Unforgettable - A Beachwood Bay Love Story - Melody_Grace

Author’s note: Noelle and Ash’s story begins in the novella, UNMASKED, set on the night they first meet. If you’ve already read the novella, you can skip straight to the start of UNFORGETTABLE. Xo Melody

UNMASKED

A Beachwood Bay Love Story by

Melody Grace

Copyright © 2015 by Melody Grace All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author ’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner. All rights reserved.

Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6



1.

Ash I should be on top of the world. I’m sitting in the backseat of a limo gliding through the streets of Manhattan, with my CFO on the other end of the phone delivering me the news I’ve been waiting for: that our deal just closed. The deal. The last penthouse unit in our New York City high-rise development sold out before we even finished construction. “It’s unheard of in this real estate market,” Emmett whoops. I can hear noise in the background; he’s already out partying with the news. “But you pulled it off. At top dollar too!” “It’s signed and sealed?” I check, not wanting to relax too soon. “Contracts are on my desk. You did it, Callahan,” he laughs, sounding impressed. “I know I said you were crazy, taking a risk like this, but I’ll happily eat my words.” “No need for that.” I stop him. “It’s your job to be my voice of reason.” “And help count all the cash,” Emmett whoops again, and I wonder how many drinks he’s already had. “Come on down and celebrate, the whole office is out.”

“Can’t. Charity gala,” I explain. “But buy them all drinks on the company. And tell them nobody works the weekend, either.” “You mean we’ll actually get a day off for a change?” Emmett cracks. “You are in a good mood.” “You all deserve the break. But fax me the contracts, I want to look them over before Monday.” “Will do,” Emmett replies. “Now you go have fun, boss—you’ve earned it.” I hang up and let the news sink in. This development has been the biggest gamble of my career. I put everything on the line, and now it’s finally paid off. The 24/7 work weeks, the year spent checking fine print and architectural plans, sweet-talking permit departments and begging every last cent from banks—it’s all worth it now. I’ll never have to worry again, not like the old days back when it was a struggle just to keep a roof over my family’s heads. I was fresh out of business school, barely a man, when tragedy struck. Suddenly, I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, and nobody but me to take the responsibility. I would wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, wondering how the hell I was going to keep my siblings off the streets and make a life for us without our parents around. But not anymore. Now I have offices in two cities and successful developments across the whole country. New York Magazine named me one of their “30 Under

30,” and now this is the deal that’s going to take me to the next level. Make my real estate development company untouchable, a force to be reckoned with. I should be happy. I should be out drinking with the rest of my employees, toasting our success. So why do I feel so numb? A hollow ache in my chest where the joy belongs; nothing but an abstract sense of accomplishment instead of fierce pride or relief. The car suddenly stops, and my driver ’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “We’re here, Mr. Callahan.” I look around. We’ve pulled up outside the famous front steps of the Met museum, just off Central Park. “Just a minute,” I tell him, checking my email again. I’m in no great hurry to get to the party. By now, I know these big charity events are all the same: I’ll spend the evening making polite conversation with socialites and their banker husbands, eating flimsy hors d’oeuvres and bidding on overpriced auction items. I would happily stay at the office, cramming in a couple more hours of work, but the contacts I make at these events are invaluable. The people here tonight can make the difference between a permit approval or months of red tape; a glowing write-up in a glossy magazine, or a snarky gossip column. Besides, I’m supposed to be celebrating, aren’t I? I finally tuck my phone away and get out of the car. “No need to wait around,” I tell my driver, Frankie,

through the front window. He’s got a wife and kids at home, so I try not to keep him too late. “I’ll catch a cab later. One of us should have a decent Friday night, at least.” “Thanks, boss.” Frankie grins. “And congrats.” He drives away and is quickly replaced with another limo, disgorging a crowd of people in tuxes and evening gowns. They climb the steps to the museum, fixing something to their faces. This is a themed event tonight, a masquerade, so I pull the black bandana from my pocket and fix it over my eyes, adjusting the position so I can see. That’s when I notice a woman in the middle of the street. She’s dressed for the party too, in a dark blue cocktail dress and heels, but she’s not moving: she’s yanking at her foot, looking like she’s about to topple right over. The lights are red down the block; the street is empty of traffic for a moment. “Is everything OK?” I call, approaching her. She looks up, her face illuminated in the glow of the street lights. Blue eyes focus on me, her dark blonde hair pinned back from a heart-shaped face—which right now is frowning in annoyance. “My heel is stuck!” she exclaims. “Damn shoe. This is why I always wear flats. That, and my mother always taught me to never wear shoes I can’t run away in.” She yanks her leg again, and I can see the heel of her

jeweled pump is caught in the grate. “Your mother sounds like a treat.” I catch hold of her arm to steady her. The woman looks amused. “She’s a New Yorker born and raised,” she says, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Plus, she wanted to prepare me for men and their beastly ways.” I laugh. “Let’s see what I can do to prove her wrong.” I look down, examining the problem. “You picked a great spot to get stuck,” I note, wondering if we can get her free before the lights change and traffic starts streaming past. “It wasn’t on purpose, trust me,” the woman sighs wistfully. “Maybe the universe is telling me not to go to this party.” “Not a fan of masquerade balls?” I ask, kneeling down beside her. “Not a fan of blind dates—oh!” She startles as I reach out and take hold of her bare ankle. She flails a moment, then grabs hold of my shoulders for balance. “Sorry,” I say, trying to rotate her shoe to lever the heel out. But it’s stuck firmly in place. I look up. “We might have to leave it.” “I’m hoping you mean the shoe and not my whole foot,” she jokes. “No amputation necessary.” “But I’ll be hopping around on one leg all night.” The woman’s face falls.

“Cinderella managed it.” “Cinderella had a pumpkin chariot to take her home, not the L train.” She smiles again, a wry, teasing look, and I’m suddenly struck with one simple fact. She’s beautiful. Not in the way I usually find women beautiful. If I have a type, it’s for the polished, glossy, career woman. Women who strut confidently around the city in towering heels without once getting stuck in a grate; women with sleek hair and perfect makeup, the kind who have reminder alarms on their phones, and schedules so busy that I can be sure they won’t take offense when I have to cancel our dinner plans because something came up at work, or leave halfway through a party to see to some disaster on one of my construction sites. Self-sufficient. Low-maintenance. Perfectly in synch with my career and goals. This woman is none of those things. Her hair is already falling down around her face in soft blonde curls, her eyes are full of self-deprecating laughter, and there’s something frazzled and scatterbrained about the way she looks down at her shoe and back at me. Still, I feel a powerful rush of something. Some heat or strange awareness just looking up at her, framed there in the streetlights like a classical painting. Botticelli, or Raphael. A car horn breaks through my thoughts. It speeds past, barely a few feet away, followed by a stream of

traffic, barely slowing as the cars pass us here in the middle of the street. Wake up! I scold myself. Musing about preRaphaelite paintings is going to get the both of you killed. “We need to get you out of here,” I decide, as a kamikaze cab driver careens past, dangerously close. “I’m sorry,” she says, looking down at me. “You’re getting your tux all dirty down there on the ground.” “Don’t worry about me.” I run my hand up her calf without thinking. She inhales sharply, and suddenly, my touch seems intimate. Her skin is soft and smooth. Her ankle seems delicate in my hands. I lift slightly, and move the heel of her shoe back and forth to dislodge it from the grate. “It’s no use.” She sounds weirdly cheerful. “I’m doomed. You go ahead to the party. I’ll flag down a cab and go home.” “Not so fast,” I say, rotating the heel. Suddenly, her shoe pulls free. She stumbles off balance, and I have to quickly stand and grab her before we both go tumbling into oncoming traffic. We both freeze. My arms are locked tight around her, pressing her warm body against my chest. She gasps, her face just inches away, lips parted wordlessly, those blue eyes wide in surprise. Not just blue, I realize now. Her eyes are almost a warm grey, fringed with pale lashes. I stare at her,

thrown for a moment. Her perfume drifts around us, something light and sweet like wild roses or— “Honeysuckle,” I murmur. She blinks. “You smell like honeysuckle,” I repeat. A part of me is howling that I’ve suddenly become a dumb sap, but it’s overridden by the feel of her body, soft and yielding, like she belongs in my arms. The woman’s gaze drifts to my lips. Suddenly, kissing her is the only thing I want to do. It’s madness. We’re still standing in the middle of a busy street, with traffic streaming past. I don’t even know her; and what I do know tells me she’s the last woman on earth I should be kissing, but somehow, it’s not even a choice. I’m a man who prides himself on rational thought. I calculate every risk and weigh every consequence, thinking four steps ahead before I ever make a single move. It’s made me who I am today, kept me from making stupid, rash decisions, getting sidetracked by romance when I have more important things on my mind. But right now, there’s nothing else in the world. Nothing but this stranger pressed against me, her lips parted invitingly, her cheeks flushed—and a telltale flash of desire in her eyes. I want her. And for the first time in my life, I don’t need to

question why. With a spark of determination, I tilt her head up towards me and close the distance between us, claiming her mouth in a deep, hot kiss. She doesn’t hesitate. In an instant, her arms are up around my neck, and her body is melting even closer against me. It’s a rush of heat and sweetness, edged with the thrill of the unknown. Heat surges between us, and just like that, this wildfire of a moment is raging out of control. I grip her waist tighter, crushing silk under my palms as I bring her hard against me and demand more. Now. Her mouth parts eagerly to taste my lips, and I groan, sliding my tongue deeper into her mouth. She tastes of cinnamon and honey, sweetness cut with an intoxicating spice. Desire pounds in my bloodstream as I drink her in, savoring every moment even as my body demands more. I can’t get enough. It’s a high like nothing else, overpowering every one of my senses with her. For one crazy moment, I know what it’s like to teeter on the brink of madness. Ignore reason and logic, totally overpowered by raw animal need. I could lose myself in her. Willingly abandon all self-control. No. I catch myself, too late. I wrench away from her,

panting, to find the world spinning on as usual: the lights of the city all around us, the flow of traffic, the chilled night air. It all comes crashing back in, and I wonder how the hell I managed to block out reality for these few dangerous moments. How I completely forgot myself. “I apologize,” I ground out, my voice rasping with the lust still pumping through my body. I release her, and put a safe few feet between us. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” By the dazed look on the woman’s face, she didn’t either. “Of course.” She clears her throat, her eyes darting around. “It was… I don’t know what it was.” Incredible. Intoxicating. Dangerous as hell. “We should…” I gesture randomly towards the museum. The stoplights change again down the street, providing us with a break in the traffic. “Right. Sure. I mean…” The woman blinks again, then her focus clears. She laughs suddenly, bright and carefree. “I suppose this night couldn’t get any stranger.” She gives me a warm grin, then turns away and starts walking to the other side of the street. I’m thrown a minute by how fast she’s collected herself. I still feel like I’ve been hit by a semi, grasping for my usual cool. I hurry to catch up with her, and politely offer my arm, but she doesn’t take it.

“I guess this is good night,” she smiles, when we safely reach the steps. “I guess so.” I pause a moment. Every instinct is screaming at me to ask her name, take her number, flag down a passing cab and invite her back to my apartment. I want to lock the bedroom door, strip off that cocktail dress and spend the next forty-eight hours ravishing her amazing body. It would be a bad idea, I know. She’s just a stranger to me, a passing temptation. The kind of risk that’s best left untaken. But damn, I would enjoy losing this devilish game. Before I can say a word, she makes the decision for me. With another carefree smile, the woman flutters a wave. “Enjoy the rest of the evening,” she says, sounding amused. “Maybe you’ll find another damsel to rescue.” Then she’s walking away, skipping lightly up the steps of the museum and disappearing inside before I can call out to make her stay. I ignore the disappointment that hits me the moment she’s out of sight. That was a close call, I tell myself, slowly climbing the steps. A narrow escape. Because despite the fever that raged in my bloodstream for those few crazy moments I held her in my arms, I already know that fevers never last. They come on strong, destroy every sense of reason, and then break in the night, leaving you with nothing but a cold sweat and lingering unease.

This woman was a distraction from the business at hand, nothing more. And I never allow myself to be distracted.



2.

Noelle I hurry blindly through the front entrance of the museum, my heart pounding. All around me, there’s a chaos of lights and people, dressed up in masks and party clothes, but it’s all just a blur to me. What just happened? I spy the coat check room to my left and quickly slip inside. The attendant is talking to someone up front and doesn’t notice as I sneak deeper into the closet. Coats and scarves are packed on the rails, but I find a bench to sit on in the back, hidden in the folds of clothing. I sink against the wall, breathless and dizzy. I can still feel the blazing imprint of the strange man’s lips, the way his hands gripped at my waist. It was incredible: one moment we were flirting over my trapped heel, and the next…? My cheeks go hot, remembering the look that came into his dark eyes. Even through his mask, there was something so raw and intent in his gaze, like he couldn’t hold himself back a moment longer. He had to have me. It was the sexiest moment of my life. And totally, completely inappropriate. I try to pull myself together, imagining what my mother would say. What kind of man kisses a complete stranger in the

middle of the street like that? A damn gorgeous one. And what kind of woman just kisses him back? Me. I shiver, my blood still singing with desire. From the moment he crossed the street towards me, I wanted him. It was something I couldn’t explain: the way his suit hung perfectly from his broad, muscular shoulders; how the dark cast mysterious shadows across his jaw. In that bandana, he looked like an old-fashioned highwayman, ready to steal me away on exotic adventures. And when he touched me… I was lucky he pulled away so soon, otherwise Lord knows what I would have done right there in the middle of traffic. The kind of things that would get me arrested and disbarred from the law in the state of New York, for sure. And then, just as quickly as the heat took us over, it was gone; the desire in his eyes replaced with something almost like panic. Behind his mask, the shutters fell. Somehow, I knew, the moment was gone, like waking from a delicious dream to find your alarm blaring and the cold, harsh light of morning outside. I sigh, glad for the dark folds of fabric surrounding me and the privacy of this hideaway. The sexy stranger may be long gone, but I can stay a little longer, suspended in blissful memories, pretending like reality isn’t waiting just outside the door—and my fourth blind

date of the month. That’s what I get for letting my friends and family fix me up—not that they give me a choice. Ever since I turned twenty-six, they’ve all started panicking that I’m still alone. Never mind that I’ve never had much time for dating in between college, and law school, and my fourteen-hour days at the law firm now. In a family of overachievers, I always feel like I’m lagging way behind. My mom clips articles from her medical journals about how single people are more likely to die of a variety of cancers. Dad makes pointed comments about how I’ll need things fixed around the house, and even my older sister, Olivia, happily settled down with a family of her own out in San Francisco, sends me charts about declining fertility and freezing my eggs. It’s easier to just accept the parade of dates they schedule for me. After all, I tell myself, there’s always the possibility that one of these awkward blind dates will be the guy. But there’s a reason I’ve stayed single so long—besides being too exhausted after work to even think about doing anything besides collapse on my couch with takeout and Netflix. I want more. More passion, more spark. More feeling, of any kind. I want to be moved by someone, to lose track of time talking because I can’t wait to discover everything about him.

To hide away in a cloakroom because I want just a few more moments reliving our kiss… Suddenly, the coats are yanked aside. The coat check girl stares at me in surprise. “What are you doing? Guests aren’t allowed back here.” “Sorry!” I blurt, getting to my feet. “I was just… Bye!” I exit the room, back out into the bustle of the main lobby. Now that my daze has cleared a little, I can look around and take in the scene. The museum looks beautiful, silk banners rippling from the balconies upstairs and old-fashioned torches lining the hallway leading into the main rooms. Tonight is a big charity function, a masquerade party to raise money for the children’s wing of hospital, and they’ve spared no expense creating a fairytale world. “Noelle?” I turn. For a split second, I wonder if it’s the man from the street, if somehow he’s found my name and followed me in. Then I see a square-jawed, blonde guy standing in the middle of the lobby, wearing an expensive pinstripe suit. “Hi, I’m Grant Westin.” He flashes a grin at me, all teeth. “I work with your father.” My heart falls. It’s not him. “Hi.” I recover, managing a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” Grant shakes my hand with a firm grip. “A pleasure to meet you too. Your father ’s told me all about you.

You’re an associate at Friedman and Lowe, right? Following in his footsteps. I’m sure he’s very proud.” “He is—” I nod, but Grant doesn’t give me time to reply. “I’ve been working with him for a year now,” he talks over me. “I was assigned to him on the Anderson case, but I’ve been following his career for some time. A formidable trial attorney, there’s nobody like him in the courtroom. Shall we?” He nods to the main hallway, offering me his arm. I already want to turn and run from the building, but I know I need to at least try to be nice. I reluctantly take it. “I’ve learned so much already, just watching him in action…” Grant leads me in, talking all the while about Dad and his amazing trial strategies. I stifle a sigh, trying not to jump to conclusions. Maybe he’s just nervous and trying to make a good impression by praising my dad. Grant swipes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and takes a gulp. “…So I said to him, if we lean on the witness, that guy’s going to crumble like a little bitch. And sure enough, I broke him right there on the stand and locked the whole case up.” Definitely not nervous. I glance around the room, praying for a distraction. Then I catch sight of a familiar face across the room. “Lexie!” I wave, relieved. “Over here!” Grant breaks off his monologue as my best friend

from work comes over, dragging her boyfriend Joel in her wake. “Hi, sweetie,” she says, kissing me on both cheeks. “Isn’t this a gorgeous event? Who’s your friend?” “I’m—” “Grant, Lexie, Joel,” I make the introductions quickly, then give Lexie a look. “Bathroom?” Her eyes widen in realization. “Right! Excuse us, gentlemen,” she smiles, linking her arm through mine. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Grant politely, then pull Lexie away from them as fast as my stiletto pumps will take me. “Oh my God, you have to save me!” I exclaim, the moment we’re out of earshot. “That bad?” Lexie winces. We round the corner to another cavernous hallway, our heels tapping on the marble floors as I find the bathroom and duck inside. “Worse,” I tell her, exhaling in relief to be away from him. “He hasn’t quit talking about my father or their latest trial.” “I’m sorry, babe.” She gives me a sympathetic hug, then goes to freshen up her lipstick. “But hey, at least he’s cute, right?” “I guess…” I think instead of the stranger ’s dark intensity—those burning midnight eyes and that thick dark hair. “He’s not really my type.” Lexie arches an eyebrow at me in the mirror. “Since when do you have a type?”

Since about ten minutes ago. I quickly change the subject. “What about you? I’m surprised they let you out with the case starting Monday.” Lexie snorts. She’s a second-year associate like me, which means we spend our lives locked in the library, researching legal briefs for the partners upstairs. Unlike me, she loves every minute of it. “I have to go back in first thing in the morning. You too,” she adds. “Harper is demanding all hands on deck.” I groan. “Is this what you imagined in law school?” I ask, looking at my reflection, and horrified to see shadows under my eyes. I scramble to find concealer in my tiny purse. “Spending all day and night in that building, eating lunch at our desks and for what? So some big corporation can find a loophole in their contracts?” “It’s only for another few years,” Lexie reminds me, sounding upbeat. “Everyone kills themselves with work starting out. Only the fittest survive,” she beams at her reflection, “and to the victor, the corner office!” “And a heart attack before they turn thirty-five,” I joke, trying to pin back my curls. But, as usual, they refuse to surrender. “C’mon,” Lexie beckons from the door. “I promise I won’t abandon you to that stuffed shirt. Who knows? After a couple of glasses of champagne, maybe he’ll loosen up. Or you will,” she winks, and I can’t help but

smile. “Don’t bet on it,” I say, pulling a mask from my purse. It’s got feathers pluming out from the corners, a flash of bright pink I couldn’t resist. “But hey, behind this, he won’t even be able to tell when I’m rolling my eyes.” I slip it over my head, fastening the ribbons behind my head. I strike a pose. Lexie laughs. “Gorgeous. Now, how long do you think we’ll make it before they call us back in to work?” “Don’t!” I protest, following her out of the bathroom. “I’d be happy if I never saw another legal brief again!” An hour later, I’ve changed my mind: I’d happily go into work right now. Anything to cut short this nightmare of a date. Grant has barely paused for breath, trapping me in a corner and regaling me with tales of trial victories. “She was crying on the stand, talking about her kids, but I could tell it was all for show…” I stare longingly over his shoulder at the main room. Lexie’s abandoned me for the dance floor, and everyone seems like they’re having an amazing time. Be nice, the voice in my head urges me. Be polite, give him a chance. Screw polite. “Great story! I’m going to go get another drink,” I interrupt him. Grant pauses, thrown, but I don’t give him a chance to object. “Be right back!”

I give him a sunny smile and duck under his arm, breaking free for the middle of the room. Escape! I slip through the crowd, wanting to put as much distance between us as possible, but when I glance back to check on Grant, he’s already hitting on some poor waitress. Douche. I don’t know what my dad was thinking, setting us up. Does he really think I’d want to share my life with a man who boasts about getting desperate mothers locked up in jail? Grant wouldn’t be the type of man to stop in the middle of the street to help anyone, place a steadying hand on their arm and ease their heel from the grate as if it was made of glass. Not like my rescuer, the man with the mysterious smile. I try to shake it off. I know I’ll never see him again, but I can’t forget that moment, suspended in the middle of all the city noise and rush. He looked at me with those dark, inscrutable eyes, and everything melted away. All my stress and exhaustion, all the long hours and frustrating work. In his arms, none of it mattered. I wasn’t frazzled or bored or restless anymore. I felt alive. I reach the bar and hop up on a stool. “Martini, please,” I tell the barman. “Extra olives.” “I would never have guessed.” A voice comes from right next to me, the low, rich tone making every sense

in my body come screaming back to life. “Not when you taste so sweet.” My pulse kicks. I almost don’t want to turn, just in case I find another stuffed shirt acolyte of my father ’s, some Wall Street guy playing a smooth line. But I recognize that voice… Please be him. Please be him. I look over, and my heart stops. It is him. The man from outside. He’s leaning against the bar beside me, sipping something that looks like scotch. The same dark eyes behind that black silk bandana, the same removed smile on his gorgeous lips. He looks illegally handsome in that perfect black tux, and for a moment, I lose the power of speech. The bartender brings my drink, so I take a sip as I scramble to stay cool. “How do you know we’ve met?” I tease. “These masks make life interesting.” The man smirks. “I’d know those lips anywhere.” He reaches over and brushes his thumb over my lower lip, holding my gaze as ripples of heat shiver through me. Damn. Just like that, I’m awake again. Awake, and full of rebellious energy. God, I’m so sick of boring dates and long work days, feeling numb and tired, wondering what’s the point of it all. For once, I want to stop pretending to be something I’m not.

I want to have some fun. I take a gulp of my drink, then hop down from the stool. “You have perfect timing,” I tell him, holding out my hand. I step back towards the dance floor and beckon. “Let’s dance.”



3.

Ash I don’t dance. Not at weddings or birthday parties, clubs, or after one too many martinis. Let everyone else make a fool of themselves stumbling over their feet—or worse still, bobbing around waving fake disco moves like they don’t look ridiculous. I prefer to keep my head cool and my dignity intact, so I make it a rule: I don’t dance. But as this mysterious woman beckons me onto the dance floor with an alluring smile, my feet do the unthinkable. They follow her. Before I can think twice, she leads me to an empty spot in the middle of the crowd, and then turns back to me. It feels the most natural thing in the world to slide one hand around her waist, take her hand with my other, and find the music. Her eyes widen in surprise. “You waltz?” I smile at her surprise, steering her through the throngs in perfect time to the music. “A man needs some skills.” She laughs. “Let me guess, you learned just to impress the ladies at moments like these.” “Why, are you impressed?” I pull her imperceptibly

closer, so the silk of her dress is crushed against my chest. I can see her cheeks flush below her feathered mask—it’s just like when I held her outside in the street. Except this time, instead of reeling from the chemistry, I feel in perfect control. Just the way it should be. “We’ll see how you hold up after a couple of dances,” the woman teases. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint. I’m Noelle, by the way,” she adds. “Noelle…” I like the way it feels on my lips. Not as good as she did, but close. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Ash.” I spin her out, then pull her back in, relaxing into the rhythm of the music and the hot sway of her body against mine. “Look at you,” she laughs. “When did you learn to dance like this?” “My mom taught me,” I confess. “For my first middle school dance.” “Aww, cute,” Noelle smiles. “Well, tell her thanks from me, and all the other girls you’ve saved from crushed toes and broken ankles.” “I will.” A lump rises in my throat. The memory hits me hard. Me, a gangly kid awkwardly stumbling around the living room as Mom led me through the steps. We worked all afternoon; I was so determined to get it right, but no matter how frustrated I got, Mom calmly walked me

through the routine until I was perfect. She was always the patient one, warm and understanding—urging me to do good. What would she think of you now? I misstep, landing clumsily. “Are you OK?” Noelle asks, dragging me back to reality. “Just fine.” Quickly, I cover by increasing our pace, whirling through the crowd. I pull her in tighter against me and breathe in the intoxicating scent of her perfume. The world finds its balance again. My dark past melts away under the heat of Noelle’s touch, and the teasing sparkle in her eyes, until there’s nothing in the room but the two of us. She smiles up at me, sliding her hand up my arm. “We could have used a few guys like you for my high school dances.” “What? I bet they were lining up around the block to partner with you,” I tease. She snorts. “Sure. Joe Feingold couldn’t wait to grope me by the punch bowl, and Marty Wassersein just loved humping my leg during that Rhianna slow jam.” I laugh. “Poor guys. That was probably the highlight of their whole lives.” “For them, maybe.” Noelle smirks. “All those people who say high school is the best time of your life are crazy. You couldn’t pay me to go back there.” “What about your reunion?” I fall back in the easy

rhythm of the dance. “Skipped it,” she says cheerfully. “You didn’t want to go back and show everyone how beautiful and successful you are now?” I turn on the charm, expecting smiles and blushing, but instead, she gives me an arch look. “First, you have no idea how successful I am.” “And second?” I prompt, enjoying this. I’m not used to a woman who talks back like this: not bitchy and dismissive, but playful. A challenge. I didn’t get where I am in the world without loving a challenge. “No second reason,” she decides after a beat. “I’ll allow you the ‘beautiful’ compliment. But just so you know, you only get three, and you’ve already used one up now.” “Only three compliments? What kind of rule is that?” I protest, laughing. “A good one.” Noelle gives a playful smile. “Charm is fine in small doses, but guys like you are too smooth. You think flattery means you don’t have to have an actual conversation with anyone.” I open my mouth to protest, but then stop. She’s right. I’ve gotten in the habit of using compliments like currency, slipping them into the conversation to disarm and placate my dates. I don’t think twice about it anymore—and maybe that’s the problem. “So, two left,” I say instead. “I guess I better make

them count.” She grins, then looks past me over my shoulder. Her face changes. “No!” She groans. “Quick, hide me!” Noelle ducks down out of sight. I turn. “Don’t look!” she yelps. “What am I not looking at?” I scan the crowd, confused. Noelle peeks back up. “The guy over by the bar. Pinstripes. Massive chip on his shoulder.” I find the guy she’s talking about. He looks like your typical stuffed shirt corporate ass, and he’s scanning the room, looking pissed. “Your nemesis?” I ask, amused. “Worse,” she sighs. “My date.” I look again, more interested this time. “That guy?” I can’t keep the surprise from my voice. He’s definitely not who I would picture her with. She rolls her eyes. “It’s a set-up. Trust me, I would never choose to spend three hours in a confined space with him of my own free will.” I chuckle, dancing her smoothly behind a gaggle of people. “Bad breath?” I ask. “Try bad soul,” she corrects me. “He’s a heartless lawyer.” “Is there any other kind?” I quip. “Hey!” She lightly hits my shoulder. “I’m a lawyer too!” “You are?” I stop, looking down at her in surprise. “I

would never have guessed.” “Why, because I haven’t billed you for the dance— yet?” I laugh again. This girl is funny. “No, because you’re… I don’t know, nothing like any of the lawyers I know.” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she announces. “Don’t,” I grin. “That means I’ve only got one left.” Noelle laughs. “I’ll give you a pass, this time.” “So generous,” I tease. “See, that’s why people don’t clock you as a lawyer.” Noelle glances over my shoulder again. “Damn, I think he’s spotted me. Come on!” Before I can object, she grabs my hand and yanks me into the crowd. “Wait a second—” I laugh. “Look, he’s coming!” Noelle drags me off the dance floor, then cuts a left down a long hallway. “Hurry!” she hisses. Her shoes clatter on the marble floors as we race away, people turning to stare as we charge past. “In here,” I say, spotting a doorway leading outside. I pull her through to the dark courtyard and hustle her into a corner of the shrubbery. I peer back towards to the door. “Did we lose him?” “I don’t know.” Noelle’s voice is breathy. I turn. She’s backed up against the wall, so close I can feel her heart racing in her chest. The torches nearby cast a soft glow across her face, her eyes shining in the

dim light. Damn, she’s beautiful. I watch, transfixed as she takes a shaky breath. Her eyes drift to my mouth, and she unconsciously bites her plump lower lip. Suddenly, I couldn’t care less about this blind date we’re running from. Let him find us, right here, my hands sliding around her waist, her head tilting back invitingly. Nothing in the world could stop me from kissing her again. This time, I take it slow. I don’t want the raging heat from before; that was too dangerous. An unstable reaction. Now, I carefully draw her closer and close the distance between her inviting mouth and mine. She melts against me, arching up to meet my kiss. I ease her lips open, licking into her mouth as I slowly explore her sweet depths. This, I can handle. This lets me keep control. But too soon, she’s pulling me closer, biting gently down on my lip as her hands run through my hair. I groan, feeling the heat spiral. Wildfire, burning hot and fast. I push her back against the wall, crushing her warm curves in my arms as my kiss turns demanding; devouring. Noelle makes a noise of pleasure that’s like a shot of adrenaline, straight to my system. Gasoline on the fire.

I grip her hips tightly, molding her body into mine as my tongue plunges to claim her mouth. But she meets me, every moment, every stroke; gripping handfuls of my shirt to tug me closer, arching her body invitingly to press against the hardness already grinding into her. Fuck. I want her. I want to unravel her, see her come undone. Turn that teasing smile to a gasp of pleasure; see what that spark of challenge looks like when she’s naked and writhing under my grasp. I’m almost ready to take her right here in the darkness when a door slams down the hallway; laughter rings out as people pass us by, just a few feet away. I wrench back, too close to losing control. Dammit. I swore I wouldn’t let her get to me, so what the hell am I doing? Noelle blinks, and a hurt look skitters across her face. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” I answer shortly. “I just… I’m sorry I let that get out of hand.” I rake my fingers through my hair and try to ignore the fire still burning in my bloodstream. But Noelle makes it hard: she’s leaning back against the wall, her cheeks flushed, and her lips parted, swollen from my kisses. Everything about her screams wild, frenzied sin. One taste of her could make a man forget himself. Forget the world, all his responsibilities. As if reading my mind, her lips curl in a smile. She

reaches out, and takes hold of my tie. “How about you and I make a deal?” she says, her eyes blazing with a wild spark of rebellion. “Just for tonight, the real world doesn’t exist. It’s just me and you, and whatever happens next.” My heart pounds in my ears. It sounds like a deal from the devil, too good to be true. “One night,” I echo slowly, as my mind runs riot. The things I could do. The pleasure I would show her… “One night.” Noelle slowly tugs my tie, pulling me closer, back to that tempting mouth. I try to resist, to think clearly of all the reasons why this is a very bad idea, but I can’t help swaying towards her and the magnetic force of that smile. Closer, closer. Her breath is hot on my lips. Her curves arch invitingly, and fuck, there’s no use pretending anymore. I was done for the moment I laid eyes on her outside the party; every second resisting is just a futile game. As the distance between us closes, I can feel my sense and logic finally shatter into dust. A weight lifts from my shoulders. A freedom surging, hot in my veins. I kiss her hard, a taste of what’s to come. Glittering heat and chaos. All the things I’ve kept at a safe distance. Until now. I grab her hand and take a leap into the unknown. “Let’s get out of here.”



4.

Noelle I hurry down the museum steps, breathless and clinging to Ash’s hand. I feel wild and rebellious, like I’m playing hooky from school for the first time. “My parents are going to kill me,” I realize, following him away from the party. “They think Grant is the perfect match.” “Bullshit,” Ash snorts. “Anyone who’s spent five minutes with you would know he’s all wrong. You need someone fun and exciting.” “Like you?” Ash glances over. A strange expression crosses his face for a moment, a brief shadow in the dark street. Then it’s gone. His lips quirk in a devastatingly sexy grin. “For tonight, maybe.” He leads me to the corner. “Where are we going?” I ask, even though I couldn’t care less. This is a crazy adventure, and I’m loving every minute of it. “That’s up to you.” Ash turns and places his hands on my shoulders. His dark eyes turn mock-serious. “Tell me what you want most in the world, right now. Don’t think,” he adds, “Just say it.” You.

I still can’t bring myself to be that honest, so I go for second-best. “A hot dog,” I answer. He laughs. “She doesn’t pick diamonds, or a tropical vacation,” he grandstands, throwing out his arms dramatically. “No, ladies and gentlemen, what this lady needs is a dog.” “What am I going to do with diamonds?” I giggle. “But a greasy hot dog, with relish, and onions… Yum. I came straight from the office,” I add with a sigh, “I thought there would at least be food here.” My stomach rumbles loudly in agreement. “Well then, your wish is my command.” Ash grins, flagging down a cab on the street. “I know just the place.” We take a cab downtown, to a tiny dive bar almost hidden between a liquor store and an all-night launderette. The place is dark when we walk in down the stairs, and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. Small tables and dark booths are crammed together under old movie posters, and the floor is sticky with peanut shells. In our party clothes, we’re the most overdressed people in the room, but nobody even turns their head as Ash leads me to a corner table, hidden in the shadows. “I would have figured you for more a classy wine bar kind of guy,” I tease, settling into the cracked leather booth.

“I guess I’m just full of surprises tonight,” Ash winks. “Beer OK?” “Beer would be great.” He heads to the bar to order for us. I watch him go, admiring the way his suit hangs perfectly from his tall, muscular frame. I’m still in my cocktail dress and heels; I barely had time to stuff my mask in my purse before we raced out of there. I didn’t even tell my friend I was leaving—all that mattered was getting somewhere alone with him. I take a breath, my adrenaline still pumping from our escape. It suddenly hits me, just how crazy this night is turning out to be. This guy doesn’t know me, and doesn’t seem to care. Neither do I. God, it feels good just to let go. All that matters is this heat between us and the lightning spark of banter and laughter, the sense of freedom that comes in a stranger ’s embrace. Ash returns with two beers and a tray of hot dogs, wrapped up in twists of greaseproof paper. “Oh my God, I love you,” I groan with pleasure, reaching for the food before he’s even sitting back down. I devour my first dog in three bites. When I surface, Ash is watching me with amusement. He’s lounging opposite me in the booth, looking immaculate in his suit and tie. He even eats neatly, demolishing his food in just a few tidy bites. “You’ve got a little…” Ash taps his cheek. I feel a brief rush of embarrassment, but it’s too late to care about what a mess I’m making. Tonight is about

leaving all that self-consciousness behind. Besides, whoever ate a hot dog with a knife and fork? “You mean, here?” I try to lick it off. Ash laughs. “Not quite.” I try again, exaggerating to make him laugh. I already love the sound of his laugh—deep and almost surprised, like he’s not used to cracking a smile. “Still no,” Ash chuckles, “Let me help you with that.” I’m expecting him to grab a paper napkin, but instead he slides around the booth so he’s sitting beside me. He leans in and licks my cheek in one hot swoop. I catch a glimpse of his gaze, glittering and dark. Wow. Suddenly, I wonder what it would be like to feel that tongue on me… Those lips. “Delicious.” Ash holds my gaze, like he can tell exactly what I’m thinking. I look away, flushing hotly. Even cloistered away here in the dim bar, it seems deliciously wicked to be feeling this way in such a crowded space. To be feeling this way at all. “So, what’s your deal?” I change the subject abruptly. Ash raises an eyebrow. “My deal?” “You know, background, work, family, the usual.” I dig into my second dog, expecting him to give me the standard resume of college and vital stats you get on every first date, but Ash pauses. “I thought we were doing things differently tonight.”

He gives me a mischievous smile. “So how about instead of telling me who you are, tell me who you want to be.” I stop dead. The question is tough—too tough. Because as long as I can remember, I’ve told myself that this is exactly who I wanted to be. Cute city apartment, high-flying law job, making my family proud. I’ve worked so hard to achieve the goals I set for myself, and now…? I bite my lip. “Have you ever gotten exactly what you wanted, only to find out that maybe it’s not what you want after all?” The question sounds stupid as soon as it leaves my mouth, but instead of looking confused, Ash answers immediately. “Yes.” I exhale, relieved. “I spent my whole life wanting to be a lawyer,” I admit, picking at my food. “My dad is one, you see. When I was a little kid, he would come home from work every day and tell me all about his cases. The courtroom, the negotiations. It sounded so glamorous, all the high stakes and cutthroat strategy.” I smile at the memory. “He loved that I wanted to follow in his footsteps, they all did. My family is…kind of over-achieving,” I say diplomatically. “Anyway, I worked so hard in college, and law school too, so I could make him proud. I got this great job, everything I thought I wanted, and now I’m here, and…I hate it.” The words come out before I can stop them, but once

they’re there: out loud, alive, I can’t deny it any longer. It’s the truth, and I’ve been pretending for way too long. “I hate it,” I repeat to Ash, my voice rising with passion. “I hate the long hours and the boring work and the stuffy corporate culture. I hate not having a life and being expected to work eighteen-hour days on bullshit cases that don’t help anyone or make a difference in the world. I hate it!” I bang my beer bottle on the table, exhilarated. God, why has it taken me so long to admit it to myself? Somewhere along the road, I took a wrong turn, and now I’m living a life that doesn’t feel like my own. Ash looks thoughtful. “So why don’t you just quit?” My excitement fades. “I’m not a quitter,” I sigh, echoing the family mantra. “I’ve worked too hard to just throw it away. I’ve got student loans and bills to pay. Besides,” I add, wistful, “it’s work, it’s not supposed to be fun.” “Says who?” Ash reaches over and steals what’s left of my hot dog. “Says the real world!” I slap his hand away. He grins. “My parents always told me to take something you love to do, and find a way to make money from it.” “Is that what you did?” I ask, curious. I still don’t know a thing about this man—except he kisses like my wildest fantasies.

Ash’s smile slips. “In a way.” He looks reluctant, but he continues. “When I was starting out, it was more about the money. Then, I wanted to prove myself, really build something.” “And now?” “Now…I don’t know anymore. It’s like you said,” he adds with a wry smile, “sometimes you’re so fixed on a goal, you don’t stop to ask yourself why you need it so badly. What will ever be enough.” “Goals are good.” I try to reason with myself. “They help make it seem like life is something you can control, instead of, you know, a chaotic mass of coincidence and luck and a million other things you have no power over.” “I don’t know.” Ash takes a gulp of beer then slips a hand around my waist, gently tugging me closer. “Chaos is looking pretty good to me right now.” He kisses me before I can think twice, and God, it’s just as good as the first time. Hot and slow, deep and sweet. I can taste the beer still sharp on his tongue, feel it slip into my bloodstream like a warm glow of heat. I want to savor it, to stay in this hazy moment forever, but his hands slide lower, bringing me against his solid, muscular body. I sway into the embrace, and for a moment—one blissful, reckless moment—I feel like anything is possible. Here in the darkness, nothing exists but the two of us: his hands on my waist, my tongue

sliding deeply into his mouth. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the restless ache of it all, the hunger that takes me by surprise, snaking low in my belly and coiling deep between my thighs. I press myself against him, kissing greedily, like I’m sixteen again and all we have is this illicit backseat moment, tangled up in heat and hands, mouths and tongues. Ash breaks away. As I gasp for air, he dips his mouth to the hollow of my neck, whispering a trail of hot kisses along the tender skin. Sensation shivers through me, and I have to bite back a moan as his hand slides higher up my thigh, his fingers playing on the silk of my dress. God, I want him. I don’t care about the other people in the bar, just a few feet away, or the fact I’ve known this guy just a couple of hours. All that matters is the thundering beat of my heart and that scorching caress along the inside of my thigh; his breath hot against my neck, sending my senses screaming to life in an ache of desire… I lurch back, overwhelmed. “I, umm, think I need some air.” I gulp, my head spinning. Ash blinks. “Uh, sure. That sounds… Yeah.” For a moment, he looks as unravelled as I feel: his eyes dark with lust, his breath coming fast. Then, in an instant, he’s pulled it together: smoothing down his shirt and getting out of the booth. He offers me his hand,

every inch the gentleman. I accept it, following him outside. The cool night air is a welcome chill against my hot skin. We walk in silence for a couple of blocks, hand in hand; we’re heading downtown, but I barely notice the streets around us. The lights and noise of New York pale in comparison to the heat right here between us. Ash is walking slowly beside me, perfectly collected again. You would never guess from looking at him that he’d been caught up in the moment with me, back in the bar; his body pressed against me, his hands sliding hotly over my skin. I wonder what it would take to make him come undone for real. Push him past the brink of this careful facade, until he can’t simply brush it off; until that dark fire in his eyes is burning out of control. Wild and unleashed. I snap out of my thoughts and look around. We’re in the financial district now, surrounded by empty buildings and quiet parks. “Where are we going?” I ask. “Right here.” Ash stops in front of a construction site. I look up, confused. The shell of the building is standing, but there are no windows—just concrete, steel girders and scaffolding. It’s totally silent and dark. Deserted. I look back at Ash and raise my eyebrows. “I maybe should have asked earlier, but you’re not a serial killer, right?” He chuckles. “No. This is my building,” he explains.

“I’m in real estate, we’re midway through the project. I wanted to show you, it has the most spectacular views in the city.” “Hmm.” I pretend to think about it. “I don’t know. Are you a stalker?” I test. “Part-time creepy guy?” “No, and no. I promise, I’m safe. Not even a parking ticket to my name,” he adds with a grin. “That just means you haven’t gotten caught,” I tease. His smile slips. “Hey, if you’re not comfortable, we don’t need to go up. Whatever you want.” “I was kidding,” I laugh, slipping my hand through his arm. “I know you’re a good guy.” “But you don’t even know me.” Ash looks puzzled, and I understand why. I don’t go around following strange men into abandoned buildings, but this is different. I may only have met him a few hours ago, but already I know that I’m safe with him. He’ll protect me. “I know enough,” I shrug, unable to explain. “And just in case, I’ve got mace in my purse.” I tap the jeweled clutch hanging from my shoulder by its metal chain. Ash laughs. “You’re kidding.” “Deadly serious,” I grin. “You’re forgetting, my mom has a thing about safety. There’s an alarm in there too, it’ll blow out your eardrums if you get too close.” “I’ll consider myself warned.” Ash leads me around to a side door, then taps in a code on the security panel. The door opens, and he ushers me inside and flips on a

string of temporary lights. I look around. We’re in a huge, empty concrete space. “This will be the lobby,” Ash explains, gesturing around. “Imagine marble floors, amazing chandeliers, artwork…” It’s still unfinished, but I can tell, the place is going to look amazing. “And the rest is condos?” I ask. He nods. “Over a hundred units, top of the line. We’re already sold out,” he adds, with a note of pride in his voice. Now I know why he carries himself with such confidence. New York real estate is a serious business, and if he’s working at this level, he must be a big success. I’m not surprised. Everything about this man is self-assured and controlled. If he had a goal, he would work until he achieved it, whether it was a single house or a massive luxury development in the heart of the city. The main elevator area is nothing but steel and cables, but there’s a rickety cage set running up the side of the building. Ash pulls the grate aside. “Come on up,” he grins. “Up?” I stop, my heart falling. Nobody said anything about “up.” “It’s safe, don’t worry,” Ash reassures me. “I’ve been up and down in this thing for months.” “No, it’s not that.” I swallow, all my earlier carefree bravery deserting me in an instant. “I just have, um, a

little thing about heights.” Little is an understatement. I hate them. I even turned down a prize internship at a law firm after graduating because their offices were on the thirtieth floor, and I couldn’t imagine being up there every day. And now Ash is holding out his hand to me, inviting me into that tiny cage and expecting me to swoop fearlessly up the side of a twenty-story building. Panic clenches in my chest. Anyone else, I would have told them a flat-out “no,” but this isn’t just anyone. It’s him. And if anyone can make me face my fear, it’s the man who’s made me throw caution to the wind all night long. I could turn around now—or I could see what else this night has in store. I take a deep breath and step inside with him.



