Close to His Heart
Sweet Hearts of Sweet Creek
Carolyne Aarsen
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Coming Soon
Dear Reader
FREE STUFF
Preface
Close to His Heart is a re-release of a book I had written previously called Close to Home.
I re-wrote and repackaged it to tie it in with the rest of the Sweet Creek Series.
I hope you enjoy the book.
Chapter 1
The door of the coffee shop opened with a cheerful jingle of bells, and when Tess looked at who had come in, her breath sucked out of her.
He had returned...dragging along the darkness of the past.
It had been a week and a half since Jace Scholte came back to Sweet Creek. In those ten days, Tess jumped at the sight of any man with dark hair wearing a suit. The sound of any deep, rough voice sent her heart into overdrive.
But each jolt had been a false alarm; she hadn’t seen him face to face. Until now.
Jace’s suit sat easily on his broad shoulders. His tie was cinched and his collar enhanced his sculpted cheekbones. He was tanned, but it didn’t hide the scar down one side of his face, which added a sense of mystique to his strong features.
Then his icy blue eyes latched onto hers and narrowed.
She didn’t want to know what he was thinking or feel this trembling deep in her soul.
She forced her gaze back to the espresso machine, failing to contain her chaotic thoughts as she tamped down the ground coffee for her current order. Why did Claire have to choose this time to do inventory at the back of the store? Tess could use her sister’s support right now. She swallowed her apprehension and wiped her hands on her apron then steamed the milk, disappointed to see her hand trembling.
“So, Tess, is that coffee coming anytime soon?”
Tess fought for self-control and turned to Nate Krickson, who was watching her with curiosity in his expression. The thirty-something man wore a cowboy hat and plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves. “Sorry. Still learning,” she said.
Nate shrugged. “Well, I’m sure it’s quite a switch from working at the Inn. I would have gone there for my coffee, but Mark said I had to try this place. Not sure I want to pay this much for coffee, but hey. Happy to support your sister; though it seems to be a thing, these single moms and their restaurants.”
Tess nodded, forcing herself to not look past him to Jace. She didn’t correct Nate on his restaurant comment. Coffee Creek wasn’t technically a restaurant. When Claire started it, she hoped to be around for her daughter Emma when school was out. She also didn’t want to create too much competition with Kelsey Swain, who ran the Riverside Inn. So, Coffee Creek was open early in the morning and closed by four. Claire’s menu was quick and easy: coffee, sandwiches, and pastries.
Tess attended the espresso, pouring milk into the stainless steel container and turning on the steamer. She mentally counted as the coffee dripped into the mug, and she hoped it was done right. Though she had made hundreds of lattes, just knowing Jace was watching made her self-conscious.
Though she told herself she didn’t care what Jace thought, she still wanted to show she was good at what she did. That she had chosen this job—on purpose.
She took extra care pouring the milk in, creating a pretty flower in the foam, then handed it to Nate.
He chuckled. “Well, that flower makes it a whole lot easier to part with four dollars and fifty cents,” he said, handing her some cash. She gave him his change and he dropped it into the tip jar. “There. Go crazy,” he said.
She tried to think of something witty to say, something that would forestall having to say something to Jace.
The bells jangled again and her mother bustled into the shop, moving directly to the counter. She always said that as mother of the owner and chief barista, she should have priority over the other customers
Claire had tried to explain nepotism to their mother, but Deborah was oblivious. This was one time, however, that Tess was thankful for her mother’s brash boldness.
“My dear Theresa, I’ll have the usual.” Her mother was the only person who called Tess by her full name and always insisted other family members do the same.
Then her mother saw who she had butted in front of and ‘dear Theresa’ was roundly ignored.
“Well, hello Jace,” she said, her smile growing extra bright. “We finally meet face to face.” She turned to Tess. “We’ve been chatting on the phone up to now.”
This didn’t sound good. Her mom had always liked Jace. In fact, while her mother had been upset that Tess had quit university, she was even more upset that ‘dear Theresa’ had broken up with the very eligible and attractive Jace Scholte. Her mother had been “chatting on the phone” with Jace? That frightened her almost as much as seeing Jace did.
“Hey, Mrs. Kruger,” Jace said. He gave her one of his signature smiles, and Tess felt a tremor of attraction.
“Jace, you are as good-looking as ever, though I’m thinking you’ve lost weight,” her mother said, lightly touching Jace’s arm.
“Maybe. I’ve been busy the past year,” Jace said with a shrug.
“And now you’re here in Sweet Creek. That’s just lovely, isn’t it Theresa?”
This had to stop.
“Mom. What can I get for you?” Tess pasted on her brightest smile and zeroed in on her mother, who was easier to face than Jace.
“I’ll have my usual, Theresa,” her mother said, glancing from Jace to Tess. “You must excuse me butting in line,” Deborah said, “but I get specialty treatment. Claire and Theresa being my daughters and all.”
