir. He’d been working for PC Advertising since he graduated from college—only two years after Rex—but somehow his brother considered himself the mentor, the lead. Sam knew deep down that Rex still felt the need to cement his role as the legitimate child of Preston Crawford just as much as Sam intended to carve out a place for himself. No matter how far the brothers had come in their relationship, insecurities ran deep for both of them.

  “I heard you the first time, Rex,” he said evenly. “I was actually referring to Dad.”

  “He’s been his same grouchy self,” Rex replied, and for once, that was a cause for relief. “Obviously there’s no telling what kind of setback he’d have if he knew what was going down at the agency. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.”

  Sam set his jaw. “I told you not to worry about things with Reed. I’m on it.”

  “Well, you’d better be. If you don’t pull this off, we’re goi
ng to lose our standing.”

  “I think you’re being fatalistic,” Sam said mildly. There was a knock on the door, and Sam put his brother on hold to answer it. The room service cart was wheeled in and Sam tipped the service person, even though his appetite was suddenly lost and the smell was making his stomach churn. He waited until the door had closed before picking up the phone again, anger coursing in his veins at the pressure his brother was placing on him. “What are the account managers doing, Rex? There are hundreds of companies of the same caliber as Reed Sugar and Jolt Coffee.”

  “Of course there are, but that’s not the problem. The problem is time, Sam. You have a little more than a week to pull this thing off. No one wants to go down with a sinking ship. People choose us because we’re the best. Because all the other big players are with us. If that goes away . . . Everything is riding on this, so don’t screw it up.”

  A week. Sam rubbed the back of his neck, frowning at the tension in his upper back. Endless problems could arise between now and then, but only one thing was certain.

  “I have no intention of screwing this up,” he told his brother.

  No intention at all.

  ***

  Penny had already left for the day by the time Lila closed her laptop. She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms wide. It had been a productive day, and a quiet one, too. No word from Sam, not that this bothered her. Too much.

  She inhaled sharply when she thought of that kiss. The way his lips had felt on hers, the heat of his hands on her skin. The racing of his heart under his T-shirt. The hard wall of his chest pressed close to her body.

  She shook away the image. They’d slipped. Fallen back on old habits. It was a mistake. And it wouldn’t happen again. It couldn’t happen again.