Wildflower (Colors #4)

by Jessica Prince

  “You can also take that to mean I want the biggest latte you got, babe. Think Hulk-sized. Then double it.”

  “On it.” I took a seat in one of the bar stools and watched her work. A couple minutes later she sat a steaming mug down in front of me. It tasted like sheer perfection.

  “I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but I’m pretty sure I just fell in love with you. Like, I need you to marry me and make these every morning for the rest of our lives.”

  “Depends. You gonna put out?”

  I scrunched my eyes and looked up like I was deep in thought. “You make every one taste as good as this one and I’ll seriously consider it.”

  She laughed and rested her elbows on the counter as her workers shuffled about, helping the other patrons coming in and out of the bakery. From the looks of it, Chloe was doing pretty well. The door had opened constantly the few minutes I had been there.

  “So, how are you doing?” she asked. The humor fled from her voice, replaced with concern and a hint of sympathy.

  I gave her question some thought before answering with, “You know, I’m okay. It’s hard being here without Grammy, but I’m getting there. Ethan seems all right and that’s all that really matters right now.”

  “But you’re okay… you know, with being back here and all?”

  I lifted my mug and took another sip of the steaming latte. “I thought it would be a lot harder,” I spoke around the lip of the ceramic mug. “I thought I’d hate being back here after… everything. I miss New York, don’t get me wrong, but it’s strange. I’m kind of glad I’m back. I hadn’t remembered how much I loved this place.”

  She considered me silently for several seconds, almost hesitant. I started to worry about what she was going to say. Then she hit me with it, like a punch to the chest. “And Noah? Have you seen him?”

  I took a settling breath, spinning the warm cup between my palms as I answered, keeping my eyes trained on the frothy liquid instead of Chloe’s knowing gaze. “Only once. He came to Grammy’s funeral.”

  “Oh, wow,” she whispered.

  “Yeah. It was… surreal. Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

  “And you’re okay? With being in the same town… with him?”

  “What choice is there? This is Ethan’s home. I have to suck it up. I have to be responsible for him. Right?”

  She inhaled through her nose and stood up, placing her hands on the counter. “Well, you know I’m here, right? If you ever need to talk, or anything, really.”

  I grinned at my old friend, thankful to have her back in my life after too long. “Yeah, babe. I know. Now enough of this heavy shit. We’re in the happiest place on earth!” I declared, waving my arms out to my sides.

  “Pretty sure that’s supposed to be Disney World.”

  “Bullshit. You have every pastry under the sun and an espresso machine that rivals Starbucks. This is officially my happy place. Whenever I’m having a bad day, or my period, I’m just going to close my eyes and imagine this place.”

  The bell over the door chimed and what started as a normal Chloe laugh quickly turned into some strange choking sound as her creamy complexion instantly grew red. “Oh my God,” she breathed, her glassy eyes focused on something over my shoulder.

  I spun around to see who had caught her attention and my jaw instantly hit the floor. “Holy walking ovary-exploder, Batman,” I whispered as I took in the man who’d just walked through the door. Sexy didn’t even come close to describing him. His tall, well-built body was encased in the town’s khaki Deputy’s uniform. The drab, unappealing color of the pants and the puffy brown jacket looked horrible on most people, but the way the uniform pants hugged his muscular thighs and ass when he turned his back to us only made him look even better.

  “Jesus, Chlo,” I spun back around and found my friend staring wide-eyed at the man. He’d been stopped by some of the other customers in the bakery, smiling and talking in low voices I couldn’t quite make out. “Who is that?”

  Her voice sounded awestruck as she answered. “Derrick Anderson. He moved here last year after a nasty divorce and custody battle. I’ve seen him around town with his little girl.” She let out a dreamy sigh. “He’s such a good daddy.”

  My lips tilted up in a huge smile. “Oh my God, you like him!” I squealed.

  “Shh!” she hushed me, leaning in close so no one around could hear. “Will you keep your voice down? How old are we, thirteen?”

