She’d tried to stay at work as long as possible to avoid the meeting, knowing he had a full plate of work.
They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since the morning the trio had caught them at Wayfare house. And as much as she’d love to see or talk to him, she just didn’t have the courage to do it yet. Not after the way she’d acted that morning.
The embarrassment and sting of tears had her running for the bathroom after Birdie had offered her tissues to wipe off the smeared makeup. Before she’d even reached for the doorknob, the sting had turned into a steady flow. Two steps into the small half bath, Eva had raised her head and peeked into the mirror.
Under her eyes were patches of black, mixed with a little purple from the eye shadow she’d had on the evening before. Her lips were still a little swollen with pink smeared around the edges, her cheeks and neck bright red from Mac’s whiskers, and trails of black tears ran down her face.
She was a physical and emotional mess.
Cleaning her face was all she could handle at that moment. She started swiping the crumpled tissues over her eyes and lips, but to no avail. Panic set in for a second, but anger took over in a familiar rush of heat.
She wouldn’t be in this mess if only she hadn’t fallen asleep. Well, that and a few other reasons. For starters, it would have been nice if Mac hadn’t let her walk out of the bedroom with his shirt on. Or if he hadn’t paraded into the living room half naked in front of the Trio of Terror.
He could have come up with an excuse instead of outing her like that. Gah, she hadn’t even heard him the first couple of times he’d tried to tell her.
The only way she knew to erase the evidence of her night of pleasure was to use soap and water and scrub, scrub, scrub. Turning the hot water up, she had splashed some on her face then took a couple pumps of the liquid handwash. Most of the mess came off but she’d needed a cloth to remove the rest and what better to use than Mac’s t-shirt. Eva had ripped it over her head and wiped the rest of the makeup from her face.
Grabbing the handle, she’d wrenched open the bathroom door and marched back over to the guest room, where she tossed Mac’s soiled shirt on the bed and picked hers up off the floor.
Once dressed in her own clothing, she’d taken a minute to breathe in some much-needed oxygen to calm her nerves and headed for the living room. All four had still stood there, but Mac had his back to her, looking out a window and ignoring Hattie, Birdie, and Trixie.
Without a word to anyone, she’d picked up her purse, threw the ladies a don’t you dare look and walked out of the door.
Eva hadn’t thought the day could get any worse until she’d stepped out of the house and realized she had ridden over here with Mac. Which meant she had to hoof it home.
She’d made it a hundred feet when she heard the infamous golf cart and knew the busybodies of the Bay were right behind her. She had tried to ignore them and kept walking, but again, Birdie and her way with words had Eva stopping in her tracks.
“Let us give you a ride home. No sense in doing the walk of shame for everyone to see,” Birdie cooed.
If Eva could have screamed without drawing attention to herself, she would have let out a banshee of one. Instead, with her chin high in the face of defeat, she had shuffled over to the women and hopped on the back of the golf cart, taking the offered ride home.
That had been three days ago. Three days of no Mac in her life and it was bothering her more than it should. Friends with benefits, right? Only, the last night they’d been together hadn’t been about just friends. Or sex.
They both knew it.
No, what she and Mac had shared that night went beyond a casual relationship, no matter how she tried to deny the obvious. He’d made love to her with a gentle passion full of emotion and tenderness, and she’d responded with ardor and affection.
For the first time in her life, she’d felt cherished, and she yearned to experience that again with Mac. Only Mac. Which meant she was in so deep it was far beyond friendship.
It scared her more than anything.
She wanted to go to Mac and explain, truly, but her fear of being left kept her from running to him. Instead, once she locked the door to the coffee shop, she turned to head down to the beach instead of going home.
Sitting by the shore with her feet buried in the warm sand was her calming place. An oasis of peace where she could slow down and think.
She’d just made it to the steps leading down to the coast when she heard a voice that had her cringing. God, could those three never leave her alone? They were the proverbial devils, always on her shoulder.
“Eva dear, come sit. Birdie, Trixie, and I would like to discuss something with you.”
She tried to sound reasonable though she spoke through gritted teeth, a muscle in her jaw twitching. “I was just heading down to the beach. Can this wait?”
“No,” Hattie replied with a shake of her head. Adamant. “Come.” The old bird used her soft, kind voice and patted the chair next to her in an inviting manner.
It was too much for Eva to dismiss. As much as these three drove her insane at times, she loved them. They had been a part of her life since as far back as she could remember. Surrogate grandmothers in their own rights, even though their hair hid horns.
She pulled out the white metal chair and sat at the table with the bright pink-and-white striped umbrella. The boardwalk was dotted with a line of these tables with various colors of umbrellas attached. It gave off a happy, fun vibe. Only, she wasn’t feeling happy or fun right at the moment.
Looking around the table at the three women, Eva had to wonder if they were up to something. Scratch that. They were always up to something. “What did you want to talk about? And it had better not be about the other day.” Her warning came swift and firm.
Trixie, who was sitting next to her, placed a hand over hers. “That was days ago. It’s long forgotten.”
“Thanks,” Eva mumbled. I think.
