The Accidental Kiss

by Heatherly Bell

  “Jenny, this is my friend Sean Hannigan. Sean, this is Jenny,” Charley said. “An old friend.”

  “Want to go out sometime?” Sean’s gaze slid up Jenny’s body without the slightest bit of covertness.

  Slow was not in Sean’s repertoire. No preamble, no big set-up. Just put it out there. Awkward for anyone that wasn’t Mr. Sean Hannigan.

  “Sure,” Jenny said, her voice laced with honey and arsenic. “Any friend of Charley’s is a friend of mine.”

  Charley wiped down the espresso machine and gave them some privacy. While there she took a moment to roll her eyes nearly right out of her head.

  “I’ll call you,” Sean said.

  When Charley turned back, he was alternating between typing into his phone and watching Jenny’s behind as it wiggled away. Emphasis on the wiggle.

  “She doesn’t usually walk that way,” Charley said. “Thought you should know.”

  “Even better. She must really like me. Looks like I’m going to be busy and not just at Sorrel’s.”

  “Look, Sean. I should warn you—”

  Jenny is predatory. She chews men up and spits them out before she’s on to the next one. Run, don’t walk, away from her. But then she flashed back to the day Sean had told her butt looked too big and later at work, that her torte needed a major overhaul. That if she ever wanted to be anything like Julia Child, be a chef or have her own bistro, she was going to have to up her game.

  That sometimes he doubted she had it in her.

  “Uh, never mind.” She went back to wiping the espresso machine. “I was just going to say that she doesn’t have a real appreciation of French cuisine. Just a heads-up. Where are you taking her?”

  He braced an arm over the counter. “Figured I’d let her take me around.”

  “She does know the city.”

  “Don’t worry, baby. You haven’t completely missed your chance with me. Just say the word and we’re on again.” He winked.

  Though their relationship was firmly in her rearview, lovely Sean liked to keep all options open. Occasionally he flirted and fooled himself into thinking that Charley might give him another chance. If neither one of them was married by age forty, he’d once suggested, they should get married to each other and open a bistro together. She was to be his consolation prize, and he was to be hers.

  Flattering.

  “I’m sure Jenny would be more than willing to help you drown your sorrows.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty but she’s no Charley Young.” He flashed his mega-watt smile.

  “Stop it.”

  “Whatever you say, Princess.”

  Oh, yeah. The silly and cheesy nicknames. Like foreplay for Sean. “Princess?” How original.

  Finally, she had another customer.

  And by the time she’d filled two dozen special order boxes for the Chamber of Commerce meeting, Sean had gone.

  18

  “I’m pregnant, which means I’m sober, swollen and hungry. Approach with EXTREME caution.” ~ meme

  “What do you think about adding a lunch menu?” Charley asked Naomi.

  Naomi shrugged. She wore a “Death to Capitalism” red tee over a long-sleeved black sweater, cut jeans and black combat boots. Her strawberry blonde hair was tinged with blue highlights, and she wore black nail polish. Charley wasn’t sure she should ask for her opinion. After all, she strongly resembled Charley at age sixteen, and one thing that could be said of sixteen-year-old Charley was that she could not be trusted for a reliable opinion.

  “I thought you said Milly didn’t want to do that.”

  “Milly isn’t here now, is she?”

  “Dude, if you say so.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Milly keeps asking me if you’ve left yet. And how things are going. I think she wants me to spy on you.” She stage whispered. “See if you’re doing a good job or screwing everything up.”

  “Still?” Seriously, this was insulting.

  Naomi shrugged. “You two should just talk it out. That’s what my mom always tells my brother and me.”

  “In order to talk it out, Milly would have to talk to me, too.”

  “I hear ya. My bro won’t talk either. All he does is grunts. I hate guys.”

  “Uh-huh.” Not something she could relate to at the moment. For once, her issues weren’t with those of the male persuasion. Just with one stubborn sister.

