All for You (Sweetbriar Cove Book 2)

by Melody Grace

  She couldn’t be hanging around, hoping he would choose to love her. She’d spent a lifetime waiting for someone to make her a priority, and she knew how that killed her, chipping away every day at her self-esteem until she doubted every move she made. And if she wavered now, and settled for less, she knew it would eat her up inside, no matter how sweet those kisses could be.

  She turned and slowly made her way through the kitchen, pausing to take in the spotless countertops, ready for action. He must have been cleaning here for hours to fix the mess she’d made. But why, if he was still so intent on keeping her at a distance?

  Why was he kissing her one moment and leaving the next?

  She wearily made the trip upstairs, the day finally catching up with her. She barely had enough energy left to make her way to the bedroom, kick off her shoes, and fall face-first into the covers.

  Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.

  22

  Grayson was right about one thing: Summer woke the next morning with a new sense of resolve. She wasn’t a quitter, and she wasn’t ready to call it a day and walk away—at least not when it came to her dreams. She’d worked too long for this, and even though her soft opening wasn’t exactly the thing of legends, she was far from done. She spent the rest of her holiday weekend in a whirlwind of powdered sugar, butter, and all the other essential food groups, and by Monday morning, she was determined: the bakery would be a success.

  “If I have to go door to door, getting them hooked on croissants, I’ll do it,” she vowed, fastening her prettiest apron around her waist and grabbing the cash tray.

  “Umm, somehow, I don’t think you’ll need to.” Poppy had a smile on her face, and when Summer stepped out into the shop, she saw why. There was already a line forming outside, with people jostling to peer through the windows.

  “Wait, what’s that?” Summer asked, noticing something colorful stretching across the front of the store.

  “A ribbon.” Poppy grinned. “Red, white, and blue. You can’t have a big opening without a ceremonial snip!”

  She handed Summer a pair of massive scissors, and nudged her to the front. “Go on, time to greet your adoring public.”

  Summer opened the doors, and stepped outside. There had to be fifty people there! Mackenzie, Riley, Cooper, June . . . All her new friends from Sweetbriar, and plenty of strangers besides. “You guys!” Summer managed, already feeling overwhelmed. “I can’t believe this turnout!”

  “We read that profile in the Gazette,” a woman said, planted firmly by the doors. “Those cakes looked so delicious, I told my Harold, I was going to be first in line.”

  “The Epicurean blog said your peach cake is incredible,” another woman agreed. “I drove all the way in from Boston to try a slice!”

  Summer couldn’t believe it. “Speech!” Mackenzie called.

  “Never mind the speeches, where are the sticky buns?” Riley heckled teasingly.

  Summer tried to catch her breath. “I just want to thank you all for coming,” she said, looking out at the sea of friendly faces. “I only arrived in town last month, but everyone’s been so welcoming. So many people have helped out, it really means the world to me.”

  Her voice caught as she saw Grayson, hanging back in the crowd. And when she met his eyes and saw the pride there, it almost made her tear up again.

  No crying today.

  “So, without further ado . . .” She quickly snipped the ribbon. There was a cheer, and people eagerly started pressing to get inside. “Easy there,” Summer laughed, rushing to beat them through the door. “There’s plenty of croissants to go around!”

  Three hours later, and she was wondering if her claim would hold up. Pasties were flying off the shelves faster than she could keep track, and she already had a long list of orders from local restaurants, all wanting to stock her breads on their menu.

  “We’re almost out of pain au chocolat,” she called, scooping the last couple into a fresh paper bag.

  “If you want to go put another batch in the oven, I can hold the fort out here,” Jessi suggested. She was one of the local girls Summer had hired to help out on the register—all recovered from that bout of food poisoning now.

  Summer eyed the line. She’d wanted to wait until the crowd eased up, but there was no sign of that happening any time soon. The bell was ringing off its hook as people kept flooding into the store, picking up treats for their beach picnic and snapping photos of every cake to post on social media. She’d set up an alert for the bakery Instagram page, and now her phone kept buzzing on the counter with every new tag and post.