“We want to talk to you about the Café Amour,” Hattie announced, settling into her chair, arms crossed on her lap.
“It’s off the menu, there’s nothing to discuss.”
“Yes, sweetheart, we know it’s off the menu. But there is more to the drink than you realize,” explained Birdie.
“What do you mean?” Eva looked around the table in question.
“One of the ingredients you use in Café Amour is a special blend of spices. It’s the spice blend that has the powers, not the drink itself.”
Eva’s gaze locked on Trixie. “What are you saying? That Café Amour itself isn’t magical? I think I already knew that,” she said, sarcasm dripping.
Hattie cleared her throat, and Eva glanced her way, “What Trixie is trying to say, is that Café Amour is special because of the spice blend you use to make it. And that said special spice blend is readily available for us to get and use in anything that’s edible. We don’t need Café Amour to give it to people.”
For some reason, said in those soft, take-no-prisoners southern syllables, the statement sounded more like a threat.
“But I order all my spices through Spice it Up on the boardwalk. They are all regular spices, nothing weird or uncommon.” Eva had no idea what these three were trying to tell her, but it was making her uneasy.
Hattie continued to explain. “Think about the names of the spices you put in the Café Amour blend. One should stand out because you don’t use it in any of your other drinks.”
Eva rested her elbow on the table and placed her head in her hand. After rubbing her forehead for a few seconds, it all started to become clear. Old Blaze, after the lighthouse. She only used the spice blend in Café Amour. But she was told it was a blend of cinnamon, ginger, and cayenne pepper. Those are all common spices she thought were named after the Cinnamon Bay lighthouse.
What the hell was going on?
“It’s Old Blaze. But it’s just a combination of regular spices. And besides that, how can you put a spice blend in something
if the legend says it has to be given by a Halloway?”
The stupid legend she was more rapidly coming to hate than appreciate.
Trixie’s eyes sparkled with delight under her floppy hat. “Because the spice blend is made by a Halloway. We think it’s time you went to visit your cousin Calliope. She can explain the rest.”
“Calliope? I haven’t seen her since I was a kid. My mom made me stay away from her. Said she was strange, and she didn’t want me around someone who did unworldly things.”
Calliope had always danced to the tune of her own drum, music no one else could hear. Living on the outskirts of town in a little cottage, she tended her garden and made herbs and tonics for locals who believed the story of the witch from the Bay. More like a descendant of Marianne Rosewood should be.
Birdie’s bracelets jingled as she reached over and clamped onto Eva’s hand. “Go talk to her, dear. She has the answers you need. The answers you’ve been too afraid to ask. But remember, we don’t need Café Amour on the menu. We can get our hands on the Old Blaze spice anytime we want.”
She gave Eva a final, hard pat before releasing her hand.
The thought of seeking out Calliope, the one person her mother had made her afraid of, was a little unnerving. Eva needed beach time now more than ever. Standing up from the table on shaky knees, she addressed all three of the women sitting there looking like they’d just won the lottery.
So, this was the prize they wanted to dangle over her head. The fact that they didn’t need her to perpetuate the sick tale of the love potion of the Bay.
“You all can do what you want with the Old Blaze spice, but I’m still not putting Café Amour back on the menu. And I won’t be buying any more Old Blaze either. As for talking to Calliope, I’ll have to think about it.” She said it as graciously as possible. “Maybe one day, just not right now.”
With a swift turn, Eva left the trio and strolled down to the shoreline. She didn’t have time to deal with a stupid spice blend she knew didn’t work. All she wanted to think about was Mac and how much she missed him. Which scared her more than going to see a woman her mother used to call a witch.
HE’D SPOTTED HER before she’d even gotten up from the table. After going three days without a word from her, Mac had come to terms with the fact Eva wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence.
It was up to him.
Her fear of relationships and being the town gossip was enough to keep her away from him. But he wasn’t going to let that happen.
Not wanting the old hens to see him, he trotted a few feet up the boardwalk before going down the steps leading to the beach. He kicked off his shoes and made his way down to the shore where Eva sat.
Her back was to him, but he could see her sitting with her knees bent and arms wrapped around them. Dark, glossy hair moving in time with the gentle ocean breeze lay across her shoulders.
Shoulders he remembered kissing as he’d trailed his lips down her arms and back up again.
They’d spent the whole night worshipping each other’s bodies, talking between rounds of making love and laughing like two people who’d fallen in love. But Mac knew Eva didn’t love him. She wouldn’t let herself.
They’d bonded that night, connected emotionally and threw casual right out the window. But even then, Mac knew he was still on the other side of the wall she’d erected years ago and refused to take down. What he wouldn’t give to be able to take a sledgehammer to it and bust it into pieces. Bring it down and claim her heart.
While standing a few feet behind her on the beach, he vowed to try because he wanted, needed her in his life. He was here to start knocking down the barrier she hid behind by extending the olive branch.
His quiet approach and voice must have startled her. “Is this seat taken?”
Eyes wide with shock looked up at him, but then she nodded in silence.
Folding his legs, Mac sidled close, their bodies grazing each other’s from shoulder to hip. They’d gone three days without talking; he was pulling out any trick he had to get that connection back. A smile crept across his face when she didn’t move away from him but continued to let their bodies touch.
