He loved the ocean here in Redwood Bay. It felt wilder, less used. He loved the whole foods grocer where he got his morning pastries. He loved Lucy’s diner, and the lighthouse, and Sophie’s taco stand.
He loved that everyone knew everyone else, that it had only taken him one stop at the hardware store to find out who Sophie might have used to sell The Sandy Tortilla.
He’d never thought he’d like the small-town life. But he did. He liked that there were no big-box stores, and that the people here cared about each other, even if they did gossip from time to time.
Though he’d never thought of Redwood Bay as somewhere he’d stay permanently, it now felt more like home than LA ever had. And definitely more than Kansas.
After he finished filming overseas, Mont would like nothing more than to return to Redwood Bay—for good.
He drove to Lucy’s, smiling a little at the chime on the door. When she came around the corner and saw him, she seized. She had definitely seen or spoken with Sophie.
“Just you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“You’d never make it in Hollywood,” he said. “But yes. It’s just me.” He followed her down the aisle. “You haven’t seen Sophie, have you?”
“I haven’t.” Lucy set the menu down, but Mont didn’t look at it.
“Bring me something for a broken heart,” he told her, his eyes boring into hers.
She startled and panic raced through her expression.
“Or what you’d feed a dying man,” he added, “Who’s requesting his last meal.”
Lucy looked away, biting her lip. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
Mont heard the sincerity in her words. He hoped his message got back to Sophie.
Five minutes later, Lucy returned with a Belgian waffle smothered in strawberries and cream, along with a chocolate-chocolate chip shake.
“Ice cream fixes everything,” Lucy told him when he quirked his brow at the huge cup.
“Well, this means Sophie will call in the next five minutes.” He scooped up a large bite and slid it into his mouth.
But she didn’t call during breakfast, despite the fact that he downed all the ice cream. He sighed as he left Lucy’s diner. Redwood Bay was small and cozy, but there was no way he could live here if he wasn’t with Sophie. She’d be too easy to run into.
She’ll call, he thought as he opened his car and slid into the driver’s seat. His phone was fully charged, but he hadn’t missed a call or a text.
She’ll call, he told himself sternly. She was a reasonable person. She wouldn’t shut him out completely. She just had to call.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sophie got up on Monday morning, Blaine’s words still echoing in her ears. She joined Lucy in the kitchen, where she was already dressed for work. Sophie had fallen asleep in the guest bedroom before Lucy had come home from the diner.
“Hey,” Lucy answered. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine.” Sophie hugged her. “Have you seen Mont around town?”
“Not sure,” Lucy hedged.
“That means yes.” Sophie sighed as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “I have an idea, but I need your help….”
“With?”
“I need to use the diner,” Sophie said.
“For what?”
“I need to show him a good old-fashioned Redwood Bay celebration.”
“With music?” Lucy looked so hopeful. Her brother was trying to start an a cappella group, but he was having a hard time getting gigs.
“Um,” Sophie said. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t think so what?” Blaine asked, joining them in the kitchen. He swept his hand along Lucy’s waist on his way to the coffeemaker. A jolt of longing shot through Sophie. Such a soft touch, such love in his eyes. She wanted that in her life, with Mont.
“Why aren’t you back in Arcata?”
“Took today off,” Blaine said, a meaningful glint in his eyes. “So what are we planning?”
Sophie squared her shoulders. “I’m staging an apology.”
“Should I call Polly?” Lucy asked. “Is she back in town?”
“Yes, she should’ve gotten home last night. Tell her we’ll need lots of flowers,” Sophie said. “And ice cream, Luce. Mont loves ice cream. Banana split with all vanilla.”
“Done,” Lucy said. “What else?”
“Flowers, music….” Sophie mused, wishing she could go around town and make the preparations. Lucy surely wouldn’t have time. Good thing Blaine had “taken today off.” “And balloons. We need lots of balloons. Ask Taylor at the hardware store for them. Then we’ll be good.”
“When?” Blaine asked, his gaze catching Lucy’s and holding.
“Today,” Sophie said. “Tonight.” She was only minutes away from Mont. Her stomach quivered at the thought. Coming face-to-face with him scared her more than it should. What if he wasn’t interested in her apology?
“Seven-thirty?” Blaine asked.
Sophie’s stomach swooped. “Great.”
“Have you talked to him yet?” he asked.
“No.”
“Sophie, you go get your phone and call the man.” Blaine sounded livid. The last time she’d heard him talk to her like this was during their senior year, when she was doubting whether she could open her taco stand. Actually, it was after her father told her she’d never succeed. His voice had wormed its way past her barriers, and Blaine had been there to weed it out.
“Confirm,” he demanded.
“Blaine,” Lucy admonished.
“Confirmed,” Sophie said in a weak voice, glad for Lucy’s look of sympathy, but also for Blaine’s hard-nosed insistence that she call Mont.
“We need to go,” Lucy said. She put her hand on Blaine’s arm. “Come on, you’ll have to do most of these errands.”
Blaine threaded his fingers through Lucy’s and took a step closer to Sophie. “I’m calling you in fifteen minutes,” he said. “If I have to go traipsing all over Redwood Bay, the least you can do is make a phone call.” He smiled—though it held a fair share of challenge—and left with Lucy.