5.

Ash Noelle looks as if she’s going to be sick. She grips my arm tightly, scooting in close as I pull the grate shut and hit a button on the control panel. The elevator lurches a few feet in the air, and Noelle lets out a shriek. I look down in concern. “You weren’t kidding about heights.” “My dad tried to take me up the Empire State Building once.” She takes a shaky breath as we slowly climb up the side of the building. “I had a panic attack halfway up. They had to carry me out.” She peers out of the cage, and I can see the fear written all over her face. Guilt strikes through me. I wish I hadn’t brought her here, but it’s already too late to take it back. “I promise you, the view will be worth it,” I try to reassure her, turning her body back to face me. “Just think about something else.” “Like what?” Noelle blinks up at me. Her whole body is tense, stiff as a rod. “Like this.” I lower my head and claim her lips in a slow, deep kiss. Noelle stays frozen for a moment, but as I slide my tongue into her mouth, she melts into me. Damn.

I bring her body close, my arms tight around her. I could tell myself it’s to make her feel safe as the elevator slowly climbs the building, but that would be a lie. I need to feel her. Every inch. Noelle’s lips part, wider, and I drink her in. Our tongues caress in a dangerous dance, and just like before —in the street, at the party, in the back of that bar—I lose track of everything but her heat and the fire burning between us, reckless and wild. Before I realize it, the elevator shudders to a halt. I pull away, scolding myself for losing control again. But Noelle still clings tightly to me. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I ask, trying to soothe her. “Ask me after we get down again.” She edges out of the cage, then lets out an audible sigh of relief as her feet find solid ground. We’re on the rooftop now, high above the city, but I guess anything’s better than that shaky elevator. “Trust me,” I promise her. “Once you’ve seen this, you won’t ever want to leave.” I lead her across the expanse of concrete. The views are incredible, but when I stop on the edge of the roof, I turn to find she’s fixed her gaze firmly on the ground. I move her in front of me, my hands on her shoulders. “Now, isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” Noelle looks up. “Wow,” she whispers, gazing out at the city lights.

We’re facing west, towards the river; New York City lit up beneath us. Rivers of gold and red and white crisscrossing the island, the darkness of the river, and the land beyond. It’s a private world here, suspended above the city. A hundred-million-dollar view. “OK, I forgive you for making me go up in that elevator,” she laughs, spinning around. “This is amazing!” Relief crashes through me. When I saw her fear downstairs, I thought I’d ruined tonight without even trying. “I can’t believe you own this view,” she continues, heading over to the side of the roof. There’s construction stuff stacked there: crates and cement bags. Noelle finds a pallet covered in a tarp, and hops up to sit on top. “Me, the bank, and a few private financiers,” I correct her. I walk over slowly, struck by the contrast between her silk dress and all this unfinished mess. A jewel in the dust. “Still…” Noelle lies back, until she’s staring up at the sky. “Look at it. I could stay here forever.” I sit beside her and lie back until we’re side by side. I’ve never seen the view from this angle: the way the buildings around us loom up overhead, their lights bright in the midnight sky. I turn my head. Noelle is watching the stars, a blissful look on her face. Her hair spills around her head in a

tangle of blonde curls, begging to be touched. If you asked me to pick a view to stare at for the next ten years, I’d choose her. No question about it. “How long have you lived in the city?” I ask. I know I told her I didn’t want to do the usual Q&A, but I can’t help it. I need to know more. “I’ve been here my whole life.” Noelle props her head up on one hand, facing me. “What about you?” “I don’t really live here.” I think of the travel bag I have packed at all times. “I keep an apartment, but I travel so much for work, I’m never in one place for longer than a few months at a time.” “I can’t imagine bouncing around like that,” Noelle muses. “But it must be nice, exploring new places.” I shrug. “Most of the time, I’m working. Figuring out the next hot neighborhoods, or where it’s best to start a project.” “I don’t believe it.” She gives me a teasing grin. “You’re not some boring suit. You’re off rescuing damsels in distress and embarking on all kinds of crazy adventures.” “Guilty as charged,” I lie. I don’t have the heart to tell her I’m exactly that kind of boring suit. I like the way she’s looking at me too much: as if I’m the man she imagines, and not the dull truth. Noelle lies back again, shifting to get comfortable. “I read somewhere that there are an infinite number of possible universes,” she says, reaching up, like she’s

tracing the outline of the constellations. “That means there’s a billion alternate versions of you out there. Living a totally different life.” I watch her, feeling like I’m an alternate version of myself right now. I’m not used to being spontaneous like this; acting without thought and planning. But something about her makes me forget myself. I feel like the slate’s wiped clean. She doesn’t know my reputation as a steel-cold negotiator. With her, I have no responsibilities, no pressure. At least, not for tonight. “A parallel universe…” I lie back and exhale a long breath. “Maybe I’m off on a beach somewhere, running a surf shack.” She giggles. “Or one of those street performers. You know, the guys who dress up and pretend to be robots.” I laugh out loud. “What about you? Secret agent? Marine biologist?” “I don’t know… My grandmama is the best cook,” she says. “She has this little bed and breakfast, out by the coast. I used to visit in the summer; every morning you wake up, and it smells like heaven. Vanilla, and cinnamon, and lemon loaf…” Her face goes dreamy at the memory. “There you go,” I smile. “Alternate-universe you is a pastry chef.” Noelle’s eyes snap open. “I actually thought about it,” she admits. “For a hot minute, after college. But what

would I do as a baker, sit around eating cupcakes all day?” “Sounds pretty good to me.” I picture her with frosting smeared over her lips. And me right there to lick it off. Noelle laughs. “Sure, I can just picture you in a cute apron and oven mitts.” “I’ll have you know, I make a mean chocolate souffle,” I correct her. “Oh, really?” “You’ll have to come for dinner,” I say without thinking. “Taste it for yourself.” She hesitates, and I realize it’s the first time either of us have mentioned what happens after tonight. “That sounds nice,” she says softly. A strange mix of relief and regret washes over me. Relief, because she doesn’t want this to be just one random night. Regret, because I know it has to be. I don’t want to think about tomorrow, when the world goes back to balance sheets and budget projections, so I lean over and kiss her instead—take those tempting lips, pull her body against mine. She rolls beneath me like she was meant to be there, rising up to meet my mouth and sliding her hands around my neck to yank me even closer. God, I could kiss this woman forever, right here in the middle of the city lights. But it isn’t enough. It could

never be enough. My hands rove over her body, feeling every inch of her curves beneath that silky dress. She arches against me, hungry and impatient for more. And damn, I’m going to give it to her. I tear myself from those delicious lips, and kiss lower, trailing down the line of her throat. I want to ravish her, devour every inch, but I force myself to hold back and explore her slowly, savoring the softness of her skin. I feel her body shiver with every touch, her breath coming in shallow pants as she clutches my back. I nudge her dress lower, lower, until her breasts are exposed: perfectly round and pale in the dim light. Fuck. I exhale, my breath whispering on her skin until her nipples harden into two stiff peaks. Noelle lets out a moan, pressing up against my mouth, but I tease her, taking my time, slowly swirling my tongue around the tender nub before finally closing my mouth around her to suck. Noelle writhes against me, impatient. I’m hanging on to my self-control by a ragged thread, adrenaline mixing with pure lust in my bloodstream. Every whimper, every caress sends me hurtling to the edge. Suddenly, she wraps her legs around me and rolls us, taking me down and straddling my torso. I fall back. She’s poised above me, her hair falling loose and her dress crumpled around her waist. The neon of the city forms a halo around her head, but it’s

the look in her eyes that takes my breath away: bright with a fevered hunger, a spark of rebellious temptation. “I knew it,” she whispers with a grin, leaning over me. “You’re trouble.” Her lips come down against mine, hot and demanding. And I know, without a doubt, that she’s the dangerous one. Her body rocks against mine, her hands slide under my shirt. She bites down softly on my lower lip with a moan. And self-control is forgotten. I sit up, scooping her into my arms and driving her body down hard against me as my mouth crashes to claim what’s mine. Heat strikes, the friction of her surging straight to my cock. She gasps, grinding into me, driving me crazy with a wild lust that rages, demanding satisfaction. I roll her beneath me, pinning her to the crate with one hand as I kiss my way down her body. This time, there’s no teasing, no restraint. My mouth devours every inch of her soft skin, licking hard. I close my mouth over one bare breast and suck her puckered nipple, loving the way she gasps and writhes with pure abandon. I move lower, yanking up her dress to reveal a wisp of black lace panties. Noelle is panting now, arching up to meet my touch as I slide one hand between her legs and under that damp strip of silk. She’s wet. Slick for me, parting wider to invite my touch. Our eyes lock as I sink two fingers deep inside

her, and watch her come undone.



6.

Noelle Dear Lord, what has this man done to me? I’m moaning aloud, gasping his name as he touches me; stroking, invading, curling his fingers deep inside me. It feels like my whole body is alight; a live wire twisting in the dark, electric and free. Then Ash bends his head, puts his mouth to me, and shows me what real pleasure feels like. How everything else leading up to this moment has been a pale imitation, a whisper of a lie. This is the real thing, and fuck, it’s heaven. I gasp as his tongue licks up against my clit, swirling over the tender nub until waves of pleasure crest through my whole body. “Don’t stop,” I beg, arching up to meet his mouth. “Please, Ash…” He pumps his fingers inside me, filling me up as his tongue laps in a dizzying rhythm. It’s fire in my veins, so good, too fucking good. Helpless, I fall back against the crate, gazing up at the midnight sky. The lights of the city blur in my daze, a cacophony of color sparkling as my body shivers and keens and breaks apart with pleasure. I’m outside of myself, lost in the maddening rush pushing me higher, higher. Ash pauses, and blood pounds in my ears. I lift my

head, whimpering with need; my body coiled tight, strung out on the edge. “What?” I gasp. “Please, don’t stop.” “I won’t.” Ash’s voice is thick with lust. His eyes glitter darkly, his expression triumphant. “I just want to see that look in your eyes when I make you come.” Slowly, he thrusts his fingers deeper, curling them just right. I hear myself cry out, but I don’t care. All that matters is the thick thrust of his fingers, and delicious pressure as his thumb strokes over my clit, in perfect time. Just right. Right there. Oh God— I come apart, the pleasure shattering through my body in a hard, sweet rush of power. For a moment, I’m soaring weightless in the dark, then I snap back to my body with a sharp pull. A need that isn’t satiated, the hunger still thick and demanding in my blood. I reach up and pull Ash down to me, claiming his mouth in a fevered kiss. I run my hands through his hair, drowning in the taste of him—of myself, still on his tongue. Ash groans, gripping me tightly, grinding hard enough for me to feel the urgent thrust of his cock, thick between us. I don’t recognize the desire that takes me over, makes me reach for his pants and strip his belt open. I just know I need to feel him, need him moving deep inside. I push his underwear down and close my hand around the hard, thick length of him. Ash groans, ragged

in my ear as I begin to move. The sound is a rush like no other; the need in him, mirroring my own, and soon he grabs my hand away, panting with barely-held control. “Noelle,” he says it like a prayer, fevered in the black of night. I’ve never felt more beautiful in my life—more wanted—as he gazes down at me, his face lit with pure desire. I answer with my body: parting my thighs and laying back, pulling his body to cover my own. Ash braces himself on his elbows above me, capturing my mouth in a slow blazing kiss. I open my mouth to him; my body, inviting. He enters me slowly, inch by glorious inch. The world stops. The night sky fades away. For a brief, blissful moment, there’s nothing in this universe but the thick friction of his cock thrusting deep inside me and the intoxicating slide of his tongue against mine. Then my body takes over. I rise up, matching every stroke, clawing at his back to bring him closer. Deeper. I’m lost in sensation, totally overcome. Heat and pleasure, thrust and pull. Every moment, every inch, the fire radiates through my body, rising in an incredible wave of pleasure, so deep I could happily drown. I drive against him, needing more, but Ash holds back; his movements slow and labored, his limbs rigid with tension. He’s clinging to that self-control, even now. Keeping us both back from the brink. “Don’t hold back,” I gasp. “Please, I want it all.”

Still, he keeps pace, his slow thrust driving me crazy, until I can’t take any more. I clench around him, deep inside. Ash stills, and I want to scream in frustration. I’m so close, I need to do something, anything, to break this determined control. I clench again, and drag my nails down his back. Ash pulls his head back, and I can see it in his eyes, the moment he lets go. With a roar, he slams into me, hard. Yes! I moan, arching up, loving the feel of him so deep. So fucking good. But I don’t have time to savor it, not with Ash driving into me again, demanding; his hands on my body, his mouth claiming mine. This is out of control now, everything I wanted—but I’m not prepared for the force of it, the total obliteration. My fever burns hotter, brighter, threatening to consume everything in its path. I’m gone completely, nothing left of me but the hunger in my bloodstream and the pleasure of his touch, and Ash, fuck, Ash, everywhere; demanding, driving me on, his eyes a mirror of my own frenzied abandon. We move as one, until I forget where he ends and I begin, all that matters is how good he feels, how right. Plunging deeper, taking me higher, until I can’t take it anymore; the thick sweetness shivers at the base of my spine, and then it’s rising, radiating, a great wave of pleasure. Ash pulls back, and slams into me one last time; his

eyes wild, his hands gripping my wrists, pinning me down. I feel his cock surge deep inside, fuck, deeper than ever, taking me over, and I can’t control it anymore. All I can do is surrender, give in to the tidal wave of pleasure that shatters through my body, an endless storm of glittering ecstasy. I come apart, screaming his name as the stars ignite above us and the world disappears into the dark. * When I surface, Ash is passed out beside me, sleeping, his body heavy and warm against mine. He’s pulled my dress down, and covered us with his jacket, his arm slung around my waist in a protective embrace. I lie back, gazing at the stars, and the bright shards of light glinting in the skyscrapers around us. I feel a rush of quiet emotion like never before. Completely, utterly at peace. No stress about work, or my family, or friends. No feeling not quite good enough. No rattle of thoughts circling my brain in a messy chatter, like I can’t ever shut them off. Just this: a simple, bone-deep calm. Deep and true, like the blanket of midnight sky. I stay there, curled against him, until my arm begins to go numb from Ash’s weight. I slip out from underneath him and reach down to scoop my cellphone

from the ground, wondering how long we’ve been sleeping here. Then I notice the screen: six missed calls, all from my mom. I’ve had the phone set to silent; I never heard a thing. My heart skips. It’s not like her to call so late, or so many times. I quickly open the text she’s sent. Your grandmother had a stroke. CALL ME. Panic flares. Oh God! I quickly grab my purse and pull my shoes back on. For a moment, I think about waking Ash and explaining everything, but something about the way he’s laying there, so content, makes me pause. His expression is open, relaxed. A smile plays on the edge of his lips, and I wonder if he’s dreaming of me. I don’t want to ruin this moment for him just yet. He deserves another few minutes of peace. Instead, I find a paper napkin in my purse and scribble my phone number. I tuck the paper in his shirt pocket, and lean over to gently kiss his lips. Just for tonight, I promised him. We would forget the real world, and just see what happens. But tonight is over, and the real world is waiting for me, full of anxious news. “Call me. Please,” I whisper softly, praying this isn’t the end. Then I walk away. TO BE CONTINUED…

UNFORGETTABLE

A Beachwood Bay Love Story by

Melody Grace

Copyright © 2015 by Melody Grace All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author ’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner. All rights reserved.

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Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Epilogue Wedding Invitation Noelle & Ash

Lacey & Daniel Brit & Hunter Zoey & Blake Alicia & Dex Sophie & Austin Carina & Garrett Tegan & Ryland



1. “How about you and I make a deal? Just for tonight, the real world doesn’t exist. It’s just me and you, and whatever happens next.” “One night,” he echoes slowly, his dark eyes glittering with lust in the dim light. “One night.” I promise. And then I reach for him, tugging his tie to bring him. His breath is hot on my lips. His body hard against me. Closer, closer, and then we touch. His mouth claims mine, and the heat takes me over. Desire surging, a rush like nothing else. I slide my hands up his chest, arching into him as I-RING. RING! The loud shriek of my cellphone breaks through the delicious haze. I struggle awake, groping blindly for my bedside table. “Hello?” I yawn. “Noelle, sweetie?” My mom’s voice comes loudly. “Were you still asleep?” The lights from my alarm clock illuminate the dark room. “It’s 5:30 a.m.,” I groan, falling back into the warm pillows. “Of course I’m still asleep.” “You said you were getting an early start.” Her voice is brisk and slightly out of breath. I can just picture her on the treadmill at the hospital gym: striding out a quick

couple of miles before work like it’s nothing at all. “It’s a long drive, you should be on the road already. Although¸ I don’t understand why you can’t fly down with us all tomorrow.” “You know I can’t fly.” “Won’t,” she corrects me. “They have marvelous drugs for that. Two pills, and you’ll be so out of it, you won’t notice the heights.” “I don’t want to be out of it.” I roll over and try to blink awake. “I’ll be fine, mom. I like to drive. It gives me time to think.” “Well, if you’re going to be there early, you can help with the arrangements. I called ahead about the flowers, but the girl in the shop didn’t sound like she knew what she was doing. Would you double-check at the church, too?” she adds. “And we all have to head straight back to the airport after the service, but if they want to hold some kind of reception, I suppose that would be alright.” “Uh huh.” “I have to go, I’m in surgery all day. Drive safe.” She hangs up. I wish I could sink back under the covers and melt back into my amazing dream: just me and that mysterious stranger, kissing right there in the middle of the street… Except it’s not a dream. It’s been three days since I met him: Ash. I didn’t get his surname, or barely any other information, but for

those few blissful hours, it felt like I knew him better than anyone. We had the most incredible night together, the kind you remember for the rest of your life. I gave him my number before I left, and I’ve been hopefully checking my phone ever since. But he still hasn’t called. I let the memories melt away and stumble to the kitchen and set the coffee to brew while I go take a shower. I wish I were a stranger to early-morning wakeups, but my job at the law firm has me working crazy hours right now: I’m usually at my desk by 6:30, and not home before ten. My friends tell me it’s a rite of passage, and every new associate has to make it through. Survival of the fittest; to the victor, the corner office. I just wonder if I even want it anymore. I’ve spent my whole life on track, but recently, I’ve been feeling a frustrated itch, like this isn’t the life I imagined for myself. But today, at least, I’m excused from the usual grind. I dress in some cut-off shorts and a T-shirt, grab my overnight bag and a thermos of coffee, and head down to the basement garage. Keeping a car in New York City is a major hassle, but with my fear of flying, it’s the only way. Besides, I told Mom the truth: I love driving. It’s the one time I’m allowed to ignore my cellphone and all the pressures of my normal life, gaze out the windshield, and just let my mind wander. The world is still silent, the sun rising as I head out of the city and onto the highway. It’s over ten hours to

North Carolina, and I settle back, relaxing: the radio on, breeze whipping through the open windows. As the miles speed past, my thoughts wander to the reason I’m making the trip. My happiness fades. Grandma Olsen. Nana to me, and only me. “I’m too young to be a grandmother,” she’d wink from her spot in the kitchen of her old-fashioned diner. “The rest of you can call me Nancy.” But I called her Nana from the time I was a toddler, and somehow, it stuck. Every other summer when we were kids, my parents would take us to visit her, down in the small beach town where my dad grew up. My sister would go tan on the beach, my brother would run around causing trouble, but I loved nothing more than to sit up on the counter in her steamy kitchen and watch Nana bake. It was a sight to behold. Muffin pans oozing berry juices; cake tins scented with lemon and spices; sticky morning buns glazed in sugar and cinnamon; and trays of jewel-like cupcakes, frosting whipped into airy peaks. You never knew what she would whip out of the oven next, but it would always be delicious. I spent my summers with flour in my hair and buttercream smeared around my mouth, until my parents decided that they couldn’t be away from work so long. My siblings and I were packed off to sleep-away camp instead: learning tennis, and computers, and how to sleep when someone’s

let a jar of bugs loose in the cabin. My time in Beachwood Bay became sandy memories. Nana and I would write to each other—I loved getting those old-fashioned envelopes in the mail —and then, eventually, I taught her how to Skype. Her hip started giving her problems a few years back; Dad wanted her to move up to the city with us, but she refused. That old beach town had been home to her all her life, and she wasn’t about to leave just because she took a little longer to get down the stairs. She sold the diner, and bought a big house out by the beach instead, turning it into a B&B with the best breakfast in the state. I always meant to go down and visit more often, but work got in the way. The last time I saw her, it was Christmas, a year ago. She made roast beef and a vast cake, studded with nuts and candied fruit, served under a huge fir tree to an assorted cluster of guests, family, and old friends. The room was packed with laughter and good food, just the way the holidays should be. She passed away two days ago. A stroke, in her sleep. Maybe I should have been more prepared, but I never expected this. Somehow, I thought she’d be there in that big old kitchen forever, humming along to the radio with flour in her hair. I wish I could have said goodbye. I wipe my tears away and drive on, into the morning light.



2. I arrive at the shore late afternoon, the sun still burning hot in a cloudless sky. I slow the car, cruising as I turn down Main Street and take in the quaint small town that’s hardly changed since I was a girl. It’s summer season, so the streets are busy: tourists buying souvenirs from the gift shop, kids lined up at the ice cream store, and families crossing the street, barefoot, toting coolers and lawn chairs down to the beach. The smell of suntan lotion and salt water is in the air: the irresistible scent of summer. Despite everything, I can’t help but smile. I always loved this place, how every day here always felt like the first day of vacation. My parents would moan about missing city restaurants and gym memberships, New Yorkers through and through, but I’d take early-morning strolls on the beach over a sweaty treadmill any day. I head out past the harbor, a cluster of boats bobbing gently on the sapphire tide, and follow the coastal road a few blocks out of town until I reach Rose Cottage B&B. It’s a rambling old house, right on the sand dunes, and as I pull into the driveway, I can see the overgrown front yard is bursting with colorful wildflowers; honeysuckle and roses growing wild up around the front porch. I get out of the car and slowly walk up the front steps. I realize, too late, that there might be nobody here. The

place looks empty, but when I try the front door, it swings open. “Hello?” I call, stepping inside. The house is still, but full of warmth. Sunlight falls through the windows, pooling gold on the honeyed wooden floors and antique rugs. The main room opens up into a cozy sitting area, with overstuffed couches arranged around an old fireplace. I stroll closer, memories rushing back to me. Nana loved collecting things, and the mantle is full of framed photographs and tchotchkes: polished sea glass, driftwood sculptures, tiny figurines. In pride of place is a family picture, taken ten years ago at least: all of us crowded around on the back porch together, after a summer barbecue or picnic. I’ve got jam stains on my shirt, hugging Nana tightly, and my parents are even smiling for a change. The grief hits me again, bittersweet. “Can I help you?” I jump, whirling around. “Oh my God, you scared me!” “I’m sorry!” A teenage girl is coming downstairs. She’s wearing cut-offs and a bikini top; her red hair pulled up in a knot, a laundry hamper under one arm. “I’m afraid we’re closed.” “I know. I mean, I’m Noelle—” I start to introduce myself, but the girl brightens. “Nancy’s granddaughter! Of course, the big-city lawyer. She told me all about you.” The girl dumps the

hamper on the ground and comes to greet me. “I’m Kayla, I work here most summers. Cleaning and laundry, that kind of thing. I try to help in the kitchen too, but, you know your grandmother…” she giggles, then stops. Her smile fades. “I mean, knew. I’m sorry.” “That’s OK. I’m sorry too.” We share a pause, a moment of reflection. Then I look around. “I was hoping to stay here, before the funeral tomorrow. Do you think that would be OK?” “Sure.” Kayla smiles again. “We cancelled all the bookings for this week, so there’s plenty of room. Let me deal with this, and then I’ll get you settled in.” She hoists the laundry again, and leads me through the living area, down the hallway to the back of the house. She heads out to the utility room in back, but I pause in the kitchen, breathing in the familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon. It’s the way I’ve always remembered it: a bright, sunny room with big picture windows, french doors leading out onto the back garden and sand dunes beyond. I trail my fingertips over the blue tiled countertops and big steel range. The shelves are packed with old bakeware, and there’s a farmhouse table big enough to seat six—or a dozen sheet pans when Nana was baking cookies. Her old cookbooks are even still lined up on the window ledge, their covers dog-eared and stained with syrup rings and jam. It feels like she’s still here somehow, like she’ll just

stroll in the room, take down the canister of sugar, and start sifting together a cake mix. “She loved it in here.” Kayla’s voice comes again. She leans in the doorway, a sad smile on her face. “All my memories of her are in that apron of hers, with something delicious coming out of the oven.” “Mine too.” I take a deep breath, and try not to let the sadness overwhelm me. “Will you be at the funeral tomorrow?” Kayla nods. “Everyone’s coming. There’s a reception after, too, at the diner. We didn’t know if the family wanted to do anything… I mean, I think someone tried to call your parents…” she trails off, looking awkward. “No, that’s fine,” I reassure her quickly. “That sounds great. They’ll all be here tomorrow.” A cellphone sounds. “Sorry.” Kayla checks the message. She giggles, then taps out a reply. “I’m fine here, if you need to get going,” I offer. She looks up. “Are you sure? My friends are just heading out to a party…” I can see the longing on her face, so I smile. “I promise. I know my way around this place. Linens and towels still up in the main closet?” She nods. “Thanks, I wouldn’t just ditch you, but there’s this guy...” she trails off with a blush. I laugh. “Say no more.” “See you tomorrow!” Kayla grabs a bag from the

kitchen counter. “And, I really am sorry about your grandma.” She shoots me another sympathetic look, then dashes out the backdoor and through the yard down to the beach. I watch her go, trying to remember what it was like to be sixteen and so carefree. It wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like a hundred years. I just hope Kayla savors every moment of it, before the real world—and jobs, and rent, and responsibilities—get in the way. I bring in my bags and take a proper look around the place. The main rooms are all downstairs: a big dining room, the open lounge, and a cute library nook. Upstairs, there are six guest rooms on two levels, with old-fashioned iron bedsteads and clawfoot tubs in their bathrooms. It feels odd to be up there all alone in the empty house, so I find myself heading back downstairs and out to Nana’s private annex in the yard. She had the garage converted after her fall, into a studio apartment with its own private patio. She liked that she could be up early to start baking without waking the rest of the guests, and leave them to their own devices when she wanted an early night. Now, I step inside, and I’m hit with memories all over again. The hand-stitched quilt draped over the bed, the bottle of rosewater on the night-stand. There’s a pair of Uggs by the bed, a gift from me last year, and a copy

of a Harlequin romance on the dresser. I remember sneaking them from her library, the summer I turned thirteen: poring over the bodice-ripping covers and giggling at every “thrusting manhood.” Nana caught me once, but she didn’t mind, she just pulled down a different book for me with a mischievous smile. “You’ll like this one,” she winked. “Chapter Fifteen, in the stables.” It’s almost nine by the time a noise from the main house pulls me back to reality. I head back inside, and find voices coming from the living room. A couple is there, about my age, looking around. “Hi.” I pause in the doorway. “Can I help you?” The girl turns, revealing a friendly face framed in light brown curls. She’s wearing a cute navy sundress, a camera strap slung around her shoulder. “Sorry, we’re not nosing around, I swear.” She smiles. “We saw the car outside and thought we’d say hello. I’m Juliet, and this is my husband, Emerson.” “We wanted to offer our condolences,” Emerson adds, reaching to shake my hand. He’s got dark hair and piercing eyes, but they soften in sympathy as I return the handshake. “And pie,” Juliet adds, offering a foil-covered pan. “Apple blueberry. It’s actually Mrs. Olsen’s recipe, I bugged her for it all summer until she let me in on the secret.” “Coconut flakes, baked into the crust,” I answer

automatically. Juliet laughs. “That’s right! I swear, I don’t know why you’d ever bake it without them.” “Thank you,” I say, setting it down. “It’s so sweet of you to drop by. Did you guys know her well?” “I grew up here,” Emerson explains. “I used to stop by every day before school, just to try and charm her out of a fresh cinnamon roll.” He flashes a grin, and I have no doubt that Nana would have kept him well-fed. “And I worked shifts at the diner, back when I was eighteen.” Juliet lets out a wistful sigh, looking around the room. “She was always such a fixture in town. I can’t believe she’s gone.” Emerson slings an arm around her shoulder and squeezes. “But her recipes will always live on.” Juliet laughs. “Is that a hint?” “Maybe.” He grins. Juliet looks back at me and rolls her eyes goodnaturally. “Anyone would think he’s helpless in the kitchen, and not the owner of one of the hottest restaurants in the city. Are you visiting long?” she asks. “You’ll have to come by. It’s worth the trip.” “I’m afraid not,” I give a rueful sigh. “I have to get back to New York tomorrow.” “Well, why don’t you come by the bar instead?” Emerson suggests. “We were just on our way over.” Juliet brightens. “You should! It’s band night, there’ll be a real crowd. It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know…” I hesitate. “I’ve been driving all day, I might just stay here. But thanks for the invite, and the pie,” I add, touched by their friendliness. “No problem.” Juliet smiles. “And if you change your mind, it’s Jimmy’s, right on the harbor. You can’t miss it.” “Thanks.” I see them out and take the pie out to the back patio. I dig in, savoring the sweet, tart fruit and flaky butter pastry as I watch the last of the sunset melt away over the bay. I can’t believe I’ve been in Beachwood Bay for less than an hour, and already I’ve had more neighborly concern than the past five years in New York. The couple in the condo next door to me don’t even smile when we pass each other in the hallway, and the last time anyone brought me anything, it was the super with a noise warning about my early-morning alarm. But that was always what Nana loved about this town. Even when Grandpa passed, she stayed right here. She knew everyone, and everyone knew her, and even though it hurts to realize she’s gone, it’s a comfort knowing just how much she belonged. I feel a sudden rush of energy. I’m not going to just sit around tonight and wallow alone, I’m going to go out and enjoy this town—just the way she would have wanted. Quickly, I get up and go grab a sweater. I’m still dressed in my cut-offs and an old T-shirt from the drive,

but I know the bar will be casual. I pull my unruly hair back into a braid, grab my purse, and head out, locking up behind me with the key I find hidden under an old flowerpot on the porch and start walking the short distance towards town. Sure enough, Jimmy’s is easy to find: the sound of music and laughter drifts along the beach-front, leading me right to it. I push the door open and take a look around. It’s still the same dive bar I remember, but now there’s a new stage area over to one side, and the large room is packed with a crowd of people: drinking beer, playing pool, and spilling out onto the back terrace to enjoy the summer night. “You made it!” Juliet appears, and pulls me into a hug. “I’m so glad.” I have to leap back as a group of women hustle past. “Wow, I’ve never seen it so busy.” “That’s because we’ve got a star event,” Juliet grins. “Dex Callahan is going to do a couple of numbers tonight, he always brings in the crowds.” “The rock star?” I blink in surprise. “Also known as my future brother-in-law’s brother, or something like that.” Juliet gives a careless shrug. “Anyway, what matters is that he’s great.” I see a spot at the bar open up. “I’m going to grab a drink, do you want anything?” Juliet shakes her head. “I’m good. We’re over in the booth by the stage,” she adds, pointing.

“Great, I’ll be right over.” As I fight my way through the crowd, I feel my stomach let out a rumble. Pie is pretty much all I’ve eaten today; pie, and gas station snacks. I’m hoping they serve food here, when the crowd shifts, and I go stumbling into someone. “Sorry!” I put my hands out to keep from falling, and a pair of strong arms grip me tightly, keeping me on my feet. “I didn’t see you—” I look up, and the words fade on my lips. The room disappears—all the noise and jostling crowd blurring into background static. It’s him.



3. Ash. The man from the masquerade party. The one who led me on a wild night of adventure—and never called me the next morning. He should be five hundred miles away, but he’s here, in the middle of the crowded bar in this small town, looking at me like I’m a ghost. I know how he feels. It’s impossible, it has to be. But I can feel his hands, gripping me tightly; feel the warm, solid muscle of his body against mine. I know those hands. I’ve explored that body. There would be no mistaking them, even if I wasn’t gazing into his piercing dark eyes, the ones branded on my memory. Oh my God. The moment stretches, electric. Then someone slams into me again, and Ash yanks me back. Suddenly, the world rushes in again. “What are you…?” I whisper, still not able to believe it. “I mean…” I fight to collect myself, but before I can form a coherent sentence, Ash grabs my hand and pulls me across the room. He’s moving so fast, I can barely keep up: I hurry after him, through the crowd and down a back hallway. “Where are we going?” I gulp, my heart racing. “Slow down. Ash!” He ignores me, pulling me after him, up a flight of

stairs, and through another door. We emerge on the rooftop, a flat expanse decorated with string lights and a view of the whole bay. I barely have time to catch my breath before Ash brings his hands to my face, pushes me back against the wall and kisses me so hard I forget my own name. Yes. Just like before, the chemical reaction is instant: a flare of heat surging through me, so bright it blots the world, like staring straight into the sun. I part my lips, greedy for the taste of him, loving the sensual caress of his tongue as he slides it deep into my mouth. Ash groans against me, and I arch up, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. He’s gripping me so tightly, my body is crushed against him; my back hard against the wall. He threads the fingers on one hand roughly through my hair, pinning me in place as his mouth continues its devastating exploration. There’s no way to explain it, how my body responds to his touch. Touch-paper to a flame; igniting like never before. I run my hands through his dark hair, slide across the muscular contours of his back, gripping at his shirt and kissing him with everything I have. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I just fall deeper into the kiss, our passion obliterating every last thought from my mind. It’s a rush of glitter in my veins, of soaring fever and a low, aching need. Desire consumes me, hot and demanding, until suddenly, Ash wrenches free.

I gasp for air, sinking back against the wall. My legs go weak as his eyes rake over me, blazing darkly with lust. “What are you doing here?” he whispers harshly. “I…” I can’t find the words, I’m still reeling with shock—and desire. A shadow crosses his face. He shakes his head, looking dazed. “No,” he mutters, cutting me off. “This isn’t happening.” Before I can say another word, he turns and strides away from me, slamming the exit door with a crash. I’m left alone on the rooftop with nothing but the sound of my own beating heart. I’m frozen for a moment, still caught up in the heat of his body, and the slow, deep fever of his kiss. Then I realize: he’s leaving. I lunge towards the stairwell, almost tripping over myself as I hurry down the stairs and back into the bar. Noise and chaos hits me. I look around, anxiously scanning the crowd for a glimpse of his tall frame and dark hair, but there are so many people, it’s hard to see. I push my way across the room, searching for any sign of him, but there’s nothing—except three hundred people all jostling for position in front of the tiny stage. He’s gone. “There you are!” A voice makes me turn. It’s Juliet. “I was worried we’d lost you. Is everything OK?” she adds, frowning. “You look all flushed.” “Umm, yes, sorry. I don’t feel so good.” I try to pull

myself together. “It’s so crazy here. I think I just need to go back and be alone for a while.” “Of course.” She gives me a quick hug. “Get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral.” I head back to Rose Cottage and turn in to bed, but I can’t sleep. The room feels too hot; the air too close. My skin prickles as I toss and turn in bed, until finally I give up. I pull a quilt over my shoulders and go out into the garden; the moon is bright overhead, casting a silver glow over the beach and ocean beyond. I sit on the back porch steps and breathe in the scent of roses and honeysuckle. I still feel unsteady, lightheaded from everything that’s happened tonight. Ash. Here, in Beachwood Bay. Kissing me. I can’t believe it. The night we spent together in New York was so far from my everyday life, it feels like a dream to me. But there was nothing imaginary about that kiss just now; I can still feel the imprint of his lips burned on my skin, the trail of his hands across my body. But he still didn’t call. An unwelcome voice of reason cuts through the haze. I left my number with Ash that night; I got the call about Nana and had to leave fast, but I wrote my details on a slip of paper and left them in the pocket of his shirt as he slept. He could have contacted me any time this week;

invited me out for dinner, or even just a casual drink. If he’d wanted this to be more than just one night, he could have made it happen. And he didn’t seem thrilled to see me tonight, either. I feel the sting of rejection. I may not be an expert on relationships—my ten-hour days at the law firm make dating an impossibility—but I’m pretty sure that when a man breaks a kiss and bolts without a backwards glance, it means he’s not exactly itching to schedule a romantic date. I don’t know what he’s doing here, or even a last name. I have no way of reaching him—even if he wanted to see me again, which he’s made pretty clear that he doesn’t. I let out a wistful sigh. Nana would have loved this intrigue: she was always asking for gossip about my love life. With my punishing work schedule, I never had much news to offer, but I enjoyed telling her about the parade of terrible blind dates my family and friends have been setting me up on: the guys who obsessively checked their cellphones all through dinner, and the ones who spent all night long talking about their exes. Nana always said, it only takes one: when I found the right guy, I would know it in my bones. She was a romantic like that. I wish it was so easy for me. With online dating and cellphone apps, sometimes I wonder how anyone finds the time to make a real connection. My best friend in New York, Lexi, met her boyfriend in college, but I was too busy cramming for finals to think about dating. Then

in law school, I was having regular panic attacks over my course load, and the minute I started at the firm, they made it clear: weekends and evenings were their time. My parents are determined to set me up with an eligible guy, but everyone they bring around is the same: a stuffed shirt with a ten-year career plan, who looks at me like I’m crazy when I suggest going downtown to try out a new food truck, or skip out to Coney Island to go ride the roller coaster. But Ash is different. He was spontaneous, and funny, and full of adventure. For a few glorious hours that night, I got to feel at home in my own skin—like anything was possible. I wasn’t trying to be the perfect, sexy, cool girl, I was just me. And it felt good. So why did he look at you tonight like you were the last person he wanted to see—or kiss? I give up on trying to make sense of tonight. It’s almost 3:00 a.m. now; the sun will be up soon. I gather up the quilt and head back inside. This time, I open the windows and leave them wide, and finally fall asleep to the soothing lullaby of the ocean crashing endlessly against the shore.



4. My family arrives the next day, just in time for the funeral. There’s a beautiful service in the packed church with poetry readings and songs, and then we all cross the street down to the beach to scatter Nana’s ashes in the waves, the way she always wanted. Everywhere I go, there are kind words and sympathy from the people in town. It’s touching to see just how much she meant to them all. “You should have seen her at a backgammon table. She didn’t take any prisoners!” “After the last hurricane, she let everybody sleep at the B&B until they had their houses fixed up. I didn’t want to go home, I was eating so well.” “And remember when John Stafford won the pieeating contest at the state fair? He always swore it was because they were Nancy’s best apple pies.” Everyone has a story—usually involving Nana’s baked goods. I could listen all day, but the service is barely over when my parents pull me aside. “We have to get going now.” Mom kisses me briskly on both cheeks, then rubs the lipstick traces away. “Now?” I protest. “There’s a big reception planned at the diner, people will be so hurt if you don’t go.” “I’m sorry, darling, but I have to be up early in the morning for surgery.” Mom checks her phone. “You

should get a move on too, if you want to beat traffic.” “I’ll hang out a while longer,” I tell them. “I want to thank everyone for coming.” My dad gives me a heavy smile. “Thank you. I wish we could stay, but… The flights were tricky on such short notice. Besides,” he adds, looking around. “I wouldn’t know what to say to them, anyway.” I bite back a retort. Nana was his mom, after all, and although they weren’t close, I know today must be hard for him. I’ve felt on the verge of tears all day, so I can understand why he wants to get back to the comforting routine of his normal life, instead of sharing his grief with everyone. “I’ll take care of everything,” I reassure him, giving him a quick hug. “That’s my girl. You’ll make sure the B&B is all locked up?” I nod. “We should probably call the guests. The girl here cleared the week, but she’s got people coming for summer too.” “We’ll need to cancel all of that.” My usually capable dad looks overwhelmed for a moment. “She was always so disorganized when it came to paperwork, I’m not sure what instructions she left.” “I’ll check and see who’s handling it,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about it.” “Thank you.” He smiles gratefully. “I know we should have been prepared for this, but… I guess I never

wanted to think about it. She always seemed so stalwart, insisted on taking care of herself, even after my father passed.” “It’s OK.” I head to the car with them, and make sure they’re all set. “See you back in the city.” I watch as they drive away. I wish my dad could stay longer and hear some more of the stories about Nana. But he never was one for sentimentality: he always put his emotions to one side; he says that’s what makes a good lawyer. Not getting involved, having the discipline to stay rational and focused at all times. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism now, but it feels wrong for him to just jet in and out without taking time to really honor Nana. I guess I’ll have to do it for the both of us. People are heading over to the diner now for the reception, so I join the crowd—and bump straight into a polished-looking woman who’s staring after the car with a frown on her perfectly made up face. “Was that the family?” She looks disappointed. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to them.” “Well, you do now. I’m Noelle,” I introduce myself, but unlike everyone else in town, she doesn’t seem to recognize the name. “Nancy’s granddaughter,” I add. Her frown melts into a bright smile. “Excellent. I mean, I’m so sorry for your loss.” “Thanks.” I try to place her. I didn’t see her at the service; I would have remembered her tight pencil skirt

and heels for sure, out of place among the other, more casual guests. “Did you know her well?” “No. I’m Hallie Merton, from Kingston Realty.” She produces a card from her designer handbag. “I wonder, has anyone talked to you yet, about the house?” “The house?” I repeat, blinking. “Beachwood Bay has seen a real boom in prices,” she continues, “and a prime beach-front plot like that could fetch top dollar. How many square feet is the lot, do you think?” “I don’t know.” I tuck the card away, trying to be polite. “But we haven’t discussed anything just yet.” “Well, you shouldn’t wait around!” Hallie chirps. “I know a developer looking in the area, just give me a call and I’d be happy to arrange the sale.” I’m sure she would. I’m not even sorry when my cellphone rings, interrupting us. I check the number. It’s Lexi, calling from work. “I have to take this,” I tell her, backing away. “Good to meet you!” I hurry away and answer my phone. “Hey, what’s up?” I ask. “Emergency!” Lexi cries, sounding stressed. “Where did you put the Anderson file?” “The what?” I pause outside the diner. It’s already full of people, eating and drinking and sharing stories. For a moment, I feel totally disconnected from the other end of the phone line, like Lexi is calling from a parallel universe.

