"Regrets, Claire?" Grayson asked, his heart pounding. He wanted a future with Claire, to date her, get to know her better, and let this develop between them. But what if she didn't?
"I never regret sex as awesome as that." Claire shrugged.
"It's not just sex though. It's us. It's whatever this thing is between us."
Claire closed her eyes and shook her head. "I haven't time to talk about that now. I've got less than fifteen minutes before I've got to be in my sister's wedding."
Grayson nodded. She hadn't said no, at least. "Okay. We'll talk about it later."
Why did it feel like he'd just agreed to a broken heart?
Chapter Six
Even though nothing went as planned, the wedding went off without a hitch. Claire stood next to her sister, holding her bouquet, as Maggie promised to love Trey forever. Though Maggie and Trey seemed impossibly young to her, Claire conceded that they did appear happy together. They were so confident in their future as heirs to the Shamrock Inn, after Trey finished school, and secure that they were making the right decision to live their lives together.
Though Claire dated several guys seriously over the years and indulged in her fair share of casual hook-ups, she'd never found a relationship that gave her more than her career did. She loved her job and her work, but now that she'd gotten it started, she couldn't help but feel a certain deflated emptiness. Was this all there was?
She walked down the aisle behind her sister and her new husband; her gaze fell on Grayson in the back row, the candlelight gleaming in his blonde hair. He smiled warmly at her and she struggled to return it.
When he'd first agreed to this charade, she'd believed him when he claimed to want in on the Henderson audit. But now, she wondered. Had he had an ulterior motive? Had he wanted to befriend her? Or date her? And if he did, did she want to indulge in a workplace affair?
Throughout the wedding and the reception, Claire kept a careful smile pasted on her face, her insides churning. After the meal, they exited to the flagstone patio, now open to the sunset. Puddles around the flagstone reflected the mango and peach sky. Space heaters, set at intervals around the patio, kept the attendees warm as a band played Maggie's beloved 40s favorites.
"Can I have this dance?" Grayson wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged her to the dance floor. He twirled her around with expert grace. Claire felt a little dizzy from the champagne and his nearness, intoxicated and confused. "You've been lost in your head the whole wedding. What's going on?"
"We work together."
"Yes, we do.”
"And, I'm not so sure it would be a good idea to get involved." Claire finished, lamely.
Grayson glared at her and then leaned down. "Weren't you the one who invited me into the shower?"
"A hook-up is one thing but..."
"I don't want a hook-up. There's more between us."
"We can stay friends." Claire said quickly, desperately. Trying not to look at Grayson's perfect mouth, pressed now in to a thin, unforgiving line, she rushed on, "I would like it if we'd stay friends."
"I don't want to be friends."
Claire's shoulders slumped. "Oh, well, of course, if you don't want..."
"Have you ever asked me what I want?" Grayson asked. Miserable, Claire bit her lip and shook her head. "I want to have a picnic with you and relax outdoors for a while. I'd take you to the movies, fight for the popcorn, and kiss you so we both missed the end. I'll escort you to the Kennedy Center or stay in and pretend to watch a movie. I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. And you to know me. I want to see where this leads."
"So friends then?" Claire said hopefully.
"No because..." Grayson leaned close to her ear, "I want to explore you in that big bed we've got upstairs and that's just to start with."
Weak-kneed from Grayson's warm breath across her neck, the hard warmth of him pressed along her front while the fresh scent of his cologne wafted over her, Claire snuggled against him. He pressed a kiss to her neck. "And I think, if you'd just admit it, that you'd like to indulge in those things too."
"Maybe but Grayson, we work together. It's a big risk to take if things turn out badly."
"That's true. Maybe I couldn't put up with your snoring or you turn out to hate football or..." Grayson smiled down at her. "I can't give you a guarantee, Claire. I'd just like the chance to discover if what lies between us is as real as it feels."
