She had to know it, too. Hell, it was probably written all over his face.
That didn’t mean she felt the same, though.
There he went again, round and round in the vicious circle of wondering where he really stood with her. He had only tonight to get the things he needed done out of the way. He was about to spend three solid evenings, plus the entire day on Sunday, with her. Yet, there he was, worried about what she thought of him. If she was falling for him just as much as he was falling for her.
Beckett …
Good God, he needed to stop being so hard on himself. Thinking about this wasn’t getting him anywhere except further into a state of torturous mind games. He’d never been one to let something – or someone – permeate his well-being to the point of becoming unproductive. Cohen wasn’t an overthinker. He was a doer. Always had been.
So, why was this any different? Why was Paige different?
Cohen didn’t know the answer, but he did know one thing – she was different. That didn’t mean he had time to drop the ball by being idle, conjuring up catastrophic thoughts before he even had a reason to be thinking them.
He’d never wasted time with negative thoughts before, so he wasn’t going to start now. He didn’t even realize he’d dug in his pocket for the smooth, dappled stone until he was squeezing it between his fingers.
Think Pawsitive.
That’s what he needed to do. Think positive and do something. Don’t just think about it, but actually do it.
Cohen glanced over at the computer to his left, confirmed his next clinic appointment wasn’t scheduled for another fifteen minutes, then picked up the phone beside it and dialed.
He didn’t know exactly where Paige’s heart was when it came to him. But that didn’t mean she needed to question his feelings for her.
Chapter 15
Paige
Paige was stressed.
Rarely did she get so caught up in the whirlwind of being busy that it became overwhelming, but as the layers of undecorated cupcakes piled up in the fridge, and she continued to put more pans of them in the oven, she knew she might have gotten in over her head with this fundraiser idea. Paired with the steady stream of customers coming and going from her bakery, which meant she had to stop what she was doing in the back to go help them – and even then, it was only half-decent service – Paige was a bundle of frustration.
She couldn’t keep up. She’d taken on too much. The worst of it was that she had no one to blame but herself. She’d spearheaded the entire event a few weeks ago, not only because she truly did want to help the poor woman whose house had burned, but also for selfish reasons. She could admit that to herself now.
Paige wanted the residents of Port Landon to like her. She wanted Dr Cohen Beckett to like her, too.
Now, weeks later, Paige was more confident that she’d earned her place in the community. Her business had only flourished because of it. She was also more confident that Cohen liked her just as much as she liked him.
That didn’t make her fluctuating fears about furthering their relationship any easier to contend with. As she fought through the hours of the morning and made it into the early hours of the afternoon with the aid of copious amounts of coffee, Paige couldn’t shake the reasons that bounced back and forth through her mind as to why something as great as her friendship with Cohen could quickly come crashing down around her.
There was the obvious city versus small town dilemma. Sure, she was comfortable and content in Port Landon now, but it had only been a few months since she officially left the city. Would she stay happy here like she hoped? The sporadic texts from Alex, her former boss from Livingston Designs, sure made it seem like he hoped she would get tired of the ‘small town fad’ and come back to New York, and to the company, where she belonged. It was nice to feel wanted, and even nicer to have that safety net, but Paige wanted to believe she belonged in Port Landon just as much as Alex believed she belonged under his employ.
Then, there was the fact that the whole town, led by the effervescent Sonya Ritter, was all googly-eyed and convinced that she and Cohen were destined for a big, sappy, happily-ever-after. That was a load of pressure to live up to.
The worst part was that she was convinced that pretty soon Cohen was going to realize Paige had no experience whatsoever in raising a child. She knew nothing about kids. Zilch. Nada. She had no siblings, and her family was small. Children were a foreign entity in her childhood. And that little voice in the back of her mind kept telling her that once Cohen figured that out – a man who lived for his son, who probably deserved the Best Dad Award if there was one – he would turn on his heel and leave her lonely and broken-hearted in the middle of her bakery.
