‘Hi, Jazzy girl,’ Paige cooed, running her fingers through her brown and black fur, nuzzling into the dog just as much as she was nuzzling into her.
‘I still maintain she likes you,’ Cohen attested with a knowing grin. ‘A lot.’
‘You told me she likes everyone, so stop it,’ Paige said with a laugh. ‘Do you still have appointments?’
He had completely forgotten while in Paige’s presence. Damn it. ‘Yes, a few. But no one will bother you in here if you want to stay. It’s the payroll administrator’s office and she isn’t working today, so this room is yours for the taking.’
‘Hmm,’ Paige said, dodging Jazz’s tongue as she tried to lick her face. ‘I can stay for a few minutes. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, anyway.’
‘That doesn’t sound ominous at all.’ Cohen narrowed his eyes, a thousand ideas whirling around in his mind of what the topic could be. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Cohen closed the door behind him, leaving Paige and Jazz in their glory with each other. It wasn’t lost on him that he felt as though he could have left the room for only a second, and yet he still would have been gone from her for too long.
His remaining appointments got dragged out, stretching well over the course of an hour and a half before Cohen had the chance to step away from the exam rooms and check in on Paige and Jazz downstairs. As he bounded down the steps, he knew he was already too late.
The office door was open, and Paige was gone. So was Jazz. The sight of the empty room and even emptier dog bed deflated Cohen, replacing his anticipation with disappointment. But when he saw the note scrawled on the back of one of the blank sheets of paper pulled from the printer on the desk, Cohen’s disappointment quickly vanished.
Cohen,
Sorry, I had to head back to The Cakery, as the note I’d left on the door said I’d only be gone fifteen minutes. Jazz wanted to come with me. Bring Bryce over once the clinic is closed and you’ve had supper. I’ll handle dessert.
- Paige & Jazz
She had drawn a little pawprint beside Jazz’s name as her signature. It was a cute touch, he would give her that.
He knew Bryce was going to be elated about their impromptu dessert plans. If Cohen was honest with himself, he was as well. And while he was on an honesty kick, the truth of how happy it made him was, quite frankly, petrifying.
There were a lot of things that scared Cohen Beckett in Port Landon lately. He just never expected Paige Henley to be one of them.
Chapter 7
Paige
Paige waited at the clinic as long as she dared. Unfortunately, she knew all too well that she had left only a handwritten sign on the door to indicate she would be right back, and her business wasn’t going to run itself.
With the dog in tow, she had made her way out the side door marked Staff Entrance at the clinic and disappeared back up the sidewalk toward the bakery. The downtown street was bustling with shoppers, and it still mesmerized Paige that such a small town with only a few thousand people could be so busy during the day. She guessed that was what happened when businesses were only open until five o’clock, the diner and convenience store only open until eight. Folks in New York City would have hardly called that convenient. Imagine what they would say if they knew the entire town shut down for the night, silent as a tomb.
There was someone waiting at the front door of her bakery, and she was surprised to see it was Sonya Ritter.
‘Are you pulling a Cruella de Vil and stealing that dog, or do you and Dr Cohen have joint custody now?’ The woman’s spiderweb of laugh lines at the corners of her eyes highlighted the mischievous glint in her dark eyes.
‘Hello, Sonya. We’re just having a playdate, that’s all.’
‘You and Jazz, or you and the good doctor?’
Paige couldn’t bring herself to look the older woman in the eyes, and she knew her cheeks were flaming red at the assumption. ‘Is there something I can help you with?’ she asked instead, pushing the door open and gesturing for Sonya to go in ahead of her.
‘Allison is on the warpath for some of those apple fritters she saw yesterday. She sent me over to get a few.’
‘There are still a couple left, I think. Let me tuck Jazz away in my apartment for a minute and then I will get them for you.’
She made quick work of getting the dog settled upstairs, placing a folded comforter on the floor for her and putting a dish of water down beside it. She wouldn’t be gone long, as it was almost closing time. She would have gladly brought the dog into the bakery with her if there weren’t some hygienic codes being broken by doing so.
