If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance #1)

by Sophia Renny

  The room smelled of sweet things and coffee and rain.

  Willa breathed in, a feeling of belonging and rightness permeating all of her senses. Catching Joe’s inquiring expression, she smiled. “I like it,” she said softly.

  He returned her smile. “So do I. This is a fantastic space.”

  “It needs better seating,” Sylvie volunteered. She gestured towards the windows. “You could put a counter all along the front here with bar stools. You could fit at least a dozen seats there. Hey, you could call it The Cookie Bar!”

  Willa laughed. “I like that. But I want to keep my aunt’s name in the business. Pauline’s Cookie Bar?”

  Sylvie nodded agreeably. “Joe told me about your aunt. Do you have pictures of her baking in her kitchen? You could blow them up and put them on the walls.”

  While they had been talking, Joe had pulled a small notepad from his jacket pocket and was sketching the room layout on it with a carpenter’s pencil. “Sylvie, why don’t you get us some of those crullers. Maybe a few seats will open up while you’re waiting in line.”

  “Yes, brother dear.”

  His mouth twitched.

  Willa stood beside him, watching him sketch. “Audrey said the owner wouldn’t be here today,” she said quietly. “I was hoping we could take some measurements, but it’s too crowded.”

  “I’m okay with eyeballing it for now,” he said, not looking at her.

  “Your sister has some good ideas.”

  “Yeah, she’s a real go-getter,” he said, pride evident in his voice. He glanced up, eyes on his sister as she moved forward in line.

  “How old is she?”

  “She’ll be twenty-two in August.”

  Willa did some swift calculations. “She was only seven when your parents died.”

  He inhaled sharply and swiveled his head to look at her, his eyes piercing. “Tony told you about that.”

  Willa flinched. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  He seemed to consider his response. Finally, he shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

  “She must look at you as both a father and a brother.”

  He nodded. “I was both. But, these days, it’s firmly in the brother category. She makes sure to remind me of that when I get too stern with her.”

  “Does she view Julia as more of a sister? Or a mother?”

  She knew she had pushed too far, even as she spoke the question. She cringed inwardly, silently damning the awkward social skills that had plagued her for most of her life.

  A cold reserve settled around Joe. His mouth flattened in a grim line as he studied her. He seemed angry, but she couldn’t tell if it was with her or perhaps with Tony for sharing such personal details with her. Or maybe, she wondered, he was angry at himself for being reminded of his commitment to another woman? “I don’t know,” he said eventually. “You’ll have to ask Sylvie that.”

  He returned to his sketching, his body language not inviting any further conversation.

  Willa blinked back the sudden moisture behind her eyes. She walked away, pretending interest in a rotating rack of postcards near the door.

  “Still no seats for us,” Sylvie complained, sidling up to Willa a few minutes later. She held a bag in one hand. “What do you want to do?”

  “My friend Audrey owns the shop next door,” Willa said. “We could sit in there.”

  “You know Audrey? Wow! I love her stuff. My friends and I go in there all the time.” Sylvie turned to her brother. “Joe, come on. We’re going next door.”

  Willa didn’t look at him as she led them outside and one storefront down to Audrey’s doorstep.

  Audrey was helping a customer at the counter when they entered. She glanced up and did a double-take. “Willa, what a surprise!”

  “We were next door looking at the space,” Willa explained. She hadn’t told any of the girls about her plans for the day, wanting to keep them to herself.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” Audrey said to her customer. She came around the counter, arms extended to give Willa a hug. Then she turned to Joe. “And you’re Joe Rossetti. We haven’t met officially, but I was there on the first day of shooting. I’m Audrey King.”

  Joe shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. This is my sister, Sylvie.”

  “I just love your jewelry,” Sylvie gushed.

  “Thank you. I love it, too.” Audrey sent smiles all around.

  “Do you mind if we sit in your back room for a while?” Willa asked. “There weren’t any seats available next door. We need to go over some ideas.”

