by Melody Grace
Mmmm . . .
“Better?” he asked, finally pulling away.
“Much.” Summer smiled back, wide awake now with pleasure singing in her blood. “You should bottle it, you could make a fortune.”
He chuckled. “No, that’s just for you.” He drove on, and her tension melted away on the warm evening breeze.
What had she been so worried about? Grayson hummed along to the radio, totally at ease, his earlier tension forgotten. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed an absent-minded kiss to her knuckles, and Summer’s stomach turned a slow pirouette.
She’d been right. He just needed some time.
“So how was your afternoon?” she asked, relaxing. “Any more hot bookstore action?”
“Not after you left. It was pretty quiet.”
“Quiet sounds nice. I was up to my elbows in pastry cream all afternoon. I want to make most things fresh on the day, but then I panicked about maybe running out of things, so I started baking early to—sorry.” She stopped herself, realizing she was babbling about baking again. “Ignore me. Boring kitchen stuff.”
“Hey.” Grayson looked over and squeezed her hand. “It’s not boring, not for you. And I think you’re right to be prepared with extra stock, you don’t know what the demand will be. Did you decide about the pies?” He added, “I know you were trying to pick between peach and blueberry.”
Summer blinked, then laughed out loud. “Thank you,” she said, beaming. “For pretending to be interested.”
“I’m not pretending,” Grayson insisted. “OK, well maybe just a bit,” he admitted. “But I’m very interested in tasting all your samples.” He winked, and she felt that glow of happiness again. He may not be a part of her chef world, but he was happy to let her ramble about peach frosting and cinnamon glaze when she needed to—and that was more than any other man had ever tried.
Grayson pulled up at the beach house, and she climbed down from the truck, carefully carrying the bakery box of desserts. “What did you bring?” Grayson asked, playfully trying to lift the lid. She whipped it out of reach. “It’s a surprise.” She grinned. “No peeking.”
She wasn’t sure what they were having for dinner, but what the hell: chocolate went with everything.
“Hey!” Poppy greeted them at the door. She was barefoot in jeans, looking relaxed and happy to see them. “Come on in. Cooper’s out back, showing the grill who’s the real man.”
“I heard that!” Cooper’s voice echoed from deeper inside the house.
Poppy grinned, leading them through the house. “He’s winning, of course. The grill didn’t stand a chance.”
“That’s more like it.” Cooper joined them, hugging Summer and giving Grayson that manly slap on the back all guys seemed to do in greeting. “Good to see you guys. Beer?”
“Sounds good.” Grayson nodded.
“I’ll take one too, thanks.” Summer smiled.
The guys went through the kitchen, and Poppy steered Summer outside. “Let me guess, you’ve been baking all day.”
Summer automatically reached up to check her face. “Do I have flour on me, again? Grayson didn’t say anything.”
Poppy laughed. “No, you’re good. I just know you too well.”
“Busted.” Summer smiled. “I’m just so excited. And nervous. It’s like the night before Christmas and the first day of school all rolled into one.”
“Whatever happens, you’re a rock star,” Poppy reassured her. “Seriously, I’m so proud of you for doing this. Who would have thought six months ago that we’d both wind up here?”
“Not me.” Summer looked out at the bay, the endless expanse of sparkling blue water and the streaked pink sunset sky. She took a deep breath of salty air and smiled. “But hey, it doesn’t suck.”
“No, it definitely does not.” Poppy grinned.
“What are we drinking to?” Cooper asked as he and Grayson came back outside. Grayson passed Summer her beer and slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“How about those éclairs we’ve got for dessert?” he suggested, and Summer playfully elbowed him.
“I said no peeking!”
“I couldn’t resist.” Grayson gave her a wicked grin, and Summer knew the feeling.
She couldn’t resist him, either.
“I know, let’s toast to unexpected detours,” Poppy announced.
“Amen to that,” Cooper agreed. They all clinked their bottles together, and Summer took a long sip, relishing the moment. Unexpected was right, but as she felt Grayson’s arm around her and the warmth of the evening breeze, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. It had only taken ten years, a run-down cottage, and a kamikaze fluffball hell-bent on running her off the road.
She owed that cat some cream.
The heat mellowed to a perfect evening, and they ate out on the deck, soaking up the view—and the delicious food. The steaks were perfectly grilled, and Poppy had made some delicious salads to pair with a loaf of crusty French bread.
“I’m never eating again,” Poppy groaned, finally pushing her empty plate away.
Cooper smirked. “Don’t believe her. Ten bucks says you’ll be in the refrigerator at midnight, hunting for another snack.”
“Just for that, you’re not getting one of my famous leftover sandwiches,” Poppy teased.
Summer sat back. “I needed that,” she said, satisfied. “I’ve been living off cake batter for days.”
“Poor baby,” Poppy quipped.
“Believe me, the tenth spoonful isn’t as fun as the first,” Summer said.
“What time are the doors opening?” Poppy asked. “I want to be first in line.”
“8 a.m.,” Summer said. “But maybe wait until after lunch, so I’m not distracted trying to talk?”
“We’ll be there. With empty stomachs.”
