Sarah’s face lit up. “A bakery,” she echoed. “Funny you say it, because that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Well, what do you think?”
Sarah and Jenna were standing outside of a green and white storefront in a row of tiny shops by the beach. “Grandma’s Coffee House” was stenciled on the front door, right above the Open sign. The wooden sign hung overhead had been freshly painted, and someone had stenciled a trellis of ivy around the doorframe, but it was clear the tiny café had seen better days. The fliers taped to the inside of the store’s windows had begun to fade, and the menu still advertised holiday specials no longer in season.
“Grandma’s Coffee House?” Jenna grumbled. The morning had come early—too early. Even the waves crashing in the distance sounded groggy. “What about it? I thought we were getting coffee?”
Exasperated, Sarah rapped her fingernail on a For Sale sign taped under the store’s hours on the door and pushed her sunglasses up into her hairline. “We are getting coffee, but wake up, sis. I’ve been watching this place for a few years, and it just went on the market at the beginning of the year. So far, no takers, but maybe that’s a sign. Maybe this could be the new home for Sarah’s Bakery.”
“Sarah’s Bakery?” Jenna, who had forgotten her sunglasses, squinted in the early morning sun.
“Yep. I’ve been thinking about what we talked about, and what I could do with my half of the sale of Aunt May’s house.” Sarah’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “I could open my own bakery. I could actually do this, Jen.”
Jenna took a second look at the storefront, now giving it the full weight of her attention. She could see it. Absolutely. The storefront needed a little bit of paint and polish, but it had a prime location. “It looks perfect.”
Sarah beamed and swung open the front door. “Right answer. Now we get your coffee.”
The sisters each ordered a cup of coffee and a scone at the counter, then selected a small table at the front of the bistro, near the wide picture window and the view of the beach in the distance. They discussed the café’s quaint island charm while enjoying their breakfast. Even though the idea had taken her by surprise, Jenna could easily see her sister in the space—could already imagine the homey touches she’d add to the dining area, the counter spaces. New lighting would accentuate the sunshine coming in through the eastern-facing windows, maybe a new countertop—something sturdy, like granite, or quartz. Of course, Sarah would bring her green thumb to the bakery, too. The scents of her plumeria and jasmine would be enough to rival even her baked goods.
Jenna smiled. Her sister had the skills, and this little store for sale had all the curb appeal it would need to help Sarah’s bakery dreams come true. “It’s perfect for you, Sarah. I’m already putting in my order of blondies to go.”
“You got it, Peanut,” Sarah winked. “As soon as you and your handsome handyman get Aunt May’s house finished, the sooner Darren can get it sold.”
A bit of pastry stuck in Jenna’s throat. “Wait—Darren?”
“Oh, yeah.” Sarah sucked down her coffee. “He called with his condolences about May, then offered us his real estate services to sell the house. He even offered to forgo his commission as a gift in her honor.”
A thousand emotions flooded through Jenna, none of them good. Trust Darren to come sniffing around about Aunt May’s property. Why hadn’t Sarah told her about this before? “Sarah, tell me you didn’t say yes.”
Her sister winced. “Not exactly. It was more like a maybe.”
A maybe? “Sarah, he’s my ex!”
“I know!” Her sister put her hands up in front of her, bracing as if to ward off Jenna’s ire. “And I realize it might be awkward for you, but it was sweet of him to offer and we’d save a ton in commissions with him. Doesn’t that make good business sense?”
It did, but Darren always came with hidden costs, something Jenna was all too familiar with. Still, despite her personal feelings about the guy, he was an impressive realtor. Maybe she’d have a better experience being his client instead of his girlfriend.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jenna sighed. She just wished she could be more certain. It wasn’t like Darren to offer any favors—at least not the sort that would cost him his commission. There had to be something else up his super-starched shirt sleeve, and whatever it was, Jenna wasn’t sure she wanted it.