Paige couldn’t ease the embarrassment that flooded through her at Sonya’s insinuation. So, she – as well as other Port Landon folks, she assumed – were chomping at the bit to find out what was going on between her and Cohen. While she couldn’t blame them, since they had done little to hide their budding friendship from prying eyes, the brash assumption that it was more than that was a little presumptuous and, frankly, unfair.
Cohen had been alone for many years. That wasn’t news to Port Landon, and they knew exactly why. And Paige – well, no one really knew her, did they?
It was then that Paige realized what was happening. She was getting her first real taste of small-town life. Allison had warned her how it worked: Whatever they don’t know for certain, they’ll make up. It was harsh, it was stereotypical, and it was the truth.
And, in this case, it was completely inaccurate. Wasn’t it?
Paige knew she’d enjoyed walking down to the pier and getting ice cream with Cohen and Bryce. And she had shown up at his clinic with coffee from Allison’s coffeehouse because she had a question for him … and because she’d wanted to see him. Paige enjoyed Cohen’s company. It was a breath of fresh air to have someone to talk to and someone to spend time with. Her life wasn’t all about work for a change.
But that didn’t mean she was vying for a date with Cohen Beckett, and it certainly didn’t mean she wanted anything more than the simple friendship they had established.
And that was exactly what Paige repeated to herself over and over as she made her way back into the bakery to face Sonya Ritter.
‘You’re enjoying living in Port Landon, Paige?’ Sonya held out the ten-dollar bill, her gaze never wavering as she scooped the box of fritters into her arms. Paige didn’t know how the woman managed to say so much with only a look.
She counted out her change and handed it back without faltering. ‘It’s a lovely town, Sonya,’ she assured her with a nod. ‘I’m certain I made the right decision by moving here.’
‘And that certainty wouldn’t have anything to do with Dr Cohen, now, would it?’
Sonya’s bluntness took Paige aback. ‘Sonya, we’ve only known each other a couple of days. I’m not sure what you believe is taking place but—’
‘What I believe is that everything happens for a reason,’ Sonya interrupted, obviously pleased with herself. ‘Thank you for the apple fritters. Enjoy your time with Dr Cohen and Bryce tonight.’
Paige just stared after Sonya as she walked out of the shop, sending her one more smug, knowing glance before she let the bell above the door chime, announcing her departure.
She stood there, dumbstruck. It wasn’t what she said that rattled Paige, but what she knew.
Paige hadn’t told the woman that Cohen and his son would be coming to her apartment tonight, so how did she know?
It was seven-thirty when the doorbell sounded, announcing someone at the bottom of the staircase, waiting to be let into Paige’s apartment. The harmonious sound of a lyrical jingle she didn’t recognize sounded throughout the apartment, and Paige recoiled at the sound. It was the first time she had heard the doorbell she’d installed, as Allison always texted before coming up and no one else had ever visited. She was going to have to figure out how to change that horrid bell. It sounded ridiculous.
Paige had changed since her visit to the veterinary clini
c, opting to wear something other than the dress pants and pastel blue blouse she’d worn under her apron throughout the day. There were worse things to smell like than pastry and sugar, but Paige wanted to put a little effort into her outfit. She had invited her guests over, after all. She’d paired together a long pink maxi skirt that touched her toes and a black cap-sleeved shirt with button-detailing near the hem. Her hair was untied, falling in loose waves over her shoulders. She was comfortable, but dressy. Dressy for her, anyway.
‘Jazz, let’s go let your family in, shall we?’
The dog lifted her head, looking mighty comfortable on the couch cushions she had migrated to from the makeshift bed on the floor. Earlier, Paige had watched, fascinated, as Jazz circled around numerous times, searching for just the perfect spot, then collapsed into a heap of brindle fur at the far end, facing the window, her chin resting comfortably on the arm. She had promptly begun to snore, despite the fact that her eyes were partially opened. Paige had done nothing to dissuade the dog.