  “Go right on back,” Audrey invited. “I made a fresh pot of coffee about twenty minutes ago. Help yourself.”

  As Joe and Sylvie walked towards the back room, Audrey snagged Willa’s arm. “You are not leaving until you spill all the details,” she whispered dramatically.

  Willa rolled her eyes. “It’s just a business meeting.”

  Audrey’s expression begged to differ.

  Willa entered the room to find Sylvie sitting on the loveseat. She’d set the crullers and napkins on the coffee table. Joe stood at the kitchenette pouring coffee into a white porcelain cup. “Coffee?” he asked Willa in a polite tone.

  “No, thanks.” She shrugged out of her rain slicker and hung it on the coat rack near the door. Then she sat down next to Sylvie.

  Joe set his coffee and notepad on the table and then removed his own jacket. Beneath lowered lashes, Willa observed the way his black tee-shirt stretched across his chest, the way his dark blue jeans molded his lean hips and muscular thighs as he walked over to the coat rack. He sat down in the armchair across from them, propped his right ankle on his left knee, and leaned back in the chair.

  “So,” Sylvie said, nudging Willa to get her attention. “Will you be serving coffee in your bakery?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Willa said. “If I do, it would just be ordinary coffee. Maybe self-serve. I’m not competing with the coffeehouses.”

  “You could sell cartons of milk,” Sylvie suggested. “You know those small containers you get with a school lunch.” She sat up straighter. “I know! You could have a milk and cookie package, something for the college students to take back to their dorm. Joe, give me a piece of paper. I need to write this down.”

  Joe had been watching them with a quiet expression as he sipped his coffee and consumed a cruller in four bites. He set his coffee down, wiped his hands on a napkin, then placed both feet on the floor and leaned forward. He ripped a sheet of paper from his notepad and handed it to his sister. “I like that idea,” he said. His eyes landed on Willa. “You might consider offering student and senior discounts, too.”

  Willa gave him a vague nod.

  Joe flipped the notepad to the floor plan he’d drawn out. He traced a long line with his index finger. “Sylvie’s suggestion to put counters along the front windows here is a good one. The counter doesn’t have to extend out more than nineteen inches. That still leaves you plenty of room over here for a grouping of tables. And, here, you could…”

  Willa’s gaze drifted across his features as he continued to speak in an impassive tone. His head was bent over the drawing. His dark hair glistened under the soft light radiating from the floor lamp. His hand—work-roughened, sinewy and strong—moved across the notepad. His wrist, covered with a dusting of fine, dark hair, flexed in a confident way as he pointed at another section of the diagram.

  “…once we’re able to see the kitchen and get the actual measurements, we can determine where to put that wall unit. It may just be the upper portion. It would make a great display area behind the counter. But we should keep those stained glass doors in the middle. That might look nice.”

  Willa felt a clenching between her legs. Shocked by a sudden upsurge of what could only be pure sexual desire, she shifted awkwardly in her seat. Striving to appear casual, she crossed her right leg over her left, then instantly drew in a low, hissing gasp as a sharp pain shot through her right knee.

 
Joe’s head jerked up, dark eyes scrutinizing her face. “You okay?”

  She winced. “My knee.”

  He shoved the notepad and coffee cup aside. “You must’ve banged it up worse than you thought. Put your foot up on the table. Sylvie, see if there’s some ice in the freezer there.”

  Willa stretched her leg and rested it on the coffee table, even as she protested, “It’s fine. I just kept the leg still for too long, that’s all.”

  “Roll up your jeans.”

  She swallowed at the command in his voice. Her forehead knitted in a frown as she held his gaze. “It’s probably just a bruise.”

  “Let’s take a look. It might be swollen.”

  “You better do as he says,” Sylvie teased, coming back to them with a damp towel. “That’s his ‘I’m the oldest, don’t argue with me’ voice.”

  “He’s not my brother.”