“And full wallets, I hope.” She turned to Grayson. “What time do you want to come by? I’ll make sure to save you some treats.”
“I won’t make it tomorrow,” he said casually. “I’m actually heading out of town for a few days. A camping trip.”
There was silence.
Summer stared at him. For a moment, she wondered if she’d heard him wrong. If those words somehow didn’t mean what she thought they did. But Grayson took another sip of beer, totally oblivious, and her heart sank.
“You didn’t mention it,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“I like to go every year,” Grayson replied. “Get away from all the Memorial Day tourists. You know me and crowds. I’ll be back Tuesday, I think.”
He gave her a smile, but Summer couldn’t bring herself to smile back.
“What about my opening?” she asked quietly. From the corner of her eye, she could see Poppy and Cooper exchange a look.
“You know, we’ll get these plates cleared.” Poppy bounced to her feet. She grabbed a couple of things and then made a hasty exit inside, along with Cooper.
They were left alone.
Summer fought to control the flood of emotion rising in her chest. Grayson was still lounging there like this wasn’t a big deal, so maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was overreacting here, or reading too much into nothing.
But this ache of rejection didn’t feel like nothing. In fact, it felt all too familiar to Summer. Except instead of it being her mom letting her down, yet again, for something more important, it was the man she hoped would actually want to share this moment with her.
“I want you to be there,” she tried to explain, in case somehow, he didn’t understand. “It’s a huge day for me, and I thought . . . you’d want to be a part of it. Can’t you delay the trip?” she asked, hating that she even had to. “You don’t even have to stay for the main opening. You could leave on Sunday, or even next week. It would mean a lot to me to have you there.”
To support her. Like couples were supposed to do.
But Grayson didn’t waver. “It’s just a couple of days,” he argued, getting up to take a n
ew bottle of beer from the ice bucket on the table. “Like I said, I need to get away.”
“From me?” Summer asked, holding her breath.
“No.” Grayson cleared his throat. “Just . . . away. I didn’t think you’d mind,” he added quickly. “I would just be in the way, and you’ll be focused on the customers.”
Summer stared at him.
“Did you? Think—about what I wanted? Or did you just think about what you would want?”
He looked away, a flash of guilt on his face, and she realized in a terrible moment that the man in front of her hadn’t dropped his defenses one bit. That even after the nights they’d shared, the hours in each other’s arms, he was still as remote and untouchable as the very first day they’d met.
She’d stripped herself bare for him. Peeled back the layers of her hopes and dreams and darkest insecurities, and offered her beating heart for him to take.
And he’d placed it neatly in some convenient box and shut the lid, and expected her to wait there until the moment he chose to open it again.
When it suited him.
When he wanted to be with her.
Summer’s heart broke apart, realizing just what he was saying to her. “You won’t be there,” she said slowly, getting to her feet. “Will you? You were never planning on being there for me. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done, and you can’t even show up to wish me luck.”
Grayson looked uncomfortable.
“It’s not like that. I always go on this trip, every year.”
“And nothing’s changed for you.” Summer searched his face, hoping to find something, some hint of the emotions that were storming in her own chest, but Grayson was inscrutable to the end. “What are we?” she asked simply.
He blinked. “We’re . . . spending time together. Having fun. You know . . .” He looked away, and Summer felt something break apart.
“Fun,” she echoed. “That’s all this is to you? I’m crazy about you, Grayson. The past few weeks, being together . . . I thought you cared about me. That I mattered—”
“You do matter,” Grayson insisted.
She shook her head. “Not enough. If I did, you wouldn’t think twice about supporting me. You would want to share this, because it’s important to me!”
“I can’t turn my whole world upside down for you.” Grayson looked stubborn, and it split Summer’s heart in two.
“I’m not asking for the world,” she said sadly. “Just one day.”
There was silence.
If he was going to apologize, it would be now, Summer realized with a terrible ache. If he truly hadn’t realized what this weekend meant to her, he’d be promising to delay his trip a couple of days so he could support her, share in this big event. He would give her that much, at least.
But Grayson just stared at the ground, his shoulders tense. She could almost see the wall he’d built around himself, a force field to keep his life calm and undisturbed. She’d thought their connection was enough to breach it—that their passion, and all the emotion they’d shared, could somehow dismantle it for her, piece by piece—but now she finally knew there was no reaching him.
This man was an island, and worse still, he was perfectly happy that way.
“Well. I guess I know where I stand.” Summer blinked back tears. She started to turn away, but Grayson caught her arm.
“Wait, it’s not like that.”
“Then how is it?” Summer shot back.
“I . . . I don’t know.” Grayson looked torn, his dark eyes full of conflict. “You have to understand, my life was perfectly fine before I met you. I had everything running exactly the way I wanted, and then you came along . . .”
“No!” Summer interrupted him angrily. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m some wild temptress come to lead you astray. I’m not chaos. I’m not burning everything to the ground. I’m just asking you to meet me halfway, or even want to. You chose this too,” she reminded him. “You kissed me, and made love to me, and acted like you cared.”
“I do,” Grayson swore.
“But not enough.” Summer swallowed back her tears. God, it hurt to look at him, to see the possibility of what they could have become.