  After WWIII, Charley had made herself scarce as Milly had requested. No more hanging out watching Netflix or watching Scottish Highlander shows. (Milly’s guilty pleasure, she loved men in kilts). No more pedicures and no more pampering. It gave Charley a lot of extra time during the work day to think. And plan. For years, she’d wondered why Coral had never wanted to expand the bakery into also offering lunch.

  “Because I’m not greedy,” she’d once told Charley.

  Well, Charley wasn’t greedy either, but she loved feeding people. Enjoyed watching their expressions when they tasted something new that she’d created. Something she’d prepared with her own two hands and her passion for food. She’d always wanted to expand palates beyond sugar, chocolate, cinnamon and flour. Yes, those were good (alright, fantastic) but there were so many more flavors under the sun. Smoked salmon, for instance, possibly her favorite. Sundried tomatoes and grape tomatoes. Basil. Goat cheese. Gruyere. Dill cream fraiche. Capers. Had she mentioned basil? Culinary school had opened her eyes to the wonder of cooking with every flavor under the sun and she’d never looked back.

  Charley might have turned Sunrise Bakery into something quite different after Coral passed away. It would have become the Sunrise Bistro, offering not just the highest quality pastries but gourmet sandwiches and crepes. Quiche and soups. But even though Charley was technically half owner of the bakery, she’d never felt like it was hers.

  After Coral was gone, Milly had managed the bakery and she hadn’t changed a thing. But now, maybe for the short time when she had full reign and Milly was laid up, not currently speaking to Charley so none the wiser, she could try a few things. Experiment. She might expand their customers’ tastes with what she did best. Not everyone had the money to enjoy gourmet food cooked by an outstanding sous chef quickly on her way to becoming a Michelin chef. Okay, maybe not quickly but someday.

  Yesterday she’d experimented in her apartment kitchen, smoking salmon and making specialty panini sandwiches. Adding capers. Roasted peppers, wild mushrooms, and caramelized onions. Brie and prosciutto. Deliciously tantalizing. She was certain the smells were drifting out the crack of her doorway and wafting into Milly’s apartment next door. But just in case they weren’t, Charly had carried the pan of caramelized onions and held it under the slip of Milly’s door.

  No response, though she heard Rufus meow in obvious hunger. No wonder because this put the “D” in delicious.

  And if Milly wanted some of this delicious food, she was going to have to ask.

  When Dylan went home at the end of his shift, he was still riding on an adrenaline high. Maybe he’d test drive that sailboat at midnight tonight. Or talk Charley into an all-night sex marathon.

  Joe sat on the couch, laptop at the ready, fingers flying, his face a mask of concentration. He didn’t even look up when Dylan threw his keys on the counter. He hadn’t seen Joe this involved in reading anything since Catcher in the Rye back in high school.

  “What’s up?” Dylan finally asked, by way of announcing he had walked into the room.

  “Hey,” Joe said, finally breaking away from the screen.

  “That’s impressive concentration,” Dylan said, making his way to the fridge. “I haven’t seen you this focused on something since you offered to take Mandy Kelly to the prom. She was a senior and you were in the eighth grade.”

  “Oh, yeah. Almost forgot about that. I had a plan.” He closed the screen. “It would have worked, too, except for her boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, he was a little bit of an obstacle.” Dylan handed Joe a beer, then ploppe
d on the couch next to him. He nudged his chin in the direction of the laptop. “What’s so fascinating?”

  “Another one of my plans.”

  “Don’t tell me it’s a woman again.”

  “Nah,” Joe said, twisting his bottle’s top. “This one is a winner. Besides, I’m taking a breather from all women. They wear me out.”

  Dylan blinked. “What the hell is in the water in Santa Cruz?”

  “I know I need to focus, and I finally have the chance to do something that matters to me.” He opened his screen, typed into the keyboard, and turned it to Dylan.

  Before him was a spreadsheet. Next, he flipped to a detailed business plan. There were charts and projections. More spreadsheets. Finally, a photo of a property. The Surf’s Up shop.