“Anderson. Remember, Harper slipped it in the briefs last week, said it needed reviewing for comparison? You promised you’d take care of it.” “Oh, crap!” I remember the file—and exactly where it’s sitting on my desk. Untouched. “I’m so sorry, I never got around to it. That was the day I found out about Nana.” Lexi groans. “Goddamn it. Not you,” she adds quickly. “I know you’ve had a lot to deal with. But the Harpoon’s on the war path, he says nobody goes home until the new brief gets filed.” I feel a stab of guilt. “I’m really sorry for leaving you all.” “Are you kidding? It’s a funeral.” “Yeah, and he didn’t even want to let me come to this,” I sigh. “Anyway, it’s on my desk. I made some preliminary notes, if that helps. And I think the template for the last revision is still in my file, it shouldn’t take too long.” “You’re a lifesaver,” she cries. “Got to go.” She hangs up. I can just imagine the panic in the office: Harper is in charge of associates, and he didn’t get his nickname from being a warm and fuzzy mentor. He loves to leave blood in the water: he keeps longer hours than anyone, and rumor has it, he was already back on the phone with clients the moment they wheeled him out of heart surgery last year. I look around. Even with the cluster of summer

tourists and families, Beachwood Bay seems so peaceful compared to the city. No traffic, no sound of police sirens. And no dirty looks as you struggle along the subway platform, sweltering in the sticky heat. It’s a breath of fresh air, and for a moment, I wonder what it would be like to stay longer: spend another carefree summer here, the way I did when I was a kid. Then my cellphone buzzes with a string of texts, all from Lexi, needing more information about the case. I quickly tap out what I can remember, guilty I’m so far away. Never mind a whole summer, I can’t risk staying away from work one single more day if I want to keep my job. I finally switch my phone to silent and tuck it away, then head inside the diner. “There she is. Honey, let me get you a plate.” Immediately, I’m surrounded with people offering food and drink—and their warmest wishes. I spy Juliet across the room, dressed in a simple black dress. I go join her, relieved for a familiar face. “It was a beautiful service,” she greets me with a hug. “Are you feeling any better? You raced out of the bar last night so fast, I was worried.” The bar. Last night. Memories of that kiss with Ash coming crashing back to me. I cough, feeling myself flush again. “Umm, yes. Sorry. I guess my emotions are all over the place.” “It’s hard, I know.” Juliet’s smile turns sad. “When

my mom died, I didn’t know how I was feeling half the time, I kept bouncing to extremes.” I feel a pang. “I’m sorry.” She nods. “Thanks. It was a few years ago, but, you never know when it’s going to hit you. Especially here, with all the memories.” “My dad couldn’t wait to get back to New York,” I sigh. “Maybe he just didn’t want to deal with it right now.” “Everyone’s different. Me? I like to eat my feelings,” Juliet grins, holding up her overflowing plate as evidence. I smile again, relieved to lighten the mood. “Just the way Nana would have wanted.” Juliet giggles. “I remember, when I was having guy problems, she would always have a fresh batch of brownies baking. She said nothing felt so bad with chocolate.” I laugh. “What happened to the guy?” “He’s right over there.” Juliet points to Emerson, over by the buffet. “Lucky for me, he stopped being such trouble. My waistline couldn’t take more drama,” she jokes, as Emerson heads back over to us. “What about drama?” he asks, taking a huge mouthful of fried chicken. Juliet laughs and wipes barbecue sauce from his chin. “None any more, thank God.” She turns back to me, leaning to rest against his chest. “Are you seeing anyone

back home?” she asks. I shake my head and give my standard response. “I don’t have the time, they’re on us 24/7 at the law firm where I work.” But still, I can’t help but glance around and wonder if Ash is still here in town. I don’t know what he was doing here last night; I didn’t have time to ask. Since he was running away from you so fast. Juliet looks thoughtful. “I wonder if we have anyone we can fix you up with…” I shake my head so fast, my hair whips into my eyes. “Thanks, but I think I should take a break. I have enough bad blind date stories to write a novel.” She grins. “You never know, it only takes one.” Emerson chuckles. “I damn well hope so.” They’re so cute together, I feel a tiny pang. There’s nobody I’ve ever felt that in synch with—nobody except Ash, for those few brief hours we spent together, at least. Somebody clears their throat behind me. I turn. “I’m Albus Dudley,” a friendly-looking older man introduces himself. He’s got square-rimmed glasses and white-grey hair, with an old-fashioned formal manner about him. “I was your grandmother ’s lawyer.” “Oh, hi, great,” I exclaim. “I was meaning to find you.” “Do you have a moment?” he asks. “Perhaps we could go somewhere quieter to talk.” I look to Juliet and Emerson. “Of course, go ahead,”

Juliet insists. “We’ll be over by the dessert table. And if I don’t get a chance to see you again, take care, OK?” “Thanks, you too.” I follow Albus back behind the counter to the diner office, where it’s more peaceful. The desk is piled with invoices, but he clears off a chair and offers me a seat. “My parents are sorry they couldn’t stay,” I apologize. “But I know my dad will want to talk to you about the arrangements, if you have time to give him a call.” “Of course,” Albus nods. “But I wanted to speak to you first. You see, Nancy named me executor of her will. Essentially, that means she entrusted me to see out her wishes, and make sure her assets were properly disposed of.” He clears his throat again, adjusting his bow tie. “Really, you should talk to my dad about all this.” I bite my lip. “It’s not really anything to do with me.” “On the contrary.” Albus raises a finger. “Your grandmother ’s will was very specific. She directed certain savings and investments to your father, set aside a trust for your sister and niece, and willed the remainder to you.” I stare at him, surprised. “She left me something?” I think he’s talking about some jewelry, or her old collections, but instead, Albus smiles. “Rose Cottage,” he tells me. My mouth drops open in shock as he continues. “She left the house and land entirely to you.”



5. “What are you going to do?” Back in the city a week later, my mother voices the question that’s been running around in my mind ever since Albus delivered my Nana’s bombshell of a parting gift. “I don’t know, I still can’t believe it.” I help her bring the food over to the table for Friday night dinner. Every week, we try to get together at my parents’ place, but with their schedules, it’s usually more like once a month —and even then, the food comes courtesy of General Tso’s down the block. Still, it’s nice to spend the time. I unload the spread of food, and glare over at my dad. “You don’t mind, do you?” I check, feeling a pang of concern. “That she left it to me, I mean.” “Of course not.” Dad absently pats my shoulder as he sits, still tapping away on his tablet device. “I think it’s a wonderful gift. A lump sum like that could set you up, you could buy something here in the city, or put it in a retirement account…” “You mean, sell the B&B?” I pause, still torn. “I don’t know…” “What else would you do, silly?” My mom interrupts us. Her short blonde hair is pushed off her face with a headband, and she’s still wearing her hospital scrubs. “Although, I’m not sure it’s worth all that much,” she

pauses, frowning. “I remember, it wasn’t in great shape the last time we visited. The roof, remember? And that smell round back.” “There was no smell!” I protest. “And Nana kept the place up. It’s lovely there, you should have stopped by. All the roses, and the back garden. This realtor said a beachfront plot is in big demand,” I add, remembering the brisk woman from the funeral, Hallie. “Well, that’s great news.” Mom brightens, reaching for a plate. “You should call her back right away. See about finding a buyer.” I join them at the table and start eating, but for some reason, I can’t get excited about selling the B&B. A windfall like this is a huge gift, but I can’t help thinking of Nana, bustling in that sunlit kitchen with something delicious in the oven. Is selling what she planned for me? “So how are you getting on at work?” my dad asks, finally tucking away his phone. He looks at me from behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. “Is Harper still giving you associates a hard time?” “The worst,” I sigh. “He’s been piling on hard this week, I think he’s still mad at me for taking time off for the funeral.” “Don’t worry,” Dad reassures me. “Just keep your head down, bill those hours, and you’ll be fine.” “When he was starting out, I wouldn’t see your father until midnight most nights,” Mom adds, laughing.

“What about you?” Dad protests, good-naturedly. “You were on your residency, what was that, two-day shifts, no sleep? You would come home, fall straight asleep, and then get up and go straight back to work.” She smiles. “I swear, the first year of marriage, we barely had time for a real conversation.” “That sounds awful,” I shudder. “You must have hated it.” “Best years of our life,” Dad grins. “Staying in that tiny apartment above the subway, going days without sleep…” “Eating food from vending machines and late-night bodegas…” Mom catches my expression and laughs. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’s all part of getting ahead. If we hadn’t put those hours in, we never would have gotten to where we are today.” Her pager suddenly sounds. She checks the number and makes a face. “I have to take this. My residents are doing their first solo surgeries, and they’re all scared stiff of killing someone!” She goes to the next room to make the call. I pick idly at my food. “Do you really think it’s worth it?” I ask my dad quietly. “All the late nights and stress? Because I just don’t know… Every day at work, I feel like I’m running as fast as I can, just to keep up!” “The first years are the hardest,” he tells me, his weathered face softening with sympathy. “But I know you can do it. This is what you’ve worked so hard for,

after all. Remember studying for law school, and the bar exam? We got you through that, you can make it through a few sleepless nights now.” He digs into his food, content, but I’m not convinced. It’s not just about the tiredness and stress; lately I’ve been wondering if I’m even cut out to be a lawyer, after all. I always wanted to take after my father, from the very first time I got to see him in court: so impressive and smart, up there performing for the jury. He’s been my role model, the reason I’ve worked so hard to follow in his footsteps. I’ve wanted to make him proud. The day I got my job offer from Levinson, Sutter and Pace, he took me out to his club and proudly told all his friends that they were looking at a future partner in the firm. It felt like the best day of my life: and the start of an amazing career. But now, a year in, and that excitement and ambition has all drained away. I drag myself to work in the mornings and drift into idle daydreams to make it through the day. But if I’m not supposed to be a lawyer, then what else will I do? This has been my only dream, and maybe my parents are right: this is the hard part everybody goes through just to make it out the other side. Mom comes back in, looking frazzled. “I’m sorry, I have to head back in.” Dad shovels the last of his noodles into his mouth. “And I should really finish up some briefs before

morning. You’ll be OK getting back downtown?” “Sure.” I blink. “That’s fine.” “Call the realtor!” Mom says, on her way to the door. “Get a valuation on the house soon. Even if it’s not worth much, you could sell as a tear-down, for the land.” “And remember to make up the hours you missed this week,” Dad adds. “They keep track of it, you know. Billable hours!” He kisses the top of my head, and heads for his office, leaving me alone at the table. The leftovers are all mine. I take the subway back to my apartment downtown. It’s a cute modern condo in a new building, but as I drop my keys on the table and look around the tiny, cramped space, I can’t help but think of Rose Cottage and its rambling gardens right there by the beach. I take a deep breath, imagining for a moment I’m back there, breathing in the salty sea air. What if I didn’t sell? I snap out of the daydream, feeling foolish. My whole life is here in New York City: my job, my friends, my family. What would I even do out there in the middle of nowhere with that big old house on my hands? Mom’s right: I should call the realtor first thing tomorrow and see about putting it up for sale. I go check through the mail, discarding old junk mail and setting aside bills. Then I find a package with a return address in Beachwood Bay, from Albus Dudley.

I tear it open, and a set of keys tumbles to the floor. I pick them up, and set them aside as I read his note. Ms. Olsen, There’s much for us to discuss, but in the meantime, I realized I failed to pass along this letter from your grandmother. I apologize for the delay, and hope to talk soon. Yours faithfully, Albus Dudley I smile. I can almost hear his formal tone through the writing. There’s another envelope tucked inside the package, this one with just my name on it, addressed in Nana’s familiar looping script. It’s from her. I feel an ache, and for a moment, just press the letter to my chest. Then I pull open the window and climb out to sit on the fire escape in the muggy night air. The sound of city traffic and noise from the alleyway below echoes around me as I open the letter and read. My dearest granddaughter, I imagine by now that you’ve learned about my parting gift to you. I’m sure you have questions, and I’m only sorry I’m not around to put a pot of tea on, and sit and talk it through. Rose Cottage has been a home to me for many years. I’ve seen many happy times under that roof, sharing stories with my guests, and keeping that double range

working overtime with a new batch of cookies. If that time is over, then I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather share those memories with than you. I want you to know, that I mean the inheritance to be a gift, not a burden. You should feel free to do whatever it is you wish with the place—I just ask that you take some time to think before making a decision. I love your father, but he’s a practical man: he always put business ahead of passion or emotion. Your mother is the same, it’s why they’ve been able to build a happy life together, but you, my child, you’ve always been cut from a different cloth. Ever since you were a girl, you’ve felt things deeply; risked more, dreamed bigger. I know you’re all grown up now, and making your own choices, but I still remember the girl who would spend hours trying out different flavors in the cake batter, or chasing butterflies in the back gardens. I hope that girl still exists. If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my lifetime, it’s that the world will always find a way to try and strip that childlike curiosity and joy away. To put you in a neat box, and set you on a narrow path through life. I know you want to make everyone proud, you’ve always worked so hard to keep up. But the true joys in life come from the unexpected; the meandering path, the spontaneous afternoon picnic. I just hope you can hold on to that joy you’ve always felt, even when you think the odds are stacked against you. Listen to your heart, believe in a brighter tomorrow,

and always, always leave room for dessert. Your loving grandmother, always, Nana I lower the letter, tears stinging in my eyes. The grief overwhelms me again. Grief, and love too. Somehow, she always knew. Knew the struggle I felt to live up to my over-achieving parents and perfect, straight-As sister. Knew how out of place I felt in the corporate world: biting my tongue, and blowing out my curly hair, and trying to be the polished, successful woman I thought I always wanted to be. She saw the real me, and now, with one final selfless act, she’s given me something few people are lucky enough to have. A choice. I slowly fold the letter away, and dry my tears. My mind is still full of all the sane, rational reasons why I should sell the B&B as soon as possible, put the money in a savings fund and get back to work, but my heart…? Right now my heart is aching for those summer afternoons in the kitchen, listening to the crashing of the waves, and old 60s records, as Nana worked her magic with butter, sugar, and flour. But like my childhood, she’s gone forever now. Even if I were to return to that kitchen and follow her recipes to the letter, it still wouldn’t bring her back. So should I keep those memories alive, or just try to move on?

* As the week continues, the question of Rose Cottage is quickly buried under the weight of case work and legal briefs from my bosses at work. From first thing in the morning until late at night, I barely have time to think about anything except dense legal jargon and loopholes. But every night when I drag myself home, my eyes go straight to that business card sitting on the bureau—and the set of keys beside it. By Friday, I’m just about ready to collapse and sleep all weekend through, until our boss, Kelvin Harper, comes storming into the law library where Lexi and I have been holed up, researching the case. The hedge fund client has filed a lawsuit against their old employer for unfair dismissal—firing him right before a multimillion dollar bonus payout. The company counter-sued, settlement negotiations broke down, and now we’re all knee-deep in depositions and documents before the trial next week. “Where are we on precedent?” Harper demands loudly. “Only what we’ve already found,” I offer. The table is covered with papers and books, but there’s nothing new: this case has been dragging out in negotiations forever. Both parties seem equally shady. If there was some amazing evidence, we would have seen it by now.

“What about the online research?” Harper snaps his fingers impatiently. “I told you to check the profile pages of everyone at the company.” I blink. He didn’t tell us that at all. “Everyone?” Lexi ventures nervously. “That’s over a thousand people in the US offices alone.” “And?” he whirls on her angrily. I quickly speak up. “And opening up that line of evidence could be just as damaging to our client.” I tap a few keys on my laptop and bring up the client’s Instagram feed. “Look.” I scroll through to show him: photos of the guy partying on his private jet, smashing thousand-dollar champagne bottles, and generally acting like the worst kind of rich asshole. If I was on the jury, I wouldn’t care if this guy missed out on another few million, not when he’s doing such a good job of blowing the fortune he does have. Harper looks annoyed. “It’s not your job to question why I want something. It’s not your fucking job to think at all! I need complete files on everyone in the New York office by Monday morning: social media, background, the lot!” I check the clock on the wall. It’s 6:00 p.m. on Friday night. What he’s talking about will take days! “You want us to work the weekend?” I check. He turns red. “You’ll stay as long as it takes, dammit! What is this, nursery school? You want a break for milk and cookies too?” He slams the files on the table and

storms off. The library is silent, then gossiping whispers start. I glance around, flushing hard. Other associates are looking at me with a mixture of pity and disbelief. “What were you thinking?” Lexi hisses at me. “You know you don’t complain to Harper. You don’t complain to anyone. Ever!” “I know,” I groan. It was a rookie mistake. “But we’ve been pulling twelve-hour days all week!” “So now we pull a couple more.” Lexi takes a gulp of the coffee cup beside her. “How about I start with the As, you start with the Zs, and we meet in the middle?” She turns to her computer with a new focus, but I can’t get settled. “You really think this is worth it?” I ask, clicking through the photos of our client. “I mean, all the evidence and depositions we’ve read, it’s pretty clear they had grounds for firing him.” “He’s our client,” Lexi says absently, squinting at the screen. “It doesn’t matter what we think, it’s our job to represent him.” “I know, but still…” I stare at the photos of him doing jello shots off some poor waitress’s chest in a club in San Tropez. “Would you want to be stuck in the office next to this guy?” Lexi lifts her head. “What’s all this about, Noelle? You’ve been acting weird all week. You should be loving this stuff: background research, a real case going to trial. Everything else we’ve done has been settled out of

court. It’s our first jury!” Her eyes sparkle with excitement, even though she’s barely slept all week. She thrives on this: the late nights, the last-minute stress. Somehow, she manages to hold on to her sanity and just power through. So why are my reserves failing me now? I shrug. “I don’t know, I guess… I just wonder if this is what I’m supposed to be doing, that’s all.” “You mean, you might want to switch into criminal law?” Lexi glances back to her work. “That’s a good idea, your dad would have all kinds of contacts on that side.” “No,” I admit to her for the first time. “I mean quit.” Lexi gapes. Her mouth drops open. “What? Don’t say that!” She glances around, and lowers her voice. “Are you crazy? You busted your ass to get this job!” “I know.” I sink a little lower in my seat. “There are hundreds of people who would kill for this spot. That’s what makes it feel even more wrong. I’m taking up space for someone who actually wants to be here.” “Shh,” Lexi whispers, but she’s being over-dramatic. “I thought it would be different after law school, that I’d find my place, something I really loved,” I continue, trying to explain the restless ache in my chest beating louder, every day. I’ve pushed it down, tried to smother the feeling, but it’s not working anymore. “Noelle—” Lexi tries to stop me again, but I cut her off.

“Can’t you understand? All the rules and regulations, the dress code, and politics, and the Harpoon yelling at us 24/7. It’s not right for me. Every time I walk through the front doors these days, I think about turning around and walking right out again.” A voice suddenly comes from behind me, icy cool. “Then why don’t you?” I freeze. No! Lexi is cringing back in her seat. “I tried!” she whispers. I brace myself and turn around. Harper is standing there in the doorway, slowly turning a furious shade of raspberry. My heart sinks. “I… um…” I try to think of something to say, but my mind is blank. I can’t believe he just heard all of that! “I’m sorry, I was just blowing off some steam—” “Enough!” Harper screams. “I’ve had enough of you and your fucking attitude. I don’t want to work late,” he whines, mocking me, “It’s the weekend, My grandmother’s dead. Well fuck your grandmother!” I gasp. “If you want to leave, get the hell out!” Harper yells at me, spittle flying. “Otherwise, you keep your ass in that seat and don’t get up until I have my research, you understand?” He stands over me, jabbing a finger towards me with every word. “Do. You. Understand?” “I…” I gulp, my heart racing. The whole room is

silent, everybody’s watching my humiliating dressingdown. My skin prickles hot with embarrassment. I feel a kick under the table. Lexi is silently begging me, her eyes wide. I know what I need to do: beg and plead for forgiveness. Pledge my loyalty to the firm and his clients, and work like a dog for the next six months to try and erase this major mistake. Then, maybe then, he’ll deign to have me fetch coffees and Xeroxes before shuttling me off to a different department for the rest of the year. It’s my only option, the only way to keep my career here alive. But as I open my mouth to start the groveling, I feel that rebellious spark flare to life. Before I can stop myself, the words come out, loud and clear. “No.” I hear gasps around me, but my heart is pounding too loudly in my ears for it to register. I get up from the desk, draw myself up to my full height, and look Harper straight in the eye. “I quit.” His eyes flick over me, and his lip curls with derision. “Your fucking funeral,” he snorts. “Clean your desk out. You have five minutes before security throws you out the door.” He gives me a final withering stare before turning and storming away. My legs go weak; I have to grab onto the chair for

support. Oh my God. Did I just do that? “Noelle!” Lexi wails. “What did you do?” I gulp. My pulse is racing, and I struggle to think straight. “I have to get my stuff,” I tell her. “Harper is probably shredding everything right now.” I grab my notebook from the table and hurry down the hallway. People are already staring and whispering as I pass. Gossip spreads like wildfire in a place like this. I take the stairs down a floor, to the tiny cubicle in the corner of the bullpen. I don’t have much time. The scene in the library was bad enough, but getting hauled out of here by security would be a humiliation I’ll never live down if I want to practice law again. Because I just got fired. Or quit. Oh God. I sweep everything from my desk into a paper carton. They frown on personal effects here, so I only have a couple of framed family photos, and the set of clothbound legal books my dad gave me for my last birthday. I don’t let myself imagine what he’ll say when he finds out about this, I can’t think about that now. “I can’t believe you just did that!” Lexi arrives at my cubicle, wide-eyed with shock—and a touch of awe. “Me neither.” I go through my drawers and grab a few office supplies. “Are you sure about this? It’s not too late to take it back!” Lexi looks at me hopefully. “Just go to HR, tell

them you had some kind of mental break. Stress, from the Anderson case. They’ll be so scared of a lawsuit, they would totally sweep it under the rug. Remember that partner in litigation?” she adds, brightening. “He had a meltdown in the middle of a settlement conference, threatened to staple the client to the table! They just gave him a slap on the wrist and made him take some anger therapy sessions, and he was back at work the next month.” “I don’t need anger therapy,” I manage to smile, “and I don’t want to come back. Harper is right, I’m not cut out for this job.” “But you’re a great lawyer!” Lexi protests. “No,” I sigh, pausing to look around. “I’m a good one. And only because I’m working overtime just trying to keep up. But I don’t want to fake it anymore. This isn’t what I want.” “So what do you want?” Lexi demands. “What are you going to do now? You can’t just sit around in your sweatpants all day eating Cheetos and watching Gilmore Girls reruns!” I hug her, laughing. “Relax, I’m not going to.” “And never mind you,” Lexi sniffles, tearing up. “What am I going to do, dealing with all these assholes without you?” “You’ll kick their asses, as usual,” I reassure her. I pull back, trying not to get choked up myself. I hoist my box, and take a final look around before leaving the

cubicle. “So what then?” Lexi trails me towards the exit. “Where are you going to go next?” I take a deep breath. The idea has been building, ever since I told Harper where to shove it. No, before that, even. Ever since Albus broke the news to me, back on the sunlit Main Street, with the ocean glinting blue in the distance and the scent of sunscreen and honeysuckle in the air. “I’m going to Beachwood Bay.”



6. I head back to my apartment and spend the rest of the night in a whirlwind of manic activity, packing up my personal effects and cleaning like crazy. I go onto the college alumni message-board and offer a sublet for the summer; within the hour, a nice girl writes back, needing a place to stay during her law internship at a firm downtown. I give her my parents’ details and promise they’ll let her in next week, then drop my keys in the mailbox, load up the car, and hit the road. It’s crazy, I know, I’m not giving myself a moment to think about what I’ve just done. But that’s the point. If I pause, even for a second, the full weight of my actions will come crashing down on me. I can just imagine if I’m still in the city when that happens: my parents crowding around, the reality of rent and bills looming, and waking up tomorrow morning knowing I’ve made a huge mistake and there’s no taking it back. No, not a mistake, I correct myself as I hit the freeway at 2:00 a.m. A change. I turn the radio loud to drown out the rest of my doubts and focus on the relief I feel instead. No more late nights in the office, eating limp salads at my desk at nine o’clock at night. No more asshole clients, or office politics. And no more Harper and his flying spittle of

rage. As the miles fly by, I feel the tight knot in my stomach slowly unravel; the weight lift from my shoulders, and a new sense of freedom take its place instead. By the time I make it in to Beachwood Bay and turn up that winding coastal road, the morning sun is bright in a cloudless blue sky. I pull up in the cottage driveway, and take a deep lungful of crisp ocean air. The house is just as I left it: the white shutters framing the faded blue clapboard planks; the overgrown front yard, and the namesake roses twisting wild up over the porch. The last of my doubts melt away, and I feel a sense of calm wash over me. Yes. I’m so tired, it’s all I can do to grab my bags and unlock with the keys Albus sent me. I stumble through to the back studio, tumble face first onto the bed, and fall fast asleep. * The sound of my cellphone wakes me, insistent. I groan, reaching blindly for the bedside table, but my hand hits something soft and fringed instead. It teeters under my grip, then crashes to the floor with a smash. I drag myself upright, squinting in the bright

sunlight. Then it hits me. My bedside table isn’t there, because I’m not in my city apartment. I’m in Nana’s old studio, at the B&B. Where I live now. I jolt awake, checking for the time. It’s afternoon now, and down on the beach, I can see families and people playing in the bright summer sun. I must have slept all day. My cellphone is still ringing. I dig it out of my bag and check the caller ID. Mom. I wince, and set it to voicemail. I go take a quick shower in the bathroom, then wrap myself in a fluffy towel and play the message. “Hi sweetheart, I just wanted to check, did you leave your sweater here the other night? I have a blue one here, and I can’t for the life of me remember if it’s mine. Talk soon!” Beep. I pause. I was braced for lectures and disappointment, but it sounds as if she hasn’t heard yet. I figured legal gossip would get back to my dad, but maybe I was worrying too much. After all, I’m small-fry. An associate meltdown probably happens every other week at the big firms—nothing to put it on the radar of anyone my dad knows, at least. My hopes rise. I’m going to need some time to figure this out before facing my family’s inquisition.

Even a few days could let me come up with some answers for what on earth I’m doing here, and why. I’ve seen what they’re like when they turn the full force of their debate skills on an unsuspecting subject. My older sister, Olivia, considered becoming a family physician for a hot minute—before my parents started talking about goals, and ambition, and realizing her potential. Before the week was up, she was signed up for a surgical residency, and never looked back. I’ve buckled under the weight of their expectations before, but this time, I need to stand firm. I’ve spent too long trying to make them happy—and crushing my own dreams in the process. Here, right now, this is for me, and it may seem like a crazy, impulsive mistake, but for the first time in years, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I dress in my summer uniform of cut-offs and a tank top, then lace up my sneakers and head into the main house. Last time I was here, Kayla gave me a quick tour, but I didn’t really take it in. Now, I take my time, checking each room in turn and every closet and bathroom, too. There are six guest suites in total, all decorated in Nana’s trademark old-fashioned style. The main sitting room and dining room areas are packed with antiquelooking furniture, and in the back, I find a sunny little office nook with some file cabinets and a stack of ledgers.

Jackpot. I put some coffee on to brew, dig out a pack of cookies from the pantry, and settle in. There’s a ton of paperwork, and before long, I’ve got a headache trying to make sense of it all. As far as I can tell, the mortgage on this place is paid off, with Nana’s main expenses being utility costs, food for the guests, and the wages of the girls she had cleaning and helping with laundry. Her rates were reasonable, and from the looks of the appointment book, most of the summers were booked solid, with guests tapering off in late September, and not checking in until May and the summer season. I sit back, thoughtful. This place is far too big for me to just rattle around by myself. And Nana always said, the best part about being here was getting to share the stories of all the people passing through, and help make their vacations into wonderful memories. Would it be so hard to keep the B&B running? The thought lingers in my mind. I have the house here, all I would need to do is provide a breakfast every day, and advice and vacation tips for the guests. Kayla said they had cancelled everyone who was due to come this summer, but in the front of the appointment book, I find the list of names. I call the first one on the list, Mrs. Peterson in Connecticut. I quickly explain that I’m Nancy’s granddaughter, and that I’m considering reopening Rose Cottage. “Do you think you’d be interested in staying

here, if the rooms were available again?” I ask. “Oh yes!” She exclaims, “We’ve been staying there every summer for the last five years, it’s the perfect vacation spot for us. But will it be the same though?” she adds, sounding worried. “We just love her breakfasts, and those little homey touches. She would make this incredible apple cake…” Her voice trails off wistfully, then she laughs. “It sounds odd, I know, but we look forward to it all year long!” “Me too,” I smile. “But she taught me to bake it herself. I promise, everything will be just the way you remember.” “Then sign us up,” Mrs Peterson declares. “You know, we’ve been looking for somewhere else, but nothing’s quite the same. It’s a real special place.” “Yes,” I smile, looking around. “It is.” I call the rest of the list in turn, telling them about the reopening, and reassuring everyone that the cinnamon rolls will be back on the menu. About half the guests have already changed their plans, or booked someplace else, but soon there are enough names listed on the makeshift calendar to make me feel like this is the right move. Everybody loves their time here so much, I know that Nana would want them to keep on enjoying the B&B, even without her. By the time I’ve called everyone, it’s past 7:00 p.m., and my stomach is rumbling. The pantry and fridge have been cleared out, so I pull on a cardigan and walk into

town to grab some dinner. As I stroll along the beach road, watching the ocean waves roll in, feeling the sunlight on my skin, it seems like I’m in a dream. Just twelve hours ago, I was stuck under bright fluorescent lights in an office building twenty stories high, dressed up in an uncomfortable pant-suit and heels. Now I kick a pebble down the sandy road, so light I feel like I could float away. But what about everything you left behind? a critical voice reminds me. Your family, your career, everything you’ve spent your life working for. Wasted—and for what? A harebrained scheme you’ll regret in a couple of days. What do you even know about running a B&B? For a moment, the sun seems to dim behind a cloud. I shiver, caught up in the whispers of doubt. Then the cloud passes, and everything looks bright again. I can do this, I tell myself firmly. I’ve spent my life thinking logically, and it made me miserable. Now I’m just going to follow my instincts for a while, and see where they take me. Like to the diner, for a real home-style meal. My mouth is already watering at the thought of butterwhipped mashed potatoes as I push open the front doors. They’ve barely changed a thing since Nana owned it: there are still black-and-white checkerboard tiles on the floors and cracked red vinyl booths. The front counter display of pies is already empty, and the jukebox is playing old 1960s girl-group songs. Tonight, the diner

is busy with people and chatter: families still toting beach bags from their day on the sand, and a few couples sharing milkshakes on a date. “Hey!” Kayla greets me, wearing a mint green waitress uniform. “You’re back!” “I’m back!” I agree, smiling. “I was meaning to find you, actually. Are you still available to come help out at the B&B? I’m going to be reopening.” “That’s great! But I already picked up a bunch of extra shifts here.” Kayla’s face falls. “I’m sorry. I might be able to squeeze a couple of mornings in, just for the summer?” “That would be perfect, anything would help,” I tell her. “Sure, I’ll check my schedule and let you know.” Kayla smiles. “Anything to help my college savings. Sit anywhere you like,” she adds. “I’ll get you a menu.” “No need,” I grin. “Bring me the Thanksgiving special, all the trimmings.” “Coming right up!” I look around for a free table, and my eye falls on the group in the big corner booth. They’re about my age, laughing over a spread of food. And there in the middle, is Ash. My heart stops. He’s lounging back, dark-haired and devastatingly handsome. He looks smarter than the rest of them, cleanly shaven in a button-down shirt. There are two

other guys, and two girls—one of them sitting right beside him. She says something, and he laughs, shoving good-naturedly at her with his elbow. I feel a pang strike through me. Are they together? Is that why he couldn’t bolt away from me fast enough the last time we met? But what about that night in the city? The fact he kissed me, touched me. Left me crying out in pleasure… He looks up suddenly and catches my eye across the busy diner. The smile drains from his face, and suddenly, he looks almost nervous. I’ll bet he does. A surge of anger flashes through me. If he’s been running around, cheating on some poor unsuspecting girlfriend, then I’m not going to just let him get away with it. I march over and stand right in front of the table. “Hi Ash,” I say loudly. They all fall silent, and look at me with interest. “Hi,” he answers evenly. I narrow my eyes. “So what are you doing here?” I ask. “You left so fast when I saw you last week, you didn’t tell me what brought you out of the city.” Ash clears his throat. “Family business.” Another short answer. He clearly doesn’t want to talk to me right now, but that only makes my annoyance grow. We spent the most incredible night together,

sharing our deepest secrets, and now he can barely look at me? “Well, that’s just great,” I reply icily. The rest of his table are openly staring at me, curious. “How’s it going?” The dark-haired girl beside Ash speaks up, looking delighted. “I’m Tegan, and this is my fiancé, Ryland, and Dex and Alicia.” She points around the booth in turn. Her fiancé. I relax, just a little. At least now, Ash is just being a rude asshole, and not a cheating rude asshole. “Hi, I’m Noelle Olsen,” I introduce myself to them, smiling. “Olsen?” Tegan brightens. “You mean like here?” She holds up the menu, Mrs. Olsen’s Diner written on the front in the old vintage design. “One and the same.” “That’s so cool,” she exclaims. “Isn’t that cool, Ash?” she nudges him hard. He doesn’t reply. I fume. He’s acting like I’m a complete stranger, someone he can just kiss and run. “So how do you know my brother?” Tegan asks. Brother. Of course. They both share the same dark hair and blue eyes—although right now, his are wary, while Tegan’s are smiling. “We met in New York a couple of weeks ago,” I say. “Ash?” I add, trying to keep my voice even. “Can I talk

to you for a second?” He looks like he wants to disappear right into the back of the booth, but Tegan shoves him. “Go on, God, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird.” Ash gets to his feet. They all scoot over to let him out. I head to a quiet corner, trying to control my anger— and rejection. I’d be fine if he’d explained that our night together was just that, a one-time thing, but we’ve never talked about it. I left him my number, and he never called. Now, all I have is a random, heart-stopping kiss to figure out what he wants from me. “Well?” I turn on him, out of earshot of the diner. “Do you want to explain what all of that was about?” Ash looks uncomfortable. “All of what?” “That!” I try to keep my voice down. “You’re acting like we’ve never met before. What’s wrong with you? I don’t understand.” My hurt slices through the anger. I thought what we’d shared was special, an amazing memory, but clearly he thinks differently. “I’m sorry,” Ash says finally, his expression still unreadable. “For the way I acted at the bar, and being impolite now. I wasn’t expecting to see you here, and with my family around… If I was curt, then I’m sorry.” There’s silence. I blink. “That’s it?” He looks confused. “What more do you want?”

How about an explanation, or some affection, or for him to kiss me like it’s the end of the world, and all he wants is to consume me, completely? But it’s clear, kissing is the last thing on Ash’s mind. He’s standing there awkwardly with none of the easy charm and flirtation I knew, keeping a safe few feet away from me, like he couldn’t even bear for us to accidentally touch. My heart slowly sinks. “It was a mistake, what happened between us,” he adds, regret flashing in his eyes. “A lapse in judgment. It won’t happen again.” Rejection hits hard, but I fight to keep my voice even. “Fine. If you can refrain from kissing me, I’ll try to do the same.” He blinks at my sarcasm, and for a moment, he almost looks amused. Then the cool smile returns. “Thank you. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to my family about…what happened. I prefer to keep my personal life private. I’m sure you understand.” I understand alright. The Ash I met that night at the party—the funny, charming, spontaneous man who made me feel so alive—is nowhere to be seen. Instead, it’s like a stranger staring back at me. No fun in those dark eyes; no hint of adventure or wild pleasure in his gaze. I guess I didn’t know him, after all. “Whatever you want,” I tell him, stony. “I’ll let you get back to your dinner.”

Ash pauses. For a split second, I think I see something in his gaze. Some kind of warmth, maybe, a glimpse of the man I thought he was. “I heard your grandmother passed,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I know she meant the world to you.” I pause, thrown. “I… thank you,” I reply, but before I can say another word, he turns and walks back to his table, leaving me standing there, my head spinning. I see Kayla passing, and quickly flag her down. “I’m going to need that order to go.”



7. “It was a mistake, what happened between us…” I obsess over Ash’s distance all night. I can’t believe he’s acting like the time we shared never meant anything, as if he wasn’t right there with me, gazing into my eyes as we pushed each other over the brink of pleasure. Fine, I decide angrily. If he wants to pretend like I don’t exist, I’ll just do the same. Luckily, I have way too much work to do to dwell on him for long. The first guests are arriving in just a few days, and I have to make sure everything is ready for them. The next morning, I drive out to the superstore a few towns over and stock up with supplies, then I set up shop in the big, sun-drenched kitchen. I put the radio on, tie Nana’s favorite rose-print apron around my neck, and pull down her huge, dogeared recipe file. It’s time to see if I really can live up to the promise I’ve made everyone about her perfect home-baked goods—starting with her famous apple cake. Setting out the sugar, eggs, and familiar ingredients, it all comes rushing back. The hours I spent here as a kid, watching her sift flour into a huge cracked porcelain mixing bowl; sneaking fingerfuls of the sweet batter. Now, as I carefully read her lopsided handwriting off the yellowed recipe cards, I can hear her voice, updating me on every step.

“Now here’s the trick, you want to stir in some of the apple chunks, right into the batter, and let the rest caramelize on top. It’s finally sinking in, that she’s gone—and I’m here in her place. But instead of feeling sad, it’s a comfort: using the same old hand mixer to combine the sweet batter, mixing in crushed walnuts and fruit, then scraping them all into a ring pan to top with more fruit and golden sugar grains. She always let me lick out the bowl, and now I savor the taste of the batter, standing alone in the middle of the warm summer kitchen with scent of baking cake wafting in the air. “Hello?” A voice comes from the front of the house. “In here!” I call back. I check the timer, and rinse off my hands. Juliet comes through the doorway, wearing cutoffs and a cute peasant top. “Hey you,” she smiles, “I heard you were back in town.” “Hi!” I exclaim, happy to see a friendly face. “Can I get you some lemonade?” “Thanks, I’d love some.” She pauses, sniffing the air. “That smells amazing! What is it?” “Apple cake,” I reply. “Should be done soon, if you want to stay for a slice?” “Are you kidding?” Juliet laughs. “You don’t need to ask twice.” I take the pitcher from the fridge and pour us a

couple of glasses. Then we head outside to the back garden and settle at a table there under the roses. Juliet takes a long sip and lets out a contented sigh. “I’m hiding,” she confides. “There’s a game on, and the guys have all colonized the house. I knew getting a bigscreen TV would come back to bite us in the ass.” I laugh, kicking off my flip-flops. “Well, you’re welcome to hang here. I’m trying to perfect Nana’s recipes before the first guests arrive.” Juliet gasps. “You mean you’re taking this place over? Congratulations!” “It’s a bit early for that,” I warn. “I’ve never done anything like this before. In fact, part of me wonders if I’ve completely lost my mind.” Juliet shakes her head. “No way. I could tell, we hadn’t seen the last of you. You had this look in your eyes, when you were here the other week.” “Like a ‘I’m going to quit my corporate job and risk everything by moving to the middle of nowhere’ look?” I quip. Juliet laughs. “It’s not so crazy. I’ve been there,” she adds. “I thought I had my life all planned out, and then I came back here, and everything changed.” “Because of Emerson?” I ask, remembering her husband. “Partly. But also, I realized that the things I thought I needed out of life weren’t what I wanted, after all.” Juliet rolls her eyes, self-deprecating. “It sounds cheesy, I

know.” “No, it doesn’t!” I protest. I’m relieved that somebody else seems to understand the crazy change I’m embarking on. “That’s what’s happening with me. I spent all this time trying to be the best lawyer in New York, but then I came here, and it just didn’t make sense anymore.” “Well, good luck to you,” Juliet smiles warmly. “It’s a big change, but I couldn’t imagine life any other way. Only you know what’s going to make you happy,” she adds. “Nobody else can make that choice.” I raise my lemonade glass, and toast her. We laugh. “Look at us, turning our backs on the rat race,” I smile. “I don’t know about that.” Juliet gives me a look. “When we’re slammed at Jaybird, I feel plenty rat-like.” “That’s right,” I realize, “you guys have a restaurant. So how does that work, do you split your time between the city and Beachwood Bay?” She nods. “We managed to find an amazing manager, so hopefully we can take a step back this summer. My sister had a kid, so it would be great to spend more time here, as a family.” “Well, anytime you need someplace to hide—or some fresh pie, you know where to find me.” “I’m so going to take you up on that,” Juliet grins. A buzzer goes off inside. “Cake time!” I announce. We head inside, and I open the oven. The scent of vanilla

and caramelized fruit hits me, intoxicating and rich. “Oh my God, I’m drooling already.” Juliet peers over my shoulder. “That looks amazing.” “Let’s just hope it tastes amazing too. I’m pretty rusty at this,” I confess. I lift the pan from the oven and carefully turn the cake out onto a wire rack to cool. There’s a second’s pause. We both gaze at the cake, still steaming. “You know, some things taste better when they’re hot,” Juliet points out with a wicked grin. I laugh. “Let’s do it.” I cut a slice and pass it to Juliet. I watch her bite into the fluffy, moist cake. “What do you think?” I ask nervously. “Did I get it right?” Juliet chews thoughtfully. “It’s good,” she says slowly, “but not quite like Mrs. Olsen’s.” My hopes fall. “But what’s missing?” I cut one myself and bite into the fluffy cake. This time, I rack my brain for the memory of Nana’s recipe. Nutty walnut, the tart bite of apple, and… Juliet and I both look at each other at the same time. “Orange zest!” We laugh. “That’s it,” she nods. “There was always this zesty tang to the cake.” “She must have added it on a whim, and just never written it down.” I put the recipe card aside, and reach for the mixing bowl again. But as I do it, I’m struck with the humor of the situation. Last week, I was obsessed

with fact-checking a deposition, and now I’m getting stressed over cake. “I know it’s crazy, caring so much about a recipe,” I admit. “But everyone I talked to has such great memories here, including the food. I want everything to be right for them.” “So what are you going to do with this cake?” Juliet eyes it hungrily. “It’s all yours.” “Really?” She snags another slice. “Are you sure?” “Please.” I laugh. “If you don’t take them, I’ll have to eat it all. By myself.” “When you put it like that…” Juliet grins. “What kind of woman would I be to abandon you to such a terrible fate?” “Aren’t you generous?” I laugh, but the happiness is real. I’ve only known Juliet a few days, but already, it feels like we’re going to be friends. “So what’s the plan with this place?” Juliet leans against the counter and looks around. “Well, I managed to get back some of the original bookings for the summer, so they’ll start arriving next week.” I fill her in on my calls. “But I’d love to book more. I’m not sure what Nana did to get the word out about this place.” “I’m not sure she did anything, she might have just relied on word-of-mouth.” Juliet finishes her second slice. “I don’t think she ever advertised, or even has a

website.” “A website?” I repeat, the idea taking hold. “That’s a great idea! I bet there are tons of people who would want to come once they saw the place.” “It is pretty idyllic,” Juliet agrees. “Except…” She pauses reluctantly. “What?” I ask. “Well, it’s great here, but it is kind of ragged around the edges. I know it’s all part of the charm,” she says quickly. “But tourists can be picky.” “It could use a bit of sprucing,” I agree, looking around. The chipped ceramics and cluttered photographs may be full of memories to me, but an outsider might just see them as musty and old. And the wallpaper is fading in places… The fireplaces could use a sweep… The roof might need some new tiles… The cost quickly adds up in my mind and I panic. I have some savings tucked away, but not enough for a major renovation. My fears must show, because Juliet quickly reassures me. “Don’t worry. Just a freshening up would make a ton of difference, make it more beachy and modern.” “You mean those china figurines from the living room aren’t modern?” I joke, relieved I’m not looking at a major project. “She did love those,” Juliet laughs. “But maybe it’s time for Little Bo Peep and friends to retire. My brotherin-law is a contractor,” she adds. “I can give you his number if you need anything done, he’d be happy to help

out.” “Thanks, that would be great.” “And my sister is in PR,” Juliet adds. “I’m sure she’d have tons of ideas about getting the word out.” “You’re so connected,” I grin. Juliet giggles, “Everyone’s family in this town.” For a moment, I wonder if she knows Ash—or his family. But I quickly push the thought aside. I can’t sit around thinking about him all day, not when there’s so much to do. After Juliet leaves, I make a list of the easy—and affordable—updates I can make to the house before I put the photos up online. Clearing out the cluttered decor will be easy, and even switching out Nana’s old framed pictures for some simple beach scenes would make it look fresh and breezy. The exterior is my main challenge. The house paint was blue originally, and salt air and sunshine has faded it to a soft, greyish hue, but the trim on the windows and shutters is a grubby yellowed white, and begging for a refresh. I have my first task. I drive into town and pick up a couple of cans of glossy white paint, plus some painter ’s tape and brushes. Back at the house, I drag an old step-ladder out of the garage, fill a bucket with soapy water, and set to work, scrubbing down the shutters and window frames along the back of the house. It’s a hot, sweaty job in the midday

sun, so I prop the radio on the window ledge and grab a cold beer from the fridge to help me along. The breeze dances lightly around me, carrying the sound of vacationers and seagulls from the beach. Up on the ladder, I can see the whole curve of the bay: the deep blue ocean edged with golden sand, and the town just half a mile away. I feel light, buoyant, and as I wash each frame in turn, I picture everyone back in New York: cooped up in the office, or snatching a quick twentyminute break on a bench in a crowded, bustling park. Here, there’s nothing but open space. Sand dunes, and wide ocean, and the glint of sunlight on the waves. It fills me with a sense of possibility like nothing before, and every minute that passes here makes me believe I’ve made the right decision. Soon, the prep work is done—and I’m covered in paint splatters. I grab another beer to help me along with the painting, starting with the highest shutters while I still have the energy to hold on tight to the ladder. By the time I’m done with the first row, the difference is clear: with a crisp, white trim, the house looks ten times more quaint and inviting. I climb halfway down and start on the top of the ground-floor shutters, dabbing happily from the paint can I’ve balanced on the ledge of the ladder. “Here’s your one chance, Fancy,” I sing along, barely in tune. I’m light-headed from the beer, but it doesn’t matter. This is a vacation, right? “Do-do-do, la

la la, don’t let me down!” “I haven’t heard that one.” An amused voice comes from nearby. I twist around to look. It’s Ash. I grab hold of the ladder to steady myself. He’s standing in the yard of the house next door, looking up at me with a smirk on his ridiculously handsome face. “What are you doing here?” I demand. “Are you stalking me now?” “Easy there.” Ash doesn’t answer. He just watches me, effortlessly cool in an Oxford shirt and jeans. “You missed a spot.” “Did not,” I retort, turning back to my painting. “I’ll have you know, I have a system.” “A painting system?” Ash still sounds amused. Well, I guess I’m one big joke to him. “Yup.” I focus on daubing white paint along the window frame—and not splashing it over the crooked line of painter ’s tape. “So you can see, I’m pretty busy right now. No risk of me kissing you, or causing another lapse in judgment.” There’s a long silence, until I can’t resist turning to look. Ash is still there, but now he’s smiling even wider, like he knows he caught me. “Can I help you with something?” I call down, trying to sound detached and aloof. Like him, with his perfect hair, and perfect mouth, and perfect tongue…

I catch myself, unsteady. Maybe that third beer was a bad idea. “No, I’m good,” Ash replies. He crosses his arm and leans back against a tree, watching me. “Don’t let me keep you,” I snap. “I’m sure you have to be somewhere, doing—whatever it is you do. Building skyscrapers, and taking over the world.” “Actually, I have the day off from world domination.” I turn in time to catch Ash’s wide smile. Even from up here, I can see the glint of flirtation in his eye. What the hell? He acts totally aloof before in the diner, and suddenly turns back into the charming guy, when there’s nobody around to see it? “Well, it’s just great you managed to get that stick out of your ass,” I say sunnily, “but I’m kind of busy. And you’re trespassing right now, so you might want to get out of there before the owner catches you.” “That would be me,” Ash replies. He keeps smiling, that infuriating, all-knowing grin. “I just bought this place, so I guess we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other. Neighbor.” The news is too much for me. Ash. Here. All the time? Looking at me with that face. Hanging around with that body. I take a step back, forgetting that I’m ten feet off the ground. My foot hits empty air, and I grab frantically for

the ladder, but it’s too late. My balance is gone. Me, the ladder, and half a can of paint go crashing to the ground.