“Of course. I understand,” Jace said sounding way more reasonable than some of the customers could be.
“Cappuccino it is,” Tess said cheerfully, steeling herself as she faced Jace to take his order.
He was a potent reminder of what could have been. A reminder of happier times when they had dated through high school and college, and that first year of working together at MacGregor Holdings for Carson MacGregor.
Tess clenched her fists and willed the memories away. She could deal with this. It had been six years and a lot of sadness. Their life together was over.
She took another breath, relieved that the shaking in her hands subsided, that the thudding in her chest had settled to a steady beat.
“What would you like, Jace?” she asked, keeping her tone light. “Your usual as well?” She flashed him what she hoped was a casual smile to offset her lame attempt at a joke.
“Just a coffee to stay.” He held her gaze as if trying to figure her out. Tess was the first to break the connection. “I’ll get Jace’s first,” she told her mother.
She filled a paper cup, snapped a lid on it, and handed it to Jace.
“Is this a hint?” Jace asked wryly, as he took the cup.
“I believe he wanted his coffee to stay,” Deborah reminded her daughter.
A flush crept up Tess’s neck as she reminded herself to get a grip.
“Sorry. I’ll give you a mug.”
“No. This is fine.” Jace took the cup as he glanced around the coffee shop. “So this is where you’re working today?” Did she imagine his sarcastic emphasis on his last word?
“Yeah. Saturday is the farmer’s market. Monday afternoon I’m back to the thrift s
tore. I keep busy.” His question made her defensive. She knew her work schedule differed vastly from the one she would have led with Jace. They had once mapped out their lives when they were college sweethearts.
The plan had been to finish business school, work for Carson MacGregor, and, after a suitable length of time, start their own business and get married.
Tess pushed down a wave of old, too-familiar grief. Jace’s unwelcome presence resurrected the agonizing memories. She should have followed her first instinct and stayed away from town until he returned to Vancouver. Except that would have meant running away again—and she was tired of doing that.
“Is there a day you don’t work?” Jace asked.
“Sunday.”
“Day of rest, like you used to tell me,” he said. “Day to attend church.”
Don’t read more into the comment than necessary, Tess reminded herself as she nodded and turned away from him. You don’t have to make excuses for your choices or that you don’t go to church as much as you used to.
She started her mother’s cappuccino, the bean grinder drowning the conversation her mother struck up with Jace. She made quick work of her mother’s drink and handed it to her in a mug, like she preferred.
“I imagine I’ll be seeing you at the meeting tonight, Tess?” Deborah asked, as she took the mug from her daughter.
Tess’s mind skipped frantically backward, mining for a hint of which meeting her mother was referring to.
“You’ve forgotten, Theresa. Haven’t you?” Deborah’s disappointed sigh cleaved the air. “After promising me you would come? If you’d come regularly to church, you would have read the notice on the bulletin.” She turned to Jace. “I swear this girl would lose her head if I knew she wasn’t so stiff-necked and stubborn.” Her mother’s teasing smile almost negated the reprimand in her mother’s voice. But not quite.
“Tonight is the second meeting for the fundraiser for the Crisis Counseling Center. You said you were coming to the first one, and you missed it.” Deborah cupped her hands around the mug, angling her head to one side in question. Not a hair on her perfectly coiffed head moved. “You do owe me.” Her arched brow underlined the simple statement, reminding Tess of how grateful she’d been when her parents helped her move to her new apartment. When she told her mother that if she ever needed anything, just ask. That was six months ago, and she assumed her mother had taken her promise as another way of saying thank you.
Apparently she’d been wrong.
“I’m sorry. I forgot.” Tess reached up to push a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, then stopped, trying not to fidget. Thankfully, Jace had moved to a table, so she and her mother spoke privately.
“You can make up for lost time. I asked Dale Andrews, the chairman of the fundraiser, if you could still come, and he said yes.” Deborah glanced past Tess and smiled again as Claire showed up behind Tess. “There you are, Claire. I had wondered where you’d gone. Maybe you can help me convince Theresa to live up to her obligations and help out with the fundraiser?”
“Is that the one for the Crisis Center?” Claire asked, tossing a towel over her shoulder, then adjusting the bandanna holding back her dark hair.
“That’s the one.”
Claire frowned, then shook her head. “Sorry, Tess. You can’t go to that fundraiser, anyway.”
Thank goodness. Her dear sister was getting her off the hook. She knew she could count on Claire to have her back around her mother.
“Why not?”
“That’s Tess’s birthday,” Claire explained.
Deborah lifted one perfectly plucked brow. “And?”
Claire sighed. “I was going to have a party. It’s her thirtieth, remember?”
Right. Tess preferred not to remember that inevitable milestone. While it was lovely that her sister had come up with an excuse to get out of the fundraiser, Tess would have preferred the reason to be anything but this—it was a reminder of where she was in her life.
