No Ordinary Love: Sweetbriar Cove: Book Six

by Melody Grace

  “I’m going to look at cost-cutting in the Midwest,” he said quickly. “You’re right, we need the numbers to work.”

  Arthur paused. He’d clearly been expecting a fight. “Oh. Well, good.”

  “It was Tish’s idea,” Cal added. “You know, she’s wasted in PR. I could use her on this stuff more.”

  “Let’s all just play to our strengths,” Arthur said dismissively. “But that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.” He circled the desk. “I’ve been worried about your attitude. We all are.”

  Oh. It was one of those talks.

  “If this is about me taking a vacation—” Cal started, but his uncle cut him off.

  “It’s not about one thing, Calvin. But the little things add up. I’d hoped by now that you would embrace your role as head of this company. But I can see you’re still fighting it. It’s time to think about what kind of man you are, the life you want to build,” Arthur said, a note of impatience in his voice. “The legacy you want to leave behind. Because none of this,” he said, gesturing around the ornate study, “was built by chance. It took a vision, and determination to make that vision real.”

  Cal bit back a smart reply about luck and timing. He knew his uncle meant well. Arthur had looked up to his older brother, Cal’s father, and hadn’t planned on taking over as the head of the family.

  They all meant well, in their way. Which only made Cal’s own doubts about his role harder to carry.

  “I’ll think about it, Uncle Arthur,” he said, resigned. “I know there’s a lot riding on my decisions. I promise, I only want to do what’s right for the company.”

  “I know you do.” Arthur slapped his back. “You’ll do the right thing. And about this girl—”

  “Woman,” Cal corrected him.

  Arthur raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment. “We’re looking forward to meeting her,” he said instead. “The right partner is crucial for a man in your position. As many deals are done over dinner as they are in the boardroom.”

  Cal coughed. “Right. Sure.”

  He headed back to the conservatory, trying to imagine Eliza in pearls, playing hostess the way Sylvie had done beside Arthur all these years. Maybe not. But then the image shifted in his mind. Eliza, right there beside him at a dull function, making things brighter just by being there. Eliza, in his bed every night. Waking up beside him in the morning. Bickering over the morning newspaper and smiling back at him with a mug of coffee.

  It was intoxicating. Cal drifted through the rest of lunch and his meetings back at the office, impatient to get back to the Cape. He damn near broke the speed limit on the way there, feeling his tension melt away as the highway wound down the coastline and the ocean glittered, just behind the trees. He called Eliza before his cell signal dropped. “I’m almost back. Want me to come pick you up?”

  “I’m just finishing a shift,” she replied, and he could hear the restaurant noise humming in the background. “See you at the Pink Palace?”

  “Soon.”

  Cal hung up with a smile. He recognized the spot up ahead where he’d pulled over with that flat tire, weeks ago now, and Eliza had come barreling into his life. He’d known from the start that she was trouble, but he knew so much more now: her loyalty, her strength, the sweetness she let slip when she felt safe enough to open up. There were so many layers she kept hidden beneath that whip-smart surface, and even with another hundred years, he wasn’t sure he could discover them all, but damn, it would be an adventure to try.

  He stopped at the store in Sweetbriar Cove to pick up some groceries and wine, and then he headed home. As he pulled into the drive, he was rewarded with the sight of Eliza, sitting cross-legged on the front steps. She was reading a book in her lap, head bent, her hair burning at the edges in the last rays of evening sun.

  She looked like she belonged there.

  “Hey.” Eliza looked up and greeted him with a smile. “How was your big meeting?”

  “Let’s pretend like the last eight hours didn’t happen,” Cal replied.

  Eliza got to her feet and slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a kiss. “You look tired,” she said, gently pushing his hair back. “Everything OK?”

  “It is now.” Cal kissed her again, and he felt the world click back into place. Her mouth was cool and sweet, and for a moment, he just savored her, soft in his arms. “What about you, good day?”

  “Good enough,” Eliza replied. Cal unlocked the door, and she helped him with the groceries. “The numbers on the first new edition of the Caller came in really strong, so I might get to bump the page count for the next one.”

