Hometown Hope: A Small Town Romance Anthology

by Zoe York

  “Come on, little guy.” He gently lifted it as it buzzed in his hollowed hands, and ambled to the back door, his left leg dragging more than he’d like. Maybe the cutie would overlook that when she saw how he’d saved the day.

  “They don’t sting,” he said from the alley as he opened his hands. The bumblebee flew away, its wings hardly seeming able to carry its large, fuzzy body.

  “They freak me out.” The woman’s shoulders were still hunched, her eyes wide and on the lookout for more winged attackers.

  “Would you like an iced tea? Lemonade?”

  She watched him move. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” Her eyes had drifted from his leg up to the thin scar that lined the edge of his mouth, her expression changing to one of caution. If he smiled, the scar would look like a charming laugh line. He didn’t smile. He could see her reassessing him, his manhood, his possible value to her within her able-bodied life. He didn’t blame her. She looked like she did the things he couldn’t—hike up steep mountain trails and camp out on the ground without waking up with frozen joints. It didn’t matter that he could still perform as a man should—he’d engaged in an experiment with one of his nurses after his accident to see if he still had his mojo, even though his legs hadn’t yet been working. He’d been able, but lying there had stolen what felt like the last thread of his manhood and he hadn’t bothered with another “experiment” since.

  Ethan shook off his thoughts with a scowl.

  “I’m fine and walking, aren’t I?” His tone was slightly curt. “It’s almost lunchtime. Care to join me?”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve got more deliveries.” She brushed past him, collecting her cart from the kitchen.

  “Another time then,” he said gruffly as she handed him her clipboard.

  “Yeah. Sure. Please sign.”

  Ethan scribbled his initials and returned to the kitchen, grumbling about women not wanting half a man. He found himself face-to-face with his sister and her friend the hottie. He quickly turned away, embarrassed that they’d likely witnessed him being rejected.

  He went to push past Mandy, but she stopped him, giving him a light smack on the chest. “What’s your problem?” she scolded.

  “What’s yours?” he retorted just as quickly. Having a sister who picked up on his every mood—and he had plenty—was a colossal pain in the you-know-what. It was as if she thought him smiling more would fix his life.

  Ethan glanced over at the hottie, who looked even sexier from the front. All curves and low neckline and high hemline. She dressed like a powerful businesswoman from the city and his mind spun down Dirty Avenue before his gaze had a chance to make its way up to check out her pretty face, which was quite likely to be filled with pity.

  She had beautiful eyes, no hint of pity, and a familiar pert nose speckled with freckles.

  Aw, man.

  Hottie was totally off-limits.

  He’d been jonesing for his sister’s childhood friend, Tagalong Lily. Sure, she wasn’t a kid any longer, but she was like a sister to him, a year younger than Mandy and several more junior to him. Not that it mattered as adults, but you didn’t think about a woman’s legs wrapped around your waist so you could fall into her if she was essentially family. You protected her from men with thoughts like his.

  He shook his head, disappointed in himself.

  “Hey,” said Hottie. Scratch that. Lily. Lily, Lily, Lily and her newfound hotness.

  Her cheeks were pink, her eyes filled with happiness at seeing him. Or something else. Probably something else. People generally weren’t delighted to see him. Something about his stormy moods that frequently rolled in. He should probably do something about that. If, say, he desired a social life and didn’t mind his bad days becoming a burden on others—but he believed his family and friends deserved more than that. They had their own lives to lead and he didn’t need them constantly worrying over him anymore.

  “Hey, Lilypad.”

  She gave him a sassy head tilt that exposed an expanse of smooth neck. Then, as though unable to hold back any longer, Lily yanked him into a fierce, brief hug that left him stumbling, his mind imprinted with one impression—she felt amazing pressed up against him.

  Last he’d heard from Moe—the bartender at Brew Babies—his younger sister, Lily, had been working in the city as some fancy-pants chef after cooking school or whatever it was called, and had broken up with the latest douche in a long line of men not good enough for her. Was she here to stay, or just to torment him with the fact that he hadn’t been with a woman in what felt like long enough to re-grant him his virginity and her middle name had been changed to Hot Stuff? Lily Hot Stuff Harper.