Claire desperately wanted to lean in and press her mouth to his, to give herself over to this desire. But it was too much, too fast, and too scary. She stepped back, into a puddle that soaked her feet, and shook her head.
"Okay then." Grayson said. "Your decision. Just remember, Claire: sometimes you have to take a chance."
The photographer appeared and snapped a photo of them, staring at each other, the dance floor a chasm between them. Claire turned away and headed into the inn, needing a moment to think. She found her Gram sitting in the sunroom, overlooking the patio, her feet tapping to the tune and her cane beside her rocking chair.
"Enjoying the wedding, Gram?" Claire asked, settling into another rocker.
"Indeed, yes. Though I'd rather hear some traditional tunes, I do love that Frank Sinatra." Gram trailed off. Claire looked up to see Gram scowling at her. "Lover's quarrel?"
"No, Gram." Claire rubbed her temples, trying to sort out her feelings.
"You and your Grayson make a fine couple. I saw you out there dancing. It's plain to see he's besotted."
Claire tried to smile and then just shook her head when her eyes filled with tears.
"What is it, my girl?"
"Oh Gram, it's all just a sham. Grayson and I work together. He just agreed to come to the wedding so Mam wouldn't get caught in her fib to you and..."
“Your mother never could lie worth a damn.”
“You knew?”
“Well, not the exact details.” Gram laughed. "So it all started as a sham and now you've fallen as madly in love with Grayson as he is with you?"
"Gram..." Claire shook her head. "How could I possibly be in love with him? I don't even know him that well."
"Though the sounds coming from the bluebird suite all afternoon tells me otherwise."
"Gram!" Heat surged to Claire's cheeks and she stared at her prim and proper grandmother, opened mouthed in shock.
"Do you think you invented it, my dear? Hardly. Time was your grandfather and I were just the same."
Claire dropped her head in her hands and strangled a laugh at the thought of Joy, Kennedy, and Val's expressions when she told them about this conversation.
"Do you love him, Claire Kathleen?"
“I think I could be falling in love with him, but how can that be?"
"Love doesn't add up like your numbers. You won't find an equation for it." Gram patted her hand, her soft fingers warm and comforting, and the scent of her beloved lavender rose cream rising from her hands. "You feel it, Claire. Do you feel it for your Grayson?"
"I think—"
"Don't think! What's thinking to do with it? Now do you or not?"
"But Gram, we've just been pretending..."
"He's not pretending. It's plain to see you've bewitched him completely. Mark my words, it's your wedding we'll be dancing at next. If only you'll be brave enough to take a chance. Are you?"
Claire looked into her grandmother's bright blue eyes and then, sucking in a deep breath, nodded. Her grandmother beamed and patted her hand. She raised her voice and peered around Claire. "Young man, you can stop skulking now and come ask my granddaughter to dance."
After a few seconds pause, a very red-faced Grayson walked around the doorframe into the room. Grayson twisted her pashmina in his hands and ducked his chin, like a little boy with his hand in the cookie jar. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. You'd left your wrap."
"You were listening?" Claire breathed.
"She's right, you know." Grayson took Claire's hand and pulled her up out of the chair. "About b
ewitching me."
Claire blew out a breath and then said, "Well then, Grayson, I think you owe me a dance."
Grayson smiled at her, brilliant as the sunrise, before claiming her mouth briefly. He twined his fingers in hers and led her back outside, her grandmother's delighted laugh trilling behind them.
Chapter Seven
On Sunday afternoon, with the reddish gold light of sunset gilding the interior of Cupid's Coffeeshop, Zooey filled all the regulars cups and then stopped by the table Patrick commandeered in the corner as he fussed over his spreadsheets. She waited until he focused his bleary, blood-shot eyes on her before waving the coffee carafe in front of him.
"Want a refill?"
Patrick shrugged and Zooey filled his cup. "Looks like Claire and Grayson worked out."
