PARADISE COVE - 3 BOOK SET: PARADISE COVE SERIES

by Patrice Wilton

  She laughed with joy. “I thought you would never ask.”

  THE END

  HOOKED ON YOU

  by Patrice Wilton

  This riveting romance is the second book in the Paradise Cove series set in the Florida Keys. Three high-spirited sisters inherit Paradise Cove Cottages, and each story is a stand alone. Taylor Holmes has a lot on her plate—running a family owned resort, planning a wedding for her sister, and now the added worry as she opens her dream cafe. Throw in a hurricane and a sexy boat captain who doesn’t take no for an answer, and this book will keep you glued to your Kindle. Romance, passion, danger, and hot, hot nights guarantee reading pleasure.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Opening day and not one customer has come in!” Taylor Holmes said by way of greeting as Juanita Hernandez entered the kitchen through the back door of the cafe.

  “No problem.” Juanita’s round face broke into a big smile. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun and she wore a cheery yellow sundress. “It’s early yet. You’ve been open what? Half an hour?”

  Taylor rotated her neck, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders. She had a quiche warming in the oven, and two blends of coffee made. What if nobody showed? “I’m a worry wart. And impatient too.”

  “What’s that?” Juanita reached for Taylor’s hand, inspecting her palm. “You have warts?”

  “No!” Taylor pulled her hand free and laughed with affection for this kind woman who had come to them in the most unusual way. “Just worries.”

  Juanita and her husband Miguel had fled Cuba last year with their son Raul. Her English was remarkably better than when their bedraggled bodies had shown up in Paradise Cove, but they’d never understand all of the quirky American expressions.

  “Si. Si. Plenty of worries. Me?” Juanita shook her head. “No more since we are here with you.” She tied an apron around her ample waist. “What can I do to help?”

  “Drum up some customers,” Taylor answered, then seeing Juanita’s puzzled expression, she smiled and patted a chair. The compact kitchen only had room for a round bistro table, two chairs and a stool by the bar counter. “Never mind. You can sit down and enjoy a good cup of coffee. Dark roast, or hazelnut?”

  “Hazelnut.”

  Taylor poured them each a fragrant mug, her third cup of the day, and perched on the stool so she could see the front door while talking. “How’s Merica this morning? Did she fuss when you left her?”

  “No. She loves your mom. Anna was bouncing Merica on her knee, singing ‘itsy-bitsy spider’ to her.” Juanita’s face glowed. “My sweet baby was trying to catch your mother’s fingers.” She touched her heart, her dark brown eyes misty. “Precioso.”

  Taylor could easily imagine the scene. “Mom’s never been happier than in the past few months—since you all returned to us. She’s been dying for grandchildren, and loves Raul and Merica like her own.”

  “They love her too.” She stirred cream into her cup with a plastic teaspoon instead of using the fine new cutlery. “Anna is a big-hearted woman, taking us all in like familia.”

  “You are part of our family now.” Taylor sipped her coffee, remembering the morning that they’d been rescued at sea by her sister Kayla’s fiancé. Luckily he’d been out on his boat and had spotted them clinging to a few planks of wood. Their home-made raft had broken apart a half-mile before safely reaching the Florida Keys. Juanita had been seven months pregnant, and so the women had offered them a cottage until the baby was born. After that the Cuban Refugee center stepped in—reuniting them with Miguel’s cousin in Miami, who had grudgingly made room for the Hernandez family.

  They’d stayed in touch through her youngest sister Brittany, who now lived in Miami and worked with a dance company. When Taylor heard that Miguel got laid off from his construction job, she’d convinced the whole family to come back to Paradise Cove and work at the resort.

  Within three months, Miguel had built Taylor her dream cafe and accepted a full-time position as Paradise Cove’s gardener and handyman. Juanita split her time between the resort and the café, and Raul was already registered for sixth grade at Marathon’s middle school.

  Juanita sniffed and pointed her mug toward the industrial oven. “Smells good. What did you make?”

  “Cheese and mushroom quiche and orange pecan French toast.” Taylor pushed aside her coffee mug, eyes watching the door. She could feel a worried frown pinching between her brows and stroked it lightly. What if she’d made a huge mistake? She had a lot riding on this side venture, and had no idea how she’d repay the bank loan if things didn’t work out.