After breakfast, Jenna and Ben spent the better part of the morning loading up on paint supplies at the local home improvement store. Once the truck was leaden down with paint and brushes and all the other assorted items requisite to repaint an interior and exterior, they returned to tackle the house, making their way through the rooms together with the practiced movements of people who had worked together for years rather than just a few short weeks.
They finished spackling the living room before moving to the dining room, first filling cracks with the sticky white putty, and then smoothing away the excess. Ben’s biceps flexed when he lugged the heavy bucket of spackle between the rooms, and Jenna spun away before he could catch her staring. She didn’t let on in turn when, in the kitchen, Jenna caught Ben watching her tie her toolbelt around her waist.
In the living room, Ben held the ladder for Jenna while she used a small brush to color in the paint edges right beneath the upper crown molding—which had been reattached in the correct direction. Once the trim was done, Jenna rolled paint on one wall while Ben tackled another, the drips from their roller brushes dotting the brown paper they’d taped down to protect the new ceramic tile Ben had spent all night laying.
The names of the paint colors they’d chosen reflected the spirit of the Victorian home. It was Knight’s Armor Gray for the living room, and a shade of blue called Meetinghouse for the kitchen. The travertine backsplash popped against the fresh new paint, and when Ben lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow and exposed the muscular ripples of his stomach, Jenna turned the same shade of Dusty Crimson they’d painted the dining room.
They’d squabbled over paint colors for the downstairs bath, Jenna opting for a bright jade green and Ben preferring a more romantic shade of soft, buttery yellow he insisted would make the room airier and more inviting. In the end it came down to a coin toss that Ben won, so they finished the day standing back-to-back in the small space, painting with yellow.
It’s not a terrible color, Jenna considered as she rolled her brush through her last section of boring white wall. Kind of sunny.
Jenna turned with the roller still in her hand. Ben had also finished his section and turned at the same time, earning himself a solid line of paint across his cheek.
“Oops!” Jenna pulled her bottom lip under, biting down on it to keep from laughing. Slathering Ben in paint had been an accident, but he did look pretty dang cute with a line of yellow over his eyes and nose. Totally worth it.
Ben smeared the paint away and a coy smile crept over his lips, pressing out the dimples in his jaw. “Thanks, but it’s not my shade.”
Jenna laughed, then lied. “No, it’s not.”
“Well, you don’t have to say it like that.” Ben lifted his roller, his eyes widening meaningfully as he brandished the brush at her.
Instantly, Jenna knew she was in for it.
Ben lurched forward and Jenna fled from the bathroom, holding her roller in front of her as she ran through the house, avoiding Ben as he closed in behind her.
“You’re right, you would look so much better in this color than I would!” he called after her as they ran in circles through the open floorplan of the house, both with paint rollers outstretched and dangerously close to smearing the wrong color paint on freshly finished walls.
“You’re fired!” Jenna yelled from the dining room, watching as Ben’s shadow slid into the kitchen.
“No, I’m not!” he called back, hot on her trail.
Jenna pivoted and ran for the living room. “Yes, you are!”
/> Ben caught up with her, cornering her between the fireplace and the ladder in the living room. She turned her head and bared her teeth playfully as he advanced on her. He’d lost his roller and, somewhere along the chase, picked up a can of leftover paint from the dining room. Dusky red paint dripped from the edges of the paintbrush bristles as he wagged the brush in a way that seemed to have a direct connection to her heartbeat, which had developed the peculiar habit of skipping a little whenever she looked at him. “Don’t you dare!”
His eyebrow lifted. “Oh, I dare.”
Ben was so close now she could feel the heat of his words on her skin. He lifted his brush and swiped a red mark across her cheek.
She gaped at him, and he swiped her other cheek.
“You started it, not me,” he reminded her.
Jenna spied a gallon of white paint by Ben’s foot and she grinned at him, evil thoughts taking over her mind. “Okay, then I’m finishing it!”
She snatched up the paint can and dumped it over Ben’s head before he could stop her, then laughed until her ribs ached as Ben stood before her, dripping and sputtering.