"That's great." Patrick answered absently, staring at the laptop as though willing the figures to work. They only had a little more than nine months to make Cupid’s Coffeeshop profitable or they would all lose their inheritance. Zooey tried not to worry about it but Patrick seemed constitutionally incapable of not worrying for more than five minutes at a time.
"That's three so far this year."
"That we know of." Joe chimed in, from his station behind the counter.
"Three what?" Patrick asked, his brow furrowing.
"Three couples." Zooey answered. "And check out those two over on table four. Look at the sparks."
"Cupid's got another one in his sights." Joe agreed.
"You are both crazy. I’m related to crazy people." Patrick gulped his coffee and glared at his spreadsheet again.
"Mom always said it was true. And Auntie Ruby told me Gram was that way too."
"Zooey, you cannot honestly tell me that you think that you, Mom and Gram have some sixth sense about romance and love."
"And me too." Joe put in. "Patrick’s the only one with no magic.”
“If I had magic, I’d make these spreadsheets work.” Patrick said, raking his hands through his hair. "We inherited a coffeeshop that serves good coffee and has comfortable armchairs. That's it. There’s no magic.”
"Doubt all you want." Joe stretched his arms above his head. "Doesn't make it untrue."
"Aren't you supposed to be working on April's signature drink?" Zooey asked Joe as she headed behind the counter to refill her carafe.
"I've got coffee block." Joe sighed. "I've got nothing. I have no ideas at all."
"Thank God for small favors. I don't want to learn another crazy coffee recipe." Patrick grumbled, punching buttons on his laptop. "Why can't people have just a plain cup of coffee anymore?"
"You said yourself that the profit margins on my coffee creations are higher..." Joe began.
Zooey, sensing another argument brewing, cut in. "What about Bunny Hop Coffee? With, like, marshmallows? For Easter."
"Easter's in March this year though." Patrick pointed out. "What about Spring Break coffee? Or Spring Fling?" Zooey and Joe just gawked at him and shook their heads sadly.
“No magic, like I said.” Joe stage whispered to Zooey who giggled.
Patrick rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Well, the cherry blossoms should be in bloom soon, so make it a Cherry Blossom Cappuccino or something."
“That’s perfect.” Zooey cried.
Joe clucked his tongue. “Maybe you do have some of Cupid’s magic, after all.”
THE END
Are you ready for spring? Please read April’s story, Cherry Blossom Cappuccino next.
Spring fever strikes as the Lockhart cousins spar over drumming up more business. When Joe rents a food truck to drive around at lunch, he becomes a media sensation as the coffee hunk.
Ace reporter Jefferson Elliot arrives to cover the story and just happens to be attorney Ruby Davis’ old flame.
When they were young, Ruby turned down Jefferson’s proposal for the chance to go to law school. When Jefferson returns to Ashford Falls, maybe it’s not too late for true love after all in Cherry Blossom Cappuccino.
Cherry Blossom Cappuccino
Fourth in the
Cupid’s Coffeeshop
Series
By
Courtney Hunt
Cherry Blossom Cappuccino
Copyright © Courtney Hunt 2016
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Digital Edition: April 2016
www.Courtney-Hunt.com
For my husband, Glenn,
On our 14th wedding anniversary,
We are indeed living happily ever after.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Dawn sent peach and coral ribbons through the turquoise sky as Ruby Davis power-walked her way through her hometown of Ashford Falls. She’d only just returned from her spring vacation last night and loved watching dawn gild her town. Though she’d enjoyed her visit to the Georgia low country to see her sister, it didn’t feel like home. Ashford Falls, the tiny town tucked into the shadow of the Blue Ridge, just fifty miles northwest of DC, would always be home.
Even though she might have outgrown her life in it.