  “Soon people will come.” Juanita stood up and rested her hands on Taylor’s tensed shoulders. “You wait and see.”

  Taylor slipped off the bar stool and wiped her damp palms on her flowered cotton print skirt. She sighed, and shot another quick glance out the window. “Maybe I was optimistic, but I’d hoped people would be eager to try out my new place.” She’d spent the past week putting flyers up everywhere and had paid for advertising in the Reporter, a local newspaper in Tavernier.

  The three sisters and their mother had inherited the small guest resort, Paradise Cove Cottages, just over a year ago, and they’d already taken out a hefty loan to update the grounds and cabins. With the addition of her cafe, they were walking a tightrope. She couldn’t allow her dream to destroy her family’s business.

  “Did you see the sign when you came in?” Taylor walked out of the kitchen. “It didn’t get blown away in last night’s wind, did it?”

  Juanita’s dark brown eyes lit up with humor. “No. It’s plain as day.” She giggled as if proud of her American slang.

  “Good one, Juanita.” Opening the front door that led out to a dirt parking strip, she saw the large neon sign hanging overhead glaringly clear. Taylor’s Cafe at Paradise Cove. And on the door a smaller sign. Now Open. At night the pink and green sign with a flamingo on the side flickered on and off. Not too tacky, but eye catching enough for travelers from the north to spot from the road while visiting the Keys.

  The cafe was nestled among some raggedy old pines next to the street. Long and narrow, it fronted the Overseas Highway, the only road to and from Key West. People had to drive right past her door if they wanted to go farther south than Islamorada—although she couldn’t figure out why anyone would. It really was paradise, right here.

  Taylor shut the door and faced the kitchen, pride warring with fear as she surveyed her domain.

  Inside along the window were rows of wooden tables that sat four, and across an aisle were matching tables for two. The interior was painted ocean blue, and she’d kept to a nautical theme with fishnet hanging from the ceiling, and ceramic crabs climbing the walls. A giant tin rendition of a Sailfish hung behind the counter where her customers would order their meals.

  It seated twenty-four people, but in the back was an additional outdoor area with a thatched roof and picnic tables covered in red and white plastic cloths. Little jars of fresh flowers anchored the cheap tablecloths down. The purpose for this extra seating was to entice travelers looking for free internet service along with a cup of coffee and a slice of pie.

  Her stomach gurgled. She’d been up at five to bake her goodies for the morning crowd and had skipped breakfast with too much caffeine. Her nervous stomach was dancing around like a cricket on speed.

  The front door opened with a clang of a bell and Taylor whirled around to see a friendly familiar face. She couldn’t be happier to see anybody in her life.

  “Colt!” Colt Travis ran a small charter business in Islamorada, one of the fishing capitals of the world. However, charters were extremely competitive especially during the hot summers in the tropical Keys. Things picked up during tourist season—late October through April. “Please tell me you’re here for my fabulous breakfast? Being the very first customer, yours is free.”

  “Naw. I just came for a cup of java.” He hugged Juanita. “How’s my favorite girl?”

&nbs
p; Juanita slapped his hand with a dishtowel and giggled. “Taylor’s your favorite girl.”

  He turned his wicked smile on her. “No. She won’t have me, so I’m hanging around, hoping to lure you away from Miguel.”

  “You are a bad boy,” Juanita told him. “So, you’re here for breakfast? No?”

  “Si.” He winked at Taylor. “Of course I am. I just dropped Jamie and Raul off at baseball camp, and I came to see how you’re making out.” He faced the counter and glanced at the chalkboard menu hanging on the wall. “So, what’s good?”

  “You are,” Juanita answered. “Very good to Raul. He loves baseball and practices very hard.”

  “He’s a natural. And Jamie likes to have him around.” His eyes swept over to Taylor, who waited with her hand on her hip, anxious for him to order. “What do you recommend?”

