Arianne laughed. “It’s public information.”
“Diapers,” Olivia blurted to break the hilarious tension. “You’ll need lots of diapers.”
“You’re right.” Arianne snapped. “That’s something we can stock up on now.”
Huck’s cellphone pealed. He frowned, pulled it from his back pocket, and looked down at the screen. “I’ll be right back.” He walked toward the front of the store.
“Another reason why I asked you to come along.” Arianne moved down the aisle, stealing one last look at the teal-and-purple quilt. “He wears me out,” she whispered.
The two of them together wore Olivia out, but it was good to see the lighter side of marriage. It was easy to forget the second side of the coin when she only counseled the negative aspects. No one needed her services during good times. With all she’d been through, she often forgot there were good times at all.
The conversation turned to nursing pillows, which bottle design worked best to prevent gas, and if Arianne should try a home delivery in her bathtub with a midwife. None of which Olivia could give advice on.
“Maybe I should stick with a hospital.” Arianne walked toward the register. “Having a baby at thirty-three is a lot different than at twenty-six.”
“You’re strong and healthy.” Olivia followed, helping Emma push the cart. “I’m sure you’ll do fine whichever you decide.”
The scanner sounded a non-stop stretch of beeps as the cashier rang up the items. Huck stepped through the entrance, wallet outstretched, and joined them.
“That’ll be two hundred fifty-eight dollars and sixteen cents.” The redhead smiled to soften the blow.
Huck looked at Arianne, at the bags that were now settled in the cart, then back at Arianne. Arianne shrugged. With a slight shake of his head, Huck fished the bills from his wallet and gave his wife an are you crazy? look.
They left the store and strode through the parking lot to their cars. Olivia had met them here, only planning to stay a short time. She glanced at her watch. They’d been in there for two hours?
Arianne sniffed the air. “How about Mexican food for lunch? That place smells amazing.” She gestured to the building across the street.
Emma bounced on her toes. “Can we get fried ice cream?”
Huck bent to hug the child. “Anything for you darlin’. Can’t go with you though.” He stood and kissed his wife’s cheek.
“Why not?” Arianne pouted.
Huck opened the back door of Olivia’s car, helped Emma inside, made sure she buckled in, and then met them at the trunk. “Jeff and Karen Emery’s barn burned a few nights ago. The authorities say its arson. Pastor called me and a few other men to help with cleanup. They’re starting in an hour. I need to go home and change.”
“Arson.” Arianne shivered. “I never thought we’d see something like this happen around here. And so close to home.”
An echo of Olivia’s thoughts. Each time she heard of an incident in the news, she wondered how safe she and grandma were living alone on their remote property.
Arianne kissed Huck’s lips. “Tell them I’m praying.”
“Will do.” He waved at Olivia. “You don’t mind running them home?”
“Nope. We have business to discuss anyway.”
“Business?” His brows wrinkled. “Should I be scared?”
Arianne closed the trunk. “We’re joining forces. I’m promoting her cake services to my clients, and she’s promoting my shop to hers.”
Huck nodded, pleased. He palmed his wife’s stomach. “Later, Rambo.”
“No.” Arianne walked to the passenger door.
“Obi-Wan.”
“Not on your life.”
He sped around to his car. “James Bond?”
“Never.”
He tapped the car’s roof. “Indiana Jones.”
“The man is insane,” Arianne mumbled.
He got in his vehicle, backed out, and drove toward the stoplight.
Arianne lowered onto the seat and rested her head against the back. “He needs counseling, three times a week. Pencil him in.”
Olivia chuckled and started the car. “But you love him.”
Arianne sighed. “That I do.”
32
The small town of Machias, Maine, would welcome fifteen-thousand people throughout festival weekend. Blake was glad Olivia had decided to work the booth with him. Spending the day with her, finding excuses to brush up against her—he couldn’t think of a better way to occupy the next few days. And getting paid for it, too.