That sad thought was still careening around in her head when she heard the bell above the door chime for the gazillionth time that day. She whirled around, prepared to plaster a big, fake smile on her face and be the business woman she’d trained herself to be.
Only it wasn’t a customer. She honestly couldn’t even tell if the person was a man or a woman due to the humongous bouquet of red and white roses in front of their face.
‘Paige Henley?’ The voice was deep and distinctively male, and he sounded disgruntled at having to navigate into the shop with such a large arrangement in his hands.
‘That’s me.’
‘Then these are for you.’ He set the bouquet down on the front counter, revealing his face. But Paige didn’t see his face at all. She was too enamored by the gorgeous rose collection sitting before her, their scent wafting through the air, immediately reminding her of an easy summer day.
‘You must be someone pretty special to somebody, Ms. Henley,’ the delivery man said. He tipped his hat. ‘You have yourself a good day, ma’am.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied absently. ‘You too.’
He left her alone in the empty storefront, staring at the flowers like they were about to do cartwheels. The card was tucked between the stems and leaves, and she pulled the cream-colored envelope from its spot to unveil it.
It turns out there are no real flowers that match the pretty blue of your eyes, Paige. So, I went with something beautiful and classy – something that reminds me of you just as much.
Thank you for being such a good friend to Bryce and me.
Cohen
Paige had never been more thankful that there was no one around. She didn’t know what to say, or do, and she just stared at the card as though more words could be found between the lines if she just concentrated hard enough.
Her first reaction was to melt into a warm puddle from having such a romantic gesture bestowed upon her. She could feel her entire body wilting with the weight of how thoughtful – and completely over-the-top – Cohen’s gift was.
Paige’s second reaction, however, was to analyze the bits and pieces of what he’d done, pointing out that he’d not only referred to her as a friend but also mentioned that the flowers were from Bryce as well.
Was this one step forward in their path from friendship to something more, or was Cohen just one for overwhelming gestures, even for platonic friends?
Somehow, she didn’t think he was the type of guy to go to such lengths without his entire being guiding the way.
And his heart.
The thought made her giddy. If she was right, and this embarrassing bouquet was any indication, then Cohen was letting her know exactly how he felt about her. The hope that bloomed deep in her chest proved that, regardless of what her brain said, she felt the same way about him.
It was frightening and mortifying to have overzealous butterflies fluttering inside her over a man. It was also exhilarating to feel that kind of delicious anticipation.
If she had been excited before about their cupcake decorating rendezvous tomorrow night, Paige was counting down the hours now.
She may have locked the bakery door and turned the sign to read Closed at five o’clock sharp, but it was almost nine before Paige managed to turn the ovens off
. It was only then that she felt prepared to reopen the shop’s door tomorrow morning. Another eighty cupcakes had been baked and cooled in between her other duties throughout the day, stowed away in the fridge overnight, leaving only a few more batches of batter to be made, scooped into tins, and baked before tomorrow evening. She could do that.
Paige turned the lights off and disappeared out onto the sidewalk. It was almost completely dark, but the streetlamps that lined Main Street were glowing brightly along with the moon, reflecting in the shop windows and off slivers of the harbor she could see between the downtown buildings and shrubbery. She turned the key in the lock, about to sidestep to unlock the door to her apartment, when she heard someone holler.
‘Paige!’
She turned to see Allison and Christopher trudging up the sidewalk, hand in hand. The chilliness from the night before had warmed a bit, but once the sun sank there was no escaping the need for at least a sweatshirt. Both her cousin and her fiancé were wearing dark ones that zipped up at the neck. She would never say it out loud to Allison, but Paige thought they looked an awful lot like they were dressed alike. How cheesy, and just a bit adorable. ‘Hey, you two.’
‘So, is it true?’ Allison blurted out the question. Christopher gave her a narrowed glance.