  Sylvie laughed. “Doesn’t matter.” The younger girl seemed oblivious to the tension in the room.

  Joe’s eyes flickered across Willa’s taut expression. His mouth relaxed into a coaxing smile. “Just a quick look, Willa. I’ve doctored so many bruises and cuts on Sylvie and Tony over the years. I can pretty much tell at a glance if it’s anything to worry about.”

  Willa released a pent-up breath. Giving him a grudging look, she rolled up the pant leg to her knee, revealing a darkening bruise just below the kneecap. She flinched as he gently traced his blunt, callused fingertips around her kneecap.

  “It’s a little swollen. Sylvie. Ice.”

  Sylvie handed him the towel. He set it on Willa’s knee, then took Willa’s right hand and placed it on the towel. “Keep it there for a while.” His fingers brushed across her hand, his eyes holding hers. Then, as suddenly as if he’d just touched a hot stove, he yanked his hand back. A shutter came down over his expression.

  “I have a knee brace in my truck if you need it,” he said, his tone casual and cool.

  “My brother the hero,” Sylvie said with a mock swoon.

  “Not funny, Syl.” Joe gave his sister a dark look.

  “Geez, what’s happened to your sense of humor? These last two weeks you’ve been—”

  “Sylvie! Enough.” Joe’s sharp reprimand seemed to echo in the small room.

  Willa released a quiet sigh of relief when Audrey chose that exact moment to stroll into the room. “How’s it going back here? You have to catch me up on your plans, Willa.” She sat down on the armchair next to Joe and gave him a coquettish smile. “I’m so thrilled that Willa is taking on this wonderful venture. It was my idea, you know.”

  Chapter Seven

  Willa was up with the sun on Monday. The construction crew would be arriving at nine o’clock. Veronica had called the night before to review the schedule for the coming week. Curtis would be onsite for a couple of hours on Monday and Tuesday to shoot something Veronica called “B-roll”. On Wednesday, he and Tiffany would ride along with Tony and Willa to visit some local suppliers so Willa could select things like granite countertops and paint colors, appliances and furniture.

  “These are the home show sponsors,” Veronica explained. “So be sure to smile when Tony gives them a plug. Oh, I’m also waiting for Joe to get back to me on what progress he’s made with that wall unit. I’d like to get some footage of him discussing his plans with you.”

  “We might be making a couple different things out of it,” Willa said.

  After a long pause, Veronica said, “And when did that conversation take place?”

  “Last Thursday. I called Joe.”

  “You called Joe?”

  As Willa updated Veronica on the bakery plans, she could practically hear the other woman seething. “I really wish you’d talked with me about this first, Willa. I’d have liked to get all of that on camera.”

  “Why?”

  “That wall unit was becoming a centerpiece of this project. We need to keep the continuity in that storyline.”

  “I just thought you wouldn’t want me promoting my business on the show,” Willa said in a clipped tone. “I’ve seen people do that on other reality shows, and it really turns me off. Can’t you do one of those interview things with Joe and have him give a synopsis of the conversation?”

  Veronica gave a grudging sigh. “Fine. I’ll be onsite on Friday. Ask Collette if she wants to help paint some of the interior. I’ve shared some of the footage from last week with the story producer and network execs. They’re thrilled. That lady is a riot. She could have her own show.”

  When Willa called Collette to extend Veronica’s invitation, Collette relayed one of her own. “This Saturday is the May Breakfast at Shirley’s church. We’re all going. We need to leave by eight o’clock.”

  Willa couldn’t believe it was almost May. As she headed towards the beach on Monday morning, she felt a different kind of warmth in the air, a hint of the hot, humid summer days on the horizon.

  Spying a line of fishermen along the north shore, she began her walk on the south. The tide was high today. As she reached the rocky section where she had to cut across the park to get to the other side of the beach, something moving in the sand several feet ahead of her caught her eye.

  As she drew closer, she saw claws digging into the air and a long object that looked like a tail moving back and forth.