He spread the plastic tablecloth then secured his banner at the corners. The Hartford Farms logo was simple yet catchy. He was almost done transferring quarts of blueberries to the table when his phone buzzed with a text message.
We’re here.
Good. That must mean she’d brought Mrs. Hudson along as well. A change of scenery might do both women some good. Blake pulled up his list of contacts, found Olivia’s name, and pressed the call button.
She answered on the third ring.
“Where did you park?”
“Um…by a black pole.”
“City girl. I need landmarks or a direction. Something to go off of.”
“I think maybe it used to be an old gas station. There’s an empty circle at the top where a porcelain globe might’ve been at one time.”
“I know where you’re at. Be right there.” He took off in that direction and met them under a line of maple trees. Jennifer, Mrs. Hudson’s live-in nurse, was with them too.
Olivia gave him a lazy grin before covering it with the rim of her paper cup. Steam curled around her lips. The same reaction his gut had every time those blue eyes looked at him like that. Soft and heated.
“The booth isn’t far. Can I carry anything?”
Olivia and Jen were both dragging coolers on wheels. The only other baggage was a satchel resting cross-way on Olivia’s shoulder.
Olivia lowered her cup. “Nope, we’re good.”
On the way back to his booth, they passed a picnic area with red-and-blue picnic tables where attendees were already enjoying the blueberry pancake breakfast hosted by the Baptist church. The women passed on his offer to buy them breakfast, claiming they’d already eaten.
Underneath the shade of his tent, Blake unfolded the lawn chairs he’d brought. “What’d’ya bring?” He directed the question at Olivia.
She opened one of the coolers. “Blueberry muffins with streusel topping and honey-laced, dark chocolate fudge.”
They stacked her containers at the other end of the table. The fudge looked almost as good as she did in her blue dress with those dark curls spilling across her shoulders. He was ready to kick things up a notch, and the wait was killing him.
The shadow of the tent kept the temperature at a tolerable degree. The morning passed quickly, helping customers, meeting new people, and speaking with a few potential produce buyers.
He’d never had the pleasure of observing Olivia interact with customers. Sure, they’d worked together in a group on the town board, but during those meetings she’d been serious, almost somber. Whenever he stopped by the bakery to chat, he’d made sure to arrive during down time so his visit served its purpose. But this? The way her eyes locked onto people, studied them as if she could read their soul, paired with a smile and words that drew people in. This woman had a precious gift. Given support and the right circumstances, she would be unstoppable.
And Blake wanted to be with her every step of the way.
About the time his stomach reminded him of how late it had gotten, Arianne walked up to the booth, a roundness forming beneath her shirt that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her. She smiled wide and glanced from him to Olivia, eyebrows arched. “Ready for a break?”
Could the woman be more obvious in her intentions? Blake wouldn’t have agreed to let her run the booth for him had he known she’d announce it was pre-planned.
Olivia nibbled her bottom lip, and s
omething silent and sneaky passed between the two females. Olivia turned to him, brows arched. “Lunch?”
Blake narrowed his eyes, attempting to decipher what had just happened. This set-up had been his idea. Or so he’d thought.
“Grandma?” Olivia knelt in front of Mrs. Hudson’s chair. “Would you like to eat and walk around for a bit? See what this festival is all about?”
Mrs. Hudson stood with Olivia’s assistance.
Jen offered to stay and help Arianne. Both parties probably needed the break.
Olivia pulled some bills out of her till and tucked them into her pocket. “Do you want us to bring you something back?”
Jen scrunched her nose in thought. “Maybe one of those walking tacos. Loaded.”
Arianne shook her head. “I already ate, but thanks. I can’t promise, however, that a piece or two of your fudge won’t disappear before you get back.”
“Take a container home.” Olivia pointed to a cooler underneath the spare table. “There’s plenty.”