  I couldn’t help myself, my friend was totally crushing on the sexy-as-sin Deputy and it was impossible not to tease her. “Derrick and Chloe sitting in a tree. K. I. S. S. I. N—Ow! Jesus!” I yelped, rubbing at the spot on my bicep where she pinched the shit out of me. “What the hell, Chloe?”

  “That’s what you deserved,” she whisper-yelled. “Now shut your stupid face hole! He’s coming over here!”

  I stifled a giggle just as a rich, thick voice dripping with charm that could melt the panties off of any woman spoke from just over my shoulder.

  “Hey there, sunshine.”

  “Sunshine?” I mouthed at Chloe as she grew even redder.

  “H-hi,” she stuttered before clearing her throat and trying again. “Hi, Derrick, how are you?”

  “I’m good. Be better if I could get a cup of coffee.”

  “Oh… uh, sure,” she stumbled over her words. It was so adorable watching her get all flustered over a man. “Black?”

  “Yep. In a to-go cup, if you don’t mind.”

  Her back turned toward us as he stepped up to the counter right next to me. I looked out the corner of my eye to get a better look at him up close.

  “Hello,” he said, drawing my full attention.

  “Hi.” I smiled. Man, if the guy was hot from a distance, he was completely disarming up close. He was older. Not by much, but definitely in his early thirties if the smile lines around his face and the tiny hints of gray in his closely buzzed hair was any indication.

  “Okay, here you go.” Chloe’s smile was blindingly bright, if not somewhat goofy.

  “Ah, you’re a lifesaver. Nothing better than your coffee, sweetheart.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for my friend to turn any redder, but obviously I was wrong. She giggled, and… oh, dear baby Jesus, was that a snort?

  Yep, by the way Chloe’s eyes grew wide and Derrick chuckled lightly, she most definitely just snorted. I wanted to save her, I really did. But watching the train wreck that was happening in front of me was just too damned entertaining.

  “Well,” Derrick started, taking a step back from the counter as he lifted his cup in the air. “Thanks for to coffee. See ya around.”

  “Yeah. You too!” Chloe returned, a little too loudly, as he stepped out the door and into the cold.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, cutting out the frigid air from outside, Chloe’s head fell onto the counter top with a thud and an, “Oh God.”

  “That went well,” I spoke cheerfully.

  “Shut up,” she muttered, thumping her head against the hard wood a couple times before looking up at me. “It wasn’t that bad, right?”

  The hope in her voice made my voice go high as I lied, “No, of course not,”

  She dropped her head and thumped it a few more times. “It was.”

  “Yeah, hon,” I told her honestly, sliding my hand between her forehead and the wood to prevent any long-term damage. “It really was.”

  She heaved a sigh and took the order of a customer that just walked up. Over the next few minutes, the crowd seemed to really pick up so I decided to head out and let her get back to it.

  “So I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah. Are you sure you don’t want me to bring anything?”

  I slipped on my coat as I glanced back at one of the pastry cases. “Desserts. Lots and lots of desserts.”

  “Fuck you, Bobby Flay! Fuck you straight to hell!” I shouted at the computer as that stupid bastard talked about how easy
cooking a turkey was. The son of a bitch was a stupid liar.

  As Bobby prattled on about how the skin should be a golden brown and the bird was almost ready to come out of the oven, I had the immense desire to reach through my laptop screen and choke the life out of the dick for being so full of shit.

  I pulled the foil back, closing my eyes and shooting up a quick prayer that the turkey had somehow miraculously cooked completely in the five minutes that had passed since I last checked it. Nope, still frozen.

  “Cook, you stupid bird! Why won’t you cook? This is what you were born for!”

  “Uh… what’s going on?”

  I spun around to find Ethan standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a nervous expression on his face. Not that I blamed him for his concern, really. I was sure I looked like a psychopath standing there in Grammy’s lime green apron, congealed mac and cheese stuck in my hair, food covering me from top-to-toe like an abstract painting, turkey baster in hand being wielded like a sword.