  Hello, libido, so nice of you to pop in and turn me into an imbecile with a one-track mind that likes to play in the gutter like a neglected orphan.

  Lily leaned in, her perfume soft and sweet, her hands light on his elbows as her lips neared his.

  He flinched, jerking away. Too late, he realized she was only going in for a polite cheek kiss to top off her hug.

  She gave a smile, but the hurt in her eyes wasn’t easily masked. It reminded him of when, as a family guest at his high school graduation, she’d tried to kiss him goodbye since her family was moving to South Carolina to be closer to cousins. She’d been vulnerable, and it had been his job to protect her like a sibling, not take advantage of her. He’d pulled away, receiving the same look of rejection she was giving him now.

  “She wants to relieve you of your burdens,” Mandy said, jabbing a thumb in Lily’s direction.

  “She what?” His mouth went dry. Surely not that burden.

  All right. Gutter mind needed to take some time off. His eyes drifted to her long legs again before he caught himself.

  “Lily wants to buy your catering biz as well as Benny’s.” Mandy was speaking slowly, letting the lifeline hit the water, swirl around him, tempting him to change his drowning tune, grab hold and haul himself in.

  He could ditch this job.

  He could accept the contract from Burke Carver and his fashion-conscience company, Sustain It, Honey. Ethan could change the course of his business, helping him repay his dad and stepmom for the way they’d made their home wheelchair accessible so he could leave the rehab facility and eventually get his life back in order. Return the down payment they’d placed on his current home.

  He glanced at Lily. She seemed serious about buying him out.

  He could be free.

  “I’ve already done a pile of research and have asked around about it,” Lily said. “I’m interested.”

  “That was you?” he asked, taking her in. She’d requested detailed accounts, contracts, the works. He’d assumed it was some sharp-eyed business conglomerate checking things out, not his kid sister’s friend who’d become a verified foodie.

  Not that it surprised him. She was smart, but he found the idea of her as a savvy businesswoman attractive in an unexpected way.

  “Yes.” Lily tipped her chin up in that defiant way he used to find cute when she was about ten. But there was a hardness to her expression now that spoke of a challenge—a challenge he wanted to pursue with a throaty growl.

  “You want to buy my businesses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine,” he said, leaning against the counter. “Name your price and they’re both yours, Lily Harper.”

  “Here’s the thing,” Lily said, leaning against the doorjamb, thrown by Ethan’s “name your price” offer. It hadn’t been what she’d expected to hear from her friend’s brother—a guy she’d had a crush on ever since he’d pulled her out of a mud puddle when she’d been pushed there by her own brother, back when she was six. Ethan had not only pulled her out, but scolded Moe, then walked her home so she could change her clothes, drying her tears as they went.

  He’d always been a nice guy. Steady, reserved and quiet. The kind of man she could trust, who she knew would look out for her and ensure she wasn’t nudged aside by others even when he grumbled ab
out her tagging along and cramping his style.

  And now he was offering her two thriving businesses at whatever price she wanted? There was nice guy and then there were offers that were too good to be true. This time, she knew what the catch was, unlike with her boyfriend Skip, who, it turned out, had had a wife on the side. Or rather, Lily had been the one on the side. They’d met at a job fair and he’d convinced her to move from South Carolina back closer to the place she considered home—Blueberry Springs—to work in his kitchen in the nearby city of Dakota. He’d claimed that if she put in a little sweat equity he’d make her full partner in his restaurant. She had. And a year later he’d turned around and sold it all, collecting a tidy profit he then used to buy a Mexican beach house for his wife.

  Meanwhile Lily had been tossed aside, fired from the job. She’d been left with a broken heart filled with deception, her bank account dipping even further into overdraft, her student loan debts nowhere near paid off.