8. “Are you OK?” I lift my head, groaning, to find Ash leaning over me. He helps me sit up, looking concerned. I bat his hands away, feeling embarrassed. Way to act cool and unaffected! “I’m fine,” I insist, hauling myself to my feet. “You just startled me, that’s all.” I stand up, and the world starts spinning again. “Maybe I will sit down.” I sink back onto the ladder. Ash frowns. “Have you been drinking?” “Have I… What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” I protest. I’m feeling kind of woozy, but that’s probably just the shock of discovering I’m going to be stuck living next door to this pill for the rest of summer. “Yes, I’ve had a couple of beers. Not that it’s any of your business.” “A couple?” Ash smiles again, teasing. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a cheap date.” The memory floods back to me. I told him that in New York, the night we spent together. So he hasn’t forgotten it, then. I look down, realizing for the first time that we’re both covered in paint. It’s spilled all over the flagstone patio. “Look at the mess!” I wail, “Quick, I need to clean it up before it dries.” “Never mind the paint,” Ash interrupts me, stern.

“I’m more worried about you. Did you hit your head?” he demands, taking my chin in his hands and turning my head from side to side. “Any ringing in your ears? Dizziness? Nausea?” “Only from finding out we’re neighbors now.” I roll my eyes. He smirks. “So welcoming. This must be the small town charm they talk about.” “Says the guy who did a great impression of an iceberg the last time we met,” I retort. “Tall, impressive, with plenty lurking beneath the surface?” I snort with laughter. “Try ice-cold and a bitch to avoid.” He laughs, that low, infectious sound I’ve been trying to forget. “I think I like you when you’re drunk.” “I’m not drunk!” I insist again. I try to storm back into the house, but suddenly, the world tilts on its axis again. I grab hold of the nearest thing for support— which just happens to be his arm. “Well, maybe a little bit tipsy,” I admit. “But it’s summer!” “Hey, I’m not judging.” Ash starts to steer me back inside. “But maybe beer and tall ladders don’t mix.” I sigh, swaying against him. I can feel the outline of his bicep through his shirt: muscular and firm. Does he have to be so damn attractive? Ash helps me inside and sits me down on the couch in the living room. He looks around at the boxes of

tchotchkes I’ve been packing away. “This is your grandmother ’s house?” I nod, sinking back into the pillows. Comfy. “It’s smart, to spruce it up before you put it on the market.” He gives an approving nod. “Buyers like a blank canvas.” “I’m not selling!” I announce dramatically. “I’m reopening the B&B!” Ash turns, looking surprised. “I didn’t realize you knew how to run a guest-house.” “I don’t, but how hard can it be?” I protest, “I just need to redecorate, advertise for guests, perfect Nana’s old recipes, keep everything freshly laundered… Pass the health and safety checks, get the right permits, register with the town hall…” I trail off as the full weight of my decision comes crashing down. I groan. “What the hell am I doing?” I cry, burying my head in a cushion. When I emerge, Ash is looking amused. “This is all your fault, you know!” I say accusingly, then pull myself to my feet. “Easy there.” Ash moves to help me again, but I’m not feeling quite so spinny. I shake him off and wander through to the kitchen in search of food. Yes, food, that’s what I need. I rifle through the refrigerator, and pull out the sandwich fixings I picked up at the store earlier. Turkey, swiss, mayo, and mustard. Perfect. Ash leans against the counter, watching me. “You were saying,” he prompts me. “How is all this my fault?”

“Because I was perfectly happy, until you came along.” I point my butter knife at him. “OK, not happy, but I was repressing my misery and frustration. I was repressing just fine. Then you come sweeping up all Prince Charming meets Highway Bandit, pulling my shoe out of the gutter and whisking me off on some magical night together—” “Magical?” Ash interrupts. He grins, reaching to steal a slice of turkey. I slap his hand away. “Magical,” I repeat defiantly. “Even if you’ve got selective amnesia about it now. Anyway…” I pause, trying to remember what I was saying. Repression, and magic, and—that’s it. “I admitted for the first time how miserable my life was making me, and now I can’t take it back. It’s like when you uncork a bottle of… something…and everything comes spilling out. You can’t put it back in. That’s what happened with me!” “I uncorked you.” Ash grins. I slide over a plate with his sandwich and bite down into my own. “It’s all your fault.” Ash chews and swallows. “Well, I apologize for inadvertently breaking you free from misery and repression.” He has a smear of mustard on the corner of his lips, and he swipes it off with his thumb and sucks. I want to be that thumb. “…for it now?” “Huh?” I blink back. “I totally missed that.”

“I said,” Ash repeats gently, “Are you really set on opening this place? It’s no small order, running a business like this. The hospitality industry is tough, especially here, when it’s so seasonal. What will you do in winters? How will you support yourself if there are slow spots?” I frown. “I haven’t figured all that out yet. But I will! I just need to go step by step. I have a plan.” “I’m glad to hear it.” Ash smiles at me again, that condescending amused grin I should find infuriating but instead is sexy as hell. “I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to.” “Now you’re just patronizing me,” I tell him with my mouth full. “Or is that your default setting? King of the world.” “Some people are just born leaders,” he says, and even though I can tell he’s just teasing, I grab the bottle and squirt mustard in his direction. It splatters over his chest and slowly drips down his paint-stained buttondown. I clap my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I just did that! Ash calmly pauses a moment, then takes his remaining sandwich piece and dabs it against a stain on his arm. He pops it into his mouth. “Delicious,” he says, totally deadpan. I burst out laughing. Why couldn’t he have been like this yesterday? Why does he insist on running hot and

cold, like I don’t even know who he is beneath that perfectly-tailored shirt? “You want another?” I offer, as he finishes up. “And I have cake. I have all the cake!” I gesture to the rack where my latest attempt at Nana’s apple cake is cooling —this one complete with orange zest. “I’m good, thanks.” “Come on,” I roll my eyes. “You haven’t even tried it. See, it’s the best.” I cut off a thin wedge, and thrust it towards him. Instead of taking it from me, Ash leans in and takes a bite. His lips graze my fingertips. Our eyes lock, and this time, it’s not just the beer that makes my head spin. Something sparks between us, and I can’t stop myself from leaning in, wanting a taste of that sweetness, that fire, all over again. Ash jerks back like he’s been burned. “I should go,” he says, taking a sharp breath. “As much as your hospitality has been a treat,” he adds. I catch my breath. “Sure. Right. Of course.” “See you around. Neighbor.” He adds, with a devastating smile, then he turns and exits into the hallway. I blink. What the hell was that? There’s something between us, I can’t figure it out. Before I can think twice, I follow, catching up just as he steps out of the front door. “Wait!” Ash turns.

I take a breath, my heart racing. “We should go out,” I announce impulsively. “On a date.” Surprise flashes in his eyes – then caution. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he says slowly. “Why not?” I push. “What are you afraid will happen: you’ll actually have fun for a change? Well, we were having fun just now and nothing terrible happened.” “My shirt would disagree,” Ash replies, arch, but I can see the hint of humor in his eyes. I giggle. “See, there you go. Fun. Come on.” I take a step closer. I don’t know why I’m pushing this, it’s out of character for me. He’s made it clear, what happened in New York won’t be repeated, but I can’t help myself. It felt so good to be with him—to be myself with him—I just want another glimpse of that freedom. That heat. I look up at him, glad for the alcohol in my bloodstream, giving me false bravery. “You, me, dinner, a little light make-out action.” I smile invitingly. “What’s the worst that can happen?” I think I see something in his expression, a moment of desire, or hope, or even longing. Then the sound of the phone suddenly breaks the silence; it rings sharply from the next room. Dammit! Ash’s calm veneer crashes down again. He steps back. “You should get that,” he says, looking relieved.

“And call a doctor in the morning if you still feel dizzy or have a headache. OK?” I nod dumbly. “I’ll see you around, neighbor.” He smiles, then closes the door behind him. Humiliation hits hard. No, no, no! What did I just do? Oh, just spilled paint on him, tried to start a food fight, and then all but stripped naked and begged “take me” right here on Nana’s front porch. I bury my head in my hands and cringe. I’m never drinking again.



9. If there’s one good thing that comes from my utter humiliation with Ash, I decide, it’s my renewed focus on the B&B. I can’t risk running into him in town, so I stay locked away at the house for the next three days, painting and laundering everything in sight and packing Nana’s personal effects away. By Friday morning, Rose Cottage is all ready for the first guests to arrive. It’s never looked better. “It’s amazing!” Juliet exclaims, when I show her the bare-bones website I created to showcase the new look. “It looks so charming and quaint.” “That’s what I’m hoping for.” I click through to the next page, displaying one of the guest rooms. “I know it’s not fancy,” I add, self-conscious about the basic webpage. “But it has all the information up, and I linked to town events and tourist sites in the area too. Hopefully this will help bring more people in. I only have two bookings for the rest of this month.” “Anyone who sees this will want to come stay,” Juliet reassures me. “I can’t believe you’ve done so much in just a few days.” “Let’s just say, I had my motivation,” I reply grimly, glancing around the diner for any hint of Ash. It’s the first time I’ve ventured out since my total embarrassment, and I’m on high alert for any sign of his

dark hair and muscular build. “Well, I think it’s amazing.” Juliet smiles. “And I bet my sister, Carina, will have some advice about getting the word out. She’s a PR whizz,” she adds, then checks the clock on the wall. “You know, I’m due over there to babysit right now, if you want to come along, I’ll introduce you.” “That would be great!” I put down some money to cover our lunch, and follow her outside. As usual, the town is bustling with summer activity. Some people are putting up ticker-tape around the gazebo, and a banner too. “What’s going on?” I ask, as we stroll down towards the harbor. “Oh, it’s a big party we throw every year,” Juliet explains. “There’s a cook-out and live music. It’s a lot of fun.” “Sounds great. I’ll remember to tell my guests all about it. The first ones arrive tomorrow,” I add. “Are you nervous?” “Yes!” I laugh. “I don’t know what to expect. I’ve been baking around the clock, I just hope everything is how they remember. I’ve got a lot to live up to.” “I’m sure they’ll have a great time,” Juliet reassures me. “And once they taste your cinnamon rolls, they’ll be too happy to complain about a thing.” “I hope so,” I smile. Juliet and Emerson have been the main benefactors of my baking kick: taste-testing to help me get the recipes just right. “I don’t want to let

Nana down.” “No way. I bet she’d get such a kick out of all this.” Juliet turns by the bar, and takes the external stairs to the apartment above the main building. She knocks lightly, but there’s no reply. “Carina?” she calls softly, opening the door and stepping inside. I follow her in, as a blonde woman emerges from the bedroom. “Shh!” she whispers, hugging Juliet. “I just put him down.” “This is my sister, Carina,” she introduces me. “This is Noelle, I was telling you about her.” “The baker of all the cakes!” Carina lights up. “Oh my God, I’ve been loving all these deliveries. Every time Jules comes over, she’s got some new delicious treat.” “Plus, I’m amazing company,” Juliet adds, laughing. “That too.” Carina hugs me. “How are you? Sorry about the mess. I wish I could blame little Sawyer, but it’s all Garrett. My husband,” she adds with an affectionate eye-roll. “Somehow, he manages to keep the bar spotless, but can’t bring himself to put away a shirt.” “Maybe because he hires someone to clean down there,” Juliet quips. “Oh yeah, that.” Carina gestures us over to the living area. It’s a cute apartment, bright and breezy. She moves some toys off the couch to make room for us. “Jules says you’re starting a business?”

“Carrying one on, really. The B&B at Rose Cottage,” I explain. “I’ve been redecorating, and now I’d love to get the word out. Nana never did any advertising.” “No problem!” Carina exclaims. “I have a ton of contacts at travel magazines from my old job. I can put together a press release, and send it out to the list. Do you have pictures?” I nod, pulling out my laptop. “And a website too.” “Perfect.” She smiles. “Leave it with me, magazines love the whole small-town charm thing,” she adds. “And with the grandmother angle, it’s perfect.” “Thanks so much,” I tell her gratefully. “I’m learning as I go, and anything you can do will be a big help.” A cry comes from the next room. Carina starts to rise, but Juliet leaps up. “I’ll go.” She exits into the bedroom, and reemerges a moment later with a baby in her arms. “You don’t want to miss all the gossip, do you?” she coos, rocking the bundle of swaddling. “You’ve missed your auntie Jules too much.” “You’re a natural.” Carina watches them fondly. She gives me a look, “I swear, sometimes she’s the only one who can get him to settle down.” “Are you and Emerson planning any?” I ask, curious. Juliet gives a coy little shrug. “Come on,” Carina laughs. “You know you want one.” “Maybe…” Juliet grins. “We haven’t really talked

about it yet. We decided to wait until after the restaurant was up and running, and we’d had some time to ourselves.” “Well, don’t wait too long. Sawyer needs a friend for playdates.” Carina leans over and kisses his head. “Thanks for taking him this afternoon.” She adds, already grabbing her purse. “I need some time alone.” “Any big plans?” I ask, as we say goodbye and head out. “Yes! I’m going to take a three-hour nap,” Carina says, smiling blissfuly. I laugh. “How about you?” “More work back at the house,” I say. And avoiding Ash, I add silently. Whenever I think about my hazy memories of propositioning him, I cringe. “And thanks again for helping out.” “Are you kidding? I love this stuff. I’ll make those calls and let you know,” Carina promises. “This is going to be fun!” She heads off in a different direction with a wave. Then I feel my phone buzz in my pocket with a new message; I lift it out to find the thing I’ve been secretly dreading all week now. A text from my mom. Can you pick up the food on your way over? Order’s at China Kitchen. I stop. I’ve been avoiding breaking the news, but now there’s no delaying it anymore—not with both my parents expecting me to dinner tonight, a few hundred

miles away. I brace myself, lift the phone to my ear, and dial. “Hey Mom,” I say, when she answers. “Did you get my message? I’m running behind. Just finished up at the hospital,” she says, sounding breathless and busy—her default setting. “I can’t make it tonight,” I tell her. “I’m…not in New York anymore. I quit. I moved down to Beachwood Bay to reopen the bed and breakfast.” It comes tumbling out in a rush. Better to rip off the band-aid than admit it all slowly, piece by piece. There’s silence. “Mom?” I ask at last, cringing. “I’m here.” Her voice is cool. “And when exactly did you make this life-altering decision?” “Last week.” I can sense her disapproval, coming at me in waves down the line, and I hate it. This is exactly why I put off calling for so long, to avoid just this moment. “It all just kind of…happened. You know I haven’t been happy at work,” I add hurriedly. “And then Harper told me should just leave if I didn’t want to be there… So I did. I left.” “And drove five states away?” Her voice rises. “Honestly, Noelle, what were you thinking? You need to come back right now. I’m sure we can fix it with work, and even so, one bad job is no reason to throw your life away here!” “What life?” I counter, trying to be strong. “Mom,

you know I don’t have one. I work, and work, and come home, and then work some more. My only friends are other lawyers, and I haven’t had a real date in years.” “Is this about a man?” her voice changes. “No!” I protest quickly, banishing thoughts of Ash from my mind. He’s not the reason I came here, and after my humiliating display the other night, he’s definitely not the reason I’m staying. “It’s about everything,” I try to explain. “I need a change, I don’t want to keep going through the motions. It feels like I’m sleepwalking through my own life.” “There are drugs for that,” Mom says crisply. “Therapies, too. Is this depression, do you think?” “No, I’m not depressed!” I exclaim. “I’m feeling better already than I have in months. I’m doing this, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I knew you’d be like this.” “Like what? I’m concerned for you, darling, I’m your mother. And now you tell me you’ve thrown everything away, and run off to the back of beyond…” I fade her out as she continues, telling me exactly what a terrible mistake I’ve made, and how there’s no future for me in a place like this. “Why do you think your father left for college and never looked back?” she finishes. “It’s a cute town for a vacation, but you’ll be bored out of your mind in a couple of weeks!” “It’s my life, Mom,” I say firmly. “And I’m doing

this. The first guests arrive tomorrow, and there’s lots to do. Give my love to Dad.” “Oh, don’t think this is the end of it.” Mom sounds furious. “We’ll talk after I’ve told the news to your father. He’ll be heartbroken, you know that.” “Bye, Mom.” I hang up, feeling an ache of guilt. For years, all I’ve wanted to do is make my parents proud. Live up to their shining achievements and be the accomplished daughter they always wanted. Now, I’m failing them in spectacular fashion. But I’m not failing myself, at least. I turn back and start walking again, towards the cottage. It fills me with a curious sense of pride and belonging to reach the front of the house, look up, and know that it’s mine: from the crumbling chimney up top, to the freshly-painted picket fence out front. I’ve never felt this way about a house: my parents moved us around the city every five years or so growing up, as they switched jobs and climbed their career ladders. I got to know a dozen different doormen, and navigated fresh subway routes across town, but I haven’t felt such a strong attachment to simple bricks and mortar before now. Home.



10. Two days later, and my new life has begun as the official proprietor of Rose Cottage Bed & Breakfast. “You’ve got everything you need?” I check with my first guests. “There’s a paperback library in the lounge and beach towels in the hall closet, along with some picnic chairs.” “We’re all set,” Mrs. Peterson reassures me. “We’ve done this so many years, we’ve got our routine down cold. Isn’t that right, Harold?” Her husband chuckles. “Ten summers now. Don’t you worry about us.” “Well, take some brownies for the beach.” I thrust a tupperware container at them, still anxious. “And just let me know if you want anything baked special for breakfast.” Mrs. Peterson laughs. “You’re going to spoil us, I can tell.” She takes the brownies and tucks them in her beach bag, then waves as they set off, ambling towards the beach. A friendly couple in their seventies, the Petersons have been dream guests so far: content to sit on their sun porch, drink tea, and take the occasional trip to the beach or town. The other guests have been just as easy to manage: the Keller family arrived complete with two rambunctious seven year-olds, and barely take the time to grab a plate of muffins from the breakfast table

before striking out for the day, their minivan loaded with beach toys and sporting goods. They return every night, the kids traipsing sand through the front door as they yawn and head for bed. I don’t want to jinx it so soon, but everything seems to be going to plan. The only problem is my appointment book is still half-empty. Carina promised to reach out to her PR contacts, but besides sending the website link to every travel blog I can think of, I’m not sure what to do to bring in more people. With my parents in full force to bring me back to New York, I need the B&B to be a success more than ever, if for no other reason than to prove them wrong. I’m invested now. I want so badly for this to work, to do Nana proud. The main line in the office rings, so I hurry through and pick up the phone. “Rose Cottage Bed and Breakfast, Noelle speaking,” I say brightly. “Wow, you sound so official!” Lexi’s voice comes. “Hey!” I exclaim happily. “How are you?” “Waiting for you to return my calls,” she complains. “I’ve left you like, five messages.” “I’m sorry! I’m avoiding everything from a New York number right now,” I admit. I take a seat at the desk, swiveling on the old chair. “My parents are on a major mission to tell me I’m screwing up my entire life.” “Yeah, about that…” Lexi sounds guilty. “They called me, wanting to recruit me.”

“Recruit you? For what?” “I think they’re planning an intervention.” I burst out laughing. “You’re kidding me!” “Nope. They called some of the other associates, too. And I think they’re trying to fly your sister and her family back over? Don’t say you heard it from me,” she adds quickly. “I mean, I think what you’re doing is crazy, but not like an actual mental break.” “I’m fine,” I reassure her. “Better than fine. You should come down for a visit,” I suggest, “stay the weekend, see the town. You’ll love it here, I promise. It’s so relaxing and fun. You’ll see, I’m doing the right thing.” “How about next year?” Lexi sighs. “I’d love to, babe, but Harper is still busting my balls. There’s no way I can get away from work.” “See, this is why I left! Do you know what I did on the weekend?” I ask her. “I spent the morning baking, then went to the beach, and read a book out on the back porch while the sun set.” Lexi groans enviously. “But aren’t you getting bored out of your mind?” she asks. “No adrenaline, no challenge?” “There’s challenge enough for me here,” I reassure her. “Besides, you know I never loved that lifestyle. You thrive off stress, but it always just made me break out in hives.” “Well… You don’t sound like you’re having a

breakdown,” she admits. “But if a strange man tries to bundle you in the back of a van, it’s your parents hiring some guy to de-program you.” I laugh, just as the other line lights up, flashing red on the switchboard. “There’s another call, I need to take it. But you really should come visit,” I add. “You need a break.” “I need a promotion,” Lexi corrects me, laughing. “But you take care, OK?” “Talk soon,” I promise, before hanging up and switching to the other line. “Hello?” I ask, forgetting my official “phone answering” script. There’s a pause. “Is this Rose Cottage?” a female voice asks, clipped and disapproving. “Yes, the bed and breakfast,” I hurriedly explain. “Noelle speaking, how may I help you?” “This is Bunny Vanderberg.” She announces it, like I’m supposed to know what that means. There’s a long pause. “Are you booked as a guest with us?” I ask, frantically flipping pages in the appointment book. I’m sure I would have remembered a name like that. “No. I’m with Classic Southern Travel,” she sounds even more miffed. “We have a last-minute opening in our next small-town issue, and I saw your press release. You are open, and available to guests, are you not?” “Yes, of course.” My mind races. Classic Southern Travel is a major magazine with the older, luxury travel

set. My mom has a subscription, and loves poring over all the classic Antebellum hotels they feature—if she ever got a day off. “We’d love to be featured. That would be amazing!” “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she sniffs. “Of course, I’ll need to tour the property, and make sure it lives up to our high standards.” “Of course,” I echo, eager. “When would you like to come? I can make room for you whenever suits.” “I’ll be in the area tomorrow,” she says. I pause. “So soon?” “Will that be a problem?” she demands. “Your release said you had just reopened. ‘The perfect small town experience,’” she quotes. “No problem!” I yelp. “We’re ready for you. I’ll prepare our best room. You won’t regret it,” I promise. “Hmmm. We’ll see about that.” She hangs up without another word, leaving my head spinning. A reviewer from a major magazine, arriving tomorrow? Suddenly, all the jobs I thought could wait come rushing back to haunt me. The broken roof tiles, the overgrown yard… Other guests might be happy with some fresh-baked goods, but Bunny Vanderberg sounds like she demands nothing but the best. What am I going to do? I quickly dial the number Juliet gave me for her contractor brother-in-law, Ryland, and explain my situation. “Sure, I’ll be right over,” he says. “I’ve got

some time today.” “Thank you!” I cry, relieved. “Whatever you can do will be a huge help.” Twenty minutes later, a tall, dark-haired man shows up on my doorstep with a toolbox—and some familiar faces in tow. “Juliet, Emerson!” I greet them, surprised. “And…” I stop. It’s the petite girl from the diner that day. Ash’s sister. “Tegan,” she reminds me, with a pixieish grin. “Ryland’s my better half, so when I heard you needed some help…” “Wow, thanks. You’re all being so nice and helpful, I can’t believe it.” I blink. “When I locked my keys in my apartment in New York, all my neighbors ignored me sitting in the hallway for hours.” “Well, we’re family here.” Juliet smiles. “Literally!” “So where do you want me?” Ryland asks. I show them the crumbling portion of the roof, and where I didn’t risk climbing to paint the trim. Soon, he and Emerson are up a ladder, hammering and painting, and all sorts besides. Ryland strips off his shirt and mops his brow. “Not bad, huh?” Tegan says, catching me looking. I blush. Between him and Emerson, there’s no shortage of muscles and dark-eyed charm. “Do you guys have something in the water here?” I ask, half-joking.

She and Juliet laugh. “We don’t complain. Anyway, what can we do to help?” Juliet turns to look at the house. “You don’t have to do that,” I protest. “We want to,” Tegan insists. “You need everything to be perfect for this Buffy woman.” “Bunny,” I correct her. “And if you really mean it…” We leave the men to their sweaty labor and head back inside. Juliet offers to go over the books for me, so I show her to the office files, then get to work with Tegan cleaning out the best room in the house. Nana and Kayla left everything spotless, but I don’t want to take any chances, so I strip the bed again and remake it with crisp new sheets, while Tegan polishes every surface in the room until it’s gleaming. “Ash never told me how you guys met,” Tegan says, pausing to push her choppy bangs back from her face. “It was a party, in New York,” I say vaguely. Just thinking about Ash makes me flush again: remembering my drunken paint-splattered proposition, and how he couldn’t run away fast enough. “My brother, at a party? That doesn’t sound like him.” Tegan giggles. “It was a charity fundraiser thing.” I pause, picturing him in that highway bandit mask, his dark eyes glittering under the city lights. “A masquerade.” “Fun!” Tegan squirts Windex at the mirror. “He’s so mysterious all the time, I don’t know anything about his

life. I never meet any of his friends. Or girlfriends.” She shoots me a sideways look. I focus on making perfect hospital corners. “What about you?” Tegan tries a different track. “Are you seeing anyone?” “Nope,” I reply, casual. “I never had the time.” “But you do now,” Tegan presses, still watching me. “That’s why you moved here, right? So you could relax, smell the roses, enjoy the life out of the rat race…” “How do you know all that?” I ask, surprised. She grins. “I’m very intuitive. And I got Juliet to spill,” she adds. I relax. “It’s true. Although I didn’t figure on Bunny Vanderberg showing up to cast judgment on the place quite so soon.” I stand back and study the room: perfect. “Should we do the other rooms, too?” I ask, worried. “She might go snooping around.” “Someone with a name like Bunny is definitely going to go snooping,” Tegan agrees. “Let’s play it safe.” We move on to the rest of the guest suites. Luckily, the Petersons and Kellers are all out for the day, so they’re not around for our whirlwind cleaning mission. I scrub the already-clean bathroom floors until they’re shining, and Tegan sets fresh-cut flowers in every room. We take a break, gulping icy lemonade in the kitchen. Tegan gets a text alert on her phone and checks it. Her face lights up. “Dex’s new single is in the Top Ten!”

“Dex?” “Brother number two, you met him the other day.” Tegan explains, quickly tapping out a text. “Tall, dark, tattoos. He’s in The Reckless.” “I’ve heard of them!” I exclaim. Even in my workobsessed bubble, I know that they’re a pretty major rock band. “That’s amazing.” “He pretends to be so over it,” Tegan smirks, “but I know he’s just itching to get that number one spot again.” “So it’s just the three of you?” I ask, curious to learn more about Ash’s past. “Four. The other one, Blake, is out in LA,” she explains. “But you’ve probably seen him glowering at you on a billboard somewhere. ‘Judgement Day is coming,’” she says dramatically. It takes me a moment to recognize the slogan from a big movie that’s just come out. There was a billboard right opposite my office, I would see him every day going into work. “Wow, your parents must be insufferable,” I laugh, “bragging to all their friends about their famous kids.” Tegan’s smile slips. “Actually, they passed away, about ten years ago,” she says quietly. My stomach drops. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—” I start to apologize, but she shakes her head. “It’s fine, really. You weren’t to know.” “Still, I feel terrible. I can’t believe Ash didn’t tell me.”

Tegan gives me a curious look. “When would he have done that?” She doesn’t know about our night together, so I quickly cover. “Oh, I’m sure we were talking about our family sometime, that’s all.” “He doesn’t like to talk about it.” Tegan shrugs. “It was hardest on him, I think. He had to take care of us all, keep a roof over our heads. Not exactly the ideal plan when you’re just out of school.” She gives me a reluctant smile, then checks her phone again. “I’m just going to call my friend Zoey. I’ll be right back!” She heads out to the yard, but I stay a moment, leaning against the kitchen counter, deep in thought. I can’t believe I didn’t know that about Ash, but somehow, it makes sense to me: the way he acts so serious, as if the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders. Because for the longest time, it was. What did he go through? I wonder, trying to imagine. But I can’t, I’ve always had my parents there; always known there was a safety net if I ever fell. Sure, they bring their own burden of expectation, but I never once doubted somebody would be there to help me out when things got rough. But for Ash, there had been no net, just three younger siblings, all depending on him. Is this what pushed him to be so successful, gave him that ambitious drive? There’s so much more than I realized, lurking beneath his polished surface. He likes to act like he has it

all together, the world running in perfect control. His family is grown now, and thriving, but still, Ash seems wound tight enough to break. Except for that night in the city, when he was totally fun-loving and relaxed. I sigh. It’s still all way too confusing. I don’t think I’m any closer to figuring him out. And he’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want me to try. The doorbell rings. “Just a minute,” I call, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans and going to open the door. I stop dead. Ash is standing on the doorstep. “Someone called about a wrench?” he says, holding up the tool. My mind goes blank. He’s dressed casually for a change: a plain black T-shirt and dark wash jeans that hug him just right. He’s even got some stubble on that strong jaw of his, and he looks sexy as hell. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since that drunken night, and I wonder if he can tell we’ve just been talking about him. Don’t be ridiculous. Say something! “I didn’t think I’d throw such a wrench in the works,” he adds, with a teasing smile. I blink. Relaxed, wise-cracking Ash was definitely not what I was expecting. “Wow, that fell flat,” Ash says wryly. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad.” “No, it was.” I recover the power of speech and

smile. “Maybe don’t quit for that stand-up career anytime soon.” “Damn, I was all set to take this show on the road.” Ash looks around. “I hear you’ve got a guest of honor coming.” I nod. “Classic Southern Travel.” He whistles. “That’s a big deal.” “Tell me about it!” My voice must reveal my panic, because he flashes me a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry, they love this kind of quaint folksy place. You’ll do great.” “Umm, thanks.” I pause, confused. This guy changes moods so quickly I could get whiplash. One minute he’s joking with me, the next, he can’t get away fast enough. As if remembering our last encounter, Ash’s smile turns awkward. “Listen, I’m sorry about the other day. I know I left in a hurry, I just didn’t think… Well, I didn’t want you doing anything you’d regret. What with the beer, and the head injury… I know you weren’t thinking straight.” Thought didn’t really come into it – try pure lust. I feel a flush just at the memory of how I threw myself at him. “Oh, don’t worry,” I reply breezily, trying to cover my embarrassment. “It happens all the time. Once I got a concussion, and nearly signed up for pole dancing classes.” “Really?” he quirks an eyebrow at me.

“What do you think?” I shoot back. He laughs. “I don’t know. You’re pretty unpredictable.” Our eyes lock, and for a split-second, I feel the heat surge between us. Then Ryland rounds the corner, hoisting a bucket of something. “You brought it?” he asks, seeing Ash. “Right here.” Ash holds up the wrench. “Great, we’re just up on the roof.” Ash gives me a quick smile. “Duty calls.” I pull myself together. “Thanks for coming,” I say. “You didn’t have to.” “It's the neighborly thing to do,” he quips, then heads around back – giving me a front-row seat of just how well his jeans fit. Suddenly, the day has gotten a whole lot more complicated. Even with Ash proving a constant distraction, I manage to keep it together for the rest of the day. The guys finish the roof work, and then we all pitch in doing a lightningfast revamp of the sprawling, overgrown yard: mowing the lawn, cleaning up the patio furniture, and tidying the borders. Even the Petersons help out when they get back from their afternoon walk: Harold turns out to have an eye for wildflowers, while Pamela insists on helping me weed the flower beds. “But you’re guests,” I protest. “You should be

enjoying yourselves!” “We are,” she chuckles, tugging on a pair of gardening gloves. “Besides, you don’t know the difference between an azalea and an aspidistra.” I pause weeding, glancing over to where Ash is revving up an ancient mower I found in the old shed. He works with crisp, precise movements; his body taut and capable. All afternoon, I’ve been painfully aware of his presence: chatting with the other guys, or teasing his little sister. He’s seemed relaxed, and perfectly at ease, but he still looks away fast whenever our eyes meet. “Quite the view,” Mrs. Peterson remarks. “Hmm?” I pretend I don’t know exactly what she’s talking about, and turn back to work. By the end of the day, I’ve never been so tired—or felt so grateful and blessed. “You guys…” I say, looking around at the spotless, lush yard. The house looks like something straight from a magazine, especially in the hazy rose light of dusk. “I can’t believe everyone helped out like this! I really don’t know what to say.” “Say you’ll buy the first round at Jimmy’s.” Juliet hugs me with a grin. “Done! Meet you there?” I ask. “I need to jump in the shower.” And have a moment to collect myself. The others head out, so I quickly clean up and pull on a pretty summer dress. I even pull back my hair and add a touch of lipgloss. Not because I want Ash to notice,

I tell myself. But because it’s summer. And I’m feeling good, and… Liar. I pop my head into the lounge to check on the Petersons, reading happily in front of the fireplace with their tea. “Can I get you guys anything?” “We’re all set,” Harold beams. “These scones are just perfection.” “Don’t you look nice,” Pam adds. “Hot date?” I blush. “Just a casual drink with everyone.” I quickly head out before they can quiz me anymore, but by the time I reach the bar, I’m surprised to find there are butterflies in my stomach. Ash says he doesn’t want anything to happen, but still, I can’t get him out of my mind. The chemistry between us was real. Is real. So why is he fighting this so hard? The bar is still empty when I arrive, and a clutter of friendly laughter and conversation greets me from the back alcove, where Ryland and Juliet are facing off in a pool game while the others watch. I pause a moment, happy. I’ve been in Beachwood Bay only a few days, but already it feels like I’m one of the gang. They’ve all been so welcoming, I can’t get over it. Tegan sees me, and waves me over. “What have I missed?” I ask, joining them. “Just a whole lot of trash-talk.” She grins. “Juliet is

kicking his ass.” “Never underestimate a woman,” Juliet crows, lining up a shot and sinking it perfectly. “Maybe I’m letting you win,” Ryland retorts with an easy smile. “Sure, let me win that ten bucks, if it makes you feel better.” Juliet sashays to make her next shot. “Beer?” A voice at my elbow makes me jump. It’s Ash, standing way too close, offering me a cold drink. “I don’t know, do you think it’s safe?” I answer, my heart beating faster. He smiles, and I swear I could forget my own name. “Just as long as you don’t go climbing any tall ladders.” I take the bottle, and gulp a long, cold sip. I need to cool down, and fast. “Thanks again for helping out,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I really appreciate it.” “Sure, it’s no problem.” Ash takes a sip of his own beer and leans against the wall beside me, watching the game. “You know, I’m surprised there aren’t more hotels or motels in town. It’s a great family destination.” “Nana always said it was the best-kept secret on the coast.” I smile. “She spent most of her life here. Dad was always trying to get her to move to the city, but she wouldn’t think of it.” “I guess there’s something about this town.” Ash looks around. “My family seem to have adopted it as their second home. First Dex, then Tegan…”

“Just wait, you’ll be next,” I grin. He chuckles. “I don’t know about that. My offices would probably fall into anarchy if I left them to their own devices.” “I can just imagine them now,” I tease him. “Taking lunch breaks away from their desks. Leaving the office at 6:00 p.m. Not working Sundays.” “Madness,” he agrees, his eyes flashing with mirth. Our eyes lock, and those butterflies return; a swooping beat of anticipation. That delicious connection, heat and bright glitter in my veins. “Look at you two, getting friendly.” Tegan appears beside us, looking pleased. “I figured you’d hit it off. Ash, you know Noelle is a lawyer, right?” “Yes, I knew that.” Ash looks at her indulgently. “Was, really,” I correct them. “I’m only licensed in the state of New York, so I guess all my skills are useless here.” “Still, you must be really smart to get through law school,” Tegan continues. She’s got a determined glint in her eye. “And ambitious too.” “Um, sure.” I’m not sure where she’s going with this. Tegan looks back and forth between us, smiling. “I told you about that cute Italian place we found down the coast, right, Ash? You should take Noelle, you guys would have fun.” “Tegan—” Ash tries to interrupt her, but Tegan talks over him.

“And don’t give me that bullshit about being too busy with work, because you’re on vacation here. And so is she, kind of. It’s perfect!” She looks at us expectantly, and I can’t help it: I feel my hopes rise too. Sure, a set-up is cheesy, but if it gets Ash to relax around me a little, I’ll take it. But he clearly doesn’t see it that way. “Drop it, Tegan.” He says, warning her. She rolls her eyes. “Come on, look at her.” Tegan displays her hands like a TV model showing off the big prize. “She’s awesome, you’re not too bad yourself. What’s the big deal with just—” “I said drop it!” Ash’s voice echoes; everyone turns to watch, but Ash doesn’t notice. “I’m not interested in taking her to dinner, or a movie, or any other place, OK?” Ash tells his sister sharply. “So in the future, just keep your ideas about my personal life to yourself!” Tegan gapes, shocked. There’s silence as his words sink in. Rejection slices deep through my chest. “I should go,” I say quietly. Ash turns. His eyes widen, like he’s realizing for the first time that I’m standing there. I heard everything. “Noelle—“ he starts, looking guilty. “I have a big day tomorrow.” I cut him off, forcing a bright smile. “I need to finish up at the house. Thanks again for your help, everyone!”

The group looks awkward as hell, and I don’t blame them after Ash’s outburst. Quickly, I grab my purse and hurry out of the bar, before anyone can say another word. I feel so humiliated. Our night together in New York was the best night of my life. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before, and I thought there was a possibility it could happen here too—the way he looks at me, the moments he actually lets his guard down and relaxes. But Ash couldn’t be clearer, he doesn’t want anything more to do with me, not romantically at least. And I’ve been too blind to take a hint. Not anymore.