With Olivia sandwiched between him and Mrs. Hudson, they weaved through several aisles of primitive crafts, quilts, and antiques before reaching the food vendors on Main Street. As they were ordering, a nearby shaded picnic table vacated. Blake leaned close to Olivia’s ear. “You grab that table. I’ll pay.”
A few minutes later, he joined them, carrying the tray of food in one hand and a stack of napkins in the other. “Chicken sandwich and water.” He set the contents in front of Mrs. Hudson. “And a lobster roll with blueberry soda.”
Olivia unscrewed the cap on the glass bottle. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
“You can’t live here without at least trying it.”
She took a sip and rolled it on her tongue. “Not bad. Don’t you ever tire of blueberries though?”
“Do you ever tire of dessert?” Blake bit into his juicy tenderloin.
“Touché.”
A group of teenage girls walked by, chatting and giggling over some guy in a dunk tank.
Blake had noticed the local library volunteers testing it on his way in this morning. Their sign stated the money would go to a new Teen Room addition. He didn’t know what it was like to live anywhere else, but here, along the coast, the residents of small communities came together to fulfill a need.
He glanced at Olivia. She was too busy people-watching to finish her meal.
Every once in a while, an outsider would move in, bring fresh energy and new ideas. Fit in as if they’d always belonged. Now that Olivia had stamped her mark on Stone Harbor, on his heart, he couldn’t imagine either one without her.
“How do you like your sandwich, Mrs. Hudson?”
Olivia snapped out of her daze to study her grandma.
Mrs. Hudson smacked her lips, then reached across the table and stole one of Blake’s French fries. She dipped it in a blob of mayo on her foil wrapper.
Blake winked at Olivia. “I think she likes it.”
Olivia picked up the remains of her lobster roll. “I saw you eyeing the blueberry pie on our way here. Is that next on your agenda?”
Blake wadded his trash into a ball and sailed it into the trashcan. “I’m too full for pie, but I’ll buy you ladies a piece, if you want.”
Olivia picked up her soda bottle. “I’ve had enough blueberries for one day. Thanks, though.”
Mrs. Hudson nodded. “I’ll take pie.”
Olivia chuckled. The pink of embarrassment tinged her cheeks.
“Deal.” Blake tapped the table twice and then stood to help Mrs. Hudson.
The woman linked her arm with his, surprising Blake.
“Pie,” she said.
Olivia closed in on his other side, and they walked toward the vendor made to resemble a fifties cafe.
“If I didn’t know better,” she whispered, “I’d think she believed she was the one dating you.” Her eyes rounded, and the sea-sick hue he hadn’t seen in quite some time returned.
He knew what she meant and shouldn’t tease her, but this was the open door he’d been waiting for. “Are we dating?” Blake wagged a finger between them.
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Closed. She was starting to look like a fish yanked from the sea.
He touched his fingertips to her wrist, trailed them down to her palm, then ever so lightly, tangled his fingers with hers. “If we are, I’m completely OK with that.”
Goosebumps rose along the side of her neck. She started to smile but bit her bottom lip. “You’re the only man I spend this much time with.”
He’d take that as a yes, though it wasn’t the definitive answer he was going for. Now he needed to take her on a real date without furniture shopping and festivals, and continue to practice patience until she was ready to declare exactly what she wanted.
Olivia pulled her hand from his. “Do you mind if I look around in the booths while you two are waiting? I saw one place had books. They might have some good coffee table reads for the bakery.”
“Go ahead.” Backpedal from the progress we were making. “We’ll catch up with you.”
Blake’s gaze followed her several booths down where she stopped to rummage through crates of books. The line moved forward, and so did he. Mrs. Hudson, however, remained in place. He stepped back. The grandmother assessed him with wise eyes, the quirk of her mouth saying she knew what he was thinking, and he wasn’t fooling anyone, even if she struggled to put it all together.
“Is everything all right, Mrs. Hudson?”
She stepped forward to claim their place in line, her eyes turning a soft gray as she studied him. “Love.”