  After that Tanner had come along, looking like a knight. He was a chef, too—unmarried—who loved creating new recipes. They’d had fun being creative in the kitchen and it had felt so real, so much like love and everything she wanted there, surrounded by stainless steel and knives that cut better than a Blueberry Springs winter wind. They’d indulged in delicious, rich flavors, the scents of sauces and baking constantly in the air like an olfactory track to the movie of their life.

  Then Tanner had taken full credit for their recipes, publishing them in a cookbook he’d been contracted to write prior to meeting her. She’d unsuccessfully tried taking him to court, merely adding to her debt load.

  But that wasn’t the worst part. Even now he kept begging for forgiveness, kept trying to find a way back into her life.

  Her years in the city had taught her some very important lessons. One being that nobody was going to help her succeed; she had to do it on her own. There was no more living off someone else’s kitchen. The next time she worked in a restaurant, the kitchen would be all hers. Her rules, her world. She got to choose the people that would become her family, her trusted circle.

  Even if the debt and responsibility finally killed her.

  That was where Ethan and his reasonably priced, established restaurant came in. He wanted out and she wanted in. And she had just enough credit left to make it happen—assuming she found a way around the catch in his offer.

  “Here’s the thing,” she repeated, as Ethan’s ice-blue eyes met hers, striking in their intensity. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything other than what those impatient, frowning lips would taste like.

  Pull it together, Lil. Pin him against the wall with your business sense. You’re tougher now. You can handle a complete hunk staring at you.

  “On the real estate listing,” she continued shakily, “it says the businesses come with everything. Recipes, contacts, agreements, discounts. Everything down to the grains of salt in the shakers.”

  Ethan nodded, slowly crossed his arms, looking stiff. Not good. He was preparing to play hardball.

  No, she could play hardball, too. She’d survived being an intern, a kitchen lackey, a sous-chef’s assistant right on up to chef. She’d been underestimated, undervalued, underpaid, discounted and used. It was a hard business with demands that broke many, but she hadn’t faltered, hadn’t let it shake her off her course.

  “When I talked to your suppliers,” she continued, “they said new owner, new deals.”

  “Who said that?” Ethan asked, his eyes narrowed. He seemed predatory, defensive, ready to protect. He used to pull out that look when bullies tried to put her down for her ragtag appearance, her dad’s inability to afford the right outfits for her. Now Ethan was using the look on her and it made her feel like an outsider, an enemy.

  Lily whacked Ethan’s chest with a roll of lists and papers, trying to remain tough. She’d spent two days talking to people. She knew what had to be changed in the offer of sale. “Nobody will honor the current contracts.”

  “That’s true.” Mandy piped up.

  “How do you know?” Ethan looked surprised.

  “Because I’m one of them!” his sister snapped, putting her hands on her slim hips. “You can’t sell your business and expect me to provide my prize-winning whiskey-and-gumdrop brownies to some stranger at cost. That’s a special deal between you and me. And I’m also not letting a stranger use my kitchen free of charge for their catering business.”

  “Why don’t you prep catering orders in the kitchen at Benny’s?” Lily asked.

  “It’s too busy with regular orders.” Ethan turned back to his sister. “Lily’s not a stranger. Why can’t you give her the same deals?” His voice was low, rumbly and warm, in a way that shot straight to Lily’s core, nudging all her girlie parts into paying very close attention to the man in front of her.

  “You can’t expect me to treat others like I’d treat family,” Mandy replied.

  “But Lily is family.” Ethan faced off with Mandy.

  Lily tried hard not to swoon, but figured she must have, judging from the glance Mandy darted her way.

  Her friend’s tone softened. “I know she is. Always will be. And if she buys your businesses we’ll work something out. But my point isn’t about Lily. You can’t expect everyone to honor deals and contracts that were…were for you.” Mandy wasn’t looking at Ethan and Lily figured she knew why. He had received some primo deals based on his like-family status, as well as pity due to him being in a wheelchair when he’d started out. Years later, those deals were still helping his bottom line.