11. Bunny Vanderberg’s BMW pulls up in front of Rose Cottage at 9:00 a.m. precisely. Our official check-in isn’t until the afternoon, but I had a feeling she’d be early; I’ve been up since five, going over every last inch of the house, making sure everything’s perfect. And reliving the painful humiliation of Ash’s public rejection. I shake off the hurt and take a deep breath, rushing to throw the door open before Bunny even has a chance to reach for the bell. “Welcome to Rose Cottage!” I beam brightly. Bunny stares back, unimpressed. She’s exactly the way I pictured her: an immaculate woman in her sixties, wearing caramel slacks and a Chanel jacket. Her silverblonde hair is perfectly styled in a sleek bob, and a diamond bracelet twinkles on her wrist as she points behind her. “My bags are in the car,” she says imperiously. “Of course. Would you like me to check you in first, or get them right away?” I offer. “Why, now of course.” She stares at me like I’m dumb. “And be careful, please. I don’t want any scuff marks.” My smile doesn’t slip an inch. “Sure thing.” I go retrieve her bags from the car and carefully haul

them inside. She’s standing in the lobby, sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?” she demands. I sniff. “That’s the cinnamon rolls,” I explain. “I bake them fresh, every morning. Just the way my grandmother always did.” I know I’m laying it on thick, but I’m nervous as hell, and Bunny isn’t giving anything away. I wait for her to say something, and finally she looks over. “Well? Are we going to stand around here all day, or will you show me to my room?” “Right this way. You’re in the honeysuckle suite,” I tell her cheerfully. “It has the most beautiful ocean views.” She makes a harumphing noise behind me, following me up the stairs and down the hall. I step inside and set the bags carefully on the floor at the foot of the antique four-poster bed. The linens are crisp and white, and I put the prettiest hand-stitched quilt over the covers. With the seashore paintings and fresh-cut flowers everywhere, the room looks beautiful. Bunny sneezes. “I’m allergic to pollen,” she snaps, sneezing again. “My nasal passages are ever so sensitive.” “Oh! I’m so sorry.” I grab the vases and whisk them outside. Strike Two. I brace myself before heading back in. “Your private bathroom is right here,” I point out, opening the door to the charming, blue-tiled room. “There are spare blankets in the chest, and we also have

a library of books downstairs; you’re free to borrow whatever you like.” I stand, waiting nervously as Bunny slowly tours the room. She runs a finger over the top of the dresser and examines it, then goes to the window. “You can see, the view can’t be beat!” I know I’m babbling, but this woman is impossible to read. She gazes out at the gorgeous bay, the window framed in honeysuckle and roses like a storybook, then turns back to me with a brisk nod. “It’ll do.” Do? I bite my tongue and keep smiling. “Would you like a tour of the rest of the property?” I ask. “We just finished breakfast, but there are plenty of fresh-baked pastries and muffins.” “No, thank you. I prefer to look around in my own time.” “Then you just let me know if you need anything.” I smile even wider. “I have maps and guides to the town, and I’m happy to direct you if there’s anything you feel like seeing.” “That will be fine.” Bunny actually makes a shooing gesture with her hand, dismissing me. I quickly retreat—carrying the offending flowers downstairs, and far away from her disapproving stare and delicate nasal passages. I can already tell, this is going to be a long day.

I hide out in the kitchen for the rest of the morning, stress-baking. Juliet calls to check on me, and I answer up to my elbows in flour. “Well, how’s it going?” “I honestly don’t know,” I whisper, peering out of the window. Bunny is nosing around the garden, writing Lord knows what in a little notebook. “Why are you whispering? Is she right there?” “No, but I feel like she can hear me. She has that look about her.” Juliet laughs. “Good luck. You’ll do great.” “I hope so. I don’t even want to think about what a bad review from her would do for my big plans for the B&B.” As I watch, Bunny picks her way across to my studio, and peers through the window. “So don’t. Think about it, I mean,” Juliet insists. “Focus on stuffing her face full of delicious cakes, she’ll soon forget the snooty attitude. Carbs make people happy.” “And Bunny looks like she hasn’t eaten bread since 1962,” I mutter, turning back to my mixing bowl. Juliet laughs again. Then she pauses, awkward. “Listen, about last night…” “What about last night?” I reply brightly. “You know, with Ash.” “Oh, that!” I fake a careless laugh. “Tegan was just winding him up. I didn’t take anything from it.” “Are you sure? Because I know he can be prickly, but

I’m sure he didn’t mean to, you know…” Juliet trails off. Insult me? Reject me? Make it clear he has zero interest in ever kissing me again? “Of course not,” I insist instead. “I don’t mind, I promise.” “OK, good.” Juliet seems satisfied. “Let me know when the evil Bunny leaves.” “Will do.” I hang up. “Are you quite finished?” Bunny’s imperious voice comes from right behind me. I yelp in surprise, spinning around. “Hi,” I gasp, frantically trying to think if she’s overheard me say anything. “What’s up?” “What’s up, is that I’m going in to town.” Bunny looks resigned. “You said there were local attractions…?” “Sure, let me get you the info.” I head out to the main lounge, to where I set up the old oak table set with tourist leaflets, flyers and maps. I take a few and pass them to Bunny. “The town is great to explore. You can check out the harbor, and there’s a historic lighthouse along the shore. If you want a great lunch spot, the diner is always a fun choice, or the seafood shack.” “Shack?” Bunny echoes, curling her lip. “It’s the real rustic flavor of the shore,” I explain, sounding like a tourist guide myself. She tucks the leaflets in her handbag. “When is happy

hour?” I stare back blankly. “Here, at the inn,” she explains. “Most establishments offer wine and cheese, an afternoon refreshment.” “And we do too!” I lie. “Afternoon tea is served at four. Fresh cake and cookies.” “You do like your cake.” Bunny looks me up and down, and I realize I’m still covered in flour. I smile so widely, my cheeks hurt. “It’s all part of the Rose Cottage charm.” “Very well, I suppose I’ll see you then.” Bunny turns to leave, then pauses. “Oh, I almost forgot. The faucet in my room is dripping. You’ll have it seen to before I return?” “Absolutely,” I vow. She sails out. I exhale in a whoosh, sinking back against the desk. Just think of the business, I remind myself. A good review would go a long way to reassuring my family that I’m not having a minor meltdown out here. I’m already ducking their calls, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold them off. If I can keep Bunny happy, then I’ll get the good review, and a flood of happy, paying guests will soon follow. But first, the dripping faucet. I head upstairs to her room and check the bathroom sink. It looks fine to me, but I wait, counting down. When I reach twenty seconds, there’s a tiny, almost-imperceptible drip. I tighten the

faucet all the way, but it doesn’t change: after a long silence, another tiny drip comes. Anyone else would ignore it, or not even notice at all, but clearly Bunny has a radar for the slightest imperfections. OK then. I go down to the shed and find a wrench sitting on the shelf by the door. Ash must have left it here yesterday after helping out. Ash. I sigh, memories flooding back. I can’t figure him out. One minute he’s being helpful and funny, the next, his shutters come down and he’s totally off-limits. Discovering what happened to his parents only makes me more intrigued—it takes such strength and determination to achieve what he has done. Perhaps if I’d only ever known the ice-cold version, I would be able to just take his word for it that he’s not interested and put him out of my mind. But the Ash I met first was charming and spontaneous, he swept me off my feet. So which one is the real Ash? Who is he hiding beneath those crisp suits—and which is all an act? I head back upstairs to fix the faucet. I tighten up the tap with the wrench, but I must have gone too far, because the dripping only gets worse. Damn. Bunny definitely won’t be happy now, so I yank even harder.

Something snaps, and then the faucet starts spurting cold water up into the air—and all over me. No! I grab a towel and bunch it over the busted faucet. It stops the flow, but the minute I take my hand away, water starts gushing out again. I panic. Bunny could be back at any moment, and a flooded room is the last thing I need. She’ll probably get right back in that BMW and never come back! I grab my phone from my pocket and quickly dial Ryland with one hand, pressing tight to the faucet with the other. It rings, and rings…and then goes to voicemail. Damn. I try Juliet, but it’s the same: no answer. What do I do now? I don’t know if there’s any plumber in town, and I can’t stand here forever! I try Tegan’s number. At last, someone picks up. “Hey!” I exclaim in relief. “I’ve got a plumbing emergency, do you know who I can call?” There’s a pause, then Ash’s voice replies. “Noelle?” My heart sinks. “Yes, it’s me. Is your sister around?” “Sorry, she and Ryland went into the city for the day, I guess she left her phone behind.” “Dammit,” I mutter. The towel in my hand is soaked through, and water is dripping down to the floor. “What’s wrong?” Ash asks. “I’ve got a busted faucet, it won’t stop running.”

“I’ll be right over.” “You don’t have to—” But the line is already dead. He’s hung up. I don’t have time to think about it, right now the only thing that matters is containing the disaster. I grab another towel to replace the soaked one, but still the water keeps gushing. By the time I hear someone hurry up the stairs, I’m soaked, and the floor is pooling with water. “Noelle?” Ash’s voice comes. “In here!” I call, desperate. He comes in and stops dead. “I don’t know what happened!” I exclaim. “I was trying to stop a drip, but then something broke, and I can’t make it stop.” “Let me look,” Ash strides over. I let go of the faucet —and water spurts out, straight into Ash’s face. He ducks back, and I clamp down on it again. “See? What can we do?” I ask, panicking. “Bunny will be back any minute!” Ash strips off his shirt, then grabs the wrench and kneels down beside me in the water, wrestling with the pipework at the base of the sink until the water shuts off. “Can you fix it?” I ask hopefully. “Do you know someone who can?” Ash suddenly straightens up. Water drips from his hair and his vest is soaked through, clinging to the planes of his broad, muscular chest. My heart stops.

“I got you all wet,” I whisper, feeling a flush of awareness. He’s standing close in the small bathroom. Too close. Ash stares back at me, his dark eyes unreadable. Then his gaze drifts lower, and the edges of his lips curl up in a grin. “You too.” I glance down. My tank top is soaked through, showing every outline of my lacy bra. I gulp, and quickly cross my arms over my chest. “I’m sorry,” Ash says suddenly. “About last night.” I gulp. “It’s fine,” I lie hurriedly, “you don’t have to —” “No, I do.” Ash cuts me off. A conflicted look crosses his handsome features. “I know I’m apologizing a lot, but didn’t mean what I said, not like that. It’s just, my sister. She has a way of pushing my buttons. She’s been nagging me about dating for years.” “She cares about you,” I say quietly. “She doesn’t know how to mind her own business,” Ash replies with a wry grin. “But, I was rude. It came out all wrong.” My pulse quickens. “So what did you mean?” I ask, almost afraid to hear his answer. Ash pauses for a long moment. His eyes stay locked on mine, and I swear I can see conflict burning there. Some kind of twisted regret. “If I was ever going to date someone…”

He stops, then suddenly looks away. “I think I can figure this out,” he says, sounding hurried. “Just give me a minute with the wrench.” I stand back, so frustrated I could scream. What was he about to say? And why the “if”? I don’t understand why he’s keeping me at arm’s length like this! Ash works on the pipe join a minute, then finally straightens up. “I think that’s fixed it. Let me turn the water back on.” I stand braced with another towel, but the faucet flows normally—and stops when he turns the tap. “Thank you!” I exclaim, overcome with relief. “Oh my God, you just saved my ass. Now, all I have to do is get this mess cleaned up, and hopefully Bunny will never know the difference.” I throw my arms around him in a hug without thinking. The heat is immediate; the feel of his body, damp and solid. Ash tenses against me, and then slowly relaxes. For a moment, our bodies are pressed together, so close I can feel his heart beating in his chest. I look up, into his eyes. Something flares between us, sharp and bright. His hands tighten on my waist, my head tilts up, and— The sound of a car on gravel filters up through the open window, enough to break through my daze. “Bunny!” I leap back. I check outside, and my worst fears are confirmed.

She’s getting out of her car, heading for the front door. The bathroom looks like a flood zone, with wet towels and water all over the floor. “Stall her!” I beg Ash. “Please, she can’t see it like this!” I throw the driest towel at him. He quickly mops his face and strips off his soaking vest before pulling on his dry shirt again. Any other time, the glimpse of his naked torso would be the only thing I cared about, but there’s too much riding on this magazine review. “Hurry!” I urge him, hearing the door open downstairs. “What do I say?” Ash protests. “Anything. Make rich people small talk!” I hiss, shoving him out of the door. I hear him head downstairs, and then his voice comes, ultra-polite. “You must be Miss Vanderberg. Ash Callahan, a pleasure to meet you.” I take a breath. Ash can be prickly, but I’ve seen him turn on the charm. It’ll buy me five minutes at least. I quickly mop up the rest of the water, until the bathroom is spotless. Then I shove the wet towels in a laundry hamper, and sneak downstairs. Ash has maneuvered Bunny into the lounge. Their voices drift out as I sneak past. “…I was just in Charleston, at the Marlborough.” “Oh yes. Charming property, but their breakfast leaves something to be desired.” “You know, I thought just the same thing!”

I dash for the laundry room and ditch the hamper. I shrug off my wet tank and bra, and root around in the clean washing until I find a fresh shirt. I pull back my hair, straighten up, and then stroll back in like nothing’s wrong. Bunny is sitting on the couch beside Ash, deep in conversation. “Oh, hello, Ms. Vanderberg.” I feign surprise. “I didn’t realize you were back. Your faucet is all fixed, by the way. No more drips.” “Oh, that’s fine.” Bunny waves away my concern, gazing at Ash with a besotted expression. “It’s no problem.” No problem? My mouth drops open. Ash catches my eye and makes a face as if to say, “zip it.” “Have you tried the afternoon tea here?” he asks smoothly. “I’m not even a guest, but I have to come.” “Well, I don’t usually indulge…” “Oh, come on.” Ash gives her a roguish smile. “With a figure like yours? I’m sure you can eat whatever you like.” Bunny giggles. Giggles! “Well, perhaps just a taste,” she simpers. Ash gets up, and offers her his hand. “How about we take it in the gardens? And you can tell me more about your fascinating career. I’ve always been so interested in

the hospitality trade…” He guides Bunny out, sending me a wink as they pass. I can’t believe it. Thanks to him, I might actually stand a chance of getting that good review. “Noelle?” His voice snaps me back. “Tea?” “Coming right up!” Ash and Bunny sit in the gardens for a full hour, working their way through an epic afternoon tea. Despite her initial protests, Bunny polishes off a plate of finger sandwiches, two slices of cake, and three of Nana’s blueberry scones. By the end of the day, she’s laughing uproariously along with Ash, regaling the both of us with stories from hotel review hell. “…And then the plumbing malfunctioned!” she chortles, wiping crumbs from her lips. “Water gushing everywhere. As if a proper establishment can get away with that kind of shoddy service. Can you imagine?” “No,” I answer faintly. “Not at all.” “Well,” she says, decisively. “This has been a most surprising afternoon, but I think it’s time for me to retire and take a little rest.” “So soon?” Ash looks disappointed. She chuckles knowingly, getting to her feet. “I’ve taken enough of your time. You’re too kind, indulging an old lady like me.” “Nonsense.” Ash smiles. “This has been fun.”

Bunny looks over to me. “Tea was delicious. Thank you.” “I…you’re welcome,” I offer faintly, stunned at the praise. “You’ve done a lovely job here. Very charming,” Bunny adds, before heading inside. I gape after her, trying to process what just happened. “Does this mean…she likes it?” “I’d say so.” Ash polishes off the last scone. I sag back in my seat, suddenly exhausted. “I can’t believe it. After everything that’s happened today…” “You pulled it off,” Ash grins at me. “Congratulations.” “You mean, you pulled it off,” I correct him. “If it hadn’t been for you…” I don’t want to even imagine the outcome. A flooded B&B, and a very angry Bunny, no doubt. “I don’t know how I can repay you,” I tell him fervently. “Thank you, really.” “Consider it my apology,” Ash says wryly. “For being such an iceberg.” I laugh. “Well, let me send you home with some pastries, at least.” “Not going to argue with that.” He helps me clear the dishes, then follows me through to the kitchen. I pull down a Tupperware container and start filling it from the trays on the table. He looks around and whistles. “How many people are you feeling here? I thought you just had a few

guests.” I make a face. “It turns out, I bake when I’m stressed.” “Then you should check your blood pressure, because this looks like trouble.” Ash smiles again. “When does Bunny leave?” “First thing in the morning, unless she decides to stay longer.” Panic grips me, I look at him in fear. “Oh God, what if she decides to stay longer?” “She won’t,” he reassures me. “She told me she has a lunch appointment in Charlotte tomorrow.” I sink back against the counter. “Wow, OK, good.” “You should do something to celebrate.” Ash glances away, almost looking shy. “My family is going out on the water tomorrow. You should come along. If you don’t have any plans,” he adds, awkward. I blink. Ash is asking me out? “Um, maybe,” I answer slowly, confused. Maybe he’s just being polite. “I’ll see, there might be stuff to do here, with the guests.” “Sure. Just call.” Ash gives an abrupt nod. “Or meet us down at the harbor. I think we’re heading out about noon. It should be fun.” Fun? I nod faintly, too stunned to do anything but pass him the Tupperware container of leftover scones and watch him leave. Just when I think I’ve got him figured out, he goes

and surprises me again. What the hell is he thinking?



12.

Ash. I drive back to Dex’s place, planning to get straight back to work. I interrupted a conference call with my New York team to go help Noelle, and my email in-box is spiraling out of control with every day I spend down here. But as I approach the turn-off, I find myself driving straight on, heading along the coastal road with no destination in mind. I can’t get her out of my head. From the moment I saw her in the bar here in Beachwood Bay, it’s felt like two parts of my life are colliding; now, everything’s shattering out of my control. She’s not supposed to be here. That night in the city was a mistake; an aberration. For a few brief hours, I allowed myself to fall—to feel —but it was never supposed to last. When I woke up on that rooftop to find her gone, my regret was quickly replaced with relief. Massive, overwhelming relief. Because if she’d stayed, if I’d felt her luscious body curled warm against me in the pale morning light, then she would have been real. What I’d felt for her, that blazing heat, the passion, it would have been real.

I would have had to walk away, but instead, she was gone. She spared me the cruel choice, and for that, I was grateful. At least, that’s what I thought. I went back to my normal, disciplined world. Logical. Cool-headed. I told myself that impulsive adventure would never happen again, threw myself into work to drown out the memories of her bright eyes and tempting smile. And then she walked into the bar and all my careful plans were decimated with just one touch. I grip the steering wheel tighter, feeling off balance and hating every minute of it. She’s dangerous. Unpredictable. And worse still, she makes me lose all rational thought the minute she comes around. How else can I explain the way I’ve been acting the past few days? Kissing her in the bar, blowing up at Tegan like that. I cut off an important business meeting to go running over to fix a leaky faucet, instead of simply sending a plumber out and focusing on the most important project of my career. But when I walked into that bathroom and saw her, soaked to the bone and frazzled as hell but laughing through it all, none of that mattered. I just wanted to be there, near her. No matter what the cost. I pull off the side of the road and park by the cliffs, looking out at the ocean. I don’t understand how she’s affecting me this way. I’ve had affairs before, even

thought myself in love, once upon a time, but no woman has ever consumed my mind—and body—like this before. She’s the opposite of everything I look for in a girlfriend: hot-headed where I want calm; impulsive where I coolly calculate risk. If she was a prospective business partner or employee, I would send her packing in an instant. There’s no room for a wild card like her in my life. My entire empire is built on assessing just what bets are worth making; the numbers that never lie. Black and white, data you can depend on. There’s nothing dependable about the way she makes me feel. Bold. Reckless. Wild. It’s an intoxicating rush, just being in the orbit of her whirlwind energy. The vivid pulse ricocheting from every smile, every touch. Like a ray of light and color bursting through the grey, making me question everything I’ve always believed in. Making me wonder what I’ve been running from for so long. I turn away from the ocean, trying to shake the memories of her branded into my brain. Straddling me on that rooftop in New York City; her dress falling down around her waist, her wild curls tangled, backlit by the halo of neon lights. She was temptation, plain and simple, and I let myself lose control. But I haven’t made it this far by giving in to every passing desire. My whole life has

been about responsibility; doing the right thing. The smart thing. Ever since that day my parents went out to the grocery store and never came back, there hasn’t been room for impulse or error in my world. Making it through business school, finding a job, keeping a roof over our heads—that’s what’s been driving me on. I had to build a safe life for me and my family, become successful and secure enough that nothing would ever hurt us again. But what now? The question taunts me, so I push it aside and take my wallet from my pocket. There’s a paper napkin folded inside, with a phone number scribbled in green eyeliner. Noelle’s number. She left it with me that night. Every day after, it was a battle not to call, but for some reason, I hung on to it— not willing to let the possibility of her slip away forever. Just like how I can’t keep away from her now. It’s crazy, all it takes is a single glance, an accidental touch. All I have to do is look at her, and that fever takes hold of me again. Today, it took everything I have not to peel that wet shirt from her body and shove her up against the wall. Relive the dark rush of possession I felt claiming her body, taste that tempting mouth, and all the sweetness I know is waiting there for me. She makes a madman of me, and that scares me half to death. I crumple the napkin in my hand, and in a single

motion, toss it from the window. It dances on the breeze, and in an instant, it’s whipped away. Big deal, a voice mocks me. You don’t need her number, you know where she lives. You can have her, any time you like. All I have to do is lose control. Lose myself again. What’s the worst that can happen? I angrily put the car in drive and speed away, but I can’t escape that simple question. What am I so scared of?



13.

Noelle. “Have a great trip, and drive safe!” I keep waving until Bunny’s car is around the corner and out of sight. Then I sit down on the front steps and let out a massive sigh of relief. It’s over. The night passed without any emergency, and Bunny even came down for breakfast with a smile on her face. She chatted with the Petersons, picked at her plate of eggs, and then hit the road to make it to her next appointment in time. As she was leaving, she told me that her review would run in the next issue, on newsstands next month. “I think you’ll be satisfied. I certainly have been,” she told me with a brisk nod before she drove away. Mission accomplished. I can’t believe it, that after all the drama of the past twenty-four hours, I’ve made it out alive. And I thought that my job in NYC was stressful! But Harper and his depositions are nothing compared to fixing pipes, scheduling guests, and launching this place as a successful B&B. For the first time, I really care about what I’m doing. To an outsider, Rose Cottage may not seem as important as a high-powered law career, but it is to me. I want so desperately for this place to work, for

me to live up to Nana’s legacy and do her work justice. To build a life here. A home. And a big part of that is the other people here in Beachwood Bay: my new friends who pitched in to help when I needed it most. I think again about Ash’s invitation. I’ve been deliberating over it all night, my brain ticking overtime in the dark of my moonlit studio, but now, in daylight, the answer seems obvious. Of course I want to go: to thank everyone, and celebrate Bunny’s visit. And see him again. I’ve got some time before they’re all meeting at the harbor, so I decide to whip up some thank-you cupcakes and picnic items. I go a little overboard, fixing a delicious pasta salad with fresh basil and peas from the garden and a dense focaccia bread packed with olives, onions, and hot peppers baked right into the dough. By the time I load up the car, there’s enough food to feed an army. There’s barely a moment for me to change into my bikini and a cute, breezy sundress before I have to go make the sail time. I drive through town, nervously glancing in the rearview mirror to check I don’t have flour dusted across my face. When I reach the docks, the group is easy to spot: unloading some coolers in the parking lot, along with beach bags and towels. “Noelle!” Tegan greets me with a wave as I pull in to park beside them. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Oh,” I look around for Ash, but he must not be here yet. “Is that OK? I’m sorry, I didn’t think—” “Don’t be silly, of course you’re welcome.” Her eyes land on the containers beside me in the passenger seat and light up. “Are those cupcakes?” Ryland appears beside her in an instant. “Did I hear someone say ‘cake’?” I laugh. “Do you have like a special radar or something?” I get out of the car, but he’s already gone around to help unload. He steals a cupcake from the carrier and bites down, smearing frosting across his chin. “Oh my God, you’re such a pig!” Tegan playfully hits him. “There’ll be none left for the rest of us.” “Don’t worry,” I say as I go open the trunk, “I went kind of overboard. I think I brought too much food.” “Impossible,” Tegan reassures me, taking a bag. “Trust me, my brothers eat more than you think is humanly possible.” “OK, good.” I follow her down to the gangway, where the boats are all moored. A dark-haired, tattooed guy who must be Dex is loading a cooler onto a yacht at the end of the row. It’s a beautiful white cruiser, and although I know nothing about boats, I can tell, this is a special one. “It’s beautiful,” I tell Tegan as she helps me aboard. There’s a main cabin, outfitted with leather seating and steps leading down below, plus a polished deck at the

nose of the boat, and more seating up on the second level. “One of the perks of having all these over-achievers in the family,” Tegan grins, shoving Dex good-naturally as she passes. “I get to enjoy all their manly macho toys.” “I heard that!” Dex protests. “This isn’t a toy, it’s a quality piece of machinery.” “Like your sports car and motorcycle?” Tegan teases him. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” “Toys,” she repeats. “Oh, wait, you’ve met Dex, right?” I give a little wave. “Hi.” “Welcome on board SS Chaos,” he replies cheerfully. “You better just hope we don’t capsize out there.” My eyes must have shown my fear, because Tegan laughs. “He’s kidding,” she tells me. “He’s a great captain. And we’re not going far, just around the bay to a private beach.” “Oh, OK.” I feel a rush of relief. Heights may be my number one fear, but drowning comes pretty close. The others come aboard and join us sitting up on deck. In addition to Ryland and Dex, there’s another local couple, Hunter and Brit, and a friendly red-haired woman who turns out to be Dex’s fiancée, Alicia. I study her, surprised to find someone so neat and preppy

engaged to the rock star. “Who wants beer?” Tegan asks, opening the cooler. “Me!” Alicia exclaims, holding out a hand. She takes the bottle and swallows a long gulp. “Planning this wedding is driving me crazy,” she sighs. “I never realized there were so many details. The cake, the flowers…” “At least the dress is taken care of,” Tegan points out. “Brit’s a designer,” she adds. “You should do what we did,” Brit smiles, leaning back against her husband. “Backyard wedding, no mess, no fuss.” “No chance for my mom to turn into a wedding planning monster,” Hunter adds. “Don’t tempt me,” Alicia says, rueful. “Dex says we should just elope.” “No!” Tegan cries. “You can’t. We all need to be there with you guys.” “I know, I’m just kidding,” Alicia reassures her. “It wouldn’t be the same without you all, and this town.” I sit back, content to let their conversation wash over me. Then I feel the motor engine start, and see Ryland on the dock, casting off the ties. “Wait,” I say, confused. “Where’s Ash?” “Oh, he’s on some business call.” Tegan sighs dramatically. “Big deal negotiations, or something like that. He says he’ll meet us there later, if he gets finished in time.”

My heart falls. I thought that he’d be here, that we’d have some time to talk. I try to hide my disappointment, but Tegan’s mouth quirks in a knowing smile. “You know, I think I’ll text him,” she says casually. “And let him know you made it. Who knows, maybe he’ll find he’s finished sooner than he thought?” She winks, and I have to turn away to hide my blush. “I’m going to go check the cupcakes are in the cooler,” I say quickly, getting up. “I don’t want the frosting to melt.” In a way, it’s a good thing that Ash didn’t join us. Without him there, I can simply enjoy myself, not nervously looking to see if he’s watching me; wondering what he’s thinking, or if he’s paying me any attention at all. I didn’t realize how on edge he makes me, that glitter of anticipation fizzing in my stomach at the smallest glance. Instead, I’m free to chat with the others; relaxing out in the sun on the top deck as we slowly cruise across the bay. It’s a perfect day: blue-skied and hot, and I soon strip off my tank and lay out in my bikini top, letting the stress and anxiety of the past weeks simply melt away. “This is the life,” Tegan yawns from beside me. I murmur in agreement, the sunlight bright even behind my dark shades. “Typical Ash, staying cooped up in the office instead of out having fun,” she adds. “I know he’s my brother,

but I swear, sometimes I just want to give him a good smack. He doesn’t know how to have fun.” “He does,” I find myself protesting. I sit up. “He can be fun when he wants, he just has a strong work ethic. That’s a good thing, that he’s got a drive to succeed, and is able to stick to it.” Tegan shakes her head. “Drive is one thing, but Ash has a total obsession with work. That’s why I was trying to fix you guys up,” she adds. “I thought maybe he could hold his calls for an evening for once in his life. But clearly, he’s got his head stuck up his ass too far to see what he’s missing out on,” she adds, raising one of my cupcakes to prove her point. I know that Ash hasn’t exactly made his intentions clear towards me, but I feel bad, listening to her criticize him like this. “He works because he’s got a lot of people depending on him,” I say quietly. “He always has. He wants to take care of you guys, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Tegan looks guilty. “I know he’s sacrificed a lot for us. It wasn’t fair, that he had to be the one to step up and keep everything together. But that was years ago. We can take care of ourselves now. Dex is multi-platinum, Blake’s off starring in movies. I have Ryland, we’re making a life together,” she adds. “I want that for Ash too. I want him to be happy, and settled, and…you know, free. He deserves that, after everything he’s done.”

She stops, then rolls her eyes, self-conscious. “I’m sorry, here I am blabbering all the Callahan family drama, and you’re here to have fun!” “It’s OK,” I tell her. “I know you care about him. But, Ash is the only one who can decide what’s important to him. You can’t force anything.” “I know,” Tegan sighs. “But wouldn’t life be so much easier if I could? I’m his sister, I know what’s best for him!” “I’m not so sure about that,” I laugh. “If my family got to call the shots about me, I would still be trapped up in one of those New York high-rises, working eightyhour weeks and miserable to the bone.” “OK, so maybe not,” Tegan agrees. “But it’s just so frustrating. He plays it so close to his chest, I never know what’s going on with him. For all I know, he could be having a dozen torrid affairs, or sitting in alone every night!” Tell me about it. I don’t let on anything to Tegan, but I know how she feels. Ash went out of his way to help me with the Bunny situation, he even invited me out today—and then didn’t show up. I’m long past trying to figure out what’s going on behind those dark eyes of his, but that doesn’t stop me wishing I could; that somehow, he would give me a sign of how he feels. Because what we had—what we have, when his guard is down, when there’s humor in his words and that devilishly tempting look on his gorgeous face—is too

good to just give up and walk away. And every time I swear that’s what I’m going to do, he gives me a glimpse of that other man hidden away inside, and it reels me back in all over again. It’s exhausting. Confounding. Frustrating as hell. My thoughts are interrupted as Alicia collapses beside us on the deck. “Stop me, someone please,” she says through a mouthful of cupcake. “I won’t fit into my dress if I keep eating like this. Where did you buy them?” “She made them,” Tegan tells her. “Noelle’s a genius in the kitchen!” Alicia’s eyes widen. “You did? They’re amazing!” “Thanks, but it’s all Nana.” I deflect the praise. “I just follow her recipes.” “No way,” Tegan argues. “I’ve had her cakes at the diner. She was good, but you’re even better.” “Well, thanks.” I flush. I’m used to getting compliments on my legal briefs, or arguments, but somehow this praise matters way more. “I’m getting the hang of it again. My kitchen in New York was like a glorified closet, it’s amazing just having the space at the B&B.” “Do you take orders?” Alicia asks, licking frosting from her fingers. “Because I’ve been tasting wedding bakers all week, and nothing measures up to these.” “You mean, make your wedding cake?” I blink,

stunned. “I don’t know, I’ve never done something like that.” “Do it!” Tegan claps her hands together. “And charge her a boatload too. Dex is picking up the tab,” she adds, mischievous. “He can afford it.” Alicia laughs. “Not so fast. I would pay though,” she adds to me. “And maybe we could even do cupcakes for the rehearsal dinner, and some other desserts for the buffet? If you were willing to help cater.” “Umm, sure,” I agree, quickly running the math in my head. All the repairs on Rose Cottage are adding up, and it would be great to earn some extra cash to offset my savings. “I’ll put together some ideas, and we can set up a tasting.” “Yes!” Alicia leans over and hugs me, gleeful. “You have no idea what a favor you’re doing me,” she adds. “One more thing I can tick off my list!” “I just hope I can come up with something good enough,” I say, already thinking of the flavor combinations. White chocolate and raspberry, maybe, with sugared rose petals on top… “Are you kidding? You could show up with another carton of these cupcakes, and I’d be over the moon.” Alicia beams. “I better go taste some more. For research!” We cruise for about an hour, until we drop anchor in the curve of a private bay. The yacht is some way out from

the deserted beach, so Alicia and Dex volunteer to row all our supplies to shore. There’s room in the boat, but I’m hot and sticky now from an hour in the sun, and the water looks invitingly blue, so I strip off the rest off my clothes and dive off the side of the yacht before I can think twice. I hit the water, cold slicing through me. I surface, spluttering. “It’s freezing!” Tegan laughs, paddling beside me. “But doesn’t it feel great?” It does. I lazily swim to shore, enjoying the pleasant ache in my limbs. I try to picture Lexi and the other associates at the law firm. What would I be doing now? Buried in the library, maybe. Or stealing a moment for dinner, eating takeout salad from a plastic box at my desk with a stack of briefs still left to work on. Even though I’m taking the biggest risk of my life here in Beachwood Bay, and I still can’t be sure if it will pay off, I don’t even feel an ounce of envy, remembering the life I left behind. Risk and all, this is way better. I kick harder, until my feet find sand and gravel. Then I wade in, clearing water from my eyes. “I should have guessed you’d be first in the water.” It’s Ash. Sitting on a blanket on the beach, watching as I emerge from the ocean. He’s resting back on his elbows, wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt that should be illegal for how good they look on him.

My pulse catches. “I nearly took the dinghy in,” I admit, trying not to be self-conscious about the fact I’m dripping wet, wearing nothing but a skimpy black bikini. Even a wetsuit would feel indecent under the blazing focus of his gaze. “Scared of the ocean, as well as heights?” Ash asks, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Sorry I wasn’t around to distract you this time.” In an instant, I flash back to our night together, and how he kissed me to distract me from our elevator ride to the top. That kiss could distract me from a nuclear bomb. “Well, you’re late to the party,” I manage to reply. I reach where he’s sitting and pick up a towel, drying off my face and hair. I feel his eyes on my body, feel that prickle of awareness shiver across my skin. It sets my heart racing, so instead of quickly wrapping the towel around my body, I take my time; leisurely drying each of my limbs in turn. When I finally look up at Ash, there’s a fierce lust in his eyes that takes my breath away. Oh. We stare at each other, the heat between us burning brighter than the afternoon summer ’s sun. Then a shout comes from further up the beach, where the others are unloading the dinghy. “Who’s up for a little touch football?” The moment is broken. I glance away, recovering.

“Sure,” Ash calls, getting to his feet. “But only if you’re ready to lose, big time.” He turns back to me, and his smile is quieter; more sincere. “I’m glad you made it,” he says softly, with meaning in his eyes. My heart beats, hard, and I feel a delicious shiver of anticipation. “Me too.”



14. We hang out on the beach all afternoon: playing touch football, swimming in the ocean, and lazing in the hot summer ’s sun. As evening draws in, the guys build a bonfire, and we cook hot dogs over the coals, eating with our fingers off paper plates and toasting marshmallows on spindly branches. “I should have guessed you’d be the queen of s’mores.” Ash settles beside me in front of the fire. “A girl’s got to have some skills in life.” I slide my melty marshmallow onto a graham cracker, top it with a square of chocolate, and sandwich the whole delicious mess closed. I bite down, and melted marshmallow oozes out onto my fingers. “Yum.” “Here.” Ash grabs a blanket from nearby and drapes it carefully around my shoulders. “You look cold.” “Thanks.” I pull it in closer. “I forgot to bring a sweater.” “But you did remember three types of scones,” Ash points out, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Exactly. My priorities are just fine.” I take another bite of my s’more. I know I’m smearing chocolate around my mouth, but it’s worth it, just to see the look in Ash’s eyes when I lick it off. Suddenly, it feels like we’re completely alone. I sneak a glance around the fire pit. Everyone else

has paired off, in their own private couple worlds. Nobody gives Ash and I another glance, sitting over here in the dusk light. Ash leans towards the fire to prod at the embers. When he sits back again, he’s shifted closer to me, so the side of his torso is resting lightly against mine. My breath catches. Did he mean to, I wonder, or was it just an accident? “Did you have fun today?” he asks. I nod. “You have a great family.” His smile turns proud. “They’re not so bad.” “Tegan told me, about your parents.” I say softly. It feels wrong knowing something so intimate about Ash without him realizing. He looks over at me, the shadows playing on his face. “I’m sorry,” I say simply. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you. Even now.” He nods slowly. “The truth is, I don’t think about it. Not as much as I should, anyway.” Ash traces circles in the sand between us. “Ironic, I suppose. I spent so long doing everything I could to block it out, to just focus on what needed to be done. And now… Now I’m so used to not thinking about them, I have to try to even remember.” I feel an ache, just watching him. “You did what you had to do,” I say gently. He gives a sharp shrug, like he’s trying to brush off

the conversation. “What about you?” Ash looks over at me. “How are your folks taking this change?” “Not good,” I pause, but he clearly wants to change the subject, so I continue. “I wish I could make them believe I’m happier here, right now, but they’re so fixated on what it means to be successful, they won’t accept I just don’t want that life.” “You think they’ll come around?” “I hope so. Maybe when I get the business up and running, they’ll respect my decision more. But I can see it from their side too,” I add, not wanting to pile on. “I mean, to go from a big law career to baking cinnamon rolls in the space of a month…” “It’s a big change,” Ash chuckles. “Even if they’re damn fine cinnamon rolls.” We fall silent for a moment. I stare into the fire, feeling the heat of his body beside me as Ash plays with the sand. He picks up handfuls and lets it run slowly through his fingers. I watch, distracted, imagining the sensual feel of those fingers on my skin. “Why didn’t you call?” I find myself asking out of nowhere. The minute the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back, but it’s too late, so I press on, my heart in my throat. “After that night. You said, we would have dinner, and then you never called. I left you my number.” “I know.” Ash’s voice is heavy. “I thought about it. I came close to dialing, every day.”

I turn, confused. “So what stopped you?” He said it was a mistake, what happened between us. A lapse in judgement. But I can’t believe that, not looking at him now. Not with the warmth in his eyes, the heat in his dark, liquid stare. Ash exhales. “I can’t,” he says regretfully. “I can’t be that guy you want. Spontaneous and thrill-seeking. I know I made you believe it’s who I really am, but that night, it wasn’t me. I was playing pretend with you, and it wouldn’t have been fair to keep pretending.” He looks away, shadowed in the dim light. He clearly believes every word he’s just said, but I don’t buy it for a second. Maybe he’s told himself it was all an act, but I know he couldn’t have faked the connection between us; the fevered kisses and breathless, raw passion. He’s trapped himself in a rigid world of rules and rationality, but his heart is capable of so much more. Those walls are cracking, I can see it, even now. I want to tear them down completely. I want to show him the night we spent together wasn’t a lie. It was the truest thing I’ve ever known. I feel a rush of reckless courage. “Take me home?” I ask softly. Ash glances over, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. “Noelle…” “You approached me at the party. You kissed me in

the bar.” My voice is quiet but firm, even as my heart beats so loudly I swear he can hear it thunder in my chest. “You can tell yourself it’s all a mistake, that you were just playing pretend, but it’s a mistake you keep making.” I force myself to move my hand, just a few inches, so my fingers are overlapping his in the sand. “I don’t want to fight this,” I hold his gaze, even though I’m nervous inside. “I’m finished with doing what I’m supposed to, what I think is the sensible thing. We both know there’s something real here between us. So now it’s your turn to choose.” I slowly turn his hand over, and trace my thumb against his palm. Ash’s eyes flare at the intimate touch, I see his jaw tighten with control. “Are you going to keep lying to yourself, or will you trust your instincts?” I ask, adrenaline racing through my system. “Trust in what you want?” The moment stretches, unspoken between us. Heat shimmers, bright as the firelight, but I can see the battle in his eyes holding him back, all the calm, logical reasons racing through his mind. Ash pulls his hand away and stands up. My heart sinks. He doesn’t have the heart for it, not enough to take the risk. I stare into the fire, clenching my teeth to keep the tears from stinging at the corner of my eyes. Then I see a hand extended. Ash, offering to help me

to my feet. To leave with him. I take it, unsteady, and get up. I’m still unsure, but when he looks at me, possessive, my last insecurities melt away. He’s decided. “We’re going to make a move,” Ash says loudly to the others. “I have work to do, and Noelle needs to get back to the B&B.” We say our goodbyes, then Ash walks me back to his car. He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide in, the leather cool against my bare legs. I wrap my arms around myself, my pulse skittering faster as Ash gets in and starts the ignition. Anticipation shivers through me as we drive back along the winding coastal road. Ash doesn’t say a word, he stares straight ahead at the darkening streets; his profile strong and proud in the dim light. My mind races; my body prickles with awareness. I can’t believe I was so bold, inviting him back. What have I started here? And just how far will we go before the end? Before I have time to figure out the answers, Ash pulls into the drive at Rose Cottage. I get out, trying to think of what to say next, but Ash doesn’t seem unsettled by the silence, he just follows me to the front door, and inside the house. Every second that passes, the tension between us

builds. I look around. It’s silent and still. “Everyone must be in bed,” I babble, trying to keep my voice down. “The Keller family leaves tomorrow, and the Petersons are here another week.” Ash just nods. I can feel his eyes on me, the unspoken anticipation in the air. I gulp a breath, wondering how he can unsettle me so much just by standing in the same room. Part of me wants to just cut through the tension, grab him and pull him down in another world-stopping kiss, but just as I’m debating throwing all restraint out the window, I remember something. “The bread!” I exclaim. Ash looks startled. “For breakfast tomorrow. I have to make the dough, so it can raise overnight. It won’t take me a minute,” I apologize, hurrying through to the kitchen. Ash follows, and leans against the counter, watching as I assemble the flour, yeast, and other ingredients. “You don’t need a recipe?” he asks, as I get to work. I smile. “This one, I know by heart. Nana would be up baking every morning. She was a little more prepared than me,” I add, rueful. I quickly measure out flour and water, and sift into the ancient stand mixer that takes up half the countertop. I set the machine to mix, and soon the dough takes shape in sticky ribbons; while it works its magic, I collect another assortment of ingredients:

walnuts and cranberries, a bar of white chocolate, and some savory things too. For a moment, I’m totally absorbed in the task at hand. I tip the dough from the mixer into a pool of flour, and work it by hand until it’s light and springy. I’m just dividing it between the pans when I feel Ash move behind me. He brushes my hair to one side; then comes the hot kiss of his lips on the back of my neck. I shiver and sink back against him. His mouth trails lightly over the hollow of my neck, whisper soft. My body crackles to life, every nerve and sense lighting up like the night sky on the Fourth of July. My hands still, I’m too lost to focus, but Ash’s voice comes, a low whisper in my ear. “Don’t stop,” he murmurs, trailing his fingertips lightly down my arms, making my skin prickle sharply. “The sooner you’re done here, the sooner I can take you to bed.” He bites down softly on my earlobe, making me moan as his hands smooth around to the front of my body. He strokes softly across my breasts, making my nipples stiffen beneath my thin cotton tank. Slow and sure, his hands don’t stop, they just caress me, insistent, swooping down across my stomach and along the waistband of my cutoffs until my legs give way and I sink back, resting my head against his chest. My body is on fire. Every touch, every whisper. I couldn’t focus to save my life, all I can do is feel the

waves of sensation roll across my skin, intoxicating. “Ash…” I whisper, falling into the blissful haze. He strokes back up, teasing and toying with my nipples through the fabric until I’m gasping for more. “God, you’re beautiful.” Ash’s voice is thick with lust. “You don’t know what you do to me, Noelle. You make me come undone.” I turn then, looping my arms up around his neck and pulling his mouth down to cover mine. I kiss him hungrily, desperately, already wound so tight I could break. He pushes me back against the counter, biting down gently on my lower lip, and then sliding his tongue deep into my mouth to claim me for good. I surrender willingly, parting my lips wider to savor the smoky sweet taste of him, our tongues locked in an achingly sensual dance. It’s not enough, nothing could ever be enough to sate this need, clawing low in my belly and racing quicksilver in my veins. I arch up, clutching at his shirt, trying to drag him even closer. I want him, want every inch of him molded to me, until there’s nothing between us anymore. Ash breaks the kiss suddenly; gripping my ass and lifting me onto the counter. He yanks me closer, until my legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s cradled against the molten heart of me. As he claims my lips again, I can feel him, hard against me, and the knowledge only makes me hotter. I grind against him,

and he lets out a ragged groan into my mouth. God, I want him. I rake my nails down the back of his shirt, then yank it off over his head in one motion. Now I can feel him, feel the broad muscular planes of his body. I run my hands over his back and chest, loving the feel of his skin. Ash pulls away; his eyes are dark with lust. “Your turn,” he growls, and I obediently lift my arms above my head for him to pull off my tank. But Ash doesn’t lift it all the way, he twists the fabric around my wrists, trapping my hands together. My pulse kicks. He tips me back until I’m lying flat, spread on the counter with my hands still pinned above my head. Ash grazes his mouth back down my neck and across my chest, teasing at the edge of my bikini top. I moan, trying to press myself against his mouth, but he eases back, barely licking across my damp, needy skin. I writhe, but he keeps my bound hands in place, trapped beneath him as his mouth lazily roams over my body. I have no choice but to lie back and let him work his wicked magic, licking down my stomach until his breath is hot against the waistband of my shorts. Ash unfastens them and tugs them off me, leaving me splayed here on the kitchen counter in nothing but my bikini. A thought pops into my head, and I can’t help but giggle.