  “OK, I’ll be quick.” Summer ducked into the kitchen and quickly grabbed the pastry she had chilling in the fridge. This time, she’d been prepared, and had the raw ingredients for all of her favorites lined up neatly on the shelves; she only had to scoop the chocolate filling from the waiting bowl, roll her pastry into a wafer-thin layer, and then roll them into tiny bundles to slip into the oven—remembering to hit the timer, so there would be no more four-alarm fires. She threw in some more crostata too for good measure, sticky with fresh strawberry glaze, then dashed back out front.

  “Isn’t this just the cutest?” the fifth person that day remarked, reaching the counter. “I’ve been saying for years, a good bakery is just what the Cape needs.”

  “I agree,” June butted in, giving Summer a wink. “Have you tried the éclairs yet? Life-changing!” She kissed her fingertips, and Summer nudged the sample platter closer.

  “Be my guest.”

  “Mmmm.” The woman took a mouthful, then glanced eagerly around. “Is your mother here today? I brought my cookbook for her to sign. I’m her biggest fan!”

  Summer managed a smile. “Sorry, not today!”

  “Oh, that’s a shame.” The woman’s face fell, and she looked so disappointed not to get a glimpse of Eve Bloom in person that Summer took pity.

  “But the éclair recipe is her favorite,” she fibbed. If by favorite you meant glanced at them once and said they weren’t a complete disappointment. “She loves the chocolate ones best.”

  The fan brightened. “Then I’ll take six!”

  “Coming right up.”

  Summer packaged and served and smiled for photos for what seemed like hours, and still, the crowds didn’t let up. “Where did everyone come from?” she exclaimed to Poppy, when her friend dropped by to see how things were going. “I haven’t seen this many people on the whole Cape all month!”

  “Memorial Day weekend, baby.” Poppy grinned. She slipped Summer a huge cup of iced lemonade, and Summer took a thirsty gulp. “You timed this opening just right. Plus the flyers plastered all over Sweetbriar didn’t hurt. I was just down in town, and Riley is practically shoving people out of the pub to come pay a visit.”

  “He is? Remind me to bring him extra muffins,” Summer said, feeling grateful. “In fact, I should make up gift baskets for everyone. You, Mackenzie, June . . . I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “And Grayson?” Poppy arched an eyebrow. “I saw him earlier.”

  “I know. But he hasn’t been in yet.” Summer wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Just a glimpse of him still made her heart flip over, and she needed to focus on the bakery. But still, after the clean-up act he’d done, and showing up today, she was more confused than ever about what he wanted from her. “Anyway,” she said, changing the subject. “If I can keep even one-tenth of these crowds through to the end of summer, I’ll be on track to hit my targets.”

  “Just wait.” Poppy grinned. “You haven’t even seen Bear Week yet.”

  “Do I want to know?” Summer laughed. She turned to the next customer, and brightened, seeing a familiar face. “Brooke!”

  “Hey, congratulations!” The hotel manager smiled back. Summer couldn’t believe it, but that first catering job felt like a lifetime ago. “I saw the news about this place and had to come check it out.”

  “Pick your poison.” Summer gestured
to the display case.

  “Ooh, I think I have to go with the peach cake,” Brooke decided. “I’ve been dreaming about it ever since that wedding.”

  “Good choice.” Summer carefully slid a slice onto a plate.

  “Actually, that’s why I’m here,” Brooke added, as she rang up the sale. “I’m trying to raise the hotel’s profile as a wedding venue, and I was wondering if you’d like to chat sometime about a contract to supply the cakes.” Brooke looked hopeful. “I’d love to make it part of the event package, maybe set up the tastings when they come tour the venue. If you have the time,” she added, looking around at the hum of activity.

  “I’d love to talk,” Summer said, flattered. “That could be fun—especially if someone else is dealing with the brides. And the mothers of the brides.”

  Brooke laughed. “Yes, that’s all on me. Here, let me give you my card.” She rummaged in her purse and passed over a neat square, printed with her details. Summer took it, pleased. Although summer looked like it would be packed with business, she knew the Cape emptied out for winter season, and any extra gigs would be great.