Sophie considered getting in the shower and never getting out. Then she wouldn’t hear her phone ring when Blaine called. Why did her throat feel so thick? So dry?
She gathered her courage and texted Mont. Do you have a few minutes to talk?
Yes, came the immediate reply.
She called him, her chest registering a three on the Richter scale. He picked up immediately. “Sophie, thank God.”
The relief in his voice masked the anger she was sure he felt.
“Hey, Mont,” she said. “I’m—” A shaky laugh escaped her lips. “I’m so nervous.”
He said nothing, which only amplified her nerves. “I’m really sorry I left the conference center without talking to you.”
“I have your suitcase and your purse,” he said.
She apologized, and he followed with her baggage? “Aren’t you going to accept my apology?”
“Aren’t you going to say thank you? I mean, I had to pack your makeup and everything.”
She laughed, this time much more relaxed. “Thank you for packing my makeup. Did you get my phone charger? It was by the bed.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asked. “You think I wouldn’t sweep the room for everything?”
Her heart flipped, and a smile crept across her face. Oh, how she loved him. “Mont…I’m-I saw you kiss that woman.”
“No,” he said firmly. “She kissed me, and I stopped it as fast as I could.”
Sophie felt the truth of his words. She’d known as soon as she left the conference center that he wasn’t a willing participant in that kiss. “I’m sorry I left.”
A long pause came through the line, and Sophie imagined him sitting at the lighthouse, watching the waves roll over the ocean.
“I know you are. Where are you?”
“I’ll be back in town tonight.” She didn’t want to tell him sh
e was only two blocks from the diner. “I’m hoping you’ll meet me at the diner at seven-thirty.” She pressed her eyes closed, like that would protect her if he said no.
“Seven-thirty,” he said. “I’ll be there.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
When he arrived at Lucy’s diner, Mont slowed his vehicle to a crawl. He parked and sat in the car, his mind spiraling. He could turn around and set his headlights south, go back to LA for good. But the thought of not seeing Sophie again turned his heart to dust. He’d apologize a thousand times to keep her in his life.
The door chimed as he opened it, and the familiar and delicious smell of Lucy’s cooking hit him. He glanced around, wishing his stomach wasn’t so knotted. Lucy came flying around the corner, her eyes frantic. When she saw Mont, she visibly relaxed.
Mont did not. Something was afoot. “Hey,” he said when she reached for a menu on the hostess station. “You know I don’t need that.” He quirked half a smile at her.
Lucy gave his attitude right back to him by picking up another menu. “You’re not my type, but I can see why Sophie loves you.” She grinned at him. “This way.”
Mont practically tripped over his own feet as he hurried to follow her. “Have you talked to her? Seen her?”
Lucy laughed, causing several customers to stare as she passed. “Insecure much?”
“She left me in LA without a word. For days,” Mont practically growled.
Lucy paused and turned back to him. “Oh, honey, I know. I’m sorry.” She leaned in and spoke in a hushed tone. “She goes a little crazy sometimes. Blaine thinks it adds to her charm.” Lucy raised her eyebrows, clearly waiting to hear what Mont thought of Sophie’s insanity, however temporary it might have been.
“There are a lot of things that add to Sophie’s charm,” he finally said. “I’m not sure this is one of them, though.”
Worry tightened Lucy’s eyes. “Oh, well. Right this way.” She continued down the aisle and around the corner. Mont squared his shoulders and followed, determined not to cave as soon as he saw Sophie, a very real possibility—especially if she was wearing that little black dress.
He turned the corner and hit an invisible wall. At least two dozen balloons were tied to two chairs, one of which Sophie was sitting in. She got to her feet slowly, and she was wearing that dress.
Mont swallowed hard, taking in the flowers on the table, the low music playing and the gorgeous woman before him. He moved toward her slowly. When he stood only a foot from her, he stopped. He wanted to throttle her as much as he wanted to kiss her.
Taking a deep breath of her tropical scent, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said without thinking. His voice came out rough, but when he pulled back those blooms of color he loved rode in her cheeks, and a slow smile spread across her lips.
“Thank you for coming.” She looked up at him, and she seemed so frail. He knew she wasn’t, though, knew she was more than capable of anything. “Should we sit?”
No sooner had he held her chair for her and slid into his own did Blaine arrive, wearing a ridiculous black tuxedo and carrying the largest bowl of ice cream Mont had ever seen.
“Banana split, with brownie bites.” He winked at Sophie as he set the concoction on the table between them and made himself scarce.
“I feel like I’m being set up.” Mont picked up his spoon. “But I’m not sure I care.” He took a bite of caramel, ice cream and brownie.
“Lucy and Blaine can be a bit meddlesome,” Sophie agreed.
Mont’s appetite switched from ice cream to her, and he put down his spoon. “Your idea or theirs?” It was important to him that this production was something she wanted.
“Mine,” she said. “I thought maybe if I softened you up with ice cream, you wouldn’t be so mad at me for running away.”