“What?” Ash looks up. I smile. “I was just thinking, I bet Nana never did this in her kitchen.” Ash winks. “You never know.” “Eww!” I laugh, until he pushes my legs apart and bites down gently on the inside of my knee, and then there’s no room for anything but the fierce heat rising, coiling tighter inside. Ash kisses his way up the inside of my thigh, and every touch makes my body tremble with reckless anticipation. Still, he makes me wait, hooking his thumbs under the sides of my bikini briefs and stroking across the delicate skin of my hips as he drops a dozen tiny kisses over the fabric. I gasp for air, totally lost to the moment. Every passing second is torture as Ash whispers his hot breath over me, tantalizingly close. I’m aching for him, needing him, and when he finally pushes my bikini aside and licks up against me in a long delicious swoop, I can’t stop myself from moaning aloud in pleasure. “Ash,” I groan, arching up to meet his mouth. He answers by yanking my briefs off, and settling between my thighs again; his fingers gripping my thighs as he lowers his mouth onto me and my world spirals out of control. Hot and wet, slow and achingly good. He laps at me, relentless, swirling his tongue over my tender clit until I’m crying out with desperate need. The pleasure is

twisting tighter, cresting higher, but it’s still not enough. “Ash,” I gasp again, but there’s a begging edge to my voice. “Please…” He lifts his head, his dark eyes glittering with lust. “What do you want, baby?” he asks, lazily stroking my clit, his fingers delving down lower to tease at my wetness. “You.” I fight to keep sane, to keep from breaking down completely. But fuck, I need him so much, like nothing in the world before. “Me?” He asks slowly, sliding one finger inside me. I arch up, lifting my hips into him. “You,” I gasp, clenching tight. “More.” “Like this?” He thrusts another finger inside, and God, it feels so good. Filling me, stretching me. He beckons, curling his fingers up against my walls, just right. I answer with a whimper of pleasure, but he pulls back. My frustration builds, but he just smiles, a dark angel in the dim light, so controlled. Out of reach. He’s still holding back, I realize through the rush of pleasure. He thinks he can contain this, stay removed and on the edge of this whirlwind. I need to prove him wrong. My wrists are bound lightly, and it’s easy for me to tug off my tank top completely and sit up, reaching for him. I kiss him deeply, tasting myself on his tongue as I reach for his jeans and yank them open impatiently.

“Easy there,” Ash groans, trying to grab my wrists again—to control the pace—but I close my fist around him, hard and hot, and he shudders, his hands dropping to the counter to brace himself against my teasing caress. God, he feels so good. I watch his face change as I stroke along his rigid length, loving the way his controlled expression slowly shatters, until he’s breathing fast, his eyes locked on mine with a ravenous stare. The moment shimmers between us, electric, but I need more. I need him to lose control completely. To feel even a fraction of this chaotic passion that surges through my body. I lean in, as if to kiss him, then bite down on his lower lip, meeting his eyes with a wicked challenge. Ash’s eyes flare, and then his control is lost forever. He grabs me, claiming my mouth in a hard, demanding kiss that obliterates everything in the universe but this: his hands, his mouth, the heat that surges like a firestorm in the night. His hands roam over my body, yanking me closer as he shoves his jeans aside. I barely have time to wrap my thighs around him before I feel him against me, where I need him the most. He thrusts into me in one glorious, thick stroke. I gasp, gripping his shoulders tightly as he moves inside me, all the way to the hilt. God, so deep. Ash groans into my mouth, pistoning his hips in a maddening rhythm. I grind back against him, loving

every inch of his invasion, and then he’s lifting me, his hands tight on my ass as he turns and slams me up against the nearest solid surface. The cold of the refrigerator door hits my back just as he surges deep inside me, and I cry out from the overwhelming sensations flooding my body, consuming every sense. It’s mindless; madness, the fever of touch and taste and God, the thick drive of him, rubbing up high inside me, hard and deep. I cling on, meeting every thrust until Ash takes us both down to the floor. I roll us before he can pin me down, straddling him on top. I sink down on him hard, riding him relentlessly, pushing us both to the edge. He clutches my hips, thrusting into me with every beat, our eyes locked so I can see the aching lust in his expression, those dark eyes alive with something reckless. Something real. This, this is what I wanted. Right here, beyond logic or reason. Nothing but friction and heat and hunger, everything else long since melted away. The wild passion that grips us both now, hurtling closer to the edge of oblivion with every damp thrust and desperate kiss. I’m close, so close to falling completely. I arch my back, rocking my hips to meet him as Ash drives up deep inside. His hands are on me, gripping me tight, so good. Again, again, God I’m ready, but just as the deep shiver starts to coil around the base of my spine, Ash

rears up, tumbling me beneath him. With a deep groan, he slams into me, and the force is so good, so right, I shatter with a scream. He pistons hard, over and over, riding out the breaking wave until I’m mindless with pleasure and he finally he lets out a ragged cry and surrenders to the epic climax that seizes us both; an obliterating, all-consuming ecstasy that wracks my body and consumes my soul, until there’s nothing left in the world but him. Only him.



15.

Ash. We lie there in a tangle of limbs on the kitchen floor, until I feel Noelle’s breathing settle beside me. She’s asleep. I get to my feet, and then gently carry her out to her studio bedroom; I lay her naked body on the bed and wrap her up in a blanket I find thrown over the chair. She lets out a breathy sigh in her sleep, snuggling into the covers. She looks so beautiful, her hair tangling on the pillows, a smudge of flour still on her cheek. She’s sleeping peacefully, a world away from the reckless, wild woman branded into my memory; straddling me in the darkness, her back arched above me, her eyes falling shut in the grip of ecstasy. A pleasure that consumed us both, in the end. I let go with her, completely. She gave me no other choice. And sitting here beside her, watching the moonlight dance across her pale skin, I wonder, why have I been fighting this for so long? Because you know, this passion will wreck all your plans, a voice reminds me. Make you stupid in the grip of lust—stupid, and reckless, and destined to fail. Noelle stretches in her sleep, reaching for me. Emotion slices deep in my chest, and I can’t stop myself from lying down beside her, spooning her body against

mine so that every inch of warmth and sweetness is cradled tightly in my arms. She’s dangerous. She’s perfect. Too damn good. It’s never been like this before. I’ve never been tempted so much—or given in to the chaos of lust. Given up control. So what the hell do I do now? The last time I let myself feel anything for a woman, it was back before all this began. My college girlfriend, I thought I was in love with her, that we were building a future together, but when tragedy struck and I suddenly found myself responsible for three younger siblings, she bailed. Cut loose and left me without a second glance. It hurt like hell, on top of everything else that was happening. I thought she was the one person I could depend on to see me through that terrible time, and instead, she only twisted the knife of grief even deeper. I learned back then, I can’t depend on anyone but myself. All those people talking about compromise, how relationships demand give and take, they have it wrong. Because even if you compromise your ambitions, bend over backwards to make the other person happy, that still won’t stop you breaking apart in the end. Compromise won’t keep a person who wants to walk away. They’ll leave, regardless, and then you’re left with nothing but regrets about the choices you could have made, the opportunities you turned down.

Better to always be rational, logical. To make decisions based on the business sense, instead of getting corrupted by fleeting emotions or even more tenuous desire. But where does that leave me now: watching Noelle as she sleeps, feeling this fierce possession as if nothing could ever take her away from me? I’ve tried so hard to resist her, but even I can see that the data doesn’t lie. All the evidence says I can’t control myself when she’s around. She’s my undoing. My one vice. The ultimate weakness. The only thing I can do is pray to God she doesn’t destroy me—and everything I’ve worked so hard to build. Noelle mutters something in her sleep, then rolls over, burying her head against my chest. I hug her tighter, stroking her hair, listening to the ocean waves roll rhythmically to the shore as a new storm of conflict rages in my mind. Maybe nothing else has to change. The idea is just as tempting as the woman curled in my arms. If I can keep this passion contained, and make the rules clear, then perhaps I can make it through with my dignity and career intact. Noelle knows the pressures of my job, she understands the responsibilities I’m dealing with. Our relationship doesn’t have to impact any of that at all. I can keep my personal life out of my

business world, no problem. Work in New York; weekends or vacations here with her in Beachwood Bay. I can be disciplined about it, and make sure that nothing slips. Contained. Controlled. Safe. I drop a kiss on her bare shoulder, and finally relax. As sleep takes me over, I hold her close, and tell myself again: nothing has to change.



16.

Noelle. I wake feeling like it’s the first day of summer: that sleepy, sun-warmed haze you have knowing there’s nothing but beach days and BBQs ahead. Then I roll over and find myself snuggling against something solid and warm. Ash. I jolt awake as memories come flooding back to me. The taste of his skin, the deliberate caress of those masterful hands. The feel of him, so perfect. The wild rush of it all, electric in the night, pushing everything aside to feast on each other with total abandon. Pushing everything aside… Breakfast! It’s already after nine. I can’t believe I slept so long! I quickly slip out of bed and grab some clean underwear and Ash’s shirt from the floor. I leave him sleeping and let myself out, hurrying barefoot across the dew-damp grass to the main house. I let myself in the back door, and barrel down the hall— “Good morning, dear.” I stop dead in the dining room doorway. The room is full: the Petersons are sitting by the window, and the Kellers are trying to keep their boys from smearing

sunscreen over everything. “Did you have a nice night?” Harold asks, with a twinkle in his eye. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror over the mantle: the rumpled shirt barely covering my ass, and my tangled bed-head hair. My cheeks burn hot. Oh my God! “Umm, sorry I wasn’t up earlier,” I mumble. “I’ll get breakfast out right away!” “No need, dear,” Nancy says, smiling. “We found plenty of scones and breads in the kitchen. And Harold is quite a whizz with the eggs, isn’t that right?” she asks the Keller boys. They answer in a chorus of approval, but I feel terrible for sleeping in. “You go get yourself together,” Nancy winks. “And take your time. We’ll be just fine right here.” I slink away, feeling like I just got busted by my parents with a boy in my room. “What’s wrong?” Ash is awake when I step back into the studio; checking his phone in bed. “They all saw me!” I cry, throwing myself face-down beside him. “They all know…you know. That I had someone over!” He chuckles, reaching to stroke my hair. “Is that so bad?” “Yes!” I sit up again, still totally embarrassed. “I’m trying to be professional, and my guests see me like this? What must they think of me now?”

“That you have great legs?” Ash smirks. I catch my breath. He looks so damn sexy right now, his naked torso draped in the bedding, morning-after stubble on his jaw. Maybe the humiliation is worth it. “Hey,” I murmur, remembering just how we wound up like this. Ash. In my bed. Naked. “Hey,” Ash echoes. He leans in and kisses me, a slow, deep, morning-after kind of kiss. And just like that, my embarrassment melts away, replaced with desire and joy and excitement, mingling hot in my veins. I sink into the kiss. Ash tugs me closer so I’m curled in his lap, and I slide my arms up around his neck, savoring the feel of his body against mine. This isn’t fevered and wild like last night; no, this is a leisurely heat, simmering between us in the morning sun. Bliss. I sigh with pleasure as his hands move over my body: stroking my hair, sliding down over my back, sending ripples of warmth right through me with every touch. His fingers tease at the hem of the shirt I’m wearing, gently whispering against my bare legs and creeping higher, until I’m wriggling with anticipation. Ash chuckles against my mouth. “Ticklish?” he murmurs, tracing circles on the inside of my thigh. I catch my breath. “Maybe a little,” I whisper, moving to explore the line of his jaw with a trail of teasing kisses.

“Hmmm…” Ash’s touch strays higher. “How about…here…?” His fingers slide under my panties, warm and slow. I exhale in a shudder, my eyes falling shut as he strokes in gentle circles, igniting the flames. “Yes,” I whisper against him, my body turning liquid. “Don’t stop.” Ash shifts me on his lap so I’m sprawled against him, my back to his chest. I lie back, surrendering completely to the feel of him; his fingers buried between my thighs, stroking me with a slow, delicious pace. His stubble rasps against my cheek as he kisses my neck; his free hand roaming softly over my body. He opens the shirt buttons one by one, reaching to cup my breasts in turn and gently tease my nipples into two aching peaks. God, he’s incredible. I want to stay, suspended in this dream-like haze of pleasure, but already, my desire is coiling tighter, needing release. “Open your eyes,” Ash orders me softly. I look up—and find myself staring at our reflection in the dressing table mirror across the room. Damn, that’s even hotter: the sight of us here in bed together, my body splayed across his lap. Wanton and undone. Ash’s eyes lock on mine in the glass, and I can see the fierce heat in his gaze. He pulls my shirt open, baring my body completely. This time, his eyes don’t leave mine as he strokes and squeezes at my breasts, displaying them to me. His other hand slides deeper beneath my panties, his fingertips

teasing at my slick desire. Heat pulses through me. I’m transfixed, totally caught in his dark, knowing stare and the wicked sight of us together. He’s teasing me, controlling me, but I don’t care. All that matters in the feel of his hands on my body, and that incredible pleasure rising higher; burning brighter inside me, ready to combust. He strokes me in a mindless rhythm, refusing to speed the pace. I whimper, writhing back against his lap —and the hardness pressing against me—but Ash just locks his arms tighter, trapping me in place. I can see it in his eyes, the heat, the intensity. Pleasure shudders through my body, hotter still. I’m bucking against him, desperate for more of his wicked touch, the hypnotic slide of his fingers against me. “Please,” I gasp, “Ash, I’m so close.” Ash dips his head and kisses my neck in a whisper of sensation. He’s everywhere, his arms, his touch, his body. I’m drowning in the heat of it, arching desperately against his hand. More. There. Please. He curls one finger up inside me, then another, thrusting deep as his palm rocks against my clit and he bites down softly on my shoulder. God, I shatter with a gasp, glittering pleasure sweeping my body in a swift, stardust haze. I fall back against him, reeling. That was incredible.

I’m about to show him just how good, when Ash’s cellphone sounds. He reaches over me to grab it from the nightstand, but I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him back. “Leave it,” I tell him. “We’re not done here yet.” “I should really—” “I said, leave it.” I wrap my legs around his waist and bite down lightly on his shoulder. “We’re not done here just yet.” I can feel him, still hard against me, but instead of pinning me down and continuing where we left off, Ash carefully lifts himself away and picks up his phone. He scans the message, and sighs. “Damn, I forgot I had an early call with New York scheduled.” “I guess you got a little distracted…” I slide my hand down his chest, skimming over the fabric of the sheets tangled around his waist. I close my hand around him and give a flirty grin. “Make that a lot distracted.” Ash focuses on his phone a second, tapping out a message in reply. Then he turns back to me and gives me a quick kiss. “I wish I could stay, but I’m already behind.” “They can wait.” I kiss him deeply, my nerves still glittering with heat. “After all, you’re the boss.” I massage him again, slowly. Ash lets out a low groan. “I shouldn’t…” he says, but his hips are already

moving against me. I roll on top of him and start to kiss my way down his chest. “But we have unfinished business of our own, right here,” I tease, moving lower, savoring every moment. Ash falls back against the pillows, his fingers tangling lightly in my hair, guiding me down. I ease the sheets away, baring him completely. God, he’s gorgeous, every last thick inch. I dip my head, ready to take him in my mouth, when suddenly his phone sounds again. Ash flinches, and just like that, I see the lust shatter from his expression. It’s as if he’s waking up, somehow, shaking off the desire that just moments ago was threatening to consume us both, all over again. He rolls away, grabbing his phone. “Shit. I’m sorry,” he tells me quickly. “I really have to go deal with this.” “Oh. OK.” I sit up, trying to adjust to the sudden change. Ash gives me a regretful smile. “I wish I could stay. Believe me,” he adds fervently, his eyes roaming over my naked body. “But we’re juggling so much stuff right now. I have the New York calls, and architects due here in town this afternoon to talk.” He leans in and kisses me: slow and hot, and full of promise. “Dinner, tonight?” he asks, softly caressing my cheek. “I promise, we’ll pick up right where we left off.” “In the middle of a restaurant?” I grin. “Sure, if you want to get arrested.”

Ash laughs. “OK, maybe we’ll rewind to the part where you have clothes on.” He slides out of bed and grabs his pants from the floor. “But then there’s going to be a full replay.” “Slow motion too?” I quip, watching that gorgeous body disappear under clothing again. Ash gives me a dark look. “I’m thinking fastforward.” He buttons his shirt and then leans in close to whisper in my ear again. “Hard, and fast, until you’re screaming my name.” I blink, dazed at the sexy promise as Ash collects the rest of his things. “I’ll call you later?” he checks from the doorway. “Sure,” I manage to reply. He winks, then leaves, and closes the door behind him. Wow. I flop backwards on the bed, reveling in the moment. I can’t believe that after everything, we finally got it together—and it’s only just the beginning. I can’t wait for what’s in store tonight. I spend the rest of the morning wrapped in a goofy, happy daze. I wave off the Keller family and clean up their rooms, replaying every moment of last night over and over in my mind. With nothing else to distract me, my memory runs riot with hot, sexy scenes, like something from a movie. Except a movie never made me feel like this, like I’m

balanced on the edge of a cliff, ready to take off and soar into the unknown. Ash is still a mystery to me, but I’m finally breaking through that controlled barricade he keeps locked tight around himself. The hints of vulnerability, of passion, he’s revealed only make me hungry to discover more. My cellphone rings as I’m unloading laundry. Juliet. “Hey,” I answer, happy to see her name on my caller ID. “What’s up?” “That’s what I called to find out.” Juliet’s voice is teasing. “I heard a rumor that you and a certain real estate kingpin were getting friendly last night…” “What? How?” I exclaim, before the answer arrives. “Oh, Tegan.” “Yup.” Juliet laughs. “I ran into her this morning in town, and she was pumped about it. She’s determined to fix you guys up on a date.” “It might be a little late for that…” I reply, folding sheets. Juliet gasps. “No! OK, I want to hear everything. Can you meet for lunch?” I check around the room. I’m nearly done here, and I was planning to run errands anyway. “Sure, see you in town in twenty minutes?” “Done. And you better have all the details.” I hang up and quickly finish up the laundry before grabbing my purse and walking to meet Juliet in town. We decide to grab a couple of sandwiches from the

diner, then go eat them on the beach; when we’ve finally settled on the sand and unwrapped our food, Juliet turns to me with an expectant look. “OK, I’ve waited long enough. Spill!” I feel myself blush, and busy myself with a mouthful of food while I try to figure out just how much to share. She laughs. “Now I know this is going to be good.” I swallow. “Well…Ash took me home last night. And then…one thing led to another.” Juliet claps her hands together in glee. “I knew it! The way he’s been looking at you, I knew something was going on.” “Well, we actually have some history,” I admit, then quickly fill her in on the details of our night together in New York. “Even better,” Juliet declares. “I love a good passionate reunion story. Emerson and I were apart for years before we got back together,” she adds. “It just made us stronger in the end. I knew I would never meet anyone like him again.” “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I tell her quickly, before she’s planned the wedding. “This is totally different. I’m still finding my bearings here, and Ash…” I pause, thinking how hard it’s been to get even this far; for him to let his guard down and allow himself to connect. “He’s not exactly diving in. We’ve got a lot of stuff to figure out. It’s only the beginning.” “A sexy, hot beginning,” Juliet corrects me with a

smirk. “At least, if that goofy smile you’re wearing is any indication.” I laugh. “OK, you’ve got me,” I admit. “It was… pretty spectacular.” “See, I knew we’d find you someone.” Juliet toasts her soda can against mine. “Now, all we have to do is make the B&B a massive success, and you’re all set!” I giggle. “Sure, how hard can that be?” “Ye of little faith.” Juliet sits back, and looks out at the ocean with a contented smile. “I’m telling you, there’s something about this place. Nobody plans on winding up here, but once they do, everything works out great in the end.” “I hope you’re right,” I agree, taking in the gorgeous beach and foam-tipped waves rolling steadily in from the sparkling blue tide. I never imagined I could find somewhere that felt so much like home; like I belong here, building the life I’m supposed to lead. “Because right now, I don’t ever want to leave.” I may be happy here, but my parents have other ideas. They call as I’m walking back after lunch; this time, it’s my dad, with a whole new strategy to point out just what a mess I’m apparently making of my life. “It’s my fault, I pushed you too hard,” he says on the other end of the line. “You always did want to make me proud, and maybe I didn’t give you enough support.” “You supported me just fine!” I reply, feeling guilty.

He sounds so disappointed and hurt, I know he’s worried and just wants the best for me. The problem is, their version of “best” looks nothing like the life I want for myself. And now that I’ve been here a couple of weeks and I’m finding my feet, I don’t want to keep having the same conversation with them, over and over again. “Look, why don’t you come down and see for yourself,” I suggest, trying to change the script. “If you see what I’m doing with the B&B, and how I’m really making a go of this, maybe you’ll finally understand.” “I understand just fine, sweetie,” my dad replies. “You need a break. Some time away from the stress of your career. We all feel that way sometimes, it can be a lot to handle. But you go take a vacation for a couple of weeks, you switch specialities if you need a change; you don’t uproot your life completely and turn your back on your family.” I stop. “Is that what you think? Dad, no, it couldn’t be further from the truth. I feel like I’m coming home to family,” I tell him, trying to explain. “This town is full of memories for me, Nana, and you and Mom, back when I was a kid. I love that I get to help create new memories for someone else now.” He sighs. “I know that town, remember, I spent eighteen years trapped in that place. And I can tell you now, it may seem like one big sunscreen commercial, but once the tourists pack up and winter comes, it’s a

whole different place. You’ll be bored and lonely and wish you hadn’t left the city behind.” “Maybe,” I agree. “But it’s my choice to figure that out for myself. I really am making a go of this, Dad,” I add. “I have guests booked, and an article coming out in a big magazine. I’m not just sitting on the beach all day, I’m really working.” “And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” he asks hopefully. “Your mom and I were thinking, even if you don’t want to sell Rose Cottage just yet, we could loan you a down payment on an apartment here in the city. Your own place—” “Thank you, but I’m staying.” I firmly decline his new bribe. “So you can tell Mom to cancel that intervention of hers,” I add. “Come, visit, you’ll see, this is good for me. I really like it here.” He sighs again. “I’ll talk to your mother. I have that new case on, so I won’t be able to get away for a while.” “The murder trial?” I ask, and soon, Dad is chatting away about trial defense strategy and witness prep. I’m nearly back at the B&B by the time he’s done talking. “It sounds like a great case. Good luck,” I tell him. “Are you sure it doesn’t sound like something you’d want to do?” he asks again. “Because one of my associates just left, and I need someone for research and —” “No, Dad!” I cut him off, laughing. “It doesn’t tempt me at all. I’ll call you guys next week, OK?”

“Love you.” I hang up, feeling more relieved. He still doesn’t understand, but maybe he will in time. My parents have always been so focused on achievement: lining up our debate team trophies and sporting medals on the mantle, boasting to their friends about our college acceptance and grades. It’s the way they know they’re doing the right thing in life, measuring where they stack up. Since grade school, I’ve been on the same path with them, striving for that next award, but now, suddenly, I’ve stepped off that predictable route and gone in a totally different direction. It’s a lot to take in. Here in Beachwood Bay, I don’t have a quarterly performance review, or a neat ladder of promotion from associate, to junior partner, to partner to climb. I don’t get a salary bump for good work, or official warnings if things go badly. It’s scary to be out of my comfort zone like this—but it’s thrilling too. To make my own rules, and improvise when things don’t work out as planned. Finally, I don’t feel like I’m pushing at the edges of a box that can’t contain me, feeling restless and different. Instead, I wake up every morning excited to face the day ahead. I just hope I can live up to whatever Nana saw in me when she gave me this gift. Not everyone gets a second chance like this, and I want to make her proud. Which means doing everything I can to launch Rose Cottage as

a successful business, despite all the hiccups along the way. I reach the front gate, already determined to spend the afternoon in the office, contacting more travel magazines. If Bunny’s high standards were impressed, then maybe I can tempt some more reviewers down here to write articles or profile the town. And then there are travel agents, and bloggers, maybe even regular newspapers… I’m so deep in thought, I almost miss the woman peering over the fence separating the B&B’s land from the property next door. Ash’s property, I remind myself. “Can I help you?” I call. She startles, caught. “Oh, hi, great to see you again! It’s me, Hallie, the realtor?” she adds, when I clearly don’t remember. “Oh, right, hello.” I walk over, remembering how she blind-sided me at the funeral. I give her a cautious look. “Is there anything you need?” “Just taking a little look-see.” She gives me a bright smile. Just like the last time we met, her hair is smoothed back in a tight bun, and she’s wearing an expensivelooking silk blouse and tight skirt. “I was planning on setting up a meeting next week. My clients would love to make an offer on your property.” “I’m not selling,” I tell her firmly. “You haven’t even heard the deal!” she exclaims. “My clients are willing to offer double the valuation.”

Double? I shake my head. “No thank you.” Hallie blinks. “A hard negotiator, I admire that.” Hallie forces another smile. “I’m sure we can come to some agreement eventually. They really are motivated to get this place locked down along with the rest of the land.” “The rest?” I pause, confused. “Oh yes,” Hallie replies, sunny. “They’ve bought up all four of the lots along this stretch of beach.” She points, down to where the inlet starts to curve way in the distance. “But, what for?” I begin to get a very bad feeling. “Well, it’s all hush-hush for now, but between us, it’s a big development project.” Hallie looks excited. “It’s a big outfit, out of New York. I heard they’re looking to build a luxury hotel right here in town. A country club style place, you know, pool, private villas, a fancy restaurant, the whole deal.” Her words hit me like an anvil. A luxury hotel, right next door to Rose Cottage? I stare at her in disbelief. She can’t be serious! “It’s just the thing this town needs.” Hallie continues, oblivious. “And property prices will sky-rocket! Not yours, of course,” she adds, making a rueful face. “I mean, being stuck right next to the construction, and then all the activity from the guests… It’s not exactly the tranquil vacation people want from an old place like yours. That’s why I’m telling you, sell now, while the

Callahan Group is willing to pay top dollar for the land.” No. I stare at her in disbelief. I must have heard wrong. “Say that again,” I ask faintly. “The client. Who’s going to be building the hotel?” “The Callahan Group,” Hallie chirps. “They’re a very big deal. Apparently, the CEO has family in town. He took one look around, and decided this place was crying out for a real, classy vacation experience. No offense to your little B&B,” she adds quickly. “I’m sure it’s very charming.” “Uh huh,” I murmur, too shocked to take offense. It doesn’t add up, this couldn’t possibly be coming from Ash. He wouldn’t. Would he? “Ash Callahan, now he’s a man with vision,” Hallie continues, confirming my worst fears without even realizing. “And between us girls, he’s pretty easy on the eye. No, you don’t find men like that around here often. Ambitious, driven, sophisticated…” She catches herself and gives a brisk smile. “Anyway, you think it over, give me a call!” I turn back to the house in a daze. With the afternoon sun glowing off the freshly-painted shutters, it looks like a scene from a postcard. The gardens in full bloom, roses twisting up around the porch, the ocean sparkling blue down by the shore.

It’s my home now. My passion. And Ash knows how important it is to me, he’s seen how hard I’ve worked to make this dream a reality. So how could he even think about destroying it?



17. I can’t believe it. No matter how much I turn it over in my mind, I still can’t believe Ash would be planning to build a luxury resort right next door to Rose Cottage. It doesn’t make any sense. All this time, he’s been right here: helping out with renovations, and Bunny, and the plumbing. Making sure the B&B gets on its feet, the way I dream about. Hallie must have it all wrong. “Just ask him,” Lexi urges on the phone. “Go over there, look him in the eye, and ask if he’s been planning on screwing you over from the start.” “I can’t,” I reply, searching through files in the windowless basement. “Think how that sounds. If he hasn’t done anything wrong, then I’ll be wrecking everything. We just got together, I don’t want to risk that. I need to know more.” More, like exactly what the new buyer of all that neighboring land has got planned. Which is why I decided to think like a lawyer again, and go do my research before confronting Ash with my worst fears. I figured out that any new development will need planning permits and approval from the county clerk’s office, so instead of soaking in a bubble bath, getting ready for our date tonight, I’m two towns over, digging through file cabinets that clearly haven’t been organized since 1962.

“Any luck yet?” Lexi asks, yawning. “Nope. But I do know that Missy Jenkins and Kyle Fuller have been fighting over a boundary fence for the last ten years.” “Thrilling,” Lexi teases. “And to think you left the fast pace of the legal world behind.” “Wait,” I tell her, finding a file with a recent date buried in a stack of older documents. “I think I have something.” I scan through the planning submission. Beachfront land… Three acre lot… Building permits… Lodging and food/beverage service… The words sink in. Undeniable. “Well?” Lexi asks. “Is it as bad as you thought?” “No,” I answer grimly, taking in the Callahan Group stamp on every page—and Ash’s signature, scrawled at the bottom. “It’s worse.” Beneath the permit applications, there’s a glossy prospectus: an artist’s rendition of the finished resort. It’s beautiful: gleaming, modern buildings arranged around a huge pool, with a cute cabana bar, a swanky restaurant overlooking the water, even tennis courts and a small gym set off to one side. The complex is huge, dominating the whole stretch of beachfront land. I lay out the pictures, looking for where Rose Cottage would be next to all this luxury vacationing. But it’s not there. Ash has wiped it off the map completely.

My shock turns to anger. He didn’t even plan around me. He just assumed, what—that I’d roll over and sell him the land? That he could literally bulldoze Nana’s cottage, and all my dreams? Not if I have anything to say about it. “Lexi?” I snap back into action, going to make copies of all the paperwork. “You still there?” “Wha?” She sounds sleepy. “Oh, yeah, I’m here. And if Harper has anything to say about it, I’m going to be here at my desk until the day I die.” “Good, then maybe you can do me a favor. I need research on the Callahan Group and their properties. Any issues with planning or permits.” “Ooh, you sound pissed.” “I am,” I glare at the map, determined. “And could you please pull any recent applications in Beachwood Bay too? I need all the information I can get.” “You’ve got it, babe.” Lexi sounds cheerful. “That bastard is going down.” “Not so fast,” I stop her. Despite everything, I still feel a pang of hope in my chest. These plans were filed before we got to know each other. Maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe there’s still a good explanation. “I just want to be prepared.” “Whatever you need,” Lexi promises. “Good luck!” I drive back towards home, trying to think of what I’m going to say to Ash when he comes to pick me up for

dinner, but I’m too riled up now to even wait another minute. As I pass the turn to his brother ’s place, I find myself yanking the wheel, pulling a U-turn on the sandy coastal road and speeding down the street. I pull up outside Dex’s home: a big, modern house right on the beach. It’s all glass and white concrete, designed with stunning architecture, but right now, all I can imagine is this place times a hundred, dominating the entire shore. No more overgrown back yards and windswept dunes, no more quiet, winding lanes. Everything about Beachwood Bay I’ve always loved, razed to the ground. My anger grows. I get out of the car and stalk to the front door. I ring the bell, my heart pounding. I’ve performed a hundred mock-trials, and even taken basic questioning in the courtroom, but I’ve never cared about the answers so much as right now. I need Ash to tell me I’ve got it all wrong. I need him to show me he’s not this kind of man. “Hey, Noelle!” Alicia opens the door. She’s dressed casually, in a bikini top and cute blue shorts. “Great timing, I was just going to call you.” She steps aside and ushers me inside. “You were?” I follow her, still caught up in my anger and all the discoveries I’ve made today. “About the wedding cake?” Alicia reminds me. “If you still think you’ll have time, I mean. I’d love to sit

down this week, maybe talk about flavors and decorations. I have a whole theme book.” She laughs self-consciously. “Listen to me, I never figured I’d care about a big fancy wedding, but it turns out, I actually have opinions about tulle versus taffeta!” “No, that’s great.” I quickly pull myself together. “I can make some samples to start us off. Maybe Thursday afternoon?” “Perfect!” Alicia beams. “Ash is in the office,” she adds, pointing down the hall. “You’re here to see him, right?” Her smile turns knowing. I nod, trying to steel myself to see him again. “Go right on through!” I head down the hallway, my anger returning with every step. Be strong, I remind myself, bracing for battle. Don’t let him off the hook just because he looks at you that way again. I hear Ash’s voice coming from the office. He’s on a call, sounding crisp and business-like. “Next month is unacceptable. Remind him, we have a signed contract promising delivery, and I’ll be fining him for every day past that date.” I stand in the doorway. He’s pacing, talking on his cellphone, dressed smartly in a shirt and tie. He sees me and his expression changes for a moment. Is that guilt in his eyes? Ash holds up a finger. “One minute,” he whispers to me, but he doesn’t seem surprised to see me here. He

steps out onto the balcony to finish the call, and I use the time to try and corral my hurt and betrayal into something more solid. But watching him through the windows, my resolve falters. He looks so good, his broad shoulders and square jaw illuminated in the sun. I remember how it felt to be held by those arms; to kiss along his neck. Flashes of the nights we’ve spent together run through my mind, confusing me with memories of pleasure and our incredible connection. I’ve got this all wrong. I have to be missing something. “Sorry about that,” Ash steps back into the room. He crosses to me and lands a brief kiss on my lips. “The project in Chicago is running over, and nobody wants to take the blame.” His forehead knits together in a frown. “Is everything OK? I thought I was picking you up later.” I swallow. “I need to talk to you,” I start, hating the tremor in my voice. “About the land, down at the beach. I ran into Hallie, the realtor, and she says…” His face changes. Something like guilt skitters across his handsome expression, and I stop talking. I don’t need to tell him what she said, because it’s clear, he knows exactly why I’m here. “Is it true?” I ask softly, my eyes locked on his. “Are you really building a hotel right next door to the B&B?” “Yes.” My heart twists. His answer is calm and matter-offact, but my jaw drops at the news.

“How can you…? I don’t understand… You didn’t…” I struggle to find the words for the betrayal crashing through me. “How long have you been planning this?” “A few months,” Ash explains, still looking way too calm. “Every time I visited Dex and Tegan here, I always thought it would make a great luxury resort, so I had my team draw up some plans.” “But…why didn’t you tell me?” I demand. My head is spinning, I can’t believe my ears. “It was confidential.” Ash looks at me like I should understand. “If word got out about the development too soon, the land-owners would have jacked up their prices and made me pay way over asking. It’s common in my business,” he adds. “We buy the land parcels, and then announce when everything’s locked down.” “Not everything,” I shoot back, bitter. “I didn’t sell.” “I know.” He gives a wry grin. “And we’ll be resubmitting new plans to take into account your property and work around the inconvenience.” Inconvenience… I stare at him in disbelief. How can he be so cavalier with my future? “What about me?” I ask, my voice rising with anger. “The inconvenience I’m going to face? The traffic, and construction work, and—oh yes, the massive hotel right next door! Nobody will want to stay at the B&B with all that going on. This is going to ruin me!” Ash’s face changes. “Hey, don’t take this the wrong

way,” he says, moving closer. “It’s not personal, it’s just business.” He reaches out to touch my shoulder, but I flinch away. “Just business?” I echo, furious. “Are you serious right now? You lie to me for weeks, make me believe that you really care, and then turn around and destroy me without a second thought!” Ash’s face shutters again. “What would you have me do?” he demands. “Call off the whole project because we’ve spent one night together?” “Two,” I spit back. “But clearly, they didn’t matter to you.” “You need to calm down,” Ash tells me. “Just think about this for a minute. You can’t expect me to cancel a major development, just because we’re…” He stops. “What?” I demand. “What is this to you? Because I thought it meant something—that I meant something. But you’re acting like I’m a total stranger right now!” “Because that’s the professional thing to do,” Ash replies. He’s getting stressed too now: his shoulders tense, his expression frustrated. “I planned this before we even met. My team has been working for months—” “But you didn’t think to mention it?” I still can’t wrap my head around the lies. “And don’t give me that bullshit about confidentiality,” I add quickly. “Because you knew this would affect me, and you still let me steam ahead

with all my plans for the B&B.” I stare at him, the betrayal getting worse by the second. “Was it a game to you?” I demand. “Watching me run around, pouring everything I had into that place, when you knew that the minute you started construction, all my work would be for nothing?” Ash at least has the decency to look away, guilty. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “But I didn’t think I should say anything. Not until we have the permits approved and everything set. It’s company policy.” “Well, fuck company policy.” Anger pumps through my bloodstream, thick and hot. “You didn’t care how badly you hurt me. You still don’t.” “Now wait a minute—” Ash tries to protest, but I don’t want to hear it. There’s nothing he could say that can fix what he’s done—what he’s still planning to do, even after everything. “Are you going ahead with the project?” I demand. He stares back, stubborn. “Of course.” “Then I have nothing more to say to you.” Emotion wells up, desperate and hurting. I furiously hold back the tears, not wanting to break down any more. “Clearly, you only care about one thing, and it’s sure as hell not me.” I whirl on my heel and stalk away. “Noelle, wait! Please!” I ignore his call. I can’t believe I could be so wrong about someone—see a good man where clearly there’s

nothing but an ice-cold robot in his place. I trusted him. I opened my heart. And this is what I get in return? I want to get away before I break down completely, but Ash follows me. He takes my arm, pulling me back to him. “You don’t understand,” he protests. “I can’t just drop everything because we happen to be dating.” “Happened,” I correct him bitterly. “Past tense.” “You need to calm down, look at this rationally,” Ash tells me. His expression is beseeching, his dark eyes full of confusion. “You’ll see, you’re overreacting. This isn’t about us!” “Do you really believe that?” I gape. I can’t believe that he’s acting like I’m some kind of hysterical woman, way off base, when he’s the one who’s been so duplicitous. “If I’m being irrational, then why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I turn it back on him. “Why hide it and tell me all these lies?” “I never lied to you,” Ash corrects me. “Not straight out.” “Gee, give the man a gold star,” I mock him. “You really want to use technicalities right now?” I wish I could stay sarcastic: cold and defensive, but the hurt inside me is too painful, it wells up, robbing me of my bitter edge. “You knew this was wrong,” I say quietly. “That not saying anything would hurt me in the end. At least be honest now about that.”

Ash’s eyes flick away from me again, that hint of guilt he can’t even hide from himself. And that’s what almost hurts the most: that he knew, deep down, that he’s doing the wrong thing, but that still didn’t make a difference to him. Not enough. Well, if I don’t matter to him, then there’s nothing keeping me here. No more kisses or tender moments. No more trust. “If you think I’m going to sit back and let you wreck my business, then you’re wrong,” I tell him, with a final flash of resolve. “I’m not going to let you get away with this. I won’t give up the B&B without a fight!” And with that, I wrench free from his grasp and stalk away—slamming the door behind me. This time, he doesn’t follow.



18. I need a plan of attack. After I walk away from Ash, I spend the next two days wracking my brain for a way to stop his development. I barely sleep a wink, haunted by the stiff resolve in his expression, and the way he stubbornly insisted his business had nothing to do with us. It’s not personal… I can’t believe he would say that, that he could possibly believe wrecking my future is “just business.” I look around at the house my grandmother poured so much love into, the home of so many happy memories that I, in turn, want to pass on for years to come. Ash may see this property as just an inconvenience to ignore on his plans, but it’s so much more than that to me. I meant what I told him: I’m not giving in without a fight. But what that fight is going to be, I have no idea. I search for a strategy, but I’m afraid I’m too late. The Callahan Group is an international company with hundreds of developments under their belt, and I’m just one woman. What can I do to change Ash’s mind? “I’ve got good news and bad news,” Lexi calls, when I’m on my fifth batch of wedding cake batter. “I need good news first,” I tell her, pausing with the mixer. I’ve been stress-baking myself into a frenzy all

day in the hopes that inspiration will strike, and now there’s not a free surface in the kitchen not covered in frosting and sugar petals. “Well, the good news is, the permits on the construction haven’t been approved a hundred percent.” “What does that mean?” I ask, my hopes rising. “I thought it was a done deal.” “Almost,” Lexi replies. I can hear her tapping at her computer, back in New York. “They got preliminary approval, pending a town council review. But that’s just a formality,” she adds. “Basically, they rubber stamp everything the county sends their way.” I slump down on a stool. “That is bad news.” “What? Oh, no, that wasn’t the bad part,” Lexi explains. “There’s more?” “’Fraid so, babe. I went through the Callahan Group’s permits filings, trying to find anything shady to use against them, and there’s nothing. Perfect records, glowing safety reports. They even won awards for making their buildings eco-friendly and energy efficient.” I should have figured. “Ash wouldn’t cut corners,” I say, with reluctant admiration. “He pays attention to detail, and gets it done right.” “So what are you going to do?” she asks. “I don’t know yet.” I think hard. “How long do I have before those permits get approval?”’