“I can’t believe you did that!” he intoned before a wily look passed over his face. He reached forward and grabbed Jenna, pulling her against him so his body pressed against hers, smothering her entire front in white.
Before she knew it, Ben’s lips were on hers. Warm, soft, and slightly tacky from paint, the kiss was enough to push any concern about being covered in paint out of her mind. Paint, schmaint. Jenna put her arms around Ben’s neck and kissed him back. Lifting herself onto her toes, she tightened her arms around him and kissed away all her grief over Aunt May. All her frustration over the Barrington pitch and the weeks of home renovations and manual labor she hadn’t planned for. Jenna kissed Ben Fletcher until the paint on their faces began to dry and crack. Even then his palm against her face and arm wrapped around her back kept them together, as if the two of them had become a part of the house itself—as much a part of the structure as the newly installed crown molding and tile.
When they ran out of breath, Ben pulled away to gaze down at her as Jenna settled back onto her feet. Onto solid ground.
“Jenna, I—” he started.
Jenna felt his sudden departure in a gust of cool air between them, which only served to stoke the electric current racing under her skin. Her lips burned where Ben’s had pressed against them, her flesh like fire where her hands still rested atop his shoulders. When was the last time she’d been kissed like that—had kissed someone like that?
Too long. It had been so fresh, so unexpected, Jenna needed more. She tugged on Ben’s collar, drawing him back toward her.
“What?”
Unspoken words hung on Ben’s lips as the sound of tires crawling up the gravel driveaway ripped their attention away from each other too soon. The pair stayed still, hoping someone had turned down the long drive by mistake and would turn around soon. Whoever it was came closer, the crunch of gravel louder with every inch forward.
What the heck? Jenna looked over Ben’s shoulder at the window facing the front drive.
A shiny black airport courtesy car had just arrived in the drive. Jenna struggled to make out the driver, but then cold recognition extinguished the heat under her skin. Wearing a tropical print shirt and his face still covered in a goatee, Darren was behind the wheel.
Something thick and uncomfortable rose in her chest. What in the world was he doing here?
Chapter Twenty
Darren had just stepped one shiny black dress shoe out of his matching shiny black rental car as Jenna stormed through the front doors of the house. He looked like a tourist, dressed in slacks and a cheesy Hawaiian shirt under his suit jacket.
Scratch that. He looked like uppity tourist, neatly-trimmed goatee and all.
“Darren? What are you doing here?” Jenna couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice—or the aggravation.
He flashed a perfect smile in her direction. “Hi, Jenna.”
Jenna heard the sound of Ben’s steps behind her as she withered under Darren’s scrutinizing gaze. The paint! She held her head high and refused to feel embarrassed. Why should she? “We had an accident ... with the paint,” she explained, needlessly.
A few more steps and Ben was beside her, also covered head to toe in paint. Jenna closed her eyes. Okay, even though she didn’t owe her ex anything, this was still a tad awkward.
“I can see.” Darren’s tone was dry.
Silence.
“Darren, this is Ben Fletcher.” She shot Ben a meaningful look as she nodded in the other man’s direction. “Ben, this is Darren Taylor.”
Understanding flashed across Ben’s face. His hand lifted to his nose, wiped at the paint crusted there. “Heard a lot about you. Nice to meet you.”
Ben wiped a paint-covered hand on paint-covered coveralls and stretch it toward Darren. After a few seconds hesitation, Darren emitted a choked sound and accepted the handshake. Jenna blinked to hide her eye roll. She knew exactly how Darren would feel to get his hands dirty with paint and grime. At least she wouldn’t have to hear about it later.
No longer my problem, Jenna thought, and the tension in her chest loosened just a little. “Ben is renovating the house,” she explained.
“With Jenna,” Ben corrected. He peered at her from the corner of his eye. “We are renovating the house together.”
Something about the way he said together made Jenna’s knees weak. The feeling was short-lived, because then Darren opened his mouth.