Many years ago, she hadn’t imagined that on her thirtieth birthday, she would be a single woman flitting from job to job, still unable to settle down with either a man or a career.
Her vision, at that time, included a promising career as a real estate developer.
That same vision included being married to the man now sitting in her sister’s cafe drinking coffee as he glanced over some papers spread over his table.
“But I’ll be attending the fundraiser, as will your father,” her mother protested. “Surely you can have her party on another day?”
“We always have the thirtieth birthday parties right on the day. Tradition,” Claire said, angling her sister a triumphant look.
Tess glanced from her sister to her mother, dread settling into the pit of her stomach.
Caught between a rock and a hard place. Commit to the fundraiser and end up working with her mother, or commit to the birthday party and spend the night being confronted with the stark reality of her life.
“I think we can make an exception to this tradition,” Deborah said. “This is for a superb cause. The meeting will be at six-thirty. Tonight,” she said, turning to Tess, her voice rife with expectation.
Tess caught her mother’s implacable look, wondering if it was worth the battle.“You know how important it is to live up to your commitments. We talked about this.” This was a gentle dig at other times Tess had missed or forgotten things, even though in the past few years, she’d gotten better. She wanted to tell her mother that she wasn’t flaky, wasn’t forgetful and irresponsible. She had simply been...distracted.
“Okay. I’ll be there.” Not willingly, but she had no other choice.
“That’s wonderful. Even better, Jace will be on the committee, as well.”
Jace? On the committee? No. No way. She couldn’t do this.
“But...I don’t think...I’m not sure...”
“I know you’re not working tonight, Theresa,” her mother said, “and you just said you would help.”
Tess was about to express one more protest.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed, as if she could read Tess’s mind. “I’ll see you tonight, then. No more discussion.”
Without another word, her mother walked over to join Jace at his table. Tess turned her back on them, fighting the urge to run after her mother and register one more protest—but it would be in front of Jace.
Claire sidled up to her and nudged her with her elbow. “I gave you an out,” she hissed. “Why didn’t you take it?”
“I told you I don’t want a birthday party.” Tess glanced over her shoulder, but her mother and Jace were still deep in conversation.
“And helping Mom and Jace with a fundraiser is a better option?”
Tess felt torn. Claire knew how hard Tess had tried to avoid Jace Scholte last time he was in town, which suited Claire fine. Her sister had never liked Jace or the direction he had steered Tess in her career and was pleased when Tess returned from her spur-of-the moment trip to Europe six years ago, claiming she and Jace were over.
“Look, I owe Mom,” Tess said with a heavy sigh. “And I said I would come. I’ll go, find out what’s up, and see if there’s some way I can be involved without attending the meetings. Keep a low profile.”
“So, we can still have your birthday party?”
“Well, no. If I’m involved in the fundraiser then I’ll have to show up at that, won’t I? I can’t imagine Mom would let me get out of that.” Tess gave her sister a tight smile, then went to the storeroom of the shop to get more coffee beans as she tried to untangle the mess she’d just gotten in.
You told her you would help, an annoying voice reminded her. And what would your mother think if you tried to get out of it? Or Jace, for that matter?
But I don’t need to prove anything, she countered. Either to my mother or to Jace.
Sure, she used to be Miss Involvement. Sure, she used to be on the school’s honor roll, help at every single church function, go to Bible Study, and have regular
devotions.
Where did all that busywork get her?
Zip. Less than zip, in fact.
She stopped her thoughts from making a nasty detour into the past. She had to focus on finding a way to keep her mother happy and herself away from Jace and all the memories he dredged up. By the time Tess was finished in the back of the coffee shop, Jace and Deborah were gone, and Tess could breathe again.
For the rest of the day, she poured coffee; sold muffins, cookies, and assorted pastries; traded cheerful banter with the patrons; and with each passing minute, tried to figure out how to get out of this commitment.
Surely she could find another way to repay her mother and keep Claire from throwing her an unwanted birthday party?
By the time Tess had locked up for the day and Claire went to pick up Emma from the day home she went to after school, Tess had found a partial solution to her problem: she wouldn’t go tonight—simple as that. If Jace would be there, then she simply had to stay away. No sense resurrecting the past. Besides, she heard he was in town temporarily to clean up. Letting her mother down would create another nest of problems to deal with, but right now it was the safer option.
So she took extra time cleaning up, making sure every coffee ground was cleaned off the espresso machine and every surface gleamed. She washed the floor for the second time that day and figured while she was doing that, she may as well do the windows. The stalling tactics could work only so long, but they might put her mother off. As she sorted paper towels in the back storeroom, someone knocked on the front door.
Her mother stood in front of it, shading her face with her hand to see in. Tess stifled a groan. Nothing for it now. She had to let her in; her mother had seen her.
“Are you finished?” Deborah asked as Tess let her in.
Close to His Heart Page 1