Blake wouldn’t waste his time denying it. If it was obvious to an elderly woman with Alzheimer’s, there would be no use.
After purchasing two slices of blueberry pie with fresh cream to-go, they found Olivia under the protection of the booth’s shade, engrossed in a hardback book.
He bent sideways to read the title.
She pointed to a picture of a granite heart-shaped stone. “These actually exist?”
“They’re all over around here. It has something to do with the tide and how they’re washed to shore. My mom used to make jewelry and collectibles out of them when I was a kid. Sold them on consignment. Every Saturday morning, she’d drag us out to a different pebbled beach and make us hunt for them.”
“You know where to find these?”
“It’s not hard. Next free day, we’ll go.” That smile was exactly what he’d been after.
She closed the book and tucked it under her arm. “It’s a date.”
Olivia paid for her items, bought Jen a walking taco, and they walked back to their booth.
Blake, ten feet tall and bullet proof.
33
The sun hung low on the horizon, outlining the strip of highway in gold.
Olivia yawned. The combination of Blake’s warm truck and the onset of dusk made her eyelids heavy.
Jen and Grandma had left the festival shortly after lunch, but Jen had encouraged Olivia to stay.
When Blake offered to drive her home, she’d accepted. They’d worked the booth until six and had grabbed a quick dinner. She agreed to work the booth again tomorrow, and then they’d watch the game on Blake’s big screen. After she showed him the secret to her chicken wings.
Their first official date.
Olivia yawned again. Blake frowned at the road, his elbow propped against the window, hand in a loose fist. Though his features revealed nothing, her therapist instincts had latched on to the undercurrent of tension that concreted his shoulders. She’d witnessed it at times throughout the day, and, God help her, she wanted to ease his discomfort.
The day his brother had crashed the party had been the only time she’d seen anything other than compassion in Blake’s eyes. Today was different. Whenever he wasn’t with a customer or honing his attention on her, it played a subtle tune across his features.
Olivia shifted to a more comfortable position. One where she could clearl
y read his handsome face. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
He blinked and then looked at her deadpan for a few seconds before understanding dawned. “Am I that obvious, or is reading minds your superpower?”
“It’s a gift. I can also see through walls.”
“Really? Good, then when you come over tomorrow, you can tell me where the studs are in the spare bedroom, and how the old electricity is laid. With your help, I could renovate a lot faster.”
She crossed her arms, waiting. She was used to deflection stall tactics, and they still had at least twenty minutes on the road.
Blake blew a puff of air and reached for her hand. “Lucas called and left a message last week. They want my blessing on their marriage. Then he asked if I’d be his best man.”
She reared back.
Ouch. Asking for forgiveness was one thing, but this? This was huge. “Are you considering it?”
He looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “No.”
Understandable. That would be like Olivia’s father asking her to officiate a marriage with his mistress. She wasn’t a good enough person to do it.
The heartache, the tears Blake’s mom had shed in his kitchen when Rita confessed that bitterness was eating her son’s soul, made Olivia pause. Now that she was on the lookout for it, she saw exactly what Rita had been talking about. Blake walked through life ignoring the darkness growing inside him. But it was there, lying dormant, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash its ugliness. She’d seen it in his eyes the day he saw his brother.
Hatred so intense it made her skin pebble recalling it now. Olivia rubbed her arms. “Forgiveness can be a hard thing to give.”
Blake grunted and turned down the air-conditioner.
“Sometimes though”—she softened her voice—”forgiveness is necessary for us to move on with our lives.”
Blake’s jaw ticked along with the seconds. Finally, he glanced at her. “Have you forgiven your dad? The woman who willingly ripped your family apart?”
Time slowed.
Had she?
Olivia stared out her window. Her dad hadn’t asked for forgiveness. Neither had the faceless woman who hadn’t cared her actions would destroy a wife and a child.
How to Stir a Baker's Heart Page 18