  “Everything.” She couldn’t stop smiling. He’d just brightened her day. But then, he usually did. Easy-going, Colt had long shaggy blond hair, the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, a body that was shamefully hunky, and dimples to drool over. On the negative side, he was a babe magnet. Recently divorced, she’d watched him strut around town with a bevy of pretty women. Several months ago, he’d tried sniffing around her back door, but when she wouldn’t go out with him, he’d quickly moved on.

  Her stomach rumbled again and she laughed, putting her palm to her belly.

  “Sounds like you should eat too,” he said with a wink. “So what are we having?”

  Suddenly she was starving. “I made fresh croissants this morning—good with sausage and eggs, or I have orange pecan French toast, or a cheese and mushroom quiche. Any of those appeal to you?”

  “My mouth is watering already. How about the French toast? But only if you two ladies will join me.”

  He’d gone for the sweet dish instead of the healthier choice, Taylor noticed. But then he and his son probably ate lean at home. “I guess we could—unless someone else shows up.”

  He gave her his double-dimpled grin and raised a brow. “We could eat in the kitchen—if you’d have me.”

  Her jumpy stomach did a triple-barrel somersault. Have him? Why did that sound so enticing? Must be the fact she was hungry, because no way was she going to add her name to the ever-growing list of Colt’s girls. Uh-uh. One day, when she had time for dating and romance, she wanted to be special. Singled out. Maybe it was that middle child hang-up, but she was fed up with leftovers.

  Having heard the conversation, Juanita busied herself slicing the orange pecan French toast, warm from the oven. Taylor knew Juanita hoped for a romance between her and Colt, but it was not going to happen. They were friends, and both liked it that way.

  “It’s comfy in the kitchen, come around.” She waved him toward the swinging door. “I don’t have a table for three in here though. You could take a seat out back if you like.”

  “No, thanks. The view is better right here.” He put his elbow along the bar and looked at her with a grin.

  Her pulse raced. “You are such a big flirt, Colt Travis. Stop it and behave.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he teased. Dressed in a white tee, with CT Charters circled on his left upper chest, sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt, and baggy cargo shorts that rode low on his slim hips, he shouldn’t be so cute.

  Taking a casual stance, he leaned against the doorframe, crossed his ankles and watched her pour his coffee. “Nobody showed up?” He gave her a solicitous look. “You upset?”

  Hearing the sympathy in his voice made Taylor’s eyes water. She blinked rapidly before handing him his steaming cup of dark roast coffee. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and soon there’ll be plenty of others.”

  Juanita gave Colt a gentle push. “Go on now. There’s no room in the kitchen for everybody. Take a table. I will bring the food.”

  Taylor knew better than to argue. She followed Colt and sat down across from him at the four-person square table she’d painted a glossy yellow. “She’s so bossy,” she whispered jokingly. “I feel like I have a second mother.”

  “You’re lucky.” He slid into the chair, his shoulder to the wall. “I barely have one.”

  Juanita carried cutlery and two plates loaded with Taylor’s orange pecan French toast to their table.

  “Now this is looking mighty fine,” Colt said, unwrapping his silverware from the napkin. “I make French toast at home with Jamie. Great way to use up stale bread.” He cut into it, studying the fluffy layers of bread and nuts. “Got a feeling that yours is a little more special. Not straight out of a frying pan.”

  Juanita brought out another plate for herself and set it on the table next to Taylor. “Who wants confectioner’s sugar or whipped cream?”

  “Whipped cream for me,” Colt answered quickly.

  Taylor sat back in her chair, relaxing for the first time. “This recipe is pretty simple but loaded with yummy stuff,” she told him. “It takes about an hour to make from scratch so the prep has to be done early, even the night before. Then it needs thirty minutes in the oven. I have another one partially made that will reheat in ten.” If they got more customers—no—when they got more customers.

  Juanita arrived with the whipped cream and sat down. She smiled broadly, waiting for Colt to take a bite. “You like?” she asked, and cut a piece with her fork.

  Taylor held her breath in anticipation.

  “Incredible,” Colt mumbled around a mouthful.

  “Okay, tell us the secret.” Juanita speared a piece and swirled it in the zesty sweet sauce.

