Always Be Mine: Sweetbriar Cove: Book Nine

by Melody Grace

  “Right!” she gulped, backing away fast. “Sure . . . umm . . .”

  She wracked her brain for something to say, but there was nothing. “I should go,” she blurted loudly. “I mean, the rain’s letting up now, and . . . we don’t want to be stuck here all night!”

  Oh God, what was she saying now? Sure, try to kiss a guy who has zero interest, and then mention spending the night.

  Griffin looked equally horrified by the idea. “You’re right,” he said immediately. “I’ll get the keys.”

  “Great.”

  Lila wished she could have just teleported home and pretended that this whole night never happened, but instead, she had to sit through the most awkward drive of her life. Griffin barely said a word the whole ride back to Rose Cottage, while Lila just stared out at the dark, rainy night, cringing on the inside.

  What must he think of her? Some desperate, washed-up actress so starved of attention that she was throwing herself at every man who crossed her path? Lila didn’t even want to imagine, but she couldn’t stop replaying the whole embarrassing scene in her mind.

  After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled up outside her house.

  “Thanks for the ride!” she exclaimed brightly, still not looking at him. “I’ll see you . . . around.”

  She leapt down from the Jeep—and landed directly in a massive puddle. Squelch. But even the feel of cold water seeping up her jeans couldn’t chill the burning humiliation still thick in her veins.

  “What about your bags?” Griffin called over.

  “Oh. Right.” Lila fumbled in the backseat for all the stuff she’d brought along. Had it really only been this morning that they’d set out? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “All set,” she said brightly, slamming the door.

  Griffin just nodded. “See you,” he said vaguely, before gunning the engine and driving away.

  Lila sighed and began the schlep up her front path. She didn’t blame him. What was he supposed to say? Thanks for mauling me in my kitchen? Better by far that he didn’t say anything at all.

  In fact, her only hope was that they could wake up tomorrow morning and pretend like none of this had ever happened.

  That wasn’t too much to ask, right?

  8

  What had she been thinking?

  Lila woke after a restless night with the same cringing embarrassment still hot in her bloodstream. She hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. Pressed up against Griffin in the kitchen, it was as if something had flared to life inside her, an instinct she hadn’t felt in forever. Pure, simple desire. In that moment, logic was the last thing on her mind. She’d only felt the pull, drawing her closer to him, tantalizingly real . . .

  Until Griffin had made it clear all those sparks were in her imagination.

  How was she supposed to look him in the eye now?

  Lila leapt out of bed and took a deep breath—and gave herself a pep talk. She was a grown woman. This wasn’t the end of the world. So, she’d made a fool of herself, that didn’t mean she had to pack her bags, run for the hills, and start her life over under a new identity. Griffin probably just thought the whole thing was funny, an amusing anecdote to tell one day about the time a famous actress put the moves on him . . .

  Oh crap. That was even worse.

  No. Lila forced herself to shower and dress and put her embarrassment aside. It was one little kiss. Not like she took off all her clothes and danced naked on his kitchen counters. One tiny, meaningless, accidental kiss.

  Except . . .

  She paused a moment, touching her fingertips to her lips. Even the briefest brush of her mouth against his had sent heat racing through her. A glimpse of something wild, a taste that promised more . . .

  She shook her head, sending the memory spinning away. Nope! She wasn’t going to dwell on it . . . and she also wasn’t going to be waiting there when Griffin arrived, ready to replay the awkward look on his face all over again.

  Grabbing her purse and jacket, Lila drove into town. The storm had passed overnight, leaving the landscape scrubbed fresh, the air crisp and the blue-green palette more vibrant than ever. She parked at the bakery, and arrived at the door just as Summer was flipping the sign to open.

  “You’re up early,” Summer greeted her with a smile. “Craving those morning buns?”

  “Something like that,” Lila replied, stepping inside.

  “Well, come on back. I’m just about to get another batch set up. You can help.”

  Lila paused. “Really?” she asked, surprised. Summer had offered her a baking lesson, but she wasn’t expecting her to take the time right before the morning rush.