“Oh.” He gave the house’s exterior a long, unimpressed review, making an effort to make sure Jenna saw his eyes settle on the scabby paint and ragged edges of several still-broken windows. The exterior would be the last aspect of the house to get its beauty makeover, a fact Darren well knew but seemed satisfied to judge their progress by now. “Well, long way to go, huh?”
Ben was stiff. His mouth tightened. “Right on schedule, actually. Another couple of days, maybe a week, and she’ll be as good as new.”
“I’m sure.”
The two men sized each other up for a moment before Darren turned his attention to Jenna. “Jenna, could we have a minute alone please?”
She’d known it was coming, but the chance to spend any alone time with the man who’d wasted four years of her life was not at the top of Jenna’s priority list. Still, she could have cut the tension between the three of them with a butter knife. Something had to give. She looked to Ben. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Ben’s lips were a thin line, but he nodded. “I’ll just be inside if you need me,” he said.
Jenna kept her face friendly until Ben was tucked safely back inside Aunt May’s. Then, she spun on her heels to glare at Darren, seething. “Now are you going to tell me why you’ve decided to show up at my house uninvited?”
“Your house?” Darren’s lip twitched. “Don’t tell me you’re getting too comfortable out here in the tropics.”
“You know what I mean.” Even though she’d been counting down the days till the renovation was complete, she’d almost forgotten her ownership of the house was temporary. That was why Darren was here, after all—he hadn’t come for her, but to get the house listed for a commission he was somehow willing to lose. Darren being here meant she was selling the house. It meant the renovation was done. More upsetting, it meant her time with Ben was almost over, too.
“I can see the contractors here aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” Darren said. He reached out and touched a spot of dried paint on Jenna’s shoulder, rubbed it between his fingers like grime.
“Actually, Ben is fantastic.” The words were poison on Jenna’s lips. “The spilled paint was on me.”
Darren’s lip twitched again. “Got it,” he said. “Anyway, Sarah told you about our call, right? About me helping to sell the property?”
“Yes, and it’s very generous.” Jenna bit the words off. “But the house isn’t ready yet, and we could have done this
over the phone, Darren.”
Over the phone. They could have done it by mail.
“That’s true, but I can’t deny actually wanting to see you again. To present my proposal in person.”
Proposal? Darren’s choice of vocabulary sent sparks through Jenna’s limbs.
Darren took a step forward. Jenna took a step back. “It’s a little late for proposals.”
He stopped moving. “I deserve that, and you were right about a lot of what you said when we broke up. But I think I found a way to fix everything.”
Fix everything? How did showing up unannounced with an offer fix anything? She rolled her eyes. “You’re just here to sell the house.”
Darren had the grace to look sheepish. “Selling the house was the first plan, but then I had another idea that’s even bigger—and one that might even help put me back in your good graces, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Paradise,” Darren said, brandishing his trademark realtor smile. “Paradise for three dozen families.”
A beat passed as Jenna stared at Darren. The words she understood, but they didn’t make sense. What paradise?
Darren put his arm around Jenna’s shoulders and turned their bodies so they faced the wide green expanse of May’s property. Green, wild, trimmed by jungle and ocean. “Think about it. These five acres of prime oceanfront are worth a fortune—way more here than even in LA. They could be the condo project we never got to build. And I’ve talked Orville Barrington into backing us. He’s in love with the idea—even with a higher price tag.”
“What do you mean backing us?”
“You and me,” Darren clarified. “We build it together. You design, I sell. We do our own version of Terrace Pines right here.”
Jenna considered the landscape adjustments she’d already made to her model, the sustainability plans, the green living. Most of it checked out but— “There are no pine trees in Hawaii.”
“Okay, so Terrace Pineapple or Mango Terrace, or whatever you want to call it. The point is, your whole family can benefit from May’s inheritance in more ways than you imagined. Instead of flipping this house, it becomes an investment. A big one. Sarah gets her bakery—”
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