  “That’s great.” Cal headed for the kitchen, and Eliza peeked in the bags.

  “Steak, wine, chocolate cake . . . ? Why, Mr. Prescott, are you trying to seduce me?” She batted her eyelashes at him, and Cal laughed.

  “If I wanted to do that, I would have cut straight to the chocolate.” He winked. “I thought we could stay in tonight. I’ll cook.”

  “That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” Eliza smiled.

  “See? My plan’s already working.” Cal took his time pouring them a glass of wine. “You sit down and relax.”

  “Now you’re really talking dirty,” Eliza quipped. She hopped up on a stool by the counter and let out a sigh of relief. “We had a big party in from New York, I was on my feet all day.”

  “Trade you?” Cal said, only half-joking. “Next time, you sit through all the financial forecasts and passive-aggressive comments from my uncle, and I’ll take the lunch rush.”

  “Deal,” Eliza said immediately. She gave him a sympathetic look. “That bad?”

  Cal shrugged. He didn’t want to complain, not when he knew his uncle was only looking out for the family. “I’ll figure it out. The gala is next week, so hopefully everyone will have some fun and relax before the next meeting.” He paused, looking over at her. “Would you maybe want to go with me?”

  Eliza grinned. “Are you, like, inviting me to prom?”

  Cal laughed. It did feel that way. “I know it’s not your scene,” he said quickly, “and I need to play host. But I’d really like it if you’d be there with me.”

  Eliza bit her lip. “You mean, meet all your friends and family?” She looked nervous for a moment, so Cal put down the chopping knife and moved closer.

  “They’ll love you,” he reassured her.

  Eliza raised an eyebrow.

  “OK, so maybe Aunt Mindy will hold a grudge,” Cal admitted. “But I promise, their bark is worse than their bite. It would mean a lot to me,” he added, and Eliza exhaled.

  “Then of course I’ll be there.” She tilted her head up to him for a kiss. “I’m guessing the dress code is fancy-pants?”

  “Super-extra fancy-pants, actually,” Cal corrected her, smiling.

  “Noted.”

  Cal went back to the food prep, and Eliza sipped her wine. She looked around. “You know, I’m going to miss this place. When does your godmother get back?”

  “Not for a few weeks.” Cal laid the steaks in a simple olive oil and rosemary marinade and turned his attention to the vegetables. “She’s actually the one who taught me how to cook this,” he added. “She said every man needed to be able to wow in the kitchen.”

  “I like her already,” Eliza said, and Cal couldn’t resist pausing to round the counter and kiss her again. This time, she slid her arms up around his neck, possessive, and teased his mouth with her tongue until his blood was pounding.

  He lifted her in a single move, wrapping her legs around his waist. He started walking her towards the bedroom.

  “But . . . dinner . . .” Eliza sounded breathless. Her cheeks flushed, and her body arched as she held on tight.

  “The marinade needs thirty minutes,” Cal said, leaning in to nip at her neck. Eliza shivered against him.

  “Well, in that case . . . How will we spend the time?”

  Cal grinned and pressed her back against the nearest w
all. “I have a couple of ideas,” he murmured, capturing her mouth again and feeling her body rise.

  Dinner could wait. He had more important things to taste.

  17

  I need your help,” Eliza greeted Mackenzie and Brooke later that week, meeting for lunch in Provincetown. They’d all been so busy she hadn’t seen them since karaoke night, and they’d set aside the time to catch up, eat, and enjoy a lazy afternoon in the sun. “I know we planned on a spa day, but I have an emergency.”

  Brooke’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “What kind?”

  “A shopping emergency.”

  Her friend laughed. “That’s my favorite kind. Right there with ‘Oh no, all the ice cream will melt if I don’t eat it’ emergencies.”

  “And ‘Whoops, my boyfriend surprised me with a tropical vacation’ emergencies,” Mackenzie agreed, smiling. “What’s the problem?”