“Looks like they’re scheduled for debate at a meeting next week,” Lexi replies. “Monday night.” “That means I just have a few days before it’s final,” I gulp. “That’s a tall order.” “And so was getting into law school, or passing the bar,” Lexi reminds me. “You can do this, babe. You just need to think like him.” I sigh. “Detached and void of all human emotion?” “Ruthless. I’ll keep digging here, I’ll let you know if I find anything.” “Thanks.” I hang up, feeling even more anxious. I have exactly four days to come up with a way to stop Ash’s development—or my fresh start in Beachwood Bay will be over before it’s even begun. I want to devote every waking minute to this emergency, but I made Alicia a promise, so that afternoon, I set up a cake tasting on the back porch, complete with iced tea, finger sandwiches, and a table full of delicious options for her to try. I figure getting into the wedding spirit might help distract me from impending doom, so I go all out: picking fresh roses and getting Nana’s lacy tablecloths out of storage to decorate the old wrought iron tables. By the time she arrives, I’ve transformed the porch into a sugar-dusted, rose-trimmed wonderland. “Noelle?” I hear her calling, as I set down the final china

plate. “Out here!” Alicia steps outside and gasps. “Oh my God, this looks amazing!” She looks around at the decorations and food and claps her hands together with excitement. “I can’t believe it, you didn’t have to do all this!” I smile. “I wanted to!” My spirits rise, seeing the smile on her face. Just because I’m facing total ruin, it doesn’t mean that her big day should suffer. She’s taking a chance, trusting the cake to me, so every part of the planning should be special too. “Come, sit!” I show her to the table. “I went kind of overboard baking, so we have a lot to get through.” “What a shame.,” Alicia grins, her eyes sparkling. “I guess I’ll just have to rise to the occasion. I invited a couple of friends over,” she adds, taking a seat. “Is that OK? I figured I could use some extra opinions.” “That’s great,” I reply. “Like I said, I may have gone a little overboard.” “A little?” Another voice comes, and then Juliet steps out onto the porch. She hugs me, smiling. “I saw the kitchen, it looks like you’re catering a royal wedding!” “OK, now my mouth is watering.” Alicia laughs. “I can’t wait to taste them!” “Then let me go get the first samples.” I head inside to grab the platter and some extra plates. When I get back, Brit has joined Juliet and Alicia, and is popping the

cork of a bottle of champagne. “Cheers!” she laughs, as the bubbly foam spills out of the top. “Here’s to picking the perfect cake!” “But we need to be methodical,” Alicia says, a smile playing on her lips. “Test every kind thoroughly, and make an informed choice.” “Absolutely,” Juliet laughs, then turns to me. “What are you doing hovering like a waitress, Noelle?” She pats the seat beside her. “Come, sit down and have a drink.” I pause. When my older sister was getting married, the cake baker waited on her like a VIP, running around to cater to her every whim. I was ready to do the same here, but Alicia pours me a glass of champagne and waves me over, so I set down the display platter and join them at the table. “These look incredible,” Alicia beams, gazing at the spread. “What kind are they?” “So first we have vanilla cake, with raspberry filling and a white chocolate frosting,” I start, pointing to the pale cake with tiny pink petals. I baked everything in miniature, and frosted and decorated them too, so she could get the full effect. “Then there’s a chocolate cake, with salted caramel buttercream filling, and chocolate ganache. And then this one is my Nana’s recipe: a lavender cake with lemon curd, and a fresh lavender frosting.” The other women let out sighs of happiness. “Can we

do this every week?” Brit asks, taking a gulp of champagne. I laugh. “Pace yourselves. There’s another five flavors after this to go.” I cut slices for everyone, and then watch them dig in. Alicia closes her eyes in bliss, and Juliet moans in happiness. “You are a genius,” she says, swallowing. “This is insanely good!” I feel a warm glow of pride. I love the process of baking from start to finish, but there’s nothing like seeing the look on people’s faces when they’re enjoying something I’ve created from scratch. “This chocolate should be illegal,” Brit says with her mouth full. “Seriously. If you asked me to pick between this and sex, I would have a big problem picking.” “Sounds like Hunter would be the one with the problem,” Juliet smirks, and Brit tosses a candy rose petal at her. Juliet ducks, laughing, then turns to me with a knowing look. “Speaking of romance…” She trails off expectantly. “Ooh, I heard something was in the air.” Alicia beams. “How’s it going with Ash?” My good mood crashes down again. “It isn’t,” I answer, then quickly change the subject. “Did you try some of the lavender? I know it’s unexpected, but the flavor is so subtle. And the pale purple could work great with your colors.” “Not so fast.” Alicia looks confused. “What

happened?” “I thought it was going so well!” Juliet exclaims. I pause, reluctant. Alicia is his future-sister-in-law, Brit’s brother is with Ash’s sister… Suddenly, all this small-town connection seems too much. I don’t want to say anything against him; that’s never been my style. “It’s fine,” I say instead. “It just didn’t work out.” Juliet frowns. “But you were so happy the other day.” “It turns out we’re just not a good match.” I try to keep it vague, even with the hurt still aching in my chest. “He’s focused on his business right now. It’s OK!” I lie again, seeing their concerned expressions. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.” There’s an awkward pause. “Well, either way, I hope you can still be a part of the wedding,” Alicia declares brightly. “Because now I’ve tasted these cakes, nothing else will do.” “My pleasure.” I try to smile. Brit sits back and looks around the gardens. “And what you’ve done here with the B&B is amazing. I almost want to check in myself for a vacation.” “I know, right?” Juliet agrees. “It’s just so perfect, everything that makes Beachwood Bay special all in one place.” But not for long. Sadness wells up again, so I cover by bolting to my feet. “Who’s ready for the next round?” I ask brightly. “I’ll go get them now.”

I hurry back inside before my emotions give me away. It just all seems so futile: the work I put in making this place the perfect beach vacation retreat, and more than that, the happy years Nana spent right here. She wanted me to have this place because she saw something in me, a future I hadn’t even glimpsed for myself. And now I’m here, making that vision a reality, feeling happier and more at home than I ever have before I can’t bear the thought of giving up. What would I even do? Go back to New York, and try to restart my legal career again—knowing all the while that it’s not where I belong? No. There has to be a way to stop Ash and his hotel. The permits aren’t final, there’s still some time left. But how do I fight a slick corporation that has all that time and money and experience behind them? Those artist renderings of the development were so luxurious and impressive, there’s no way the B&B can compete with that! But maybe I don’t… I pause, remembering what Juliet just said. Rose Cottage is everything that makes Beachwood Bay the town it is today: small, homey, and run by somebody who actually cares. Ash thinks he can waltz in and get the town to rubber stamp whatever plans he likes, but what if somebody reminds them about the history and heritage of the town? People don’t come here for room service

and pool cabanas, they visit year after year because things are just the same as when they were kids: the same sandy streets and quaint stores and sleepy afternoons on the beach. Maybe if I can convince the town that Rose Cottage is worth saving, they’ll think twice about the hotel, after all. My determination grows. I look around the kitchen, at the tupperware containers full of my freshly-baked goods. I’m glad now that I went so crazy turning out batches of muffins and scones in my stress. Because a full stomach is one sure-fire way to get someone on your team, and I don’t have a minute to lose. Ash is used to getting his way, but not this time.



19. “Save Beachwood Bay!” I thrust a button into the hand of an older woman as she leaves the diner. It’s three days later, and my campaign to keep the B&B is in full swing. “Will you help keep big business from spoiling our beaches?” I ask, from behind my makeshift booth. “Now, this is about that hotel, isn’t it?” She knits her forehead in a frown. “That’s right. A big New York company is planning on building over two acres in town.” I grab a flyer and show her the proposed construction site. “It will cause noise and pollution, and bring all kinds of noise and disruption. There’s a town meeting tomorrow, and I’d love your vote to keep them out.” “Hmmm.” She squints at the text, and then back at me. Then her eyes widen in recognition. “I knew your grandmother. Such a wonderful woman. How are you doing, sweetheart?” “I’m doing well, thank you.” I nod. “I’m trying to keep her business running, but small businesses like Rose Cottage will be hurt by the development. Will you at least take a look at the information?” “And take a cupcake!” Kayla adds. She’s working the booth with me, trying to woo votes with flyers and fresh-baked goods.

“I shouldn’t… But go on.” She takes one with a smile. “Good luck, sweetie, with the vote. I’ll be sure to come to the meeting and hear it out.” “Thanks!” I reply, grateful. “Every person counts!” I watch her walk away. Ash may have his fancy plans and big budget, but I’m doing this the old-fashioned way: one handshake at a time. After my brainwave on Friday, I swung into action, getting leaflets printed and buttons made. I’ve been going door to door ever since, talking to people about the proposals and big meeting tomorrow. With time running out, I’ve set up right here on Main Street outside the diner to reach the last few townspeople I haven’t already spoken with. I turn back to Kayla. “How are we doing on supplies?” “We’re almost out of buttons,” she checks. “Want me to run back and make some more?” I shake my head. “That’s OK, what’s important is that they read the flyers and understand just what the impact of these plans is going to be…” I catch sight of Ash across the street. My voice trails away. He’s striding towards me, and he looks mad as hell. “You should go take a break,” I tell Kayla quickly. “Thanks for your help this morning!” “Sure.” She looks back and forth between Ash and me, then steps out from behind the booth. She grabs a stack of posters. “I’ll pin up some more of these. I

missed a spot down by the harbor before.” “Thanks!” She leaves, just as Ash reaches me. His expression is set in frustration, his dark eyes flashing angrily. “What the hell are you playing at?” I turn away, straightening up the stacks of flyers and buttons. “What does it look like? I’m campaigning against your development. Would you like a button?” I add to a passer-by. I give her one with a big smile. “Let’s keep big business out of Beachwood Bay!” Ash waits for them to leave before exploding. “Noelle, this is crazy!” “No.” I fight to keep cool. “What’s crazy is you planning to destroy my business, and then acting surprised when I don’t just roll over and let you. I said I wasn’t going to let this happen without a fight.” “But it’s a done deal.” Ash rakes his hand through his hair. “We’re going to get approval. This is all a massive waste of your time.” “Really?” I counter, trying to ignore how good he looks, even ruffled and clearly angry. “Because I’ve been talking to people for days, and they have a lot of concerns about your plans. The noise, pollution—” “Jobs,” Ash interrupts me. “Have you even thought about the benefits here? The hotel will bring all kinds of new employment and tourists to the area. It’s exactly what the local economy needs!” “Maybe,” I shoot back. “But who knows what kind of

tourists you’re going to attract? The last thing people here want is to be overrun with drunk college kids on Spring Break—” “Oh, that’s bullshit and you know it.” “Do I?” I glare at Ash, arms crossed. “I don’t know anything, remember: because you didn’t tell me.” “Is that what all of this is about?” He gestures around, frustrated. “You’re mad at me, so you’re going to sink my whole project? How many times do I have to tell you, this wasn’t personal!” I feel a calm settle over me. Standing here, yelling in the street, he still doesn’t realize. Part of me even pities him, to be so locked into his neat little compartmentalized life he can’t see the truth that’s right in front of him. “You’re wrong,” I tell him simply. “It’s all personal.” Ash opens his mouth to argue again, but I won’t let him. “No, you need to hear this, even if you ignore everything else I’m saying right now. You keep telling me ‘it’s just business,’ but you don’t understand, there’s no such thing.” I step closer, wishing I could get through to him somehow. If only he would listen, if only he could see! “What you do every day, that’s personal. The work you set your mind to, all those big goals you achieve. Whatever you put your energies towards, it’s all personal!” My voice rises with passion. “This project

right here, it affects my life; all of our lives. So does everything you do. There’s always going to be somebody on the other end of a deal, Ash. A real live person, not some faceless corporation. And hiding behind your company, pretending like it’s just numbers on a page, that’s the biggest lie of all. And you know it.” I clench my jaw to keep it together, overwhelmed with anger and sadness and frustration for the man staring back at me. This brilliant, flawed, complicated man who has been so busy building up walls to keep his lives separate, he doesn’t even realize he’s boxed himself into a cold, lonely corner. “This isn’t just business,” I insist, tears stinging in the back of my throat. “It’s my life. Your life. And it doesn’t matter what kind of man you think you are when you’re making these choices like none of that counts!” I pause for air, my heart pounding. I’m braced for Ash to argue right back at me, to hold his own, but instead, he stands there, silent. For a moment, his detached mask slips, and I see the hollow pain in his eyes; something tormented and dark. Then he turns on his heel and walks away. My heart aches. Even after everything, I still feel the chemistry between us. He may be my biggest enemy right now, but that doesn’t stop me from waking up, breathless from a night of passionate dreams; our bodies sliding together, his arms braced tight around my waist. And when I look at him, I can’t help remembering the

magical nights we spent together: how being with him gave me the courage to start this journey at all, to strike out on my own and take the risk of following my heart, no matter what the consequence. I just hate that the path has led us here: on opposite sides of the same fight. Because I’m realizing for the first time that we both can’t win. Either Ash gets his way, and Rose Cottage is history… Or I win, and he’ll never speak to me again. * I stay campaigning until all my leaflets and buttons are gone, then I pack up and head for home. The town meeting is tomorrow, and I need to prepare my speech: for every permit approval, people are allowed to argue in favor or against the plans, and although it rarely happens—the council usually just takes a basic vote— this time will be different. This time, I have to convince them all to reject the hotel. But when I pull up outside the B&B, there’s already a car in the driveway, a shiny rental model. And hauling a case up the front steps is a figure with a rumpled jacket —and a very familiar face. My heart lifts. “Daddy?” I brake hard and scramble out of the car, running over to smother him in a hug. “What are you doing

here?” I cry, holding him tightly. “You didn’t say you were coming!” He chuckles, patting me on the back. “I wasn’t planning on it. But I ran into Lexi at the courthouse, and she told me about the problems you’ve been having. I thought we could put our heads together for one final case.” My tears well up again, but this time, with gratitude. I can’t believe he’s come all this way: dropped everything and hopped a flight just to help me out. “But what about your cases?” I ask, concerned. Dad shrugs. “They can wait a couple of days. It sounds like we’ve got a lot to do here. I brought some files my clerks pulled, just in case. Do you want to grab the other case from the car?” I go get the other heavy roll-on and follow him into the house. Dad pauses in the hallway, looking around. “What have you been doing?” he asks, taking in the new decor. “It looks like a whole new house!” “Not completely. Look, I kept the family photos, and her old needlepoint…” I show him Nana’s old treasures, blended seamlessly with the new decor. “I can give you the tour, if you want.” “Later,” he promises. “First, let’s get down to business.” He gets his legal pad from his briefcase, puts on his wire-rimmed spectacles, and settles on the living room couch. “Lexi gave me the basics, but you should start at

the beginning,” he says, uncapping his pen. “Who’s planning what, and how do you want to stop them?” I smile. There’s something so familiar about his expression, it’s the one I’ve seen on his face a hundred times, when he’s getting stuck into a big case, working late into the night. “The Callahan Group,” I answer. “And I have twenty-four hours left before the town council votes.” “Well then,” Dad looks determined. “We better get to work.” We spend the next few hours outlining my case against the development. Dad brought all kinds of case files with him: records of other applications, legal precedents, and dense reams of local planning bylaws. We’re deep in the reading when his stomach suddenly lets out a loud rumble. I laugh, then catch sight of the clock on the wall. It’s almost 8:00 p.m.; we’ve been sitting here for hours! “When did you last eat?” I demand, leaping up. “I can’t believe I didn’t even offer you a drink! Some hostess I’m turning out to be.” Dad chuckles. “Don’t worry. Your mom has me on one of those low-cholesterol diets, I’m used to going hungry.” “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.” I beckon him through to the kitchen. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Nothing too rich. I swear she’s implanted some kind of tracking device,” Dad tells me wryly. “She can tell when I so much as look at a steak.” I laugh. “Sounds like Mom.” I pour us a glass of iced tea, then check the refrigerator. I stopped by the farm stand yesterday, so there’s a ton of produce, rich and glowing with color. I pull out bell peppers and onions and a fat head of garlic. “How about some pasta and homemade sauce?” I ask. “That’s pretty healthy.” “Sounds good to me.” Dad takes a seat at the counter, watching as I put a pan of salted water on the stove to boil and begin washing the vegetables. He gets a funny look on his face. “What?” I ask, setting out the old wooden board to chop. “Nothing. It’s just…you’re so much like my mother. Seeing you in the kitchen like this.” He gets a nostalgic look. “It was always her favorite place. Whatever house we were living in, and back when she had the diner too… You couldn’t drag her out.” “She taught me everything I know,” I smile, “even how to chop, just like this.” I cut the peppers into bright chunks, and throw them into a heavy iron-bottomed pan with some oil and diced onions to start a sauté. “Do you want to take a look around the house?” I ask, suddenly feeling shy. “We have some time while the water boils.” “Sure.” Dad agrees. He squeezes my shoulders in a hug. “You can show me what was worth leaving the city

and your old pa far behind.” I start downstairs, then show off the B&B from top to toe. With the Peterson couple being my only other guests right now, I put him in a room overlooking the beach, and show him every new touch in turn, ending up back in the kitchen. I pour us some iced tea, still feeling nervous about his reaction. I know my parents didn’t approve of my plans, and I want so desperately for him to see what I’ve been doing with all my time and energy—and for him to approve. “Well, what do you think? I bake everything fresh here, just like she used to,” I tell him, chattering anxiously. “And the guests tell me it’s all just the way they remember.” Dad slowly exhales, looking around the room. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure about this move. Packing up and quitting your law job after all the work we’ve done… But you’ve done a wonderful job here,” he admits, finally giving me a smile. “I really do love it,” I say quietly, still nervous. “The B&B, all the baking. I know it’s not the career we planned, but I feel like I’m doing something real; creating memories for people—and myself.” “You sound just like her.” Dad gives a wistful smile, then reaches across and squeezes my hand. “I’m proud of you, sweetie. This is all beautiful. My mother would have loved it.” I relax, overwhelmed with relief—and happiness. I

took a risk striking out on my own, and although I had to ignore what my parents wanted from my life to make it this far, his praise still means so much to me. I’ve always looked up to him, at everything he’s achieved, and I can’t help wanting his approval, even now. I hide my emotions, busying myself by adding pasta to the boiling water, and cutting fresh tomatoes up into a rough chop. “Can you please grab some basil?” I ask him. “It’s in the box on the window ledge.” Dad goes to pick a bunch from the plant growing there. “Is this OK?” “Perfect. Just tear it roughly and throw it in with the veggies,” I instruct him. He does as I say, then sniffs at the pot. “Smells good.” I give it a stir. The veggies have softened now, breaking down into a thick, fragrant sauce that makes my mouth water. “Shouldn’t be long,” I decide. “I’ll just throw together a salad, and that should be it.” “Please,” Dad pretends to groan, “no more salad. I’ve been living off rabbit food for weeks!” I laugh. “Don’t worry, I found a recipe for an amazing dressing. You won’t even notice how healthy it is.” I start on the salad, tearing chunks of fresh lettuce into the colander. As I work, I think more about my father, and how reluctant he always seemed to come back here to Beachwood Bay. “I was wondering…” I start,

“what made you leave town? You went off to college in New York, right? Didn’t you ever think about moving back after school?” “Never,” Dad declares grandly. He catches my expression, and softens. “You have to understand, sweetie, you may love this place, but growing up here… It wasn’t all a picnic for me.” He stirs the sauce slowly, and lets out a sigh. “To tell the truth, I was pretty miserable.” “But why?” It seems so strange to think of my confident, successful father as a teenager—and even odder to imagine him unhappy. Dad shrugs. “I guess I never quite fit in. I was a nerdy kid,” he explains, “nerdy, and ambitious. I wanted to see more of the world, to do important things. There I was, this weedy kid with hardly any friends, getting picked last for all the sports teams, but I knew I was destined for bigger things.” “You, weedy?” I can’t help but tease, poking his middle-aged spread. “Watch your tone, child.” Dad laughs, then pauses, a sad look in his eyes. “But, seriously. It’s one thing to come to Beachwood Bay as an adult, and have people recognize you for the person you are right now, but it was different for me. It felt like no matter what I did, everyone still saw me as that Olsen boy, the one who made straight As but couldn’t get a date to prom. I wanted to get away from that, start fresh on my own

terms.” He shrugs, glancing down, and I realize that for all his security and success now, there’s still a part of him who remembers being unsure and alone. I reach over and hug him. “And look at you now,” I say brightly. “The most feared trial lawyer in New York City, with a successful wife, and two stunning, creative, amazing daughters.” Dad smiles at that. “And they’re so modest too.” “They sound pretty perfect to me.” He chuckles. “I guess I always saw you following in my footsteps. That’s why it was such a surprise to find you back here, living the life I thought I’d left behind. But I guess it just skipped a generation, after all.” “I still want to follow in your footsteps, Dad,” I reassure him. “I just want to do it my way. Even if I’m not in a courtroom, I’m still the girl you raised. My argumentative, stubborn streak isn’t going anywhere,” I add with a grin. “Good. You’re going to need it for this property fight,” he nods. “These development companies don’t mess around. Chances are, they’ll send a whole battery of lawyers to the meeting tomorrow.” “I don’t think so,” I pause. “Ash Callahan, he’s too independent to put this in someone else’s hands. He’s more a do-it-yourself kind of guy, whatever the task.” Dad quirks an eyebrow. “It sounds like you know him pretty well.”

I clear my throat. Getting into my love life right now is so not an option. “Apparently, not as well as I thought,” I say, and quickly change the subject. “Pasta’s ready!” I serve us two bowls, with a generous portion of the veggies, which by now have reduced to a deliciously fragrant sauce. I set the table for two on the back porch; it’s getting dark out now, but there’s still a pale haze over the ocean, and the crisp tang of sea air. Dad brings through the salad and our drinks, and takes a seat across from me. He digs into the food right away, with noises of appreciation, but I pause, looking around at the nowfamiliar view—and the empty lots next door. Already, there’s construction tape and markers set out on the land, and I don’t even want to imagine what will follow if the town council goes against me tomorrow. “Thank you,” I tell Dad, my voice cracking a little. “For coming down here, for helping me out. I really appreciate it.” “Of course,” he says simply. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” I nod. “Don’t be,” he reassures me. “We’ve got some excellent arguments, and it sounds like all your work talking to the people in town will make a real difference.” “But what if it doesn’t?” I ask, panicked. “What will I do if he wins? The B&B will be ruined for sure!”

“You can’t think like that, not right now,” Dad insists. “The night before a big trial, I only ever let myself think positive. You have to trust yourself to make the best case possible. Then it’s all in the jury’s hands.” I take a deep breath. “And luck,” Dad adds, with a twinkle in his eye. “There’s always luck.” I can only hope he’s right—and that luck is on my side at the meeting. Otherwise… Otherwise, no amount of work and hope will make a difference. It all comes down to tomorrow.



20. “Ready?” Dad asks, as we approach the front steps of the town hall. “No.” I gulp, my stomach tied up in knots. The big day is here, and everyone’s arriving for the meeting. I don’t know whether to be nervous or relieved about the number of familiar faces I see filing inside: people I chatted to at the diner, guests from Nana’s funeral, and more. Maybe they’re here to support me—or maybe they just want a glimpse of the drama. Either way, I brace myself and follow them into the building. Like most things in Beachwood Bay, the “town hall” actually serves many purposes. The old red-brick building is used for the tourist office, town library, and multi-purpose rooms too. As we head down the hallway, I can see a Mommy-and-Me yoga session in progress in one of the rooms, and a big display for summer reading. The meeting itself is taking place in one of the function rooms at the back; Nana’s old lawyer, Albus, greets us as we step into the room. “Excellent turn-out,” he says, polishing his spectacles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a meeting so well-attended!” “As long as they’re here to vote for me,” I quip, awkward. Albus chuckles. “Well, I can’t say anything about that.

As a member of the council, I need to stay neutral until all the evidence has been heard. But between us…” He glances around, then gives me a friendly wink. “Good luck.” He heads to the front of the room, where the members of the town council are taking their seats. “There you go,” Dad soothes me. “You’ve already got one vote sewn up.” The butterflies in my stomach aren’t reassured. “Have we got the files?” I ask, panicked. “And the environmental reports?” “Everything’s right here.” Dad pats his briefcase. “I made two dozen extra copies too, so we can pass them out to everyone in the room. Although, I’m not sure we’ll have enough…” The room is filling fast, people taking their seats on the rows of folding chairs. “Should I go Xerox more?” I ask, my nerves growing. “Is there time? Crap, I should have prepared better—” “Whoa, you need to calm down.” Dad pulls me to the side. “Take a deep breath. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll go make some more copies, you say hello to everyone here.” I gulp a lungful of air. “How do you do this every day in court?” I ask, envious of his poise. Dad chuckles. “You get used to it, sweetheart. I was a wreck before my first big case. But I pulled it together,”

he adds, seeing my panic. “And so will you. Just sit tight.” He exits to make some more copies, and I try to distract myself by greeting everyone I recognize—and a few who I don’t. My guests from the B&B, the Petersons, are even here, wearing my campaign buttons, but there are a bunch of people huddled around with Hallie and some other people in fancy suits, glaring at me from across the room. I try to quell my nerves. It’s just like law school, I tell myself. I did mock trials all the time: arguing my case, setting out the evidence. But then, it was all just playacting for our professors. This time, it’s real. The verdict will matter, whatever the result. I catch sight of movement in the corner of my eye and turn in time to see Ash walk in. He’s looking serious, dressed in a button-down and suit pants, flanked by two associates, also dressed like they just stepped off a flight from New York. His brother, Dex, is with him too, and I see Alicia and Tegan enter behind them. I send a wave, awkward. Alicia waves back, and mouths “good luck,” but Tegan gives me a wary look. I don’t blame her. I’m basically going to be standing up here and telling the town to reject her brother ’s plans and everything he stands for. I feel a pang of regret. I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but I don’t see what other choice I have to save the B&B.

Ash glances over and our eyes lock. Even after everything, I still feel that connection between us; as if only he can see exactly what I’m thinking and how I’m feeling. I could never explain it, and even now, with so much distance between us, I’m still struck by my body’s instinctive reaction. But Ash looks away, his jaw set. He turns his back on me, and he couldn’t make his feelings more clear if he tried. I try to ignore the bitter sting, but my heart aches. Just a few days ago, we were poised on the edge of something great, together, but now he’s acting like a stranger. I almost can’t believe we’ve shared so much: tender kisses and heartfelt confessions. That night in New York seems like a hundred years ago; our time together here in Beachwood Bay just as remote. Everything is different now. The mayor bangs a gavel and calls the meeting to order, just as my dad returns. He slides into a seat in the front row beside me, carrying a sheaf of information packs. “What’s the read on him?” he whispers, nodding to Mayor Sanders. A tall, good-natured man in his fifties with a Hawaiian-print shirt, the mayor is a regular at the diner—and loves Nana’s peach pie. “I went by his house and spent an hour talking to his wife,” I whisper back. “What did she say about the hotel?” I shrug. “She said she’d have to talk to Ed about it.

But she ate all the scones I brought.” “Good enough.” Dad sits back as the meeting gets underway. I expected to dive right into the development debate, but instead, there’s a bunch of other town business on the agenda. Mrs. Finnigan is proposing a no-littering fine increase, they have to vote on funds to repair the streetlights, and there’s a heated debate over whether to impose fines for dog-poop littering in the park. Just when I’m wondering if we’ll ever get around to the hotel, the mayor looks up from his paperwork. “Now, onto the matter of permits. We have an application here requiring our approval. The plans appear to be in order, so now I ask if anyone would like to comment on the issue.” This is it. My heart racing, I get to my feet. “Noelle Olsen,” I say, my voice catching in my throat. “I’d like to oppose the plans.” “Speak up, dear,” Albus urges me. “Let them hear you in the back.” I turn to face the room, and my stomach twists even tighter. There must be a hundred people here! Deep breaths, Noelle. Just speak from the heart. I start again. “A lot of you I’ve already met, and if I haven’t, then I’m sure you’ve heard the stories from my grandmother.” There’s smiles and laughter. “I’m here because the proposed development will affect a lot of

people and businesses here in town, including my own. I hope you’ll take the time to think about the impact of a big development like this, and consider all the arguments before you decide.” My voice comes stronger now, and I find myself relaxing as I begin to outline all the potential problems Ash’s big project would bring. I talk about the influx of tourists, the damage of pollution and noise, and how it would separate out the beach from public land. My voice rings with passion as I talk about the changes such a huge development would bring. “Right now, Beachwood Bay is made up of small, family-run businesses,” I finish. “It’s part of what makes this town so special, and brings back people for generations to make new memories here. My grandmother saw that, and I do now. Thank you for listening, and I hope you will consider rejecting these plans and keeping Beachwood Bay the small, peaceful escape that it’s always been.” I sit down with a thump, my heart pounding. Oh God, I hope it was good enough to make them reconsider. I’m lost in a whirl of panic, then I hear applause. I look around, surprised, and find many people nodding with agreement and smiling at me. My speech went OK! “Good job, sweetie.” Dad pats me on the back. “An excellent case.” I can only hope he’s right. The mayor waits for noise

to die down, then looks to Ash. “Do you have any response to Miss Olsen’s concerns?” he asks. “I sure do.” Ash gets to his feet, smiling. “I understand everyone’s concerned about keeping the character of this town. But let me assure you, my plans will only change Beachwood Bay for the better…” He launches into his speech, going point-by-point against everything I’ve just said. I don’t know what I expected, but it isn’t this: instead of being stiff and angry, Ash seems totally relaxed. He flashes his charming grin around the room, even joking at times as he highlights all the new tourists and business the hotel will bring to town. I should have known he’d take this in stride: he wouldn’t have gotten to where he is in business without being able to charm and convince meetings just like this one to let his developments go ahead. “I don’t think there’s a person in this room who won’t see a benefit somehow,” he finishes. “And hey, if you tell me otherwise, I’ll fix a couple of pool passes for you all to enjoy the facilities.” There’s laughter. To my dismay, a lot of the people who were nodding in agreement during my speech now look like they’re on his side again! I have to do something. “But what about the environmental impact?” I ask, getting to my feet again. “That stretch of land is home to all kinds of birds and water fowl. The building work is going to destroy their natural habitats.”

Ash gives me a measured look. “I can assure you, all Callahan Group projects are designed to work with nature, not against it. And our surveys show no endangered species along that coast.” “But you can’t be sure, can you?” I hone in on my last chance to stop him. Or, at least, delay. “There hasn’t been an official environmental report, or any independent survey. We don’t know what’s out there.” “That’s a good point,” the mayor speaks up. “And even just construction can be damaging,” I add. “All those trucks, the pollution and noise. Shouldn’t we play it safe and get those surveys done before anything is decided?” “Like I said, we’ve had reports written—” Ash looks seriously pissed now, but I can’t back off, even for a second. This is my last shot. “You’ve had surveys done,” I interrupt him. “By your contractors from out of town. But I think the town would rather trust an independent survey. Isn’t that right?” I turn to the audience. There are sounds of agreement. “If you’ll look at our research—” Ash tries again, but this time, it’s Albus who cuts him off. “I think we’ve spent long enough on this issue,” he says smoothly. “I table a motion that we delay voting on the permit approval until we’ve had time to conduct the proper environmental studies. All those in favor?” He looks around the table of council members. There’s a

unanimous sound of “ayes.” “Motion passed.” The mayor bangs his gavel. “Permits will be delayed.” Relief floods through me. I won! But at the same time, my joy is bittersweet. Ash’s shoulder ’s sag, and I can see the disappointment on his face. He worked hard on this development—he works hard at everything he does—and now it might all be for nothing. I wish it didn’t have to be like this. There’s a rush of conversation as the meeting lets out. People mill about, gossiping over the result. I sink back in my seat, exhausted from the stress of it all, but I’m still not able to relax completely. I’ve bought some time, but I don’t know what difference it’ll make. For all I know, they’ll do a survey next week and find no reason to stop the construction. Then I’ll be right back at square one again. Ash clearly agrees, because he steams forwards through the crowd to talk to the council. “How long do you think these surveys will take?” Ash’s jaw clenches together in a frustrated line. “I’ve got contractors arriving next week. We’re on a schedule here.” “You better hold your horses,” Albus tells him. “Who knows when we’ll be done? There’s always a delay with the county about one thing or another. It could be months before we get someone out to start checking.”

Ash’s face falls. “We need to start construction before the weather turns,” he says, looking shellshocked. “Lay the foundations, get the frame up…” “Not before winter.” Albus looks sympathetic. “Still, the land will still be there next year.” And so will I. A six-month grace period may not seem like much, but it could be enough time to establish Rose Cottage as a real business, and shore up support with our guests to guarantee repeat booking. I’ll have the rest of the summer season, at least: months without the noise and chaos of construction ruining everyone’s vacations. I really did it! I hug Dad for real this time, and then Juliet is beside me too. “Congratulations!” she says, embracing me. “I’m so happy for you.” “But what about…?” I trail off, looking over towards Ash again. Juliet grins. “Please, just because everyone in this town is connected somehow, it doesn’t mean I’m not on your side. You’ve worked so hard on the B&B, I know how much it means to you.” “Thanks.” I smile, unable to keep the happiness from my face. “I feel like a huge weight’s been lifted from my shoulders! At least I have a chance now to make the business thrive.” “We need to celebrate,” Juliet declares. “Drinks at Jimmy’s?”

“Sure,” I laugh. “Dad?” “I have to get back to catch my flight,” he replies. “But you go have fun with your friends.” I hug him tightly as he gets his things together. “Thanks for coming down,” I tell him again. “Any time you need, I’ll be right here,” he promises. “No intervention necessary?” I tease. He chuckles. “I promise. I’m proud of you, sweetie. Your mom is too. You’re making a real home here,” he adds, looking around. “I know that’s always meant a lot to you.” I walk him out, still overwhelmed with emotion. I’m so happy I managed to save the B&B, but when I catch sight of Ash outside on the sidewalk, that elation fades. I say my goodbyes to Dad, and wave him off in his rental car, then turn back to Ash. I don’t know what to say to him, I just know I need to say something. “Hey,” I approach softly. He turns, his expression blank and unreadable. “I just wanted to tell you, I’m sorry how all this turned out…” I trail off. I don’t know how to explain the regret mingling with relief in my bloodstream. “I mean, I wish it hadn’t been you.” “But it was.” Ash arches an eyebrow at me, remote. “And like you said, it’s always personal.” “I didn’t mean—” I start to protest, but he walks away without a backwards glance, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.

My heart falls. I knew fighting him on the hotel would put an end to whatever was building between us, and I still can’t get my head around his decision to threaten the B&B in the first place, but still… I want to go back to how it was before all this mess started: just him and me, curled up in bed in the early morning sun. Happy. Free. Except, even then, he had put this in motion, I remind myself. I shouldn’t feel guilty for protecting my dreams. “Ready to go toast your victory?” Juliet links an arm through mine. “Absolutely.” I force myself to look away from Ash’s figure, striding away from me. I turn back to what I do still have: a group of friends and supporters who stood by me and helped keep Rose Cottage in business. “First round’s on me!” I stay out late at Jimmy’s, celebrating the temporary victory. So many people come over, telling me how they knew my grandmother, and how proud she would be to see me continuing on her legacy. It makes me feel at home, knowing that I’m still a part of the community she loved. She built something here with pure force of will, and it’s an honor to keep that family tradition alive. As I walk back to the B&B, I remember the letter she wrote me, telling me to follow my heart. My life was so

different then, back in New York City. I was so caught up in following the path I thought was right for me. I couldn’t see another version of life, but she did. She knew what I needed better than I did myself. And now here I am, right where she knew I’d belong. I feel a wistful ache. It’s a clear night, the stars bright in the sky, and the sound of the waves lapping gently against the shore. The only thing that would make it better is if Nana was right here with me to share in the celebration and joy. But maybe she is, somehow. I’m comforted by the thought. Whenever I walk down these streets she knew so well, or pull down her old recipe books, I know there’s a part of her watching over me; a memory that lives on, in every satisfied guest or batch of famous cinnamon rolls. As I turn up the pathway to the house, and unlock the front door, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude that she brought me here—and that I can stay, continuing her legacy. Then I open the door, and step straight into a torrent of cold water. The house is completely flooded.



21. Rose Cottage is ruined. By the time I wade upstairs and find the burst pipe in one of the guest bedrooms, it’s already way too late. I’ve been out all day: campaigning with Dad, attending the big meeting, and celebrating at the bar all night. If I had been here sooner, maybe I could have stopped the damage, but after twelve hours of cold water gushing out into the house, the place is well and truly flooded. Worst of all, the ceiling in the living room gave way under the weight of water, crushing the couch in a litter of plaster, debris, and splintered joists. “I see it in these older houses all the time,” the emergency plumber says sympathetically. He’s just shut off the water main, and helped me turn off the power too. “The pipes get frozen every winter, and expand in the spring, year after year. The metal corrodes, and, well, here you have it.” He looks around. The entire ground floor is under three inches of water, and it’s still trickling down the stairs. “I can call in an industrial hose, get the rest of this water suctioned out of here, but it’ll take a few days. And cost you,” he adds. “Fine,” I reply, too exhausted to protest. I’ve been up all night trying to bail it out by hand, and salvage whatever furniture I can from the water. “Whenever you

can make it.” I’ve barely had time to process his words—or emergency call-out bill—when the Petersons call me aside. “We’ll be heading out now, sweetheart,” Nancy tells me. Luckily, their room wasn’t flooded too badly, and their luggage was untouched. But of course, there’s no way I can keep guests here without power or proper plumbing. I’ve already cancelled the families who were arriving this weekend, and now the Petersons are heading home early. “Are you sure there’s nothing else we can do to help?” Harold adds. I shake my head. “I’m just sorry you had to cut your trip short.” “That’s OK, we had a wonderful time.” She gives me a warm hug. “We hope you get this mess sorted out soon.” “Me too.” I force a smile. “I’m sure it’ll be fine!” I help them load up their car, and watch them drive away. My head is spinning with all the things I have to do to get the B&B back running again. New plumbing, replacing the ruined furniture, rebuilding the ceiling and floors…! I’ve already drained my savings to make the cosmetic upgrades; I was banking on a full summer season to break even. I can’t afford any of this, not in a million years. Nana had insurance, sure, but I have no idea how much of the damage they’ll cover, or how long it’ll take.

I’m totally and completely screwed. I force myself to go inside and take stock of the damage. Upstairs is completely flooded: every guest room under inches of water; the antique rugs and carpet all ruined. There’s a weird smell too, like the water that came gushing out the busted pipes wasn’t all too clean. I gulp. Just like the plumber warned me, the wet boards are spongey underfoot. Water ’s been soaking through all day, and downstairs, the dining area and kitchen has huge wet patches on the ceiling and soaking down the walls. And then there’s the massive hole in the living room ceiling. It looks like a tornado’s torn through: all Nana’s photos smashed, and her hand-stitched quilts in a wet, dirty pile. I was just lucky nothing else came crashing down, but I can’t find it in me to feel relieved when I’m faced with such devastation. The hours I spent repainting, the new furnishings I picked out so carefully —it’s all for nothing now. Totally ruined. Tears come, hot and pained in the corner of my eyes, but I can’t cry yet. If I do, I don’t think I’ll ever stop. Instead, I grab a couple of trash bags and start picking up the broken pieces of plaster and wood, focusing on the task in front of me, and not the massive uncertainty and fear looming just out of reach. What do I do now?

If only I’d seen the dripping faucet as the warning sign it truly was. These pipes must be ancient by now, but I didn’t think twice about needing a proper plumber in, or someone to check the building. I just assumed everything would be OK. How naive could I be? I wanted so badly to preserve Rose Cottage, but now it’s damaged beyond all repair. I failed her. I took my grandmother ’s amazing gift, and I ruined it. I can’t hold back the heartbreak anymore. I stumble outside onto the front steps, sink down, and start to weep. Sobs wrack my body, regret and hurt and blame gripping tight and refusing to let me go. I wanted this so badly, and I came so close. But it’s all for nothing now. I hear the sound of tires on gravel. I look up through my tears, and see Ash parking out front. He climbs out of the car, and the sight of him is too much to take. “What do you want now?” I cry, feeling hollow inside. “Come to gloat?” His expression changes. “Are you OK?” he calls, hurrying closer. He crouches beside me, looking into my eyes with real fear. “Is someone hurt? What happened? Talk to me, Noelle.” “You mean you didn’t hear?” I gulp for air. My cheeks are wet, and my head aches from crying. I wave him inside. “Take a look for yourself.” Ash steps past me, and heads into the house. A

moment later, he reappears. “Shit, Noelle, I’m so sorry,” he says. “Are you?” I ask blankly. Pain grips my chest, a terrible ache. For one terrible moment, I wish I hadn’t fought him on the hotel development. Maybe then I would still have him. Instead, I’ve lost the B&B and our relationship. “I guess you win, after all,” I say, regret spiraling through me. He frowns. “It’s not like that. I never wanted for you to—” “What? Lose the B&B?” I counter, tired out. “Does it make a difference if it’s a flood, or you bulldozing the place? It’s still over for me.” Ash doesn’t move. He stays, awkwardly loitering a few paces away from me. I realize that if he didn’t know about the flooding, there must be some other reason for his visit. “What did you want?” I ask finally, lifting my head. It still hurts to look at him: backlit by the sun, his dark hair now in need of a cut, those eyes watching me. Warily. Tender. “I came to make another offer for the property,” Ash admits. At least he has the decency to look rueful, but after everything I’ve been through, nothing would shock me. I let out a hollow laugh. “God, you just don’t quit, do you?”

“Never,” he says. “Look, maybe this is bad timing, or perhaps it’s the answer to your problems right now. Fixing this place up would cost you a fortune, but you could cut your losses right now. Just say the word. I’ll pay you three times the market rate—cash.” Ash pulls a check from his shirt pocket. He places it down on the step beside me, and I can’t help glancing down. What? The zeroes make me dizzy for a moment. It’s more than I ever could imagine getting for the property, enough to clear my student loans and start fresh at anything I’d like. “You could buy another place here in Beachwood Bay,” Ash says, as if he’s reading my mind. “I know how much you love the town, and just because the B&B is closed, it doesn’t mean you have to leave. You could open a bakery, maybe, or a little cafe—” “Stop!” I cry, my tears welling up again. It’s too soon to hear him talk about other options, about the B&B being gone forever. I scramble to my feet, wiping at my damp cheeks. I know I must look like a mess right now —dirty T-shirt, wet shoes—but I don’t care. “Just stop!” I beg him again. “Can’t you listen to yourself, just for one minute? You’re so obsessed with this project, with the money, you don’t understand. Some things don’t have a price, they matter more than any payoff!” “I’m trying to help you here.” Ash argues, looking

stubborn. “And I don’t want your help, not like this!” I reply, clenching my fists at my side. My nails press into my palms, and the pain helps me focus. Keeps me together as I try one final time to get through to him. “Have you even thought about what happens next, after you get your precious permits?” I demand. “You won’t stick around, not after the hotel is finished. It’s not your future you’re building, you’ve probably already got a buyer lined up for the property.” I see a flash of something on Ash’s face. The truth. “I’m right, aren’t I?” I realize. “It’s what you do. You develop projects, then sell them off and move on. You don’t know what it’s like to build a future, to make a home somewhere. You’ve probably built a hundred buildings all over the world, but where’s home to you now, Ash? Where do you belong?” “I have my family,” he replies, his jaw clenched, but I can see my words are hitting home in the depths of his dark gaze. “And you come, visit for a couple of weeks, then leave again. On to the next project, the next city. Don’t you want more than that?” I ask, despairing. “Don’t you want to put down roots, and be a part of something? A community. Somewhere to belong. Because until you know what that’s like, you can’t possibly understand how I feel right now. This,” I say, grabbing the check and holding it up, “This can’t possibly compare to the years

of love my grandmother put into this house, or all the dreams I had of making it my own.” I rip the check in two and toss the pieces down. Ash flinches, like I’ve hit him. “You don’t understand,” he says, looking conflicted. “You don’t know what it’s taken to build this company. It’s taken me years too! Years of work and sacrifice to get to where I am today. I didn’t have any help,” his voice rises with passion. “I did this all alone!” “I know,” I say quietly. My heart aches for him again, so used to being closed off and remote, he’s forgotten it doesn’t have to be like this. “You raised your family, and built an empire too, and I admire you so much for that strength, I really do. It’s one of the things that made me fall—” I stop before I can let the words tumble out. My pulse is racing, and suddenly, the air between us is thick with tension. “Noelle…” Ash stares at me, looking shocked. I gulp a lung full of air and try to get back on track. “What happens next?” I cover, ignoring my slip. “After this project, and the next one, and the one after that? You have the status now, the security,” I implore him. I don’t know why it matters so much to me to make him realize. I should hate him, I should want him gone, but instead, I’m filled with such sadness and regret when I think about him going through life like this, always so distanced and removed.