‘Ally, we could say hello before we grill her for information.’ Christopher, more than a foot taller than the two women and boasting a dark, well-trimmed beard, turned to Paige, eyes alight with mischief. ‘Hello, Paige. Now, tell us, is it true?’ He said it in his best girly voice, obviously mocking his soon-to-be wife.
‘Is what true?’ She laughed. Allison and her fiancé were just too damn cute sometimes.
‘Did Dr Cohen send you a gi-freaking-normous bouquet of roses today or not?’ Allison couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
Paige’s jaw dropped. ‘How …’ She shook her head. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Eek! So, it is true!’ Her cousin let go of Christopher’s hand so she could clap hers together excitedly, jumping up and down. It was quickly turning into her signature move when it came to Paige and Cohen’s budding relationship milestones.
‘Don’t ignore the question,’ Paige stated, holding up her hands in an attempt to calm Allison. ‘How do you know Cohen sent me flowers?’ She had told no one about them since they showed up, and Paige had taken five minutes earlier that afternoon to take them upstairs into her apartment, so she knew there was no way anyone could have seen them by coming into the bakery.
‘Oh, Paige.’ Allison rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve told you a million times – it’s a small town, and everyone knows everything.’
Paige swallowed hard, but she didn’t respond, waiting for a real answer.
‘Calm down, dear cousin. It’s not like I have your place bugged or anything.’ She scoffed at the idea. ‘Christopher’s cousin’s wife works at the flower shop in North Springs. When Cohen ordered them this morning, he talked to her. She texted Christopher’s cousin, who then texted Christopher, and Christopher called me.’ She shrugged like it was no big deal.
‘Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said everybody knows everybody, huh?’ She couldn’t hide the slight annoyance in her voice.
‘I wasn’t exaggerating,’ Allison said. ‘People here love to have something to talk about. And whatever they don’t know for sure, they make up. It’s harmless.’
‘Yeah, until it’s not.’
Allison’s eyebrow quirked up, and she cast a quick glance at her fiancé. ‘Paige, it’s just flowers.’
That was the problem, though. To Paige, it wasn’t just flowers. It wasn’t just anything. Those flowers meant something to her, and she had a strong feeling that they meant something to Cohen, too, or he never would have sent them. The look on her face must have conveyed the inner battle going on in her head, because Allison cocked her head and offered her a sliver of a grin.
‘You really like him, don’t you?’ The woman may have been in her mid-thirties, but she was practically vibrating as she waited for Paige to respond. Paige was starting to think she was just as bad as Sonya.
‘I’m still trying to come to terms with it,’ she admitted.
‘Oh, Paige!’ Allison leaped forward, wrapping her arms around her cousin in a tight hug. ‘You’re falling in love! Finally! I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for this!’
Paige couldn’t contain her laughter. ‘Aren’t I supposed to be the one saying that?’
She didn’t let go. ‘Maybe by next summer we’ll be planning your wedding!’
‘Now you’re just getting ahead of yourself.’ Paige pushed her away. ‘Just don’t contribute to the gossip chain, all right? That’s all I ask.’
Allison made a show of zipping her lips shut. ‘My lips are zipped. But Paige?’
‘I know, I know,’ she huffed. ‘People are going to talk either way.’
‘That’s true, but it’s not what I was going to say.’ Allison shifted from one foot to the other, facing her cousin squarely. ‘Remember what I said about people gossiping? That whatever they don’t know, they make up?’ She paused, forcing Paige to give her her undivided attention. ‘It’s not the stuff they know that you’ve got to worry about, girl. It’s the stuff they make up to fill in the gaps. Remember that.’
Chapter 16
Cohen
Cohen wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but it felt like that’s exactly what he was doing. Waiting for something. And he was sure that something would ruin the high he felt at having taken the chance, wearing his heart on his sleeve and sending the roses to Paige at the bakery. He didn’t know if roses had been too much, but his only other idea had been to ask about sending her forget-me-nots seeing as she’d explained their symbolism of good memories to him, but it was their representation of true love that stopped him, thinking it was too presumptuous. Too much. Roses seemed more appropriate, somehow.