  “Please, my usual girl just called in sick, so I need an extra pair of hands. Unless you were planning to relax with your coffee,” Summer added.

  Lila shook her head. “No, I mean, I’d love to help.”

  It was just the distraction she needed. Summer led her back to the kitchen and handed her an apron, and soon Lila was up to her elbows in flour and butter, rolling out long ropes of dough and sprinkling them with cinnamon and sugar.

  “This place is amazing,” Lila said, looking around the bright, cozy kitchen, full of glass jars and baking dishes. “I never want to leave.”

  “Say that again after you’ve spent fourteen hours making sourdough loaves,” Summer cracked. Then she smiled. “No, you’re right. It’s my favorite place in the world. Besides my bed,” she added.

  Lila laughed. “You’ve got me beat. They delivered the wrong one before I moved in, it’s like sleeping on a plank of wood.”

  “Oh no! That’s not the energy you want to bring into your bedroom,” Summer advised. “I read an article once that swore you had to set the stage for whatever you wanted to happen there.”

  “So, I should lose the plastic sheeting and murder props?” Lila joked. Summer snorted with laughter.

  “Can you imagine the look on a guy’s face if you brought him upstairs to that?”

  “If you were taking off your clothes, he’d probably be like, ‘eh, OK.’ ” Lila grinned. “But now that I think about it, maybe there is something to the idea,” she mused, thinking of her bedroom back at the cottage. She’d taken her time decorating the living spaces and kitchen, but left her bedroom last on the list.

  “Which idea?” Summer asked, looking amused. “Murder?”

  Lila laughed. “No, a new mattress. Right now, the room is pretty spartan.”

  “That depends . . .” Summer gave her a sideways glance. “Do you want it to be?”

  Now there was a loaded question. Lila turned her attention back to the dough. She

  dusted it with spices and nuts, then paused to check, “Is this right?”

  “You’re a natural,” Summer cheered from her spot by the stove. She was stirring a thick pan of caramel, and the delicious buttery scent of it made Lila’s mouth water.

  “I’ve a ways to go before I turn pro,” Lila smiled, stealing a pecan and popping it in her mouth. “I tried to make a cake the other day, but it kept sinking in the middle and coming out dry, no matter how many times I tried the recipe.”

  “What kind of oven are you using?” Summer asked.

  “I don’t know.” Lila shrugged. “The one in the cottage is pretty old.”

  “You need a baking thermometer.” Summer rummaged in a drawer and pulled out something red and plastic. She tossed it over, and Lila scrambled to catch. “Most of those old ovens, the temperature is nothing like what it says on the dial. Ignore everything, and just check the real number on that thing. Tricks of the trade,” she added with a wink.

  “Thank you.” Lila smiled. Maybe she wasn’t just a total failure when it came to baked goods, after all.

  “Hello?” a call came from out front, and then Jenny strolled into the kitchen, unwrapping her scarf. “Is that a fresh pot of coffee?” she asked hopefully, gazing at the corner.

  “Late night?” Summer asked. She poured a mug and Jenny joined them, perche
d on a stool at the long counter.

  “Yes, but not for any fun reasons.” Jenny yawned. “Hannah had a sleepover with her friends, and I forgot the earplugs. They were up half the night giggling over some guy on YouTube. I feel old,” she added with a sigh.

  “Didn’t Fraser keep you amused?” Summer asked. “Don’t tell me the honeymoon is over already.”

  Jenny gave a smile. “It isn’t, but he’s in New York, setting up for a show.”

  “That’s why phones were invented,” Summer said. Jenny laughed.

  “Sure, because I’m at my sexiest going on three hours sleep, with a dozen thirteen-year-olds running around. It’s fine,” she said, taking a big gulp of coffee. “I’m planning the world’s longest nap tonight, and then I’ll actually be myself when Fraser gets back into town.”

  “Conserving your energy, sounds like a plan,” Summer agreed.

  Jenny turned to Lila. “Sorry, I just walked in and hijacked your whole conversation! What’s new with you?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Lila reassured her. “You weren’t interrupting anything.”