  Which was a bit ridiculous seeing as he was obviously back on his own two feet now.

  “Renegotiating the contracts and current arrangements could easily eat up most of the profit margin,” she said. The success of any restaurant—even well-established, popular ones—was always iffy in a small town such as Blueberry Springs, and more so with a change in ownership.

  “It can’t be that bad,” Ethan said uncertainly. He looked frustrated. Maybe a bit desperate.

  “This is my cue to head back to work,” Mandy stated. “I only have a week before our baby arrives.” She gave an excited grin and a hop as she left the kitchen with a parting “Good luck.”

  “I’m taking a huge cut in proceeds with the amount of taxes I’ll have to pay when I sell,” Ethan said. He waved his hands as though shooing off pigeons. “But whatever. Make me an offer. I’d rather sell to you than a vulture.”

  “I’m not done.”

  Ethan gave her a pained look, crossing his arms again and making his shirt stretch over his biceps. There was a thin white scar along the side of his mouth that gave him a look of rugged imperfection. Slightly bad-boy and compelling.

  “It says in this contract―” she dug through her shoulder bag “―that none of the recipes from Benny’s can be sold with the business.”

  “Technically, I’m not selling the recipes. I’m giving them away to the new owner, since they’re not listed under assets.”

  “Didn’t you read this thing? You can’t give them away, either.” She waved the contract. “Blueberry Springs doesn’t do well with change.” Such widespread menu changes could chase off even the most loyal customers.

  “So I’m stuck with the restaurant?”

  “It’s going to be difficult for the new owner to make money unless you cut your price by at least 20 percent.”

  “Twenty?” He looked aghast. “I owe more than that on it still.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Ethan rubbed his eyes, which were looking suddenly bleary. “What do I have to do to sell these businesses to you without taking a huge financial hit? Any ideas?”

  She felt a surge of hope, a renewed belief that maybe she could find her way home again, that she could finally have her own kitchen—a place of belonging, a place to fit in. A place that nobody could take from her.

  She blinked back the dampness in her eyes and decided it was worth the risk of possible
rejection. There was one catch preventing them from getting what they wanted and she knew the way around it.

  “Most of your suppliers said they’ll leave the deals in place if your family takes over.”

  Ethan rubbed his eyes again, appearing defeated. “Mandy already has a business and there’s no way Devon could do this without wrecking it all—plus he’s not interested. I asked.” He picked up a tea towel, then tossed it away, his other hand resting on his hip. He studied the floor for a moment, then looked up. “They’re really being that fussy?”

  “Your sister struck some hard bargains with the catering business, and Benny has several decades of loyalty that extended to you because…” She didn’t dare say it. Pity. Everyone thought the man in front of her was a cripple, even though he was strong, virile, and totally capable. She could see it in the no-nonsense way he held himself, the broadness of his shoulders and the appealing quality of his presence. Sure, she’d heard him muttering about being only half a man when the delivery lady had shut him down, but even Lily could see why the woman had shied away. Ethan was too gruff, too quick to reject her, when she’d only been trying to figure him out.

  Her loss and Lily’s gain. Maybe.

  “I just need a chance to prove myself as a worthy partner and I’m sure they’ll change their minds,” she said.

  “I’d do anything to get rid of these businesses.” Ethan gazed up at her soulfully and she knew he was telling the truth.

  “There is a way,” she offered tentatively.

  “Yeah?” He looked hopeful.

  “We could both follow our dreams…” Her palms were growing damp, her doubts overwhelming.

  “I’m listening.”

  “It wouldn’t be that difficult. We’re friends.” Sure, she still kinda had a crush on him, but it would be okay. He was good at keeping boundaries, just like when they’d had their subscription recipe newsletter in high school. He’d done the email newsletter bit and she’d provided the content for their list, which included a combination of family, teachers, and strangers that had found her basic site on the web. They hadn’t made much money, but he’d been happy enough working alongside her. And he’d always made it clear that he didn’t want anything more than friendship between them. His disinterest would keep things simple, uncomplicated.