Second Chance at the Sugar Shack

by Candis Terry

  The man was a walking contradiction. One minute he was trying to select a wife from a grocery list; the next minute he was on the floor with her making love with so much passion it made her heart hurt.

  She opened the refrigerator door, grabbed the packages of cream cheese, and slapped them down on the counter. Her initial reaction when he’d walked out that door had been that he wanted her body but he didn’t want her. She could have kept thinking that if it hadn’t been for the look in his eyes when she’d mentioned his almost proposal. It had been apparent she’d brought back unwelcome memories of heartache and pain.

  Her instincts told her to let it go. Walk away. The problem remained that her instincts, along with her good intentions, always sucked. She didn’t want to walk away. She felt something for him, something deep inside where hope raised its annoying little head and made her realize she wanted different things now than she’d wanted at twenty years old. Heck, she wanted something different than she had just a few weeks ago.

  She wanted it all.

  And maybe, if she played her cards right, she could have it all.

  His list was ridiculous. She knew it. Deep inside he had to know it too. For his sake maybe she should leave him be and let him move on with his life.

  But until she knew exactly what was in his heart, leaving him alone was impossible.

  With the Sugar Shack’s grand reopening looming, Kate set the tray of her pastry samples on the back floorboard of the Buick and shut the door. She’d never realized how much satisfaction could be gained from slapping a little sugar and flour together. But as she’d arranged the treats on the tray, she’d been filled with pride. In Hollywood she made a living taking someone else’s creations and putting them together. But her pastries were all her, made from scratch, her heart, and imagination.

  Hopefully they tasted as tempting as they smelled. The combination of raspberries baked in perfectly puffed phyllo, blackberry cheesecake squares, buttermilk pecan tarts, and amaretto chocolate swirl fudge would surely appeal to a certain sexy bachelor. If not, the chilled bottle of Moët should do the trick.

  Whatever that little something was in the back of her mind that nagged to leave Matt alone, Kate ignored. Obviously their attraction to each other was a two-way street. But somewhere since she’d stepped foot on hallowed Deer Lick dirt and now, old feelings had raised their head and new feelings were spurning her on.

  In her business she had to be a huge “what if” person—as in what if she put the black Alberta Ferretti with the Cesare Paciotti T-strap heels? Or what if she paired the criss-crossed Marchesa with the sparkly Louboutin peep-toe sling backs?

  What ifs were what pushed her toward the edge and dared her to leap. They were what had made her successful. They were what drove her to try new things even when the possibility of failure was waiting with open arms.

  What if she knocked on her former boyfriend’s door, forced him to face the feelings he’d had for her ten years ago and he slammed the door in her face? She didn’t particularly like rejection.

  But what if he didn’t reject her?

  The Buick rolled to a stop in the gravel driveway by the lake and Kate cut the engine. She studied the house to see if there was life inside or if she’d need to take her treats and go home. Only a flickering glow illuminated the pleated shades in the front window. Puffs of gray smoke spiraled from the chimney and confirmed a fire was burning in the fireplace.

  She seriously hoped Matt wasn’t entertaining one of his potential June Cleavers.

  She gathered up her goodies and whistled to the pup to follow. Like the good boy he was, he lifted his leg on a nearby bush before they climbed the steps to the front door. From within the house she heard music—soft, romantic music.

  Crap.

  Matt probably did have someone inside and she was about to be a party crasher. She tried to peer through the shades with no luck. And as she stood on his front porch with tasty treats, delicious champagne, and, just in case, wearing her sexiest matching bra and panties, she knew she had to make a decision. Did she risk humiliating herself? Then again, the reason she was there had nothing to do with personal pride and everything to do with matters of the heart.

  The cold air stung her cheeks as she looked down to the pup by her side. “What do you think?”

  His cheerful brown eyes looked up at her and he sneezed.

  “Are you sure?”

  He sneezed again.

  “Okay, but if I look like an ass, it’s going to be your fault.”

  She took a deep breath, raised her fist, and rapped hard on the rustic pine door.

  A few seconds later, the door swung open and Matt stood there in threadbare jeans that hung low on his lean hips. A red plaid flannel hung from his broad shoulders, unbuttoned to reveal smooth taut skin over a perfect set of abs. His feet were bare. His hair was mussed. And he looked at her as if she had antennas growing out of the back of her head.

  Uh-oh.

  “Am I . . . interrupting?” she asked in a tone purposely oozing with sweetness while she balanced the tray in one hand and grasped the champagne bottle in the other.

  His ice blue eyes narrowed and he stared at her from behind a thick fringe of dark lashes. His chiseled jawline clenched. “What do you want, Hollywood?” His acerbic tone bit into the moniker she’d strangely become accustomed to him calling her.

  “Like I said, am I interrupting?”

  He folded his arms across that perfect naked chest and rocked back on his heels. “Depends.”

  Obviously he wouldn’t be of any help. She rose to the balls of her feet and peered over his shoulder. When she didn’t see any apron-wearing prospective brides, she went with her gut. Not that her intuition had ever led her in the right direction before. Still, she could always hope for a first time.