  “Cal invited me to be his date for the Prescott Foundation Gala,” Eliza replied. She’d had days to mull it over, and her early excitement had faded clean away. “I’m going to need a dress. A fancy, formal, snooty, gorgeous gown, so I can mingle with all of Cal’s rich friends without feeling two feet tall,” she added. “Do you think we can find something here in town?”

  “Challenge accepted,” Brooke declared. “Trust me, I know every designer in a twenty-mile radius. This town is full of cute formalwear.”

  “And she’d know,” Mackenzie laughed. “Didn’t you have to find replacement bridesmaid’s dresses on zero notice?”

  “The bride suddenly decided they looked too good in blue,” Brooke said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “They wound up in a hideous salmon color, but the best part is, it clashed with the bride’s skin tone, so she looked even worse!”

  “No salmon, thanks,” Eliza said. She paused. “The gala . . . This is serious. I saw the photos from last year, it’s like the who’s who of Boston’s social scene. I don’t know if I’m cut out for that.”

  “Sure you are,” Mackenzie said, frowning. “Where’s this coming from?”

  Eliza shrugged. It had only taken long enough for her amazing orgasms to fade for the reality of the situation to slap her in the face. “Just . . . my last few run-ins with these people haven’t exactly been great. I don’t want to let Cal down. This would be the first time he’s brought me to anything,” she added. “You know, as a date.”

  “Awww.” Brooke looked excited. “You really like him!”

  Eliza flushed. “Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t want to get humiliated in front of a whole ballroom full of important people.”

  “She likes him.” Mackenzie grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll find something spectacular. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

  “I’ll settle for blending into the crowd, thanks,” Eliza said. “Although, in this crowd, that might be above my pay grade. Crap, I’m going to need shoes, too,” she realized. “And a bag. And jewelry . . . There goes my paycheck for the week.”

  Brooke shook her head. “We’re the same size,” she said. “You can borrow something from me. And the lost and found at the hotel is like a fashion closet of cute accessories.”

  “Would that be OK?” Eliza checked, not wanting to cause any trouble.

  “Sure,” Brooke grinned. “I figure if nobody’s claimed something in six months, it’s fair game.”

  “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” Eliza told her gratefully, but as they finished up their food and started strolling the cute cobbled streets downtown, she still couldn’t shake the feelings of trepidation when she thought about the gala.

  She tried to brush it off, but clearly, she was a bad actress, because they were browsing the first boutique when Mackenzie nudged her gently. “What’s really going on?” she asked. “I thought you loved an excuse to get dressed up and hit an open bar.”

  “I do, usually,” Eliza said. She flipped through the racks, trying to find something Sukie and the glossy blonde crowd would wear. “But this isn’t just a fun night out. All of Cal’s family and friends are going to be sizing me up. Judging me.” Eliza’s nerves returned.

  “Since when do you care so much about random strangers?” Mackenzie looked puzzled. “The Eliza I know doesn’t give a crap what people think.”

  “This is just different.” Eliza shrugged, self-conscious. “The fundraiser is a big deal to Cal, and I’m just not part of that world.” She paused on a plain black cocktail dress. “What do you think?” she asked, pulling it down.

  “Boring!” Brooke called, sing-song, from across the room. “But this would look amazing on you.” She held up a red silk gown with draped neckline. “Can you just imagine this with old Hollywood curls, red lipstick . . . Va-va-voom!”

  The dress was gorgeous, a showstopper. Which is exactly what Eliza didn’t want to do. “Va-va-nope,” she replied. “It would be like walking around with a neon billboard screaming, ‘Look at me!’ ”

  “Because you’d be a knockout.” Brooke and Mackenzie exchanged a look.

  Eliza caught the concern in their eyes, but she didn’t know how to explain. She wanted to blend in and be invisible, so she didn’t embarrass Cal. She needed the night to be a success for him and the Foundation, and the last thing he needed was to have her sticking out like a sore thumb, or, worse still, looking like she didn’t belong. “Let’s just find something gorgeous and understated,” she said instead, turning back to the racks. “Think ‘work function,’ not ‘wild weekend in Vegas.’ ”

  “Their loss.” Brooke shrugged and set the red dress down again. “But anytime you want to wow, you know where to find it.”