  “Thanks. I’ll definitely be in touch.”

  “You’ll be seeing me, one way or another,” Brooke said, scooping up a fingertip of frosting. “I’m lucky, I nearly didn’t make it in here, with all the trucks blocking the lane.”

  “Trucks?” Summer frowned.

  “They’re backed up, almost to the turn.” Brooke said. “A whole production crew, by the looks of it.”

  Summer’s heart sank. “She didn’t . . .” she murmured, under her breath. “Poppy?”

  “Right here.”

  “Mind the counter for a moment, will you?” Summer ripped off her apron and walked fast for the door. Sure enough, the moment she stepped outside she saw the traffic. It was impossible to miss: three huge trucks blocking the country lane, with people unloading lighting rigs and cameras and—

  “No!” Summer groaned out loud.

  “I take it this wasn’t part of the plan?” Grayson materialized beside her, or maybe he’d been there all along. Summer gulped, but the chaos heading her way took priority right now, especially when she knew what was behind it.

  Her mother.

  23

  “Mom?” Summer called, as the first crew members began to stream past with headsets and clipboards. Where there was a spotlight, Eve Bloom was sure to be close behind. “Mom, I know you’re here!”

  “No need to yell, darling.” Eve stepped out of a trailer. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, and she was wearing a pair of white jeans and a blue blouse. It looked like she’d just spent an hour in hair and makeup. Which she probably had. “I’m right here.”

  “I see that,” Summer managed through gritted teeth. “But why?”

  “You didn’t think I’d miss my only daughter’s big day,” Eve beamed, coming closer. “I brought everyone! We’re filming my episode right here at the bakery, so I can tell everyone how much I’ve guided your career. I mean, you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”

  Summer stared at her, feeling numb. In a way, she should have seen this coming. After all, her mother could never let any achievement go by without taking credit. But still, even after everything, Summer had still believed that this time she would get to keep this one for herself.

  “No.”

  Eve blinked. “What’s that, darling? Oh, Marcie! Over here! We need to do something about your hair,” Eve tutted, reaching to push it out of Summer’s eyes. “And that dress won’t do. The colors will bleed on camera, do you have something in blue? You look so much better in blue. And can you get these people cleared away? We need the space to bring in the cameras.”

  “No.” Summer said it again, louder.

  “What do you mean?” Eve stared.

  “I’m not getting my hair done, or changing clothes, or moving my paying customers out of the way, because you’re not filming here.” Summer clenched her jaw.

  “But darling, we just drove all the way from New York.” Eve still seemed shocked. “Look at everyone, you’re not going to tell them they came all this way for nothing? Think of the production hours and wages and—”

  “That’s your problem,” Summer snapped. “If you’d thought to call, I would have told you. I don’t want any of this!”

  She felt a hand on her arm, and then Grayson stepped forward. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said smoothly. “I’m Grayson Reid.”

  “Eve Bloom.” She shook his hand. “Are you a friend of my daughter’s? Will you please talk some sense into her? I know she’s shy in front of the camera, but I’m doing all this for her.”

  For her? Summer opened her mouth to argue, but Grayson gave her a quick wink. “I absolutely understand,” he said to Eve, his British accent somehow sounding even more precise. “I’m sure you went through a lot of trouble, getting the filming permits.”

  Eve paused. “Permits?”

  “Yes, the town requires them for all filming,” Grayson replied. “And of course, I’ll need all your paperwork myself. I own the property,” he added casually. “So I’ll have to sign off with my permission before I can allow any production in the bakery, or even on the land.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Eve cooed, turning on the charm. “It’s just a few shots, nothing big. We’ll be out of your hair in a few hours.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t make the rules.” Grayson stood firm.

  Summer could have kissed him.

  “Why don’t you and your producer stop by the city council?” Grayson said, steering Eve away. “Actually, scratch that. It’s the holiday. Nobody will be in until later in the week. And you’ll need to move all these trucks, too,” he added. “Traffic violations. I’d act fast, before the Sheriff comes by and impounds them all.”