But maybe it had always been a fantasy. The Grayson who held her close and whispered in her ear was only half the story. And if all he could do was push her away, then she wasn’t going to keep reaching out, hoping that this time, he would catch her fall.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, taking a step back. “I’m sorry you can’t see how good this would be, if you’d only let yourself fall in love.”
“Summer . . .”
She waited another beat. She shouldn’t, she hated herself for it even as she stood there. Just a word from him. Just one more try. He could still make this right and choose a future for them.
Choose her.
But Grayson’s voice trailed to nothing, and she could see it in his eyes, there was nothing left to say.
She wasn’t enough for him. After everything, she still wasn’t good enough.
“Enjoy your trip,” Summer whispered, and walked away before he could see her cry.
18
Summer overslept. She was supposed to be up at four to start the baking prep for the soft open, but after crying herself to sleep over Grayson, she must have set the alarm wrong, because she woke to a wet sensation licking her face.
“Mnmhm . . .” she mumbled, sleepy. Maybe last night had been a terrible dream, and she’d open her eyes to find Grayson lavishing her with kisses and his undying devotion. Then the lick turned into a drool, and she opened her eyes to find Marmaduke sitting on her pillow, slobbering his morning cat breath all over her.
She groaned. “Get off me!” Light was streaming through the windows, and her head ached. But this wasn’t a hangover, this was heartbreak talking. Grayson had made it clear he didn’t really care about her, and now the only man she wanted was probably loading up his Jeep and hightailing it out of the state right now—
Wait a minute, daylight?
Summer sat up. “No, no, no, no, no.” She leapt out of bed and grabbed her phone. Just past 5:30 in the morning. She let out a wail. “No!”
She was screwed. Her sticky buns took at least two hours to proof, and the filling of the pies had to set, and—
Summer gasped a breath and tried not to panic. She stumbled into some clean clothes and raced downstairs, sending emergency texts to the two local girls who were scheduled to work the register today. Butter, sugar, flour—it was all waiting exactly where she’d left it. The only thing she was short on now was time.
And inspiration.
Summer stood there in the kitchen, but for the first time, she felt out of place. Adrift. She knew she needed to get to work, but the memories of Grayson rushed around her, lingering like ghosts right there in the place she’d always loved the most.
This was where she’d made strudel for him that first time—and he’d kissed her, cinnamon-sweet right there by the door. Where he’d found her pounding that dough into submission, and with a few words, managed to make her forget all her anger and stress.
And where he’d laid her out on the island, trailing chocolate frosting down her body until she was begging for more . . .
No.
She dragged her eyes away and crossed to the pantry. She didn’t have time for heartache. Not today. All she could do was get to work and try to shut Grayson from her mind completely. But it was easier said than done, with that raw wound open in her chest, aching with rejection. And just like always, Summer couldn’t help but transfer all her mixed-up emotions to her food. The chocolate glaze came out too bitter; her bread refused to rise. Summer had to bite back the tears, but still, somehow her fruit tartlets all came out of the oven with a salty edge, as if she’d been crying into the filling all the same.
She slammed another batch of cookies in the oven, and prayed that this time, they kept their shape. What was happening to her? This was supposed to b
e a happy day, the beginning of her adventure, but instead, she was falling apart, all over again.
Maybe her mother was right. She wasn’t cut out to go it alone. This wasn’t even the big public launch day, and she couldn’t get it together to make her brioche rise.
But just the thought of Eve’s told-you-so look set a new fire in Summer’s heart.
“You’re better than this,” she vowed out loud. You don’t quit, especially not over some guy.
Even if he wasn’t just some guy.
She pushed back the memories of Grayson and his heartbreak of a smile, and she grabbed her phone instead. Where were those girls? She needed help, and fast. But before she could send another SOS text, a message bubble arrived on her screen.
Sorry, food poisoning. Kelly’s out too. xo
Summer let out a groan. How was she supposed to serve customers, mind the register, and keep turning out enough goodies for them to buy?
Time for Plan B.
“Where do you need us?”
Twenty minutes later, the cavalry arrived in the form of Poppy and Aunt June. They were still yawning, their buttons done up wrong, but Summer could have kissed them. So she did. “You’re saving my life here,” she vowed, pulling them into the kitchen.
“It’s OK, we’ve got this.” Poppy tied on an apron. “Everything’s going to be alright. Just . . . breathe.”
Summer wished she could believe her, but even Poppy couldn’t hide the doubt in her eyes. She didn’t blame her. The kitchen looked like a hurricane had hit, with bowls and baking trays on every surface, dripping cake batter and trailing piles of flour. Summer could have cried to see her spotless prep area in such a state—but she didn’t have time. And a dirty kitchen was way down the list of things she would weep for today.
“Just tell us what to do,” June said. “We’re at your service.”
Summer didn’t know where to begin. “Can you set up the cash register? The tray’s in the office, there. Poppy, can you please get those loaves out to cool, and take the next batch of buns out front? And then I need more walnuts crushed, and the strawberries hulled, and the caramel sauce mixed.” She felt panic rising again, but Poppy squeezed her hand.