  “We were just discussing Lila’s spartan love life,” Summer said, with a mischievous grin.

  “No!” Lila yelped, blushing. “I was talking about my bed. Not anyone in it!”

  “Same thing.” Summer grinned, and Jenny laughed.

  “Please, if a gorgeous star like you can’t find a man, there’s something very wrong with the world.”

  “That’s sweet,” Lila sighed. “But you’d be surprised. Being famous makes things more complicated, not less.”

  “But you get to meet all those hunky actors!” Jenny protested. “And go to fabulous events all over the world.”

  Lila smiled. “I know it seems glamorous, but . . . Well, the guys who enjoy the spotlight are usually dating me for all the wrong reasons, and the good ones figure it’s too much trouble. Which is probably true,” she added with a shrug. “I mean, would you say yes to drinks knowing your embarrassing pre-teen photos might end up all over the internet?”

  “The right guy won’t mind all of that,” Summer reassured her.

  Lila wasn’t so sure. But she wasn’t about to ruin a lovely morning with her new friends, so she just smiled and kept on rolling dough.

  “Who do we know around here?” Jenny mused, reaching over to steal some cookies from a plate. “I feel like you could use someone down-to-earth, who isn’t caught up in the whole Hollywood scene.”

  “Anthony, maybe?” Summer suggested.

  Jenny shook her head. “I went on a date with him, years ago. He keeps a pet ferret.”

  “A what?” Summer exclaimed, and even Lila had to giggle.

  “Not just in a cage at home, either,” Jenny continued, wide-eyed. “He brings it with him. On a leash!”

  “Umm, pass!” Lila protested. “No ferrets. Or snakes. I once met a director who was really into snakes. I went back to his place, and they all just stared at me from behind their glass cage. I felt like they were planning to escape and eat me.” She shuddered at the memory.

  “No snakes, no spotlight-hunters . . . Someone nice, and fun—”

  “And hot,” Jenny added.

  “Well, obviously.” Summer grinned. Then she brightened. “Ooh, what about Griffin?”

  Lila nearly choked on a pecan.

  “Yes!” Jenny exclaimed. “He’s perfect. I nearly dated him,” she added to Lila, “but I was already head over heels for Fraser by then, so we never really connected.”

  Lila took a sip of coffee and tried to act casual. “I, umm, actually know Griffin. He’s working on my garden.”

  Both sets of eyes swiveled to look at her. Lila forced herself to keep sipping—but it was no use.

  “You’re blushing . . .” Summer said slowly.

  “You are,” Jenny agreed. “Your ears have gone all red.”

  Lila winced. So much for her acting abilities.

  “Did something happen?” Summer leaned closer, looking excited.

  “No!” Lila blurted.

  “Do you want it to?” Jenny asked.

  Lila paused, just a split second too long.

  “I love it!” Jenny clapped her hands together. “Your eyes meet over the rose bushes . . .”

  “He’s all dirty from working in the yard,” Summer agreed. “You bring him a cool drink of water, and your eyes meet, and—”

  “I thought Poppy was the romance writer in the group!” Lila cut them off, her cheeks still flaming. “This isn’t some bodice-ripping novel!”

  “But it could be.” Jenny grinned.

  “You’d definitely need a new mattress, though,” Summer said with a wicked grin. “Griffin isn’t on the small side.”

  Lila blinked.

  “I meant his height!” Summer protested, laughing. “But it’s good to know where your mind is at.”

  “It’s not anywhere,” Lila insisted, flushing again. “And definitely not anywhere near Griffin. Trust me,” she added. “He’s not interested. He couldn’t be less interested.”

  She got another flash of their non-kiss from last night and felt the burn of embarrassment all over again. When she looked up, Jenny and Summer were still watching curiously, and Lila bit her lip. “Let’s just say, he had a chance,” she added vaguely. “And made it clear that’s not going to happen.”