  “This is what you’ve been so secretive about?”

  “Like I said, the shop is being sold. And I’ve been talking to my boss over the last few months about buying it.”

  “You? Buying it?”

  “Before you tell me I’m crazy, I’ve already done my due diligence. And I’ve got a partner. Eddie Paxton is a surfer buddy and a graduate of Stanford who just moved down to Santa Cruz with his wife. He wants to go into business with me. I’m the salesman, he’s the logistics.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” It was like stepping into another dimension. One in which Joe was focused and determined. Hell, practically a grown-up. “I’m…impressed.”

  “Thanks,” Joe said. “I know you wanted me to go on the open call and if I’m honest, firefighting has always been my back-up plan. Like dad always said, it’s honorable work, and I think you’re all heroes.”

  “We’re not he—”

  “But I never knew how focused I could be once I found something that I want. A dream of my own.”

  Not someone else’s dream.

  “Where did you learn how to do all this?” Dylan flipped through the documents, more impressed with each one. The figures projected were solid and the forecast looked optimistic.

  “Google,” Joe said with a smirk. “And I’m only half joking. But I read books, researched, and taught myself.”

  “This is great. But it also looks like you’ll need an influx of cash.” He assumed his partner would be coming up with that because Joe wasn’t exactly rolling in cash.

  “Yesterday Eddie got the call from his lender. We’re approved on a small business loan.” Joe shut the screen again.

  “So, this is happening.” Dylan took a gulp of cold beer and tried to imagine Joe as a business owner.

  It wasn’t the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

  “Hell, I know I haven’t been the picture of responsibility. But I’ve also been enjoying my life. I know that’s easier to do without a bunch of responsibilities, and I’m sorry if I kept you from doing the same.”

  “You were right, Joe. Life is short and we need to grab up the joy where we can.”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “Right?”

  ‘You’re looking at the new Dylan Reyes. I’m not going to be such a killjoy anymore. Not going to worry about you, Mom, Abuelita, Marco, or anyone else.”

  “That sounds like something you’d say if you were mad and fed up with me. But you look happy.”

  “I am. Damn happy.” He stretched his legs and leaned back, practicing a relaxation pose.

  “Since I’ve got you at a good time, you’ve seen the numbers. How would you feel about investing as a silent partner?”

  Dylan Reyes, silent owner in a surf shop. Stranger things had happened.

  19

  “I was told there would be glowing.” ~ Maternity T-shirt

  “Alright, cute entry number nine, I know I have to give you a name, but right now you’re moving a little bit over here to make room for entry number ten.”

  Charley arranged the smoked salmon cheese encrusted panini next to the turkey and gruyere panini and slid in the grilled prosciutto. She made a note on the menu she was creating. All the years working at the bakery and all the years on the road, she’d never had a chance to create a menu. The idea was intoxicating. The creative control she had, and the license to do whatever she wanted. For now. It was a dream come true. No chef had ever given her a chance and listened to her ideas. After a while she’d begun to wonder if the past was written in invisible ink on her face and in her eyes.

  Maybe everyone could somehow see where she came from. She was Maggie Young’s biological daughter. She didn’t want to be anything like her, but one couldn’t control the genes they’d inherited. The family history. But Charley hadn’t gotten pregnant at sixteen like Maggie had. She’d never done drugs and her only vice was her annoying love of store-bought cookies. It was safe to say that she’d exorcised Maggie’s influence, if not her genes.

  She’d hit the foster kid lottery with Coral and Milly. Despite what Milly had said, Charley had adored Coral. Even after Charley had moved out, she’d visit Coral. She’d brought Coral candy and flowers on Mother’s Day. Kept in touch on her progress at culinary school and made frequent test meals for both her and Milly.

  She’d been devastated and cried in Dylan’s arms when Coral died after a short battle with colon cancer.