Maybe he was waiting for her response to his gesture. Maybe he was second-guessing the grandness of his ploy, just a bit. Maybe he was waiting for something, anything, to ruin his chances at getting to see her tonight for the cupcake decorating. He was looking forward to their evening, and it was all Bryce had yammered on about at breakfast that morning.
The Beckett household was definitely under Paige’s spell.
Two surgeries and a handful of appointments later, Cohen was starting to think he’d never get through the day and reach seven o’clock. Everything went smoothly, thank God. He was greeted with wagging tails and smiling faces as he went about his clinic appointments. He met with no real emergencies, but the minutes seemed to drag on slower and slower as the day went on. At one point, he’d been convinced Bryce would be crashing through the back door soon, home from school. He’d looked up at the clock, only to realize it was barely noon.
The day hadn’t gotten any better. On top of the clocks that seemed to be turning backward instead of forward, he caught his veterinary technician giving him the side eye a few times when she didn’t think he was looking.
The fourth time he noticed, he called her on it. ‘Something up, Rhonda?’
She cleared her throat as she stuck a label on a prescription bottle. She seemed to mull over whether or not to answer, then turned to face him, leaning her hip against the pharmacy counter. ‘Have you noticed how every client who’s come in here today has been giving you little smirks, or whispering to Alice at the front desk?’
‘Can’t say I have,’ he replied. ‘But I’ve noticed you doing it, if that means anything.’
‘That means I’m the only one who seems to be getting through that lovey-dovey fog that’s taken over your brain.’ She counted out a few more pills. ‘I’ve never seen you like this, Dr Cohen.’
‘Like what?’ He did his best to keep his expression neutral.
‘Like a man who’s doing more than just going through the motions.’ She held his gaze. ‘You’ve got a gleam in your eye, boss, if you don’t mind me saying so. And I haven’t seen that there in
the time I’ve known you.’
Rhonda had been employed at Cohen’s clinic for seven years. She was the one who’d helped him carry on the weight of the work following Stacey’s death. The previous veterinarian who owned the place, James Alton, had stayed to help as long as he could, but it wasn’t a permanent arrangement. In stepped Rhonda Weaver, a registered veterinary technician with mocha skin, deep brown eyes, and a height of five feet one inch. She was tiny in stature, but the woman was a force to be reckoned with. Her work ethic knew no bounds, and she’d stuck by Cohen through the long hours and the painful adjustment of being a one-veterinarian clinic. She was a godsend, a hero, and she didn’t mince words.
Which was why Cohen was paying attention now. Rhonda wasn’t one for menial small talk. She didn’t say things unless they needed to be said.
‘Surely that’s not what the clients are whispering about.’ He meant it as a joke, but Rhonda placed her hands on her hips.
‘No. But it’s because I know you better than they do.’ She pointed through the doorway into the waiting room. ‘They’re saying you’re wooing this baker girl like a true Casanova. I’m calling it a gleam in your eyes, but they’re seeing hearts bugging out of ’em and waiting on the engagement ring.’
Cohen leaned around the corner to see his last client still hunched over the front desk, speaking in hushed voices with Alice, the receptionist. ‘Tell me you’re joking. That’s Gerald Simkins. The man is seventy, Rhonda. He’s got to have more to focus on than my personal life.’
The woman snickered. ‘If you think that, boss, you really don’t understand small-town life at all.’ She grabbed the prescriptions she’d made up and headed for the doorway. ‘That seventy-year-old man is the first one to make it to the coffee club at the diner each morning, just so he can get the gossip from the night before. He’s also the one who filled Alice in on the roses you sent Paige. Was the bouquet really two feet wide and all long stems?’
The Forget-Me-Not Bakery Page 15