It was evident who was calling the shots.
The doorbell might not have gotten Jazz’s attention, but Paige’s questioning tone did. The dog dragged herself off the couch and followed her around the corner and down the stairs.
‘Jazz, there you are!’ Bryce dropped to his knees in the doorway as the dog shuffled over and began to bounce on her front feet like only Jazz could. Paige instantly felt guilty for having taken the dog with her when she left the clinic, wondering if the poor boy had been upset at his dog not being there when he got home from school. But Bryce quickly demolished that fear with his next comment. ‘What’s the big idea of coming over to Paige’s house for dessert without me, dog?’
Paige chuckled as he pretended to give the dog grief about it, and she lifted her gaze to meet Cohen’s. ‘Hey. Long day?’
‘Long enough.’ He held out a small bouquet of yellow and white daisies. ‘These are for you.’
She thought he sounded like a nervous high school kid approaching his first crush, but Paige didn’t know if that was just her own sudden bout of nerves talking, or wishful thinking. The way Cohen’s jaw worked, and the way his arm extended slowly, only a few inches at a time, she wondered if he was debating whether to snatch the flowers back and head out onto the sidewalk again. ‘Thank you.’ She took them, inhaling the sweet scent. ‘But you didn’t have to.’
‘And you didn’t have to offer dessert, either.’ He shrugged, speaking in a rush. ‘It’s merely a trade-off. Dessert for flowers. I figure I got the better deal, personally.’
Paige’s wishful thinking was deflated. Merely a trade-off. Ouch. She played it off, though, nodding toward Bryce. ‘Right, tell him I didn’t need to offer dessert.’ She bent and scratched the dog behind one ear. ‘Come on, Jazz and I will give you the tour.’
The apartment was a spacious, two-bedroom unit with huge windows and an open concept. Paige had been ecstatic when she found out the building boasted living accommodations as well as the bakery downstairs, so she hadn’t had to worry about buying two properties. The apartment suited her well, and she hadn’t wasted any time making it her own. The walls were a neutral beige color in the kitchen and dining room, and the living room that looked out over Main Street was a sage green. The countertops had been upgraded to a white and sand-colored faux marble, and the cupboards were off-white, to match the color of the oversized plush couch and loveseat in the open living area. There was a television, but Paige couldn’t remember the last time she turned it on. That was mostly due to the time it had taken to get the bakery up and running, and due to the overflowing bookshelves that lined the one wall of the living room. She had always enjoyed fictional stories more when she could imagine them in her own mind rather than see someone else’s depiction of them on the screen.
‘It’s a pretty nice place you’ve got here,’ Cohen stated after Paige had led them from room to room, proudly showing off what she had done with the space. To say it had been dated when she purchased it would be an understatement. The apartment had been straight out of the Seventies, along with the downstairs bakery. Seeing as she hadn’t even been born yet in that era, it was safe to say she couldn’t appreciate the décor.
‘Thank you. I’m pretty happy with it.’ It wasn’t the first time she had seen Cohen in his regular clothes, but once again she was unable to deny how attractive he was in his jeans and simple T-shirt covered by a dark blue and green plaid shirt, left unbuttoned. If the faint hint of cologne she caught a whiff of every now and then was any indication, she’d say Cohen had put a little effort into his outfit as well. ‘Who’s up for cake?’
Cake. That’s what she needed to think about. Not her physical attraction to the handsome veterinarian who’d brought her flowers as a trade-off for dessert.
Bryce was cross-legged on the living room floor, taunting Jazz with pieces of apple and pumpkin biscuits he’d brought with him, making the dog spin in circles around him, much to Jazz’s delight. Her docked tail wagged at warp speed, her tongue flopping out of her mouth as she played the game. But at the mere mention of cake, Bryce’s head popped up, not unlike Jazz’s head when she heard the word treat.
‘Me!’ He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the kitchen island that separated the living room from the cooking area, finding a spot on one of the wrought iron stools. Then, all at once, the boy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Wait, what kind?’