She rounded the corner of Cherry Blossom lane and smiled to see the warm glow spilling from Cupid’s Coffeeshop, vacant for far too long. Just last fall, her best friend, Mary, passed away. She left the coffeeshop to her three grandchildren, with the proviso that if they could make it profitable in one year’s time, they’d inherit not only the shop but also a million dollars each. With that strong incentive, Patrick, Joe, and Zooey Lockhart worked hard to restore the shop to its former glory. Slowly, they’d managed to build up a steady clientele of regulars and a steady stream of business. Ruby herself made it her final stop on each morning walk, eager to check in and see her best friend’s grandchildren’s progress.
Peeking through the window—just before the coffeeshop opened for the day—was like a portal through time to the bustling cafe of her own youthful memories, when PJ and Mary ran the store. Ruby experienced such a strong sense of deja vu that she clutched at the windowsill to steady herself. Zooey, pink earbuds in her ears, danced with a broom, sweeping her way around the floor. Something in the way she tossed her head reminded Ruby of her grandmother, Mary Love Lockhart. Ruby warmed at the nostalgic pang.
Patrick emerged from the back room carrying a duo of boxes. Heavy cartons, if his slow pace, flushed face and sweaty dark hair had anything to do with it. He braced himself against the wall behind the cash register and flung aside the crimson curtain hanging over the small storage area, revealing a blonde-haired man wrapped in a passionate embrace with a petite, dark-haired girl. They sprang apart and Ruby recognized the last of the Lockhart grandchildren, Joe, though she didn’t know the girl.
Ruby laughed aloud. That shadowy storeroom, shielded from the front of the coffeeshop by the flimsiest of curtains, had been the site of many a romantic tryst over the years. Ruby pressed her chilled fingers to her lips, remembering a fifty-year old stolen kiss from her own Jefferson in the darkened storeroom. But the sight of Patrick and Joe, now toe-to-toe and red-faced, chased away her sweetly nostalgic memories. The frazzled girl Joe was locking lips with dashed out the front door when Ruby stepped inside, the rich scent of brewing coffee washing over her. Zooey waved and pulled her earbuds out of her ears.
“I was on a break!” Joe shouted and Zooey seemed to notice the argument for the first time, whirling around to face her brother and cousin, dismay in her turquoise eyes.
“You�
�re supposed to be helping me put away this shipment, not making out with…” Patrick stood close to Joe, both their faces crimson.
“Just because you can’t get any…”
“You irresponsible…”
Patrick jabbed his forefinger into Joe’s chest. Within seconds, they rolled on the floor behind the counter, wrestling for control. Some things never change. Zooey dropped the broom with a sharp, echoing crack. She ran behind the counter and howls of pain echoed from the floor. Ruby peeked over the top to see Zooey holding each man by a cruelly twisted earlobe. Ruby chuckled. Zooey was very much like her grandmother.
“Up. Get up!” Zooey whipped them with her tone. Chastened, Patrick and Joe scrambled to their feet, huffing and glaring daggers at each other over Zooey’s petite frame. “Go outside and work this out. I’m sick of the two of you arguing all the time.”
With that, Zooey shoved them both out the back door into the alley running behind the shop, slammed the door shut, and strode back to the counter, all calm sangfroid and not even out of breath. “Want to try our signature drink of the month, Auntie Ruby? It’s a Cherry Blossom Cappuccino. It’s got vanilla and cherries in it, along with Joe’s secret ingredient.”
“It’s like looking at your grandmother again.” Ruby embraced Zooey, patting the slender girls back. “I’ll try that Cherry Blossom Cappuccino but first, I think I better go talk to your brother and your cousin.”
“Maybe you can talk some sense into them. And make them act like grown-ups instead of five year olds.”
“Are they fighting a lot?”
“Is every ten minutes or so a lot?”
Ruby patted her arm and headed toward the alley. As she stepped through the back door, Ruby again experienced that vertigo inducing deja vu. After Mary’s failing health forced her to close the coffeeshop a decade before, Ruby hadn’t thought much about it, considering it just another vestige of the past. But so much of her youth was tied to this place.
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