  The day had started off so well that morning. I woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to tackle Thanksgiving dinner like a culinary pro, but somewhere along the way things started going wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. It was as if the food was fighting back, revolting against the idea of being cooked to delicious perfection. My good mood went right down the drain—along with my metal slotted spoon that I couldn’t get loose from the garbage disposal—and I wanted to punch Thanksgiving in the throat for being an asshole.

  “The oven’s broken,” I answered.

  “But I just made a frozen pizza last night. It worked fine then.”

  “Well it’s broken now!” I shouted, taking all of my anger and frustration out on my poor, unsuspecting little brother.

  With hesitant steps, he bravely joined me in the kitchen, standing next to me and studying the old-school nobs on the piece of shit double oven. “Um, Low-Low?”

  “What?”

  “You set the temp on the bottom oven, not the top one.” Pulling the door of the bottom oven—the oven not containing the turkey—he released a gust of heat to prove his point. “And what’s wrong with that key lime pie?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it,” I gritted through clenched teeth.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to sink in the middle like that.” Ethan poked at the top of the pie, his face scrunched up in disgust. “And it’s all chunky. Gram’s pies never looked like this.”

  I inhaled through my nose, counting to ten in my head before I responded. “Ethan?”

  “Yeah?”

  My words were low and measured as I threatened, “If you don’t get out of this kitchen right now, I’m going to shove that chunky pie down your throat and beat you with a frozen turkey leg.”

  “I’m out,” he replied wisely before disappearing from the kitchen with the speed of an Olympic sprinter.

  Bobby’s voice cut through the sound of blood rushing in my ears. “Now, all that’s left is to carve this baby up and serve it to the family. Mmmm, that’s delicious!”

  “Go to hell, you bastard!” I yelled at the screen. “I hope your turkey’s undercooked and you get E. coli and die of dysentery!”

  The hushed, “Wow,” that came from behind me startled me out of my rant and had me spinning around so fast the turkey baster in my hand went flying, crashing into something on the stovetop that quickly, and quite surprisingly, burst into flames on impact.

  “Shit! Fire!” I screeched, “Fire, fire, fire! Ethan, get some water!”

  In all the chaos, I hadn’t had a chance to grasp the fact that Noah was standing in my kitchen. Clearly, someone was playing a cruel joke on me. Or I’d done something epically wrong to piss off the Thanksgiving Gods and they were trying to murder my ass.

  As casual as could be, Noah walked over to the stovetop, picked up a discarded pot lid from the counter and snuffed the fire out in mere seconds.

  “Grease fire,” he said with a shrug. “Can’t use water on those. You have to smother them.”

  “What are you doing here?” I blurted out in lieu of a thanks for saving my house from burning to the ground.

  The grin he shot me should have been made illegal. Better yet, it most definitely shouldn’t have made my skin tingle and my belly dip.

  What the ever-loving hell?

  “I was invited.”

  “By who?” I asked in high-pitched shock. Then it dawned on me that Ethan was noticeably absent, and even more noticeable was the fact that, for the first time since returning home, I couldn’t hear the TV/music/video game blaring throughout the entire house. “I’m going to murder that kid.”

  Noah held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Now, just calm down, wildflower—”

  “I’m calm!” I snapped. “Totally calm! I’m so calm I’m the definition of the word!”

  His lips lifted even higher, taking his grin to a full-blown smile that rocked me to my very core. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Seeing him smile again—a smile I’d fallen in love with as a girl—wasn’t supposed to have a hold on me any longer. And the fact that I felt my stomach clench at the sight of it only stoked the flames of my anger.

  Damn him for being so stupidly sexy!

  Stepping away from the stovetop, and the now extinguished fire, he came so close I could smell him. That distinct smell of the outdoors and clean cotton combined with just a hint of spice, something all Noah’s, hit me with the force of a Mack-truck. Emotions I’d tamped down for years warred with each other inside me. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to scream, cry, cuss, or throw myself against him and sniff long and hard. That stupid fucking scent was imprinted on my brain, bringing back a whole slew of memories, both good and bad.