  Summer looked dubious, but Lila knew what she was thinking. People always assumed that she had a wild love life, full of romantic affairs, but the truth couldn’t have been further from that. Since the wedding that wasn’t, she’d lived more like a nun than the Hollywood man-eater the press made her out to be.

  “I think these are done,” she said, changing the subject just as the bell sounded outside.

  Summer checked the clock. “I better get to it, before the good folks of Sweetbriar Cove riot for their morning Danish. Thanks for your help,” she smiled at Lila. “Just for that, your breakfast is on the house!”

  Lila smiled, following them out to the front of the café, where, sure enough, a line of hungry locals was beginning to form. “Hmm, well in that case, I’ll have one of your almond croissants—”

  She caught sight of Griffin, just stepping through the door, and suddenly, Lila’s mind went blank.

  He looked good.

  Too good.

  Sun-kissed hair and blue eyes. Jeans, a navy pullover, and two-day stubble on his chin . . . She knew actors who would prep for weeks to pull off the same rugged, manly look. But Griffin had it down.

  “Lila.” He stopped dead when he saw her. “Uh, hi. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “Me either,” Lila blurted. “I mean, for you.”

  So much for pretending like nothing had happened! Lila felt her cheeks burning, just as awkward as the night before.

  She knew how he felt, pressed against her.

  She knew how he tasted.

  “Breakfast,” she said abruptly, desperate to act normal. “I mean, I was getting some.” She gestured vaguely.

  “Same,” Griffin replied, not meeting her eyes.

  “Oh.”

  Lila could feel the curious looks from Jenny and Summer, and she could only imagine what they were thinking. “I should go,” she said brightly.

  “No, I will,” Griffin said quickly.

  “But, didn’t you want to order anything?” she asked.

  He paused. “I’m not hungry.”

  And then, before she could say another word, he turned on his heel and walked out.

  Griffin deserved a medal. An award. Hell, they should award him the Nobel prize for self-control after the restraint he’d shown with Lila the other night.

  Or maybe he was just a fool. After all, what red-blooded man took one look at the gorgeous celebrity swaying closer—eyes closed, luscious pink lips parted—and thought, “No, better not”?

  An idiot, that’s who. An idiot who’d spent the night restlessly dreaming about the woman he’d just turned down. And not simply kissing her, either. N
o, the dreams that haunted Griffin’s mind were shockingly seductive, hot and reckless. Even the bracingly cold shower he’d suffered in the morning hadn’t been enough to cool him down—especially when they’d come face to face in the bakery, and X-rated dreams had all coming rushing back to him.

  The slide of her naked body. The whisper of her hair on his skin.

  Her lips parted with a soft, perfect moan.

  Griffin had bolted from the bakery before he made a damn fool of himself, heading to work—on another job, outside of town. He spent the morning working up a sweat digging out some raised flower beds, trying to push all thoughts of Lila from his mind.

  Did she have to be so beautiful?

  It was her job, he knew that. She was professionally gorgeous. But this wasn’t the red-carpet siren he’d been ready to resist. Even bare-faced morning Lila, bundled up in a sweater and jeans at the bakery, was enough to make his blood run hot. And when she let her guard down, and just talked, the way they did last night . . .

  He was halfway to forgetting all those reasons to stay away.

  No, she wasn’t the woman he’d thought she was. And Griffin didn’t know if that was a good thing . . .

  . . . Or just dangerous as hell.

  But either way, it didn’t make a difference, he reminded himself. He had a job to do, and he was going to be a professional about it. Which is why he forced himself to drive over to Rose Cottage that afternoon, ready to start preparing the soil for planting.

  After all, there was nothing sexy about manure.

  He began unloading the Jeep and hauling bags of compost around the back. Then he stopped. Lila was already in the garden, wearing big rain boots and looking around the space.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling at him. “It’s really coming along out here.”

  Griffin cleared his throat.

  Professional.

  “Uh huh,” he murmured in agreement. He let the manure bags fall to the ground with a squelch. “Mickey called to say our orders should be in next week,” he added. “So I can get planting soon.”

  “Great.” Lila paused. “Listen, about what happened last night . . .”