Was he angry? Lucy couldn’t tell from his steady, controlled voice.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Lucy said, willing her voice to be steady. “He approached Douglas and they came to me. People are afraid to come to you directly.”
“But you’re not afraid, are you? Lucy Lou.”
Lucy held his gaze, but said nothing.
“So why are you running away? Putting your house up for rent?”
Sterling began walking toward her. Lucy involuntarily took a step back. Sterling stopped, mid-stride, a stricken look flashing across his features.
“I’m not leaving for good. You’re not chasing me out of St. Caroline. I’m not letting you do that.”
“I wasn’t aware that I was trying to do that.”
“You fired me. Around here, losing a job often means moving away. Or living in abject poverty. Take your pick.”
Sterling ran a hand through his thick hair and started to turn toward the back of the boathouse and the open water. Then he stopped himself and turned back to face Lucy.
“Haven’t I apologized for that already? I’ve already been reamed out over that by my mother and the bankers. Apparently, firing one’s marketing director doesn’t instill a sense of confidence in the money guys.”
A laugh escaped from Lucy’s lips, as she pictured Sterling being dressed down by a team of men in suits.
“I’m not sure about your sense of humor there,” Sterling said. “I did offer you the job back. The offer still stands. Though in the future you might have to run any impending press coverage by me first.”
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t want the job back.”
“So what are you going to do? You’re leaving. Where are you going?”
“We aren’t here to talk about me.” Sterling quirked an eyebrow in disagreement. “This—” she waved an arm back toward the house and the lawn. “This is a perfect place for the camp. It’s big enough. There’s practically a commercial-sized kitchen in the house. There’s a swimming pool, which would be better for swimming lessons than the bay.”
While Lucy was reciting the pitch she had rehearsed on her way to the house, Sterling brought himself to stand directly in front of her. Lucy’s voice faltered for an instant at the sudden appearance of Sterling’s chest mere inches from her lips, then she recovered and continued.
“It would free up the other waterfront land for your more profitable uses. That would make the bankers happy. This property could also be used for events during the winter. Weddings, corporate retreats and such. That would also add to the Inn’s bottom li—”
In front of her, Sterling’s chest had been replaced by his eyes. Dark eyes, hooded with desire. His warm breath tickled her nose. Was her heart still beating? Lucy couldn’t tell.
“This is the only way to get you to stop arguing, isn’t it?” Sterling said, and then Lucy’s mouth was covered by his, was being devoured by his hungry, searching kiss. She felt his hand thread its way through her hair and cup her head, to pull her hard against him. Long streaks of desire shivered through her. Then she kissed him back, even as warning bells were clanging in her brain. Sterling groaned and pulled her toward him, stumbling backward until he was leaning against a wall.
His lips left hers, then reappeared against her neck, searing hot kisses on her soft skin and jawline. Lucy pushed on his chest, propelling herself back, away from him. Her lips were throbbing, bruised. She had to stand firm here. Don’t let your emotions get in the way. He’s a good kisser. So what. She wasn’t taking failure back to the camp.
“Mr. Adams’ generous gesture solves all the problems surrounding the camp—”
Sterling took a long step toward her and crushed his lips against hers again. “There’s still one problem it doesn’t solve,” he murmured against her lips. “You leaving.”
Lucy stepped sideways to free herself from Sterling’s kiss. She looked at him, not sure she had heard him correctly.
“That’s a problem?” she whispered. She tried to tamp down the tiny bubble of hope rising in her chest.
Sterling slumped back against the wall and sighed. “Yes. It’s a problem. A big problem.”
“And why is that?”
Sterling raked a hand through his hair again. He looked down at his feet, then looked back up, straight at Lucy. This time, he made no attempt to hide the mix of longing and anguish on his face. “Because I’ve fallen in love with you, Lucy.”
She’d been waiting to hear those words from him. Waiting, she realized now with a shock, for the past fifteen years. Yet, it didn’t—couldn’t—make sense.
“But you’re leaving town ... when the Inn gets on better ...” Lucy’s voice trailed off. What good was his falling in love with her when he had stated over and over that he was leaving just as soon as he could?
“St. Caroline’s subtle charms have been growing on me.” He gave her body a slow, hungry gaze from head to toe. “And its not-so-subtle charms, too.”
“So you’re staying ...?” Lucy had to be sure, absolutely sure.
“If you stay. Otherwise, St. Caroline’s charm might wear off.” Sterling hitched his shoulders to push his back away from the wall. “Where are you going, Lucy Lou?”
“New York. To get my yoga teacher certification.”
“Do you have to leave to do that?”
“Are there any yoga teacher training programs in St. Caroline that I’m unaware of?”
“Probably not.” Sterling was in front of her again, traced a finger down her cheek, then leaned in and dropped a gentle kiss on it.
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m only going away for a month. Then I’ll be back.”
A glimmer of understanding dawned in Sterling’s eyes. “Ah, you’re going to reopen that yoga studio ...” He hesitated, waiting to see some sign of confirmation on Lucy’s face. “Right?”
“I know, most businesses like this fail,” she said.