  “I’m sorry,” he offered softly. “Don’t blame Ethan. It’s not his fault, he’s just a clueless kid, Harlow. He didn’t know what he was doing when he invited me, I swear. The last thing I wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by coming here.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  His warm tawny eyes went soft, full of regret and sadness as his gaze scanned over my face. The intensity was too much. I had to look away. Casting my eyes down, I saw Noah’s hands clenched in tight fists at his side, as though he was trying hard to control himself from reaching out and touching me.

  “Because I want to make things right.”

  His answer surprised me. My head moved of its own accord, my eyes training on his as I searched them for honesty. Nothing but sincerity stared back at me as he continued. “Because you’re back in Pembrooke and I can’t stand the idea of you turning and walking in the other direction any time our paths cross. I owe you so much more than an apology, and I know saying I’m sorry won’t make up for what I put you through, but I am, Harlow. I’m so damn sorry for hurting you. I want us to be able to live here without that hovering over us for the rest of our lives. I don’t want you to hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you.” My mouth opened and the words came out before I could control them. I could see by the slight widening of his eyes that my response had been unexpected. If I were being honest, I hadn’t expected to say them either. But I’d already admitted to Ethan that I didn’t hate Noah, and I’d come to terms with that realization. What had happened between us was so long ago, we were just kids, really. It was time to move on and leave it in the past. I owed it to Ethan to make his life easier. I owed it to Grammy to try my hardest to be happy. Hell, I owed it to myself to try and move on so I could get out of this damned holding pattern my life seemed to be stuck in. Maybe what I needed in order to move on after all these years was closure.

  “And you’re right,” I continued. “Pembrooke’s small, so we’re bound to see each other around. It wouldn’t do any good for things to be awkward every time it happened. Besides, if everything goes as planned, I’ll be working at the high school shortly after Thanksgiving, so holding a grudge wouldn’t really be wise, would it?”

  Noah’s shoulders slumped in relief, his smile coming back in full fo
rce. “No, I guess not.”

  With a lift of my chin, I held my hand out to him. “So, no more awkwardness. Deal?”

  I saw a flash in Noah’s honey-colored eyes. A flash of mischief that I’d seen countless times when we were together. “Does this mean we’re friends?”

  “Not friends. Acquaintances,” I amended quickly. There was no doubt in my mind I wouldn’t be able to handle a friendship with Noah. I might have agreed to a sort of truce, but friendship was way beyond my comfort zone. It wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.

  “Acquaintances,” Noah agreed with a nod. “I can handle that.” He took my hand in his, giving it a good shake, and the instant our skin touched, a bolt of electricity shot through my fingertips and up my arm, ricocheting through my entire body and heating me from the inside out.

  Oh, God. So not good, I thought as goose bumps broke out across my skin. The electric jolt stunned me speechless, frozen in place as we stared into each other’s eyes.

  Noah’s deep voice broke through the thrum of blood in my ears. “Something’s burning.”

  Something was most definitely on fire, and no amount of cold water was going to put out the flames coursing through my veins. “Yeah,” I said on a breath, my brain still short circuiting from just that one touch.

  A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of Noah’s mouth before he spoke again, effectively breaking the spell holding me captive. “No, I mean something’s really burning. I think it might be your turkey.”

  I sniffed. Sure enough, the smell of scorched food was filling the kitchen.

  “Shit!”

  “Well, I’m just gonna say it. Throw it out there, you know, like ripping off a Band-Aid,” Chloe declared, her eyes bouncing to every person at the table. “Babe, you know I love you, but you can’t cook for shit and should never, ever be allowed in the kitchen again.”

  Ethan muttered a quiet, “Amen,” as I choked on my laughter. Or maybe that was the gravy I’d just tasted that had the consistency of Jell-O in my mouth. Harlow simply glared like she was trying to melt her face off.