  She edged past him and strolled into the living room like she owned the place. “Come on, pup.” A flash of golden fur made a beeline for the rug in front of a huge stone fireplace that showcased a roaring fire. He curled up and laid his head on his front paws, watching her as though he knew she was about to make a total fool of herself.

  Kate glanced around the room to find the place sparsely decorated in an Adirondack style without the typical bear or moose motif. Just comfortable furniture, warm earthy colors and rustic wood. “Nice place.”

  Matt stood in the doorway as though debating whether to toss her out or lock her in. Finally he closed the door and the icy draft retreated. A little.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, making his way toward her—step by intimidating step.

  Heart thumping, she set the dessert tray down on the coffee table, listened to the song playing on the stereo and grinned up at him. “Never thought of you as a Bublé kind of guy, Deputy Ryan.”

  A frown furrowed the smooth skin between his dark brows. “I like all kinds of music.”

  “Uh-huh.” She brushed past him, went into the kitchen, and searched the cupboards for champagne glasses. “You just seem more like the Lynyrd Skynyrd type to me.”

  “What’s wrong with Michael Bublé?”

  “Nothing. He’s great.”

  “You know him?”

  She shrugged, pulled down two wine glasses from a middle shelf, and set them on the granite counter. “We’ve met a time or two.”

  “Shit.” He stalked to the stereo and snapped off the CD.

  “You didn’t have to turn him off,” she said, grabbing the Moët and peeling off the foil cover. “I love his voice.”

  “I’m sure you do since you know him up close and personal.”

  His sharp tone sent a shiver through her heart. “Oooh, do I detect a note of jealousy?”

  “What the hell are you doing here, Kate?” he demanded instead of owning up to the truth.

  “I need to use you.”

  His eyes widened. “Pardon me?”

  “I brought a peace offering to thank you for finishing the paint job at the Shack. I didn’t expec
t that. It was a very nice gesture.”

  “It was no big deal.”

  She locked eyes with him. “It was a big deal to me. You saved me a lot of work. So thank you.” She nodded toward the tray. “And to repay you for your random act of kindness, I brought you some samples of desserts I’m adding to the Sugar Shack’s menu. I needed an impartial opinion. Maggie taste-tested everything several times but she’s no help. If it contains anything that resembles sugar, she gives it an instant thumb’s-up.”

  She twisted the wire muzzle to release the champagne cork but before it could pop Matt asked, “What’s with that?”

  “Everything tastes better with champagne.”

  He glanced at the label and then at her. “I’m not into your fancy stuff, Hollywood. I’m more of a beer kind of guy. Regardless of whose music I listen to.”

  She gave the wire a final twist. “And you feel totally secure with your masculinity.”

  “Absofuckinglutely.”

  “Do you have someone upstairs?” she blurted out, then cringed at her less than composed delivery.

  His hesitation raised the hair on the back of her neck. Her chest tightened.

  “No,” he finally admitted.

  Kate had to catch herself when relief pushed from her lungs. At that moment, her thumbs dislodged the cork. It rocketed from the bottle and bounced off the ceiling. She winced. “Oops.”

  He didn’t bother to look up and check for damage. Instead his eyes remained glued on her, on every move she made, on every breath she took. She filled the two glasses and handed one to him on her way into the living room. “Pretend it’s Budweiser.”

  He stood in the kitchen a minute, obviously contemplating his choices. Then she heard a manly sigh. Or was that an exasperated groan?

  She gave the pup a stroke between his ears before she plopped down on a studded leather armchair next to the fireplace. The heat radiated and made her feel warm and toasty. Matt kept his distance by sitting across from her on the sofa. He grabbed a woolen print pillow and tucked it in his lap as though it would protect him. From her.

  Or maybe he was hiding something.

  She could only hope.

  “You name that dog yet?” he asked in a gruff tone.

  “He’s not mine to name.”

  “How long has he not been yours?”

  “Ummmm, a while?”

  “Yeah. He’s yours.”

  Had he been conspiring with her mother? “There’s no way I can keep him. I live in a condo in L.A. and I sublet an apartment in Manhattan. I’m never home. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Since when is life fair?”

  The innuendo couldn’t be more clear. Ignoring the squeak in the leather, she eased forward in the chair and sipped her champagne. The fire snapped and crackled while she worked up the courage to ask the question he’d dodged the other night. When she found it, she looked him square in the eye. “I need to know, Matt.”

  The firelight reflected in his pale blue eyes as he watched her from across the room.

  “The truth,” she said quietly, “About what you were going to ask me before I left.”

  “So the desserts and the champagne were all a setup?”

  “No. I genuinely wanted to thank you.” She set her glass down on a sandstone coaster. “And I genuinely wanted your opinion. But I also want to know what you were going to ask.”

  “Why rehash what you already know? Hell, that’s why you ran, isn’t it? And do not try to tell me you just found out.”

  The pained expression on his face made her stomach queasy. “I just found out.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She slowly shook her head. “The truth, Matt. Please.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “It just does.”

  He stared into her eyes before he answered. His chest lifted on a sharp intake of air. “Yes. I wanted to marry you. Yes. I asked for your parents’ permission. Yes. I bought a ring.”