“If it does, you can always come work for me again.”
She shook her head. “I’m ready to do something new. When we were in Laura’s yoga studio, something in my heart just, I don’t know, opened. Released. I wanted to do that, too.” She paused, her heart hammering in her chest. “Besides, if I’m working for you, then I can’t ...” She hesitated again.
“Can’t what?”
Lucy reached up and entwined her fingers in his hair. “Can’t kiss the boss,” she said and pulled his lips down onto hers. Sterling let her kiss him, deeply, then pulled her down onto the floor. They sat facing one another.
He looked seriously into her eyes. “Transferring the camp over here would be a big job. Do you think Douglas is up to that task?”
Lucy was speechless for a long moment. Was she hearing this right? Was he—
“Are you seriously considering this? Would you accept this property for the camp?” she asked quietly, hardly daring to believe it.
“Well, I would need something in return.”
“Like what?”
Sterling thought for a moment. “I would need some place to live. While my mother thinks the world of you, she might draw the line at my ... entertaining ... you in her house. Your cottage is available right away, isn’t it? Although you’d have to get that key back or else I’ll have to change the locks.”
Lucy’s heart made the final leap. “There would be other duties, in addition to rent.”
A smile spread across Sterling’s face. “Am I qualified for those duties?”
“Consider this your employment interview,” Lucy replied as she crawled toward Sterling and pushed him back until he was lying on the floor. She wanted to see that dark glitter in his eyes for the rest of her life. She felt his hands on her lower back, firm and confident, as he pulled her hips flat against his. She leaned her elbows on his chest.
“And did you say that this place would be available for winter weddings?” Sterling said.
Lucy’s heart was close to bursting. She closed her eyes and touched her fo
rehead to his. “If you had asked me two months ago, whether I would end the summer telling you that I loved you ...”
“You’d have said yes.”
Lucy let her lips find his and kissed him with a sureness, a passion she couldn’t have imagined the last time they were in the boathouse together.
“How long do you think his errands will take?” She punctuated the words with kisses, then gasped when Sterling slipped his hands under her shirt and slid them along the bare length of her back.
“We didn’t get caught before ...”
Thank you for reading SUMMER AGAIN! If you’d like to read more about the residents of St. Caroline, pick up Book 2 in the series … HEARTS ON FIRE. RT Book Reviews named it a Top Pick and called it a “devastatingly heartbreaking love story.”
The girl who couldn't get anything right …
No good deed goes unpunished. That pretty much summed up Becca Trevor’s life. Help out a woman being harassed in a bar—and get fired? Check. Come home for parents’ anniversary party—and cause her mother’s quilt shop to burst into flames? Check again. Help a geeky classmate and family friend lose his virginity before college—and get pregnant? Check check check.
The boy who could do no wrong ...
Jack Wolfe was the golden boy of St. Caroline. Smart, Ivy League-educated, law school-bound. He has a nice, steady job as an attorney with a hotshot tech company in California … well no, scratch that. The thought of spending his life in an office pushing paper filled him with such existential dread that he dropped out of law school a year ago without telling anyone. He’d much rather follow his father and brothers into the family business—firefighting. But he’s also the namesake of his uncle Jack, who was killed in the line of duty. It would kill Jack’s mother to see her youngest child join the fire department, too … and she’s dying already.
* * *
And a secret that will change their lives forever …
The last thing Jack Wolfe needed was a baby. All those Ivy League dreams would go right down the drain—and Becca knew she would get blamed for it. So seven years ago she left town without a word, had the baby by herself, and arranged for the adoption. She never intended to see Jack Wolfe again. But now they’re both back in St. Caroline and falling into a friendship … maybe even more. Becca always planned to keep their baby a secret forever. But now that secret needs her and Becca can’t say no—and can’t keep the news of their daughter from Jack any longer. Can their budding love survive the revelation that they are already a family?
* * *
Can the biggest mistake of their lives be the best thing that ever happened to them?
One-click to start reading Jack and Becca’s story!
Sign up for my VIP Reader email list to learn about new releases and get a FREE copy of Cupcakes & Chardonnay (a short and sweet romance … and my first published book)!
Turn the page to read an excerpt from HEARTS ON FIRE …
Read an excerpt from HEARTS ON FIRE …
“Julia Gabriel gained a fan for life thanks to this book. I was a first time reader of hers and completely feel in love with Becca and Jack! Her writing is phenomenal. ...don't miss this book!”
* * *
The smell of smoke tickled Becca Trevor’s nose. Not again. There was no smoking allowed in the bar but the jerk down at the end seemed to believe he was above the law. Just like Brandon had thought he was, right up to the minute he was arrested for embezzling money from the custom motorcycle shop he worked for. That was last week and hell would freeze over before she borrowed money to bail him out.
She sauntered down to the end of the bar. She wanted to be casual about this, non-confrontational. She paused halfway down to wipe up a non-existent spill on the bar top.
“Sir, there’s no smoking in here.” She smiled prettily at him.
He waved his lit cigarette in the air. “You don’t have an ashtray.”
Of course we don’t. It’s no smoking.