  * * *

  Two hours later and Eliza had tried on what seemed like every formal dress in town. Cocktail, floor-length, lacy, and satin, she’d paraded them all to Brooke and Mackenzie, but nothing was making her feel like a million bucks.

  Hell, at this point, she’d settle for feeling like fifty bucks and change.

  “OK, here’s the last one,” she said, emerging from the dressing room of the fifth boutique. This dress was a demure navy sheath with an asymmetrical neckline and knee-length skirt. “I figure it’s between this, the black, and that gray one.”

  “First of all, I refuse to allow you to buy a blah gray dress for this,” Mackenzie said, folding her arms. “Second, you look like you’re going to a job interview in that.”

  “And third, the black was so boring, I can’t even remember what it looks like,” Brooke finished.

  “Guys!” Eliza looked in the mirror in despair. “This isn’t funny. I need to pick something.”

  “Ahem, the red,” Brooke fake-coughed.

  “Something appropriate,” Eliza insisted. She took in her reflection: the dress hugged her figure, at least, and didn’t flash too much skin. With pumps and a pretty clutch, she would blend right in. She checked the tag. “And it’s on sale.” She brightened. “Ding-ding-ding, we have a winner.”

  “If you say so,” Brooke muttered. Mackenzie elbowed her.

  “You look great,” she added loyally. “Cal won’t know what hit him.”

  “Thanks.” Eliza smiled. “You guys have been awesome.”

  She changed back into her regular clothes and took the dress to the register. “I owe you both drinks,” she said. “And dessert, too.”

  “Raincheck?” Brooke checked her phone. “I better get back to work.”

  “Me too,” Mackenzie said. “I just got a big order for a set of my new collection.”

  “That’s great. What is it this time?” Eliza asked, as the clerk rang her up. “Drowned sailors? Mythical beasts?” She loved Mackenzie’s work, and her friend was famous for her delightfully odd ceramics.

  “Close.” Mackenzie grinned. “The Salem witch trials. Only in my pieces, the witches turn on the mob and hunt them down with burning torches.”

  Eliza laughed. “That sounds amazing. I’ll have to come by the studio and see.”

  “Swing by anytime. I messed up a bunch of bowls last week in the kil
n,” Mackenzie said cheerfully. “And you know what that means.”

  “Smashing time,” Eliza chorused with Brooke. “Hold that thought until next week,” she added. “I’ll probably need to blow off some steam after the gala.”

  “Keep up posted.” Brooke gave her a hug. “And let me know what you need to finish the outfit!”

  Eliza’s phone buzzed just as Brooke and Mackenzie departed. She picked it up, expecting Cal, but instead it was Riley’s voice on the other end of the line. “All clear?” he asked in a hushed voice.

  She’d almost forgotten their plans. “Yup, Brooke just headed back to work.”

  “Perfect,” he said, and gave her an address just a few streets away.

  “Be there in a sec.”

  Eliza walked over, swinging her bag with the new dress inside. She wished she could have been more excited today: happily trying on outfits and gossiping in anticipation with her friends. So why did it feel more like she was gearing up for an appointment at the dentist than a fabulous gala? It wasn’t the formal ball itself; she’d attended plenty of fancy parties before. On the features beat at the newspaper, she’d been the one covering charity fundraisers and big events. She usually had a great time, getting into the swing of things so she could write up every detail and give her readers the inside scoop.

  But this wasn’t an assignment, and she wouldn’t just be an anonymous face in the crowd. She would be on Cal’s arm—on display. And something about the thought of walking into that room full of strangers, looking at her—judging her—made Eliza’s usual confidence wither away.

  It will be fine, she told herself. She would play nice and stay quiet, and they would sail through the night without any problems. Cal had blended in just fine with her friends, she could at least try to do the same for him.

  When she arrived at the address Riley had given her, she found him loitering outside a jeweler’s, looking nervous.

  Eliza looked from him to the window display of gorgeous engagement rings and back again. “Really?” she squealed, her problems suddenly seeming far away. “Congratulations!”