He stood and moved around the table toward her. He dropped to one knee, pressing as close to her as possible. One hand slid up her leg as the other curled around her shoulder. “I’m not mad.” He inched forward, needing to taste her lips. Now.
“You were.”
He enjoyed the breathy quality of her voice. “For a while,” he said. “But I had faith that you’d come to your senses and call me. And you did.”
The fragrant smell of her skin tempted him closer; his hand wandered higher on her thigh; if she didn’t kiss him soon, he’d combust.
She reached out and brushed her fingers up his neck and into his hair. “I love you, Mont.”
“How long are you going to make me wait?”
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Fire flowed through him, and he couldn’t get close enough to her. By the time she pulled back, Mont felt like he’d made his point. Especially because she couldn’t quite catch her breath.
“So tell me why you left,” he said, unwilling to retreat to the seat across from her. Now that he had her close, he wanted to keep her there.
She raised her chin a fraction of an inch. “I gave up everything to be with you. I wanted to—until I saw you kissing her. I won’t do the cheating thing.”
He stood and took his seat across from her, folding his arms across his chest. “Well, that’s great. Because I am not a cheater.” He couldn’t help the snap in his voice. She’d left without an explanation! Without even giving him the chance to explain.
She cocked one eyebrow. “Tell me what I saw.”
His anger rose no matter how he tried to quell it. “If you think I wanted to kiss Amber, then you saw someone else. One: She freaking threw herself at me. Two: I shoved her away as fast as I could. Three: You know me well enough to know I’d never cheat on you.”
Sophie sniffed, her tears threatening to ruin her perfect makeup job. His fury faded, and he reached across the table and cradled her face, forcing her to look at him, the exact words he knew needed to be said coming to him. “I am not Clint.”
She pressed her eyes closed, and cried. Mont got up and drew her into the safety of his arms, slipping into her chair and settling her on his lap. “Honey, what did he do to you?”
Her shoulders shook as she let out the storm inside. Mont wanted to shield her from everything unpleasant in her life, but he felt powerless to do anything beyond stroking her hair.
So he did that until she calmed. “Clint traveled a lot for business,” Sophie started, her voice low and haunted. “He said I was emotionally unavailable.” She shook her head and studied the ground. “When he broke up with me, he said I was married to my taco stand and didn’t give him the affection he needed.”
Her breath shuddered on the way in. Mont wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what.
“I believed him. I’ve been blaming myself for our breakup. And then I blocked it all out. Stopped thinking about it. Stopped feeling. Stopped living.” She shook her head. “And because I’ve been trying so hard to show you that I love you, when I saw you with her, I just freaked out.”
“It wasn’t that funny this time,” Mont said gently.
A fresh set of tears fell from her eyes. “I know. I shouldn’t have run off. I should’ve confronted you at the conference center. Or gone back to the hotel room. Or something. But I just—everything came rushing back. All I could hear was Clint’s accusations, and….”
“You couldn’t,” Mont supplied. “I’m not going to say it’s OK, because I was pretty freaked out myself. Here I had my psychopath ex-girlfriend attack me, and the woman I’m in love with disappear. LA sucks.”
She laughed, a short barking sound. “Yes, it does.” She straightened her shoulders and looked him square in the face. “I learned something though. I don’t want a day-to-day relationship. If that’s what you need because of your acting, I get it. But I won’t do it. I sold my taco stand so I could go to Spain with you. And then the next city. And the next.” She looked like she might start crying again.
“I know.” He wanted this moment to linger, but the tension between them was what stayed. He’d
stopped planning his life, because he always ended up disappointed. But Sophie needed a plan. She thrived off making lists and checking boxes. Getting a special order just right. Making a taco in ten seconds flat.
Mont took a deep breath, prepared to lay everything on the line. Well, almost everything. He had a few surprises up his sleeve, and depending on how this conversation ended, he’d know when to tell her everything.
“When you left the party, I stayed up all night trying to figure out what to do. I changed my flight and flew straight to Redwood Bay so I could sit on your front porch. So I could be there when you got home. If you hadn’t called today, I was prepared to hound Lucy until she told me where you were. Maybe stalk Polly until she relented. I haven’t slept in three nights, and if I can’t see you, kiss you and hold you every day, my life wouldn’t be worth living.”
She snuggled into his chest, and to him, nothing had ever felt as right as holding Sophie. “I’m scared, Mont. I’m scared your acting career will steal you from me.” She took a deep breath, and it was much stronger this time. “But I know you need the money. I know your dad is sick, and I know your heart is in the right place. So I don’t see how I can keep you from acting. It’s unfair of me to ask you to give up your career.”
“You don’t have to ask,” he said. “I already talked to Lars. I told him I couldn’t take the role.”
She pushed away from him, her eyes frantically searching his. “You did not.”
He gazed back at her, very serious. “Sophie, you’re more important to me than any role.”
“But your parents—”
“They’ll understand.”
She gaped at him, then shook her head. “No. You can’t give up this role. I don’t want you to do that. I’m just—I just feel insecure about things. That’s all. It’s not your job to make me feel secure.”
“It’s not?”
Until Summer Ends Page 23