She pulled another bar glass from beneath the counter and filled it halfway with water. She set it on the bar in front of him. Water splashed out of the glass when he rammed the cigarette into it. She calmly wiped it up and took away the glass. This was the second time tonight she’d done this; a third time and it would be a comedy routine.
“Can you at least get me another beer?” he growled at her.
“I sure can.” She pulled another draft of what he was drinking and slid it in front of him. After all this trouble, he wasn’t going to tip anyway. The troublemakers never did.
She tried her best to ignore him for the next fifteen minutes, until a young woman climbed up onto a stool two seats away from him. It was the only empty spot at the moment or Becca would wave her elsewhere. The bar was busier than she had expected for Memorial Day. From what she could glean from snippets of conversation here and there, the baseball game at the stadium a few blocks away had been called for rain in the fourth inning. It looked like a lot of people had come here instead.
“What can I get you?” Becca asked the newcomer. She wasn’t a regular. After three months working here, Becca knew all the usual folks.
“Just a sparkling water with lemon, thanks.” She glanced worriedly at the door every few minutes. Clearly, she was waiting for someone. Maybe a blind date.
Somehow Becca wasn’t surprised when the smoker leaned around the man sitting next to him and tried to strike up a conversation with the young woman. “They don’t let you smoke in here, you know.”
The woman nodded and gave him a weak smile. “I don’t smoke anyway.”
He dropped down off his seat and squeezed into the narrow space between her and the next patron. Becca could see the woman’s posture tense. “Let me buy you a drink. What’s that, soda? You need something better than that.” His words were beginning to slur. He waved at Becca.
“No thanks,” the woman said firmly. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Well so am I, sweetheart. Don’t mean we can’t enjoy a drink while we wait.” He waved at Becca again. “Two more beers down here, barkeep.”
Barkeep? How about wench while you’re at it? Becca pulled another draft and placed it in front of the man.
“I’m fine,” the woman said, holding up her barely-touched water. “I don’t want one.”
“Just one, sweetheart. Your date will thank me later.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Becca saw a businessman-type vacate a seat at the other end of the bar. “Why don’t you sit down there?” she said quietly to the young woman.
“What the hell!” the man shouted. “Can’t you just mind your own business and pour drinks? That’s what you’re being paid for.”
The young woman slipped off the stool and practically ran to the empty seat. Becca watched her until she heard the sound of breaking glass and then a sharp prick on her upper arm. She spun around. The entire room was still now, every conversation in the place paused.
“Look what you made me do now, bitch!”
People were backing away from the bar quickly, leaving Becca and Asshole Man in a standoff. The man had slammed his empty glass onto the bar, shattering it. Shards were scattered everywhere. That was what she’d felt prick her arm.
“Joe!” Another voice broke in.
“About time you got here. Your bitch of a bartender won’t pour me the drink I ordered.”
Your bitch of a bartender? Becca looked at the large man walking down the length of the bar. Shit. It was the owner, a man she’d never been introduced to but knew by sight. The sight right now was not that of a happy man. There was also, for Becca’s immediate prospects, an unhappy familial resemblance between the owner and the asshole grinning ear to ear at her now. Across the room, the assistant manager hovered by the hostess station, too chickenshit to intervene.
Becca knew what was coming. She could see it unfolding in the minutes ahead of her like a slow motion scene in a movie. She was going to be unceremoniously fired in three … two … yep, one. Strangely,
all of a sudden, she really didn’t care. First Brandon. Now this. She calmly grabbed her purse from beneath the bar. Right as she pushed open the heavy door to the street, she heard the owner say, “We can manage with just the other bartender tonight.”
What other bartender, idiot? He was too cheap to have more than one per shift. But whatever. She was out of there.
Outside the bar, it was raining cats and dogs. Becca raced to where her car was parked down the street. Inside, she let her body sink into the cloth seat and closed her eyes against the sight of rain sluicing down the windshield. No good deed goes unpunished. Story of my life, starring Becca Trevor. Once again, she was unemployed. Her boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now—was in jail. Also story of my life: poor choice in men.
She opened her eyes, inserted the key into the ignition and pulled out onto the rain-glossed street. She had packed a lot of mistakes into twenty-five years on this earth. What was one more? She’d go home, heat up a package of ramen noodles and fall into bed. Plenty of time to worry about her lack of gainful employment tomorrow.
She turned the final corner into her neighborhood—and slammed on the brakes. There was trash strewn all over the street in front of the apartment building. She glanced at the beige brick building’s tiny lawn. Boxes and furniture sat on the swampy grass. A television. Piles of soggy clothes and … Becca killed the ignition and burst from the car.
… and quilts.
All of her quilts had been dumped onto the lawn. In the freaking rain! And the television … that was her television, and the furniture too. She’d been evicted. Shit! Brandon always paid the rent. She gave him her half in cash, he deposited it in the bank, and then wrote a check to the landlord. She was going to have to do that now since Brandon was in jail, but the rent wasn’t due for another two weeks. Unless Brandon hadn’t been paying the rent. And why did that idea not surprise her?
Summer Again Page 18