  “Well, first you pour a mixture of brown sugar, butter and corn syrup into the baking dish, then sprinkle pecans over it all. After that I used thick slices of French bread, baked yesterday, and laid it on top. The topping has to be made first and put over the bread to absorb. I did that part early this morning. Eggs, cinnamon, vanilla, orange juice and zest from the orange. Comes out a nice golden brown and then you can eat it plain or topped with anything you want.”

  Even if nobody else came in, watching Juanita and Colt enjoy her food made her incredibly happy—so happy, she hadn’t had a bite for herself yet.

  The door opened again and her older sister raced in.

  Taylor lifted her hand. “Hey, Kayla! Come join us. Nobody’s here but Colt. My first and only customer.”

  “Oh, no. Sorry to hear that. I rushed like crazy to get here, but the florist called this morning and I had to go see her about the satin ribbon. They ran out of the kind I ordered, and can’t get more in. So, I just picked one that was close enough.” She made a face. “One thing after another.”

  Kayla and Sean were getting married in a month. They’d had to postpone their wedding twice. Now, come hell or high water, the marriage would take place. Especially now that Kayla might be pregnant. Again. Hopefully this time she could carry to full term.

  “No problem. As you can see, nobody showed up.” Taylor patted her hand. “How’s the house coming along?”

  The past year had brought many changes to her sister’s life. Dr. Sean Flannigan had left Boston for good and taken a job at Mount Sinai, and then Kayla moved out of the cottages to live with him in a rented apartment. A few months later, Kayla had been over the moon excited to find out she was pregnant. At eight weeks, she lost the baby. To take her mind off her loss, Sean bought an older home on the Intracoastal Waterway near Key Largo. One that had good bones but needed a complete remodel. It was a two-story place with four bedrooms—room for the children they hoped to have one day.

  “Don’t get me going on the house,” Kayla murmured. “It’s a disaster.” She smiled. “But it will be very beautiful. Eventually. We had the kitchen torn out and a wall removed to create a great room, instead of the smaller family room that had been there before. We have a huge deck out back now, and well, one thing leads to another.”

  “I know it’s a lot of work. I’m surprised you’re here as much as you are.” Taylor was happy that Kayla had the house as a distraction after losing her baby. It had
all but broken her heart.

  “Yes, I love the cottages as much as you all do.” She sighed and pushed her hair off her shoulders. “After the wedding, hopefully our home will be ready for us to show it off.”

  She bent to kiss Taylor’s and Juanita’s cheeks, and pat Colt on the shoulder. “Enough about me and my problems. How’s it going? Where’s Jamie?” she asked Colt.

  “Baseball camp with Raul. Just until noon. Then maybe I’ll take the boys fishing.”

  “Sounds like the perfect summer plan. When does school start?”

  “Few more weeks. He’s excited about it, but learning comes easy for him.” Colt gave Kayla a self-deprecating grin and swallowed some coffee. “Smart like his mom.”

  “And he gets his good looks from you,” Kayla answered back. “Jamie’s a lucky kid.” She was the oldest of the three girls, thirty-two, and tall like they all were, with the same olive skin, dark hair and hazel eyes. “What are you guys eating? Sure looks good.”

  Juanita stood up. “I’ll get you a plate. There’s plenty more warming in the oven.”

  “Sit and finish. I can help myself.” Kayla headed toward the kitchen and returned a minute later, digging eagerly into the French toast.

  Suddenly Taylor’s disappointing morning didn’t seem so bad. She had her family and friends and what could possibly be better than that?

  She felt Colt’s eyes on her, and met his steady gaze. She smiled and his dimples flashed. A warm flush spread from the tips of her toes to the roots of her dark hair, and she wondered if he affected every female this way. Considering how many girls had come and gone in the past six months? Probably. Definitely.

  Taylor congratulated herself on giving Colt a pass. Lusting after a guy like him would not only be a waste of good time, it would never be enough. Not for her. When—and if—she was ready for a relationship, she’d not only want to be special, but she’d be looking for someone with the same hopes and dreams. Money didn’t drive her, but being successful did. She wanted the resort and her cafe to do well enough to support them all. Colt was sweet, but he was the most laid-back man she knew. Fishing and his son were all he cared about. And a cute gal in his bed.