‘Does it matter?’ Paige arched a brow.
Bryce shrugged. ‘Not really. But a man likes to know what he’s getting into, Paige.’
Paige stared at the boy, her eyes wide, then snapped her gaze over to Cohen. She wasn’t sure whether he looked completely mortified or absolutely bewildered. Either way, she burst out laughing. ‘I can’t argue with that,’ she choked out. ‘How does black forest cake sound? I sold half of it to Allison to sell at the coffee house this morning as a special, but I just happen to have a few huge slices to offer up my guests. Like what you’re getting into now?’
‘No,’ Bryce replied, shaking his head. ‘I love it.’
‘I swear, Paige, I don’t know where he gets this stuff from.’ Cohen rounded the island and pulled one of the knives from the block on the countertop. ‘Plates?’
‘In the cupboard to the left of the sink,’ she advised, taking the knife from him. ‘And it’s fine. I happen to think your humor is refreshing, Bryce.’ She leaned across the island to close the gap between them, then whispered, ‘And I’m just guessing, but I’ll bet that sense of humor you’ve got is pretty similar to your dad’s.’
‘You’re right,’ Bryce whispered back without hesitation. ‘But don’t tell him that. I don’t think he can handle it.’
‘I’m standing right here, you two.’ Cohen’s voice was loud and laced with amusement.
Paige didn’t know how, but she managed to keep it together while she cut the cake into oversized wedges and passed it out. Bryce was a comedian without even trying. She relished in the game of never really knowing what was going to come out of his mouth next, and he had the gift of being funny without ever being disrespectful or rude. That was difficult to come by nowadays.
She pushed his plate of cake across the counter toward him. The boy’s gaze locked with hers as he thanked her, and Paige was overcome with the realization of just how much his son truly resembled Cohen. The boy’s cheekbones were a bit higher, maybe, and the angle of his face a little longer, but there was no mistaking the similarities between them. She didn’t think those similarities stopped at only their physical appearance, either.
‘So, Paige,’ Cohen began, pulling out one of the chairs from the dining room table and gesturing toward her to sit, ‘You said you had a question for me. Should I be worried?’
Paige set her plate down on the table, went about getting a glass pitcher of water and three glasses passed around, then took her place at the table, adjacent to him. Both adults had their chairs pulled out slightly, turned toward Bryce to include him in the conversation. ‘I heard abo
ut Helen O’Connor’s house,’ she said. ‘It sounds like the damage is pretty bad.’
It was the topic on everyone’s lips, and the news had rocked the tiny town. Helen O’Connor had been one of the first people to come through the door during The Cakery’s grand opening, and she’d been nothing but encouraging toward Paige when Allison introduced them. Last night, in the wee hours of the morning, Helen’s house had caught fire. No one had been hurt, and Helen’s neighbors had been quick to act by calling the volunteer fire department, but there was still extensive damage to the north side of the house despite their efforts.
‘I heard,’ Cohen replied, solemn. ‘The fire trucks passed my house last night, and Rhonda, the technician at the clinic, lives over on Huntington Street, too. Her house isn’t near Helen’s, but she said the whole one side of the house is blackened. It sounds like Helen is trying to remain upbeat about it – you know, the whole stuff can be replaced mentality – but she’s been in that house for as long as I can remember. It’s sad, to say the least.’
‘Very,’ Paige agreed. ‘Allison came in to grab the cake from me this morning before I opened the shop. She was saying that Helen is staying with her daughter, who lives in town?’
‘Not in town, really. Mira’s place is in North Springs, about ten miles past the town limits. Close enough that Helen can still be in the town she’s known as home for most of her life, at least.’ Cohen brought a forkful of cake past his lips, a groan escaping him as the sweet flavors overwhelmed him. ‘I’m telling you, Paige, if you keep making cake like this so easily accessible, I’m going to start gaining a lot of weight because I have absolutely no willpower when it comes to your baking skills.’
The Forget-Me-Not Bakery Page 7