  Before her mother even knew what was happening, Grayson had dismissed her, instructed the drivers to move, and the whole production caravan was rolling on out.

  “How did you do that?” Summer asked, amazed. “Nobody tells Eve Bloom no.”

  “You did.” Grayson smiled back. “Do you want me to call the Sheriff and sic him on them? I bet he’d love to write a few tickets.”

  Summer shook her head, “No, that won’t help.” She looked to where Eve was arguing with one of her producers. An eager customer from the bakery rushed over, and in an instant, Eve’s smile was back. She posed for photos, and soon, a new crowd was forming. After all, who cared about the bakery when there was a real live celebrity in town?

  Grayson followed her gaze. “I’m sorry.” He gently squeezed her shoulder. “Did you know she was coming?”

  “Nope. I never even told her about the bakery, so I don’t know how she . . .” Summer paused. “The newspaper article,” she realized with a groan. “She has an alert set, one of her interns combs the internet for all the new stories. That’s how she must have found out.”

  “Well, she won’t be filming anything today,” Grayson said, but Summer knew Eve better than that.

  “Don’t be so sure. She’s a force of nature,” she said with a sigh. “Trust me, permits won’t hold her up for long.”

  She turned back and caught the full power of Grayson’s gaze for the first time: searching and intense. Summer caught her breath. It should be illegal for a man to look at her like that—in public, at least. “Thanks,” she managed. “For running interference.”

  “Anytime.” He gave her a smile that somehow went straight to her heart. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

  Summer nodded, but there was only so far stalling tactics went. Somehow, she’d have to deal with this one herself.

  “I should . . .” She gestured awkwardly back to the bakery.

  “Right.” Grayson paused. “I was thinking, we should talk,” he said suddenly. “Not now, I mean, you have all of this. But later?”

  Summer gulped, her mind racing. What did he want to talk about? What did it mean? “OK,” she r
eplied. “Later.”

  “You know where to find me.”

  He smiled and turned to walk away, and for a moment, all Summer wanted to do was go after him right now. Never mind the bakery and her mother and the crowds of people—she needed to know what he was thinking. If he’d changed his mind about them, if there could maybe be a chance . . .

  “Summer!”

  Her name came, called with a hint of desperation. Jessi was waving her back to the bakery and the waiting line of customers. Her mom was stationed by the front window now, already posing for photos with a group of adoring fans, and as Summer watched, she even held up a Pop-Tart, as if she was the one who’d baked it.

  Summer took a breath. Grayson could wait. Her mom could wait. She wasn’t going to let her rollercoaster emotions ruin this day, not for anything.

  She looked up: at the bakery sign, the gleaming windows, and the bright red door. At the happy faces of her customers as they left the shop and lingered in the sunshine at the tables outside. It was the vision that had kept her going through all those late shifts and chef tantrums and long nights planning alone.

  This was her dream, coming true right in front of her.

  And no matter what else happened, that was pretty damn good.

  Twenty-eight pies, seventy-six cupcakes, and two-dozen French loaves later, Summer flipped the sign over the door to Closed and let out a satisfied sigh. June’s promise had come true: her dress rehearsal couldn’t have gone worse, but the big day itself had been a total success.

  “My feet are killing me!” Jessi exclaimed. “Remind me to wear sneakers for my shift tomorrow.”

  “Try soaking them in ice and lemon,” Summer advised. She’d spent long shifts on her feet at the restaurant, and knew all the tricks. “And here.” She pushed the over-stuffed tip jar towards her. “You earned it.”

  “Thanks. See you tomorrow!” Jessi took off, and Summer idled in the bakery, clearing off tables and straightening things up. But she couldn’t delay the inevitable much longer. Eventually, she changed her clothes and drove up the coast to the fancy hotel where her mom was staying. It was the same place as that wedding she’d catered on her first visit to the Cape, but Summer wasn’t surprised: Eve always had immaculate taste. Sure enough, she found her holding court in the elegant lounge, with her usual entourage of business managers, producers, and other hangers-on clustered around.