  An ache twisted her heart as she pictured in her mind how he must have felt the day he’d discovered her gone. She pictured all the passion she’d missed from this man who had so much to give. A man who would do anything to protect the ones he loved. Who would even protect her from embarrassing herself when she did stupid things. Matt Ryan was a man who would be a friend and lover like she’d never known. Who would have laughed with her. Cried with her. And trusted her with his heart.

  She hadn’t appreciated that when she’d been a young inexperienced girl, but as a woman she appreciated that a man like him was priceless.

  “We were only kids, Matt.” she said, trying in vain to keep the tremble from her voice.

  “I’d been legal to buy alcohol for over a year. Hardly a kid.” He shot from the sofa and stormed to the big window overlooking the lake. He turned his back to her and downed his glass of champagne. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  The tension in his shoulders gave away what his quiet words did not. And there was no way she would force him to say the words that were obviously too painful for him to speak.

  I loved you.

  She went to him. “I didn’t leave town because I heard you wanted to marry me. I honestly had no idea until the other day.” She stood behind him, inhaling that fresh-from-the-shower manly clean. Their reflections looked back from the glass. She regretted her actions a decade ago. She’d hurt more of those she cared about than she even knew.

  Her heart gave a painful twist. “I was selfish. I’d been waiting and waiting for that scholarship. When it finally arrived, I’d expected everyone to be excited for me. But they weren’t. At least my mother wasn’t. We had a horrible argument. Just . . . horrible.” She shook her head to rid herself of the sorrow that night had left deep in her soul. “And I regret the awful things that were said that night.”

  “What was said, Kate?” He didn’t turn. Didn’t look at her. “What was so horrible that you would leave without a word to anyone who cared about you?”

  The words her mother had screamed that night meant nothing now. She knew what was in her mother’s heart. But Matt needed to know. For them to move forward with any kind of relationship, even just a friendship, she needed him to let go of the terrible way they’d parted.

  “We argued for hours,” she explained. My dad tried to stop us but my mother wouldn’t let it go until she’d had the last word. Things escalated to name calling and she told me . . . I was a worthless dreamer who’d never amount to anything.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder and the understanding in his eyes nearly brought her to her knees.

  “She should never have said that.”

  She shrugged. “She got the last word after all.”

  “You must have been devastated.”

  She glanced down at the floor and shook her head. “Beyond. I was young. Vulnerable. And I couldn’t believe the one person I thought I could trust most would think so little of me.”

  “I’m sorry for what she said.”

  “Not your apology to make, Matt. But now you know why I left the way I did, without a word to anyone. So no one would stop me. I left because I needed to discover who I was. Not who I was in comparison to Dean or Kelly or who my mother thought I should be.” She filled her lungs with air and let it out slowly. “I should have said good-bye. It breaks my heart that . . . all these years you thought I left because of you.”

  He shrugged one broad shoulder. “It happened a long time ago. No big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal to me.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against the back of his soft flannel shirt. A skitter of nerves rippled down his back and fluttered against her cheek. “I’m not what you think I am, Matt. I’m not who you think I am.”

  He turned and her hands slid to his arms. He looked down into her eyes and she felt his gaze warm her soul.

  “Then who are you, Kate?”

  It was then she knew she had to stop fooling herself.

  I’m a woman who could very easily
fall in love with you.

  “I would never have left without saying good-bye had I known how you felt,” she said. “Never.”

  “I told you.”

  She shook her head, ran her hand up his arm to cup the back of his head. Her fingers curled in his short dark hair. “If you had, I might have stayed.”

  She drew his head down and whispered against his mouth. “Give me a reason to stay now.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Her sweet warm breath swept across his mouth and Matt knew he did not have the power to push her away.

  He’d loved her for as long as he could remember. The stubborn girl who’d never cry uncle. The thoughtful girl who worked hard to help her community. The tender-hearted girl who’d find homes for lost pets.

  The woman in his arms was the same.

  The knowledge that she hadn’t run because of him opened up his soul and he was willing to let her in. This was what he’d wanted for so long. For her to come to him. To want him as much as he wanted her.

  Her free hand wandered between the open buttons on his shirt and the touch of her cool fingers against his bare flesh lit him on fire. Her lips brushed his while her fingertips traced lazy circles across his chest.

  Passion raged through him but he didn’t just want a good time between the sheets. He wanted more. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and take his time loving her.

  “Forgive me?” A little moan rumbled in her chest and she pressed herself against him. “Please, Matt. I promise I’ll make things right.”

  She looked up at him with that familiar pleading in her eyes. Please kiss me, Matt. Please touch me. Please love me.

  Had she forgotten those were the same words she’d said to him years ago—the night he’d made love to her that first time? Had she forgotten how potent the word please became when she used it in conjunction with his name?

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Kate.”

  She looked deep into his eyes. “I won’t.”

  He slipped his hands beneath her worn leather coat, slid it from her shoulders, and tossed it on a nearby chair. Then he took her by the hand and led her up the stairs to his bedroom.