  Milly saying that Charley somehow hadn’t loved her enough was both painful and unfair. It had caused Charley to question everything about her life. Her choices. Had her need for adventure driven away the people she loved most? She couldn’t accept that. Unconditional love was just that…unconditional.

  She’d like to think that Coral would be proud of her now. Charley had tried. In the long run, Coral had accepted that Charley was stronger willed than most, and once she’d even said out loud that this might be a good thing. At least she’d never follow the crowd, Charley had overheard her tell a friend. And Coral had been right.

  Right. So yes, again, Charley was nothing like Maggie.

  Glad we settled that.

  She washed her hands and dried them on the dishtowel. There was a knock on her door and Charley’s heart skipped. This was it. Milly had come to her senses and was finally apologizing. Maybe the apartment smelling like a gourmet eatery was more than she could take. Good. Whatever had brought her to her apartment door, Charley would take it and accept her apology with open arms.

  “I forgive you!” She threw open the door.

  Dylan’s eyebrow quirked. “For?”

  Charley poked her head out and searched the hallway. No Milly. Instead, from inside the thin walls of the apartment next to hers, Charley heard the loud and distinctive sound of dragons. Milly must already be through all the seasons of her Scottish Highlander show.

  “I thought you were M—”

  She didn’t finish that sentence because she suddenly found herself airborne in Dylan’s arms, carried into the apartment. He walked straight into her bedroom, still holding her, and deposited her on the bed.

  “I hope you don’t have any big plans tonight because I’m here to break them.” He began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “What have you got in mind?”

  “If you behave yourself, I might let you sleep a little tonight.”

  “Who needs sleep? Sleep is overrated.” She rushed to join him in losing her clothes since he was already ahead of her and half naked.

  Her clothes went flying and she laughed when her bra hit Dylan in the face before it fell to the floor. Then he was on top of her, his warm hard body covering her. His mouth went to her breasts, his hot tongue sucking and coaxing each nipple to a crest. Her nipples hardened, and she was already wet between her thighs under his ministrations. He crawled down her body, kissing as he went, paying extra attention to her belly button ring. When he kissed between her thighs she nearly came apart right then and there.

  “Get in me now,” she gasped. “I need you.”

  “Love to hear that,” he said, crawling back up her body. But then he froze and groaned.

  “What is it?” She was dying here. “Why did you stop?”

  “Charley, are you—”
<
br />   “Am I ready? Dylan, I was ready yesterday! Please.”

  One half of his mouth tipped up in a smirk. “Are you on the pill? Because I forgot a condom.”

  They’d obviously never talked about this sort of thing. But it was high time. Weirdly, she almost responded with “none of your beeswax!” Jot another surreal moment down in the Charley and Dylan show.

  “Yes,” she said. “I am.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Now she was about to lose it. “Yes, I trust you. Now, shut up and do me!”

  She didn’t need to ask him twice. Almost as if he wanted to shut her up, he thrust into her, and they both moaned. No more words were spoken as she clung to him, her pleasure mounting as he drove into her. Not slow or tender this second time, but hard and fast strokes as if he’d lost control. It was everything she wanted and craved. She’d lost all control within minutes, writhing under him and matching his thrusts. Quickly reaching that precipice and coming apart just as he’d said she would.

  Charley lay in Dylan’s arms, clinging to him. Sated, he was playing with her hair, wrapping strands around his finger. She didn’t want this night to end. This night, which he’d promised would go on as long as she wanted it to. On a high, she didn’t think she’d ever need to sleep again. Sex could be amazing with the right person. Charley was still reeling from the knowledge of how good it could be.

  But this man who was everything to her scared her sometimes even if she had total faith that he knew what he was doing. “I saw news coverage and the fire was horrible. The whole building destroyed. Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was?”

  “Hell, I don’t want you to worry.” He tugged on a lock of her hair.

  “You can’t do anything about it. I’ve always worried about you. I’m not going to stop now.”

  “Always?” He grimaced. “That’s years of you worrying. I should have picked a different profession. Accountant maybe. Like Ma wanted.”