  It was some kind of sea creature in a strange helmet-like shell. It appeared to be stuck on its back, flailing its claws as it futilely tried to flip over.

  In all her studies, Willa had never come across anything like this. It looked like a crab. But its claws reminded her more of a scorpion. And the tail had what appeared to be a sharp, pointed end. Or was that a stinger?

  Whatever it was, it was a living thing, and she couldn’t just leave it there to die.

  She looked about for something to push the creature back into the water and saw a short stick in the rocks nearby. It wasn’t much longer than a ruler, but it would have to do.

  As she hovered closer, the strange creature’s legs moved faster, the claws snapping in warning. “It’s okay,” Willa murmured. “I just want to help you.”

  She reached down with the stick, aiming for the harder part of the creature’s shell and gave a push.

  Up came the tail, almost touching her arm.

  She gave a startled shriek and leaped backwards, the stick flying from her hands.

  From behind her came the sound of laughter, rich and warm. “It won’t hurt you.”

  She twisted around.

  Joe stood a few feet away, hands buried in his jeans pockets, a grin creasing his clean-shaven face.

  Willa caught her breath. Finding herself unable to look directly into his eyes, she returned her gaze to the creature. “What is it?

  “A horseshoe crab. They’re one of the gentlest creatures on earth, and one of the oldest.” He strode forward, his arm brushing against hers as he walked past her. Placing a hand on either side of the hard section of the creature’s shell, he picked it up with confident ease and strode down to the water. He flipped the creature over in his hands and set it down in the water.

  Willa followed him, standing at his shoulder as she watched the horseshoe crab use its tail and claws to propel itself into deeper water. “They don’t have those in California,” she said. “Not that I’ve seen.”

  “Nope. Their normal habitat is along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts. I bet we’ll find some more on the other side of the park. It was a full moon on Saturday. When the weather starts getting warmer, they come on shore to lay their eggs. It’s usually right around the full moon and new moon.” He grinned. “Things can get a little tricky during the egg fertilization process. The males can fall off the, uh, females and land on their backs. Or they get surprised by a wave.”

  She glanced up at him. “You seem to know a lot about them.”

  He kept his eyes on the water. He folded his arms across his chest. “My dad taught me about them. He’d take me and Tony fishing at least once a month during the season. We cam
e here a few times.”

  “That tail isn’t a stinger then?”

  He chuckled. “No, just a tail.” Returning his glance to her, he pointed his thumb towards the next section of beach. “Want to see if there are any more to rescue? I’ll show you how.”

  She nodded.

  She walked beside him up a path to the main section of the park. An elderly couple sat hand in hand on a bench facing the lighthouse. Joe gave them a friendly wave as he and Willa strolled past, and they waved back.

  Joe offered his hand as they descended down a slight, rocky incline towards the beach. “Your knee seems to be better,” he observed, releasing Willa’s hand as soon as she stepped onto the sand.

  “I kept it elevated most of the day yesterday.”

  “Good.” He pointed to something several feet ahead of them. “There’s another one.”

  This time, he showed her how to pick up the crab by the hard section of its shell and flip it over. Willa slowly carried it at arm’s length to the water’s edge and set it down gently. It glided forward, then turned around, seeming to look up at her through the water, before continuing into the depths until it disappeared from view.

  Something lifted inside of her. Funny, how this small gesture gave her more satisfaction than solving an intricate mathematical equation ever would.

  She beamed up at Joe. “Let’s keep looking.”

  His long, dark eyelashes lowered on a mysterious gleam as he returned her smile. “All right.”

  As if by mutual agreement, they kept silent as they walked from the point to the end of the northern section of the beach, only speaking when they spied another floundering creature. They came across almost a dozen stranded horseshoe crabs along the way.

  “They’re so helpless,” Willa observed. “What if we weren’t here to help them? How long could they survive?”

  “Only a few hours, I think. When they get too weak, the seagulls dig in.”