She looked him up and down before locking on his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to find you since you’ve been avoiding me,” he said, trying to keep his tone playful.
“That goes two ways, buddy. I haven’t seen you around either. Your table at the shop has remained empty. The customers have even asked about you.”
“So, the customers missed me…did you?” He gave her body a tiny shove with his shoulder, gracing her with a full smile and a wiggle of his brow.
Eva chuckled, and his heart soared. “I did. But I was too embarrassed by my behavior that morning to come find you. And when you didn’t show up at Brewed with a View, I took it as a hint.”
“My shirt?” he guessed.
“Sorry. There’s no excuse for ruining your shirt. I can wash it for you. I have a great stain remover we can try.”
“Don’t worry about my shirt and no, it wasn’t a hint. I’ve been spending most of my time at my grandfather’s trying to finish up and talking to my aunt. Plus, I thought you needed some space from me.”
“Are you almost done with the house?”
Was there a hint of sadness, maybe even distress in her voice?
Maybe she didn’t want him to leave. Just maybe she was starting to feel more for him too. “I am. The parts Lizzie has let me touch, anyway. There’s still a whole lot more to do. I think just a couple more days, and it will be done. My aunt wants to get it on the market to sell in the next month or two. Guess she plans on finishing it up alone.”
“Oh. I suppose that means you will be heading back to Maine soon.”
Not a question, a statement made without emotion. No expression of dread or excitement, which made Mac think she didn’t care. Until he noticed her clenched fists. Hope filled his heart.
“Yes, I will have to go back to Maine soon.” He didn’t plan on staying there long. He was seriously considering making Cinnamon Bay his home if he could only figure out if her wall was starting to fracture.
She all but jumped from her seat in the sand, keeping her gaze downward. “Well,” she said as she dusted the sand off her backside.
“Well, what?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve had a long day, and I need to get home. Again, I feel bad about your shirt. If you want me to try and get it clean, I will, or I can buy you another one.”
Placing his hand around her upper arm, Mac stopped her from taking off. “Hey,” he murmured. “Look at me.” With a finger under her chin, he raised her head. “Stop worrying about the shirt. It was old, no loss. Besides, I deserved it. I should have stayed in the bedroom and not paraded around in front of everyone without a shirt. My poor attempt at humor caused you embarrassment and put you in a prime spot for gossip. I’m sorry. I mean truly sorry. I never want to hurt you. I hate that such a special night ended on a sour note.”
Her forehead creased. “That night, did it seem different? Like we’d crossed a line?”
“That night was special. I couldn’t distinguish where I ended, and you began. We were one. And way past friends with benefits.”
“But you’re still leaving.”
“Eva, let me—”
“Stop. I knew going into this relationship you had a life in Maine, but we’ve become more than friends. And the whole town knows it. I guess we are obvious when we’re together. Or so my customers say we are. I’m a big girl. I know you are leaving, and I’ll deal with it. But I’m taking a step back. I won’t cross that line again.”
“So back to casual but we don’t have to hide it?”
“I’m not giving up the best sex I’ve ever had until I have to, but no deep talks. No sharing emotional stories. Back to friends with benefits. Okay?”
“I’ll take it,” he whispered against her lips before taking a much-needed taste.
&n
bsp; Hope lit up his soul. She may want to back off a little, but she’d felt something that night too. Her wall had cracks, now he just had to handle her with care until it came crumbling down.
Chapter Nineteen
MAC WAS STILL a little apprehensive about showing up at his aunt’s unannounced. His aunt. Look at that. He’d gone from calling her Nutcracker Lizzie to a bona fide member of his family. Not that she’d be happy to know about the change.
Before he raised his fist to knock on her door, he swept the area with a quick glance. He had something important to ask her, and if she came at him with a baseball bat, he’d end up leaving in a hurry, his plan forgotten.
The front door swung open, and he found himself taking a quick step backward. “Aunt Lizzie? It’s Mac.”
“I know who you are. I won’t be mistaking you for someone else from now on. Not with that head of hair.” She pushed open the screen door. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.”
He stepped over the threshold and into another world. A world where only an older lady would want to live. There were knickknacks on literally every surface available. From plants to porcelain figurines. Crocheted afghans draped over all the furniture in an array of colors. The sofa and chairs were in a larger floral pattern that went out of style at least thirty years ago. But they were in excellent shape, and the house was spotless. His aunt intrigued him like no other.
And he could see that she and his grandfather had a similar hoarding problem.
“Have a seat and tell me what brings you here,” Lizzie croaked, gesturing toward the sofa.
A couple of the numerous throw pillows splayed across the sofa had to be pushed over to make room for him to sit. Why does someone need so much stuff? Hell, he was happy with a just place to sit and a television.
“I’m finished with the house. Well, the parts you told me to work on,” he started, wiping sweating palms on his jeans. “There are just a few things you might want to look at, but you could go ahead and schedule the yard sale and then get the house on the market within the next month.”
Love on the Boardwalk: A Cinnamon Bay Romance - Book One Page 13