The Ash I know could have a life filled with joy and belonging—or he could keep these barriers built so high, nobody stands a chance of getting in. And even if that person isn’t me, if our chance to be together is long behind us, I still can’t bear the thought of his goodness, his humor and grace going completely to waste. “You could retire tomorrow, and nobody in your family would ever want for anything,” I continue, still fixed on the man standing in front of me. “They’re all grown up now. They have lives of their own, they’re building homes and families, a future right here in town. But what about you?” I ask desperately. “What happens when you wake up and realize you’re still alone? You think you want this development. You think it’s all that matters. But it’s just another job, Ash, you’re filling your life with work. “When will it ever be enough?” I finally run out words and come to a stop. My heart is pounding. Silence. Ash stands there, a few feet away from me. His expression is impossible to read now, but his eyes seem full of conflicted emotion: dark and stormy, a world away from this beautiful summer ’s day. Or maybe that’s just me imagining things; inventing a heart for the man who seems forged from steel. Because after a frozen moment, Ash jerks his head in a

stiff nod and backs away. “I won’t keep you,” he says blankly. “I can see you have a lot to do. Goodbye.” There’s something about the way he says the word that sends a cold shiver through me. “Ash?” I start, my voice quavering. “What are you —?” But he’s already gone: getting back in his car and driving away. I watch him go, feeling numb. Totally worn out. Because some terrible intuition tells me I haven’t just lost the B&B now, but Ash too, forever. He’s leaving for the last time, and he’s not ever coming back.



22.

Ash. She’s crazy. It’s the only explanation for turning down my offer: the number on that check was more than she could ever have expected for the house, and she still tore it up and threw the pieces in my face. Some things don’t have a price… I try to block the memory of her impassioned words. She’s being irrational, over-emotional. She doesn’t see sense. I calculated that offer to compensate her for lost revenue of the business, and now, facing a ruined house and flood damage beyond what she could ever afford, she should be happier for the money now than ever before. But some people can’t see business as the rational assessment of market value and services. They get attached, let emotions rule their decision-making instead of the cold, hard facts. Like I would have, if I’d cancelled the hotel development project, just to keep Noelle in my life. And in your bed. I grip the steering wheel tightly, hating the uneasy feeling that has gripped my body for days now. Weeks. Ever since Noelle discovered my plans, and looked at me with such betrayal in her eyes; like I’d set out to

destroy her dreams forever. It wasn’t my intention, not one bit. “It doesn’t matter what your intentions are, your actions are the only thing that last.” My father ’s voice suddenly echoes in my head. He always told me it mattered what we put into the world: words, or actions, they became real the minute they left our body, and had real consequences too. Whenever one of my siblings would protest, “I didn’t mean it!” He would scold them that it didn’t make a difference. So what would he make of me now, hurting the one woman I’ve come to care for more than anyone in my life before? The unease turns to guilt, icy and harsh. I try to ignore it, but by the time I make it back to Dex’s house, I’m in a foul mood. I have a dozen calls and emails from the New York office, wanting to know what the hell went wrong with our permits. “Call a meeting with everyone for tomorrow morning,” I instruct my number two at the company, talking on my cell as I enter the house. “I’ll catch a flight out this afternoon, and update everyone in person.” “You’re leaving?” I turn. Tegan is standing in the living room, glaring at me. “I’ll call you back,” I tell Emmett. “Have my assistant book my seat.” I hang up. Tegan has her arms folded and a petulant

scowl on her face: the same one she’s been sending me ever since things blew up with Noelle. “I have to get back to work,” I explain. “You promised you’d be here all summer. ‘A family vacation,’ you told me.” Her voice is accusing. “What about all the wedding preparations?” “I’m not exactly much use for those.” I head down the hall to the guest room and pull out my suitcase to pack. Tegan follows me, glowering from the doorway. I sigh. “Alicia and Dex have everything under control. I’ll be back for all the wedding stuff in a couple of weeks,” I add, trying to placate her. “But I have a company to run. And after the mess with this development, I can’t just stay down here, sunning myself on the beach.” “And who’s fault is that?” she demands. “I still don’t understand why you had to ruin things with Noelle like that! You guys were perfect together, don’t even try to deny it.” “No relationship is perfect.” I busy myself emptying the dresser. “And some things just don’t work out. If we were compatible, we wouldn’t be fighting like this,” I add. She snorts. “You don’t really believe that. Ryland is the love of my life, but if he pulled that double-cross on me, I would kick him out so fast you wouldn’t see him for dust.” I try to ignore what she’s saying, but it still stings. “Look, there’s no point fighting about it now. The deal is

as good as dead, and Noelle’s place is finished too. She got flooded,” I explain. “I was just over there, the damage is extensive. She’ll have to close the B&B.” Tegan blinks. “And you’re leaving town instead of helping her?” She gives me a furious look. “You know what, sometimes I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. None of us do.” She storms off, leaving me alone to pack. I quickly assemble the rest of my stuff; the sooner I get back to the city, the sooner everyone here can calm down. “She’s right, you know.” Another interruption: this time, Dex. He leans in the doorway, looking amused. “Not you too,” I sigh. “It’s all moot now, anyway. Noelle made it clear, I’m the last person she wants to see.” I pull the torn scraps of my check out of my pocket and show them as evidence. But Dex just smiles. “Maybe you were offering the wrong thing.” His words rattle me. I turn away and lift my suitcase to the floor. “I’ll be back in time for all the wedding stuff,” I tell him. Dex shrugs. “Whatever you want. Where are you heading next, do you think?” He walks me out to the front door again. “You mean, to develop? I haven’t thought about it yet. We were looking at sites in Chicago, a shopping complex in Dallas. There’s always something.”

“Well, travel safe.” Dex gives me a hug. “Tegan’s sulking in the music room,” he adds. “You should go say goodbye. Golden rule,” he reminds me, and I feel another shard of guilt. We never leave angry in this family. You never know when that goodbye will be the last. I follow the sound of piano through to the room at the back of the house. Tegan is composing, picking out notes on the baby grand. She’s building her fledgling career as a songwriter, and has had a couple of tracks make it to production for big artists already. I’m so proud of how far she’s come these past few years, and watching her now, I feel a wave of affection. “Hey,” I say, interrupting her. “C’mere.” Tegan sighs, but she gets up and comes to give me a hug. She squeezes tight. “You’re being a stupid dumdum, but I love you.” I chuckle. “Dum-dum?” “Ryland says I swear too much. We’ve got a jar now, I have to pay a dollar every time I curse. It’s going to be enough to buy a new guitar at this rate,” she adds, finally breaking into a smile. I hug her again. “I’ll see you soon,” I promise. “You shouldn’t be leaving.” She can’t help getting in one final dig. “Tegan—” “No, listen to me.” Tegan pulls back and looks up at me, her anger replaced with anxiety. “When you were

with her, you were different. You were funny, and relaxed, and happy. I’ve never seen you like that with a girlfriend before.” “You haven’t met half my girlfriends,” I protest, but she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t take it for granted. Finding someone who sees the best in you, who believes in what you can be… It’s rare, and precious, and I want it for you. You deserve a love like that, after everything you’ve done for us. You deserve to be happy.” The words slice through me. “I’ll be fine,” I reassure her, even as my voice sounds hollow. “You know I get by fine on my own.” “Fine isn’t good.” She gives me a regretful smile, then sighs. “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?” I don’t reply. “Love you,” I say instead, leaning in and kissing her forehead. “I’ll call you when I get in.” I make it to the city in plenty of time to catch my flight. I head for the business lounge as usual to make some calls before boarding, already running through the dozen projects we still have in progress. This permit issue will take some explaining, but we run into issues like this all the time. There’s no point in dwelling on it, shut-downs happen all the time. I’ll have moved on to something new by the end of the week. Another project. A different city. The only thing that’s constant is that I’ll leave it too,

in the end. I pause in the concourse. All around me, hundreds of people are hurrying to catch their flights, off on business trips and vacations—and on their way home. Where is home to me? Noelle asked, and I didn’t have an answer for her. I still don’t. I have luxury apartments in the best cities in the world, and a Rolodex full of beautiful women to date; I’ve built a company from nothing, secured my family against any kind of uncertain future, and done it all alone without anything to fall back on. I succeeded because I had to, because I had vision, and ambition, and pure desperation driving me on. “When will it ever be enough?” The question haunts me, rattling around my unwilling mind. I always believed that my rationality was a strength. I made the decision to never let my emotions cloud my judgement or derail my business, and I stuck to it. But now I wonder if I’ve been the fool all along. I knew that going ahead with the hotel development was wrong. I knew it would hurt Noelle, drive a wedge between us. I was trying to prove something to myself by pressing ahead: that I was still in control, despite my feelings for her. That love wouldn’t threaten my career, not again. And how did that work out? Failure hits me, a painful strike through my chest.

I screwed up, and that’s not something I’m used to. But for the first time in my life, it’s not the tanked business deal that hurts, but the person I wounded instead. Noelle. Her beautiful face flashes into my mind, bringing with it a ton weight of guilt and remorse. I can’t pretend any longer, clinging to my weak justifications. Even I can’t hide from the simple truth: I let her down. The one woman to see past my cold exterior, and believe there was more to me underneath. She only ever saw the best in me, and how did I reward her? By going behind her back to kick her off her property, and claiming the whole time it was just business. She was right. I was lying to myself. There’s no such thing as “just business” anymore. I want to be better than that, have more in my life than just the glossy stack of company brochures, the legacy I wanted to build. That empire stands, sure, but it’s empty. A home is more than bricks and mortar, it’s the people you fill your life with instead. My family gets that, Noelle understands. Hell, everyone seems to have a clue except me. “Now boarding Flight A67 to New York.” The announcement comes over the loudspeaker, snapping me out of my daze. My flight—and my ticket

out of here. I can get on that plane right now, and leave all this mess behind. Be back at my desk by the morning, move on with my life and leave this failure behind. I head for the gate on autopilot, and pass my ticket to the attendant, before making my way on board to the first class section. It’s a quiet flight, half-full, and I retrieve my laptop before stowing my carry-on in the over-head compartment and taking my seat. What the hell are you doing? You can’t leave this time! I open my laptop and stare blankly at the screen. The other passengers are filing on now in a noisy hustle, but I try to block them out and focus on the work right in front of me, on anything except the doubts thundering in my brain, and every instinct screaming at me to get off this plane and go back to Beachwood Bay. Back to Noelle. I flashback to the first night I met her, the night of the masquerade party. I saw her, stuck there in the middle of the city street with her heel trapped in a grate. She looked so beautiful, bathed in neon, and just like that, logic flew out the window. It was inevitable. I never believed in bullshit like destiny before, but looking back now, there was something almost fated about our meeting: a coincidence that sparked an inferno, the madness of attraction and lust. But it was more than just desire. Everything about

her only made me fall harder: her wit, her laughter, her loyalty and determination. She challenged me like nobody else, not afraid to call me on my bullshit, or push me away when I broke her trust in me forever. My heart twists, bitter and painful. If only I’d never gone to help her out—if I’d just kept my distance, instead of letting my wildest impulses take over—then none of this mess would have ever happened. I wouldn’t feel so conflicted and guilty, torn between my safe, structured life in New York, and the whirlwind of bright chaos Noelle seems to carry in her wake. You wouldn’t know what it’s like to hold her in your arms; to gladly lose control to a passion bigger than you ever dreamed. I slam my laptop shut with a scowl. “Can I get you a drink before takeoff?” A friendly flight attendant pauses by me. “No. Thank you,” I add, sounding way too curt. “You just let me know,” she says with a suggestive wink, but I barely register her. I’m still caught up in memories of Noelle. Every laugh. Every kiss. Every molten touch. I grip the armrests beside me and try to block her from my mind, but I can’t. How long can I keep running? How far will I go to keep the world at arm’s length?

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion, a bonedeep, weary grief. It’s been years now, a decade since I allowed anyone to get close. Many have tried, but I locked them all out. Aside from my family, from Dex, and Tegan, and Blake too, there’s been nobody I ever depended on, or allowed to see me at my worst. I’m so fucking tired of carrying this weight alone. Before I can stop myself or think it through, I find myself tearing off my seatbelt and bolting to my feet. I push into the aisle and yank my suitcase back down. “Sir? Can I help you? Sir?” The attendant looks panicked. “I’m sorry,” I explain quickly. “I can’t take this flight. I have to get off.” “But we’re just finishing boarding. Sir? Sir!” I leave her protests behind as I cut through the influx of passengers and stride towards the cabin door. My chest feels so tight, I can’t breathe, not until I’m racing back up the tunnel and emerging back out into the busy airport lounge. I don’t have much time. I break into a jog as I retrace my route, heading for the exit. Determination surges in my bloodstream, propelling me on with every step. Noelle. Maybe I’m too late. Maybe I broke us beyond repair, but I won’t just walk away this time. I can’t.

I need to show her how much she means to me. I have to make this right.



23.

Noelle. “Maybe I should have taken the deal.” I lift my head from a lounger in Juliet’s backyard and look over at my friend. After I spent every waking minute since the flood in a total state of despair, Juliet insisted we take a break from clean-up to hang out at her beach house and try to relax. But it’s impossible to shut off my brain when I can’t see a single solution to my problems—except the one I just turned down. “It was good money,” I continue with a groan. “Great, in fact. God, I’m so stupid. I threw away my one shot at solving all this mess. Literally! I tossed it in his face.” “I wish I’d been there to see it,” Juliet chuckles, taking a sip of lemonade. It’s a gorgeous afternoon, but I can’t appreciate the weather when visions of that collapsed ceiling keep haunting my mind. “It’s not funny!” I whimper. “The insurance guy says Nana’s policy was totally outdated. It won’t cover even a quarter of the cost of the damage. I should have sold the land when I still had the chance.” “You don’t believe that,” Juliet reminds me. She gives me a sympathetic look. “We’ll get the place cleaned up, and then figure out the rest. Maybe it’ll take

some time to get the B&B back on its feet, but you can’t quit now. Not with Bunny Vanderberg’s treasured seal of approval,” she adds. There’s irony for you. The day after the flood, Bunny’s glowing review ran in Classic Southern Travel. The phone’s been ringing off the hook back at the house, but I didn’t have the heart to tell anyone that we’re closed for business—indefinitely. I sent all the calls to voicemail, but sooner or later, I’m going to have to face the truth: Rose Cottage is finished, no matter what I do. I let out another sigh of despair. I would give anything to turn the clock back a week, to when it seemed like the future was shining full of promise; Ash kissing his way down my body as we lay bathed in the morning sunlight; a house full of paying guests that weren’t wading through five inches of water. I had it, I was so close to everything I wanted, and now, it’s all slipped away. “Would it help to bake something?” Juliet offers. “Just say the word, and my kitchen is yours.” “Real selfless,” I crack, shooting her a look. She grins. “Hey, if making triple chocolate cupcakes will help you through this difficult time, then as your friend, I need to support you.” “Thanks,” I manage a smile, “but I think we’re way past baking.” I try to lie there and soak up the sunshine, but my

brain is buzzing too hard with thoughts of the wreckage —and worse still, Ash. Why did he have to leave that way? I know I’m supposed to hate him right now, but the flood makes his hotel plan seem insignificant in comparison. He didn’t ruin things for me in the end; a mix of bad luck and rusted pipes took care of that all on their own. I try to put him out of my mind, but my heart aches, all the same. I miss him. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I really do. I miss his wit, and his intensity, and the dazzling smile that would flood his features when he forgot to hold back; like a rare gift, just for me. And most of all, I miss the way he made me feel, like absolutely anything was possible. And now he’s gone. I sit up with a jolt. “I’m sorry,” I tell Juliet. “I know we were supposed to hang out, but I can’t just sit around here doing nothing.” “I understand.” Juliet gets up. “When are they coming to suck the rest of the water out?” “Not until Friday,” I reply, slipping my sandals back on. “I just hope it’s in time to keep everything from being permanently ruined.” She hugs me. “Is it OK for you to sleep there? You can crash with us here if you need.” “Thanks, but my studio managed to escape the worst of it. It’s like camping,” I say, trying to be upbeat.

“Candles and everything.” “Well, if you change your mind, just say the word. And Ryland will come by tomorrow, talk about construction options.” “Unless he can replace the floors, plumbing and drywall for five bucks, I don’t know what use it will be.” I catch myself sounding downcast, and shake my head. “Sorry, I’m just tired. I appreciate it, I really do.” I leave Juliet’s and walk home. Or at least, to the place I thought I’d get to call home for years to come. But now, I don’t know what the future holds. I could go back to New York and pick up my legal career where I left off; pretend like the past few months never happened. But somehow, that thought makes me recoil. I couldn’t go back now. I’ve had a taste of the life I want, a life of freedom and creativity and belonging, and I couldn’t forget that, not even if I tried. I want to make my life here, but what that means, I have no idea anymore. The sound of a horn comes, and I leap back out of the middle of the road. A truck passes me by, and then another—this one with a cement mixer on the bed. They rumble on down the winding road ahead of me, leaving clouds of dust in their wake. I walk faster, curious, and round the bend in time to see them squeeze into the driveway at Rose Cottage. What on earth?

I hurry home, arriving just as another big van pulls in, and three beefy guys get out. They go unload equipment from the back, and I fight my way through to see what’s going on. It’s bedlam. There must be two dozen people here, in a whirlwind of activity. Construction guys carrying plywood and debris out of the house, more men hoisting some kind of industrial hose up the front steps, and people taking measurements and consulting a sheaf of plans. “Hello?” I grab the nearest guy in a work shirt. “What’s going on?” “Renovation job,” he answers cheerfully, grabbing a bag of cement. “But…this is my house!” “Take it up with the boss,” he shrugs, before heading inside. I look around, totally confused. Everyone’s working at breakneck pace; I can’t see anyone who might be in charge. Then I catch sight of a group of people clustered over by the side gate. Their heads are bent over papers, set up on a folding table, and they’re consulting the plans and pointing back at the house. I head over, ready to give someone a piece of my mind. Then I hear a familiar voice rise above the noise, sounding full of authority. “Once the water ’s out, we’ll need to check the integrity of the whole structure. I’m thinking it might be

safer to replace more of the area around the collapse.” He straightens up, and our eyes meet across the yard. Ash. I stop dead. I don’t understand. I thought he left; that he hated me. So what is he going in my front yard with his sleeves rolled up and half the construction crews in the state at his beck and call? The others disperse, and he comes to meet me. “Sorry about the mess.” He gives me a rueful grin. “Heads up!” Suddenly Ash grabs my arm and pulls me off the path as five guys haul some kind of steel beam into the house. “Watch out,” he warns me. “You should probably stay back while they’re working. There wasn’t time to set up a proper staging area, not on this tight schedule.” “What schedule?” I finally cry, my head still spinning. “What’s going on here?” I pause, gripped with a sudden panic. “I said, I’m not selling. You can’t just march in here and rip the place to pieces—!” “We’re not ripping anything apart,” Ash cuts me off. “We’re restoring it. All the damage, it’ll be fixed in a couple of days, I promise.” Wait, what? I stare at him in a daze. “Say that again?” I ask weakly. He breaks into a broad grin: the kind of dazzling smile that would take my breath away if I wasn’t already having problems remembering to inhale.

“Rose Cottage is getting back to normal,” he explains. “I called my crews, and had them come straight out. They’ll work straight through if you want; you’ll be ready for guests again by next week. Oh, and your phone won’t stop ringing,” he adds. “Your voicemail is full, so I’ve had my assistant take reservation requests. It sounds like the article was a hit, you’ll be booked solid until fall.” Ash passes me a stack of message slips, but I just stand there in disbelief. I still can’t understand; he tried to get this place razed to the ground, and now he’s doing all of this to help? “I can’t afford any of this,” I protest weakly. He shakes his head. “You don’t have to. It’s taken care of.” “By…you?” I blink. This is all too much. I’m missing something, I have to be. “But why?” I ask. “This morning, you wanted to buy the place out from under me!” “Because I’m sorry.” Ash’s confident smile slips. He steps forward, as if he’s about to reach for me—then hold back, putting his hands in his pockets instead. “I screwed up,” he tells me, a plaintive expression in his eyes. “You were right, I got so lost in business, I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I’m sorry, Noelle, for ever hurting you. And the work you’ve done here with the house, it shouldn’t be in vain. So I’m fixing my mistakes—if you’ll let me.”

His words crash over me in a wave of genuine regret. He means it, every word. It’s not just a flashy speech for a crowd, or him turning on the charm to get his way. Ash is sorry. He’s trying to make it up to me. He wants to make everything right. “I…I don’t know what to say,” I stutter. It’s all too much to take in. And even as I’m filled with relief over the house, my heart is still tied up in knots. Does this mean he wants to fix our relationship, too? A construction guy interrupts before I can answer, walking between us with a load of plywood. I duck out of the way. “Wait,” Ash says, taking my hand. “I can’t hear myself think with all this.” He leads me through the chaotic back yard, and past the gate that leads down to the beach. I follow, my head spinning—and my skin electric from his touch. He’s sorry. He’s here. Ash comes to a stop out where the dunes begin; golden and breezy in the crisp ocean air. Here, the construction noise is faded, and there’s nothing but the sound of crashing waves and my own heartbeat, like thunder in my chest. He turns to face me, still holding on. “Can you forgive me?” he asks, cradling my hand between his. “Noelle, I know I screwed up. Please, tell me it’s not too late for us.”

The emotion is clear on his handsome face, but I’m still shell-shocked and confused. “I don’t know,” I blurt. His face falls, but I keep a grip on his hands. “You really hurt me, Ash,” I explain, my pulse racing. “I trusted you, I opened up, and then you turn around and act like I meant nothing at all.” “I know,” Ash swallows. His authoritative tone is gone now, leaving nothing but naked vulnerability. “I’m not good at this, at letting people in. I swore a long time ago I wouldn’t let my feelings get in the way of my career, and I stuck to it. Until you.” My heart lifts, despite myself. “You changed everything for me, Noelle.” He reaches to gently cradle my cheek in his hand, his dark eyes searching mine. “Everything. I was only fighting it so hard because I was scared, that if I let this be real, it would make me weaker somehow. That needing you made me less of a man.” “Ash…” I don’t know what to say. He’s laying everything on the line now, and I know it can’t be easy. Ash has made an art of independence; never admitting any weakness, always being the one to carry the burden of responsibility alone. And now he’s telling me he wants to change. To open up that strong, tender heart he protects so well, and share it. With me. The betrayal and frustration that’s been clawing tight

ever since I discovered his plans finally melts away, leaving nothing but something pure, and sweet, and wild. Something true. I go up on my tiptoes, and in one smooth motion, I press my lips to his in a searching kiss. He answers me with everything he has. Ash’s arms come tight around me, cradling me safely against his muscular torso as his mouth claims mine, once and for all. He kisses me fervently, passionately, pouring every ounce of emotion, every last promise, into this moment, right here. And it’s perfect. Pleasure and pure joy radiate through my whole body. I hold on to him tightly, overwhelmed by the feelings crashing over me—and how right it feels to be back in his arms. This kiss could obliterate the sun, but I feel more alive than ever, his touch bringing me home. This is why I couldn’t just ignore him. This is why even when I hated him, I couldn’t get him out of my mind. Because Ash doesn’t make me forget myself, he makes me feel more me. Like right here in his arms is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I feel bolder, braver, more self-assured. I could do anything with him beside me. And I never want to let him go. At last, we come up for air. I cling to him, giddy, smiling ear to ear. “Is that a ‘yes’?” Ash asks, his voice low and ragged.

I kiss him again. “What do you think?” “I need to hear you say it.” His eyes search mine. “I need to know we can move on, that you won’t hold it against me, and drag it up every time we fight.” “You’re planning on fighting some more with me?” I ask, teasing, as I slide my hands over his chest. “That’s a great start to our relationship.” Ash chuckles. “Damn right I am.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, still gripping me tightly in his arms. “I plan on fighting with you, and laughing with you, and loving you for the rest of my life.” His eyes catch mine, blazing with certainty—and the kind of determination that lasts a lifetime. Wow. I forget how to breathe for a moment, overcome with the promise he’s making—and what an incredible future it would be. Will be. “OK,” I agree breathlessly. Ash breaks into a massive smile, full of such happiness that it melts me all over again. God, I want to see this man smile forever. “OK to which part?” he asks, cradling my face in his hands. “Just to be clear now.” “You sound like you’re drawing up a contract,” I giggle. “Maybe we should,” he laughs. “We, the undersigned, do solemnly swear to always forgive each

other when we screw up, and make out at every moment possible.” “And do the dishes when it’s your turn,” I add. “And never leave angry,” he adds, a tender look crossing his face. “Never leave at all,” I correct him. “I can live with that.” Ash grins. There’s a crashing sound from the house, he winces. “We better check they’re not tearing out a wall you need.” “I do need walls,” I agree, as we turn to stroll back towards the house. “But what about you?” I ask. “Where are you going to live, I mean? Your work is in New York.” “My company can run fine with me at a distance,” he says, sliding an arm around my shoulder. “I can visit every month. You’ll want to see your family, won’t you? And besides, I have to figure out what to do with all this land.” He gestures next door, to the plot that stretches down the bay. “No hotels,” I tell him, only part joking. He chuckles. “I promise. No, I was thinking more along the lines of a house. A home,” he adds, glancing down at me with meaning in his eyes. I squeeze him tight in answer, loving the thought of him right there next door to me. Or even closer. Because Ash’s smile turns knowing. “Besides,” he

adds. “Just because you’re running the B&B, it doesn’t mean you have to stay living in that little studio. I’m sure I’d have plenty of room for you with me.” “You mean, so I can come over and use your pool?” I tease. Ash suddenly sweeps me into his arms. “I was thinking more, my bed,” he corrects me, his eyes dark with a passionate intent that makes me forget the crowded yard, and all the workmen bustling around. “Every night, and every morning, and everything in between.” The moment shimmers between us. The promise of a future. “I love you,” I whisper, and he smiles. “I’ve been falling in love with you since the minute we met. And I’m going to keep falling, forever.” He dips me back and kisses me hard, until there are whoops and whistles around us in the yard. But still, we don’t stop. This is just the beginning, and I don’t ever want to stop. THE END (Almost!)



Epilogue

You are invited to celebrate the wedding of Alicia Kathryn Wright & Dexter James Callahan 1 Beach Lane, Beachwood Bay 3pm Dress: formal

Noelle & Ash “Don’t drop that!” Noelle’s breath caught as she watched Ash unload the huge covered cake tray from the back of the car. For one heart-stopping moment, the load teetered in his hands; then he gripped it firmly and sent her a reassuring smile. “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” “I’ll worry until the moment the happy couple are cutting into their perfect wedding cake.” Noelle followed him into the house, keeping her hands free in case she needed to make a lunge to keep the tray from hitting the ground. Already, the place was bustling with caterers, florists, and assistants, all working to unload the vans and carry everything down to the beach. But her cargo was the most precious of all—at least, in her opinion. Ash chuckled as he maneuvered expertly towards the kitchen. “You know as long as it tastes great, nobody will mind.” “I do!” Noelle knew he was teasing her, but she couldn’t help taking the bait. “I was up all night baking, I want everything to be perfect.” “I know you were up all night.” Ash carefully set the tray down on the countertop, amongst the crates of glassware and hors d'oeuvres. He turned suddenly, sliding his arms around Noelle’s waist and pulling her close enough to whisper in her ear. “I was the one who

made sure you took plenty of breaks.” “You mean, tirelessly distracted me.” Noelle flushed at the memory of his hot lips on her skin. “You know me.” Ash dipped a kiss to her neck. “When I set my mind to something, I always achieve it. Multiple times,” he murmured. Noelle melted against him—until a caterer came barging through with a load of silverware. She leapt back. “I still have to assemble,” she said, slipping out of his embrace. Ash watched as she unpacked her supplies and eased the lid off the trays, revealing three separate tiers of cake, already adorned with ice-smooth fondant. Noelle bit her lip with concentration as she carefully spread more frosting between the layers, using it as cement to secure the towering stack in place. He loved watching her work. To Noelle, baking was an art form, and every minute in the kitchen transported her to a different world. Sometimes she would lose track of time completely, and he would stand in the doorway as she mixed, and rolled, and tasted, totally oblivious to his presence—or how temptingly sexy she looked with flour in her hair and sugar on her lips, just waiting for his kiss. He would move behind her, kissing his way across the slope of her shoulders as she tried to finish the task at hand—and failed. He couldn’t count the number of times the smoke alarm had blared, reminding them about a batch of burning cookies in the oven while

they were lost in a tangle on the kitchen floor. It was why the plans for their new house had heated floors. And plenty of counter space. And just about the biggest master bedroom suite he’d ever seen. In fact, while Noelle was getting all worked up over her dream kitchen, Ash had been secretly designing the house around every single place they would be having sex. There were worse ways to plan a life together. Now, Noelle dusted the top of the wedding cake with a glitter of sugar crystals, and scattered sugared rose petals on each tier. She finally glanced up, and found him watching her. “What?” she asked with a smile. “Nothing.” Ash lied. She didn’t need to know about the ring box hidden in his desk drawer just yet, and besides, he wasn’t about to steal his brother ’s thunder on his big day. “Dex and Alicia are going to love this cake,” he said instead. “I hope so.” Noelle finally stood back. “There,” she said proudly. “Done.” She snapped a quick photo and then secured the whole thing under a dome. “Don’t let me touch it again,” she told him, and Ash grabbed both her hands tightly. “Promise.” He tugged her away, out of the kitchen and onto one of the terraces that overlooked the beach. Below, there was a hive of activity setting up for the big event. Ash wrapped his arms around her, and Noelle leaned back, into his embrace.

“It’s a great day for it,” she said happily, taking a deep breath of the crisp sea air. “How’s Dex doing?” “Worryingly calm.” Ash savored the feel of her body in his arms. “Although, it’s still odds-on they’ll ditch the whole thing and elope to Vegas.” Noelle laughed. “Are you kidding?” She turned to face him. “A bride who spends two weeks picking the frosting for her reception cupcakes is not about to bolt. Trust me.” “When it comes to matters of baking, I’ll defer to your expertise.” Ash leaned in to kiss her, but Noelle pulled back. “Just baking?” she teased. “Fine. Everything,” Ash conceded, then claimed the kiss he’d been waiting for. He could kiss this woman forever. And he would. *

Lacey & Daniel “Flight 350 baggage arriving at carousel five…” “That’s us!” Lacey charged determinedly through the crowd of leisurely tourists, not even pausing to check if Daniel was keeping pace. She knew he would be. In the eighteen months they’d spent together, they had their travel routine down to an art: from Paris, to Mexico, with family holidays in Chicago in between, Daniel was the one who kept track of tickets and flight times and boarding schedules, and Lacey? Well, Lacey made sure they had plenty of snacks and magazines, and didn’t reach the gate too late. Most of the time. They’d just gotten back from their latest adventure: a trip to the Caribbean to celebrate Daniel making junior partner at his law firm in New York, and Lacey landing a big festival client at her event planning company. Although this trip had proven to be more adventurous than she’d ever planned… “Is that my suitcase?” Lacey elbowed her way to the front of the line, peering at a plain blue bag hurtling down the chute. “No, yours has that pink ribbon on the handle, remember?” Daniel reminded her, standing by. “The one you made me use, even though it looks

ridiculous,” Lacey teased him. Daniel smirked. “Only because you made it all the way to our hotel that time in Miami before realizing you’d swiped some poor dancer ’s luggage.” “I think the correct term is stripper,” Lacey grinned. “At least, I hope she was one. Otherwise there’s no justifying those nipple tassels!” Daniel’s smile turned wolfish. “I don’t know. We justified those just fine.” Lacey laughed at the memory. They didn’t leave the hotel once that trip—there were way hotter things to do out of the sun. “And to think, you were so uptight when we met.” “Gee, thanks!” Daniel protested. “I’m glad I got you out of your shell, babe.” Lacey bounced up on her tip-toes and dropped a kiss on his lips. “Now look at you: Mr. Impulsive, flying by the seat of his pants.” “And yours.” He tugged her closer and landed a light spank on her ass. Lacey’s eyes glittered with flirtation as she beamed up at him. “Promises, promises.” “Just you wait…Mrs. Sullivan.” Daniel savored the words, but Lacey’s face flashed with panic. “Shh!” She leapt back and hit him lightly on the arm. “We made a deal! No Mr.- and Mrs.-ing until after this wedding!” “I don’t see what the problem is,” Daniel argued,

looking down at his new wife. She looked happy and tanned, and sexy as hell—and he wanted the world to know that she belonged with him. “They’ll be happy for us.” “Sure, they’ll say so,” Lacey shook her head. “But seriously, no bride wants someone else showing her up on her wedding day. What are we going to tell them: ‘Surprise, we eloped’?” “It was your idea,” Daniel pointed out, still amused. Lacey snorted. “Sure, and you just happened to know where to find an officiant, and rings, and a flock of white doves on a tropical island with two hours notice!” Daniel grinned. Nothing got past Lacey. He’d planned it for weeks, just in case—he told himself. But that was his style, and as much as he loved Lacey’s spontaneity, it couldn’t change the fact he’d wanted to have everything lined up for that perfect moment on the sunset beach when he’d dropped to one knee and proposed they get hitched—that same night. She’d said yes, of course, like he’d known she would. That was the thing he loved most about Lacey: that for all her crazy, last-minute schemes, he never doubted for one second that her heart was true, and belonged to him. The perfect match. “Ooh, there it is!” Lacey caught sight of the ridiculous pink ribbon on the luggage carousel. She stood back, and let Daniel hoist it to the ground. He

hadn’t checked any baggage, he just had a couple of outfits thrown in his neat little roll-on suitcase. Men. “So did you book the rental car?” Daniel asked, heading towards the exit. Lacey stopped dead. Panic gripped her as she looked at the line by the rental booth, snaking ten people deep. “What?” she cried. “You didn’t tell me I was supposed to! And now we’ll be late, and miss the start of the service, and—” “Relax!” Daniel cut her off, laughing. “I’m just teasing. It’s all booked.” Lacey exhaled in a whoosh. “Don’t do that!” She hit his arm. “I nearly just had a heart attack, and my wedding outfit doesn’t come with a defibrillator!” Daniel caught her hand and pulled her against him. “I’m sorry.” He grinned down at her, more unpredictable than she’d ever dreamed. “I couldn’t resist.” “You’re lucky I love you so much, Mr. James.” Lacey couldn’t even pretend to stay mad. “I’m counting on it.” Daniel kissed her long and hard, until her head was spinning, and she didn’t know if she would ever come back down to earth. And that was just fine with her. “C’mon,” he said, taking her hand—and her heart. “We’ve got a wedding to get to.” *



Brit & Hunter “My man scrubs up good,” Brit teased. “Don’t you start.” Hunter looked over with a selfdeprecating smile. He was relaxed in the driver ’s seat, one hand on the steering wheel, and the other slung around her shoulder, like always as they wound through the country roads on the outskirts of Beachwood Bay. “I mean it,” she grinned, admiring how handsome he looked cleanly shaven, in a well-fitting tux. “Look at you: not a shred of plaid or denim. I’m so proud.” “I aim to please, ma’am.” Hunter mussed her hair, laughing. Brit ducked away with a cry. “Don’t! All the bridesmaids are supposed to have their hair up.” “So we’ll fix it later.” Hunter gave her a smoldering look. “Who knows what else will happen between here and the ceremony.” “I’m guessing you have some ideas,” Brit laughed. “Plenty. Although, to really be thorough, I might have to wait for that vacation we’ve been talking about,” he added. Brit sighed with longing. “God, yes, a vacation! I feel like it’s been forever since we had a break. We didn’t even get a honeymoon!” “I know I owe you for that,” Hunter agreed. She glanced over, frowning. “You know I didn’t

mind. You had breeding season at the ranch, and business for me has been crazy—especially now I’m launching my bridal boutique,” she added. Her excitement rose, thinking of Alicia walking down the aisle in another of her dresses. She loved working with brides to bring their perfect image to life in her designs, and with a months-long waiting list for her private clients, it had been a natural move to expand her flourishing fashion line into a bridal boutique. She had the store location all picked out in the city, with a gorgeous salon and studio in the back for her work. “Still, I promise, this summer we’ll make the time,” Hunter vowed. “Just you and me on a beach somewhere.” “Like right here?” she teased, pointing out the window to the sparkling ocean. “Far, far away,” Hunter corrected. “Clothing optional. We can finally get started on those grandkids my mom keeps bugging me about…” He gave her a wink, and Brit felt a glow of possibility. “Maybe,” she said cautiously. “Although, I kind of love how hard she’s hinting. Every time we visit, she bends over backwards being nice to me, like that’s going to make the difference.” “It’s pretty great, ” Hunter agreed. There were worse things in the world than his parents and wife actually getting on for a change. “But you know, we should probably start practicing.” he added, giving Brit a

meaningful look. Her bridesmaid dress had a dozen tiny buttons up the back, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have to undo a single one, not with that skirt folded loose around her thighs, just begging to be pushed higher… “Start?” Brit arched an eyebrow, and he laughed. “Day and night, if that’s what it takes.” Brit pretended to sigh. “I guess I better take one for the team.” Hunter pulled into the driveway at the house, and hit the brakes. He slid his hands around Brit’s waist, and with one swift yank, pulled her into his lap. “You’ll take whatever I give you,” he murmured, his hands roaming over the curve of her silk-clad ass. “Until you’re screaming my name.” He felt her breath catch. “Is that an order?” she whispered, her lips grazing his ear. Lust slammed him. God, it was always like this: as hard and wild as the very first time. “You bet your life it is.” He slid a hand between her thighs, tracing the soft skin. Brit’s eyes locked on his, her cheeks flushing. Somewhere, he registered other vehicles arriving, and people heading for the house, but they were alone in the cab of his truck and nothing else mattered in the world. It never did when he was with her. This was his universe, right there in his arms. Hunter leaned down and slowly kissed her, licking

deep into her mouth as Brit melted against him. His hand strayed higher, teasing, until he could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Then he pulled away and smoothed her dress down. “You should fix your hair before the ceremony.” His smirk was infuriating. Brit panted for air, her body crackling like a live-wire. “Evil,” she cursed him. She loved it when he made her wait, but still, that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Hunter opened the door and gently lifted her down to the ground. “I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.” He got out too, and started walking towards the house, but Brit yanked him back. “Not so fast.” She pushed him up against the truck and kissed him hard, the kind of late-night, breathless, front-doorstep kiss that went on forever until they were both gasping. She felt his body rise against her, his hands gripping tightly, molding her to him— This time, she was the one to break the kiss and step away. Hunter let out a groan. “See? Not so fun, is it?” “I beg to disagree.” Hunter gave her a wolfish look. “It’s always fun.” Brit reached up and cleaned a smudge of lipstick from his face. She linked his arm through hers. “Ready?” “Always.” Hunter leaned in close. “And the sooner

we celebrate here, the sooner I get you in my bed. Or stable,” he added meaningfully. Her heart skipped. God, she loved this man. “I can’t wait.” *

Zoey & Blake It was a perfect afternoon for a wedding, Zoey decided, as they walked down from the house. The sky was cloudless, blue and bright over the golden sands, with a fresh breeze cutting through the summer heat. Everything was set up for the ceremony, right on the shore: rows of white chairs arranged facing the sparkling blue ocean, and an arbor wreathed in bright fuchsia and white roses. People were starting to take their seats, dressed in their best formal clothes. She saw Garrett, juggling baby Sawyer and chatting with Ryland and Austin, plus a host of faces she didn’t recognize. They were a lively mix of Dex’s rockstar crew and Alicia’s business world friends, but then again, the happy couple had always been an unlikely match; it was one of the things that made them work so well together. “Did you remember the rings?” she asked Blake. A moment of panic crossed his face. He patted the pocket of his tux, then exhaled in relief. “Yup, right here.” “You look nervous.” Zoey was amused. Here was a guy who’d been on the front page of every gossip magazine in the world; who walked the red carpet at his movie premieres in front of thousands of screaming fans, and he was getting anxious about this: a simple wedding ceremony.

“I’m the best man,” Blake said, looking around. A couple of the younger guests were watching him, wideeyed with adoration, but Blake was oblivious. “Dex is depending on me to play my part right.” “What about Ash?” Zoey asked. “He’s the other best man.” Blake snorted. “He’s too mushy and in love to focus on anything but Noelle right now.” Zoey gave him a look. “Not that I’m not,” he quickly corrected himself, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss. He shot her a conspiratorial smile. “But we’ve learned to function on pure endorphins by now. That poor guy had no warning, it slammed him for six.” “True,” Zoey agreed with a smile. She squeezed Blake’s hand. It was good to be back in Beachwood Bay, even for a flying visit. First thing in the morning, they would be heading back to LA to finish up shooting on Blake’s next movie, then moving to London for the rest of the summer, for Zoey to work on her next script with her writing partner, Dash. She and Blake had figured out a schedule so that they wouldn’t have to be apart for even a day; long-distance was no good at all when they still had years apart to catch up on. And nights to spend, discovering each other all over again. Zoey found their seats, in the front row. Each chair was adorned with trailing white ribbons and a cute

Polaroid of Alicia and Dex striking a crazy pose. She turned in time to see Blake messing with his bow tie again. “Let me do that.” She laughed at the sight of him, all mussed up. “You’re getting it all lopsided. How is it we go to a dozen red carpet events every week, but you still need me to tie a tie for you?” “Maybe I just like it better when you do it.” Blake grinned, then loosened it. “Damn things always make me feel like a stuffed shirt, on display.” “I think you look very dapper in this tux.” She retied it, then smoothed down his lapels, her hands lingering on his chest. “Although, I like you out of it, too,” she added, with a wicked look. “Believe me, I’m counting down the minutes too.” Blake laughed. She looked gorgeous in her simple blue gown, but then again, Zoey took his breath away in jeans and a T-shirt too. Pretty much all she had to do was smile at him, and time stopped. He’d said he was used to the rush, but that was a lie. He hoped he would never get used to the pleasure of having her by his side. The guests were taking their seats now. He looked around, and saw Dex and Ash approaching. “I better go see what my next best man duties are required.” “I’ll go check on the blushing bride,” Zoey agreed. She made to leave, but he caught her hand. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” She looked confused, so he tapped his lips. She

broke into a dazzling smile. “So demanding.” Zoey leaned up and kissed him sweetly. Blake tugged her closer, deepening the kiss as he reveled in the taste of her. Finally, Zoey pulled back, her cheeks flushed. “I’ll be right back,” she promised. “Don’t worry,” she added, giving him a tender smile. “You’ll do great, you always do.” “That’s because I have you with me,” Blake replied, and her heart skipped a beat—just like always. Just like it would do, forever. *

Alicia & Dex Inside, the bridal party had taken over the whole second floor of the house. There was champagne, bouquets, and taffeta at every turn; the bridesmaids in full celebration. And in the middle of the flurry of activity, Alicia was covering her eyes. “I can’t look!” she exclaimed, her stomach tied up in knots. She felt the rustle of silk as Brit adjusted her veil and dress. They’d spent hours together going over Brit’s designs, and then later, the fittings for the dress itself, but this was different: today was for real. “It’s perfect,” Brit insisted, laughing. “Now open your eyes, and gaze upon my genius.” “What about your modesty?” another voice teased. Juliet. Alicia had wanted a big bridal party: all her friends with her to share in this moment, but right now, she wished there was some calm for her to pull herself together. She gulped. She’d had no idea she would turn into such a bundle of nerves over her wedding day, but it meant more to her than she’d ever imagined. She and Dex were starting their life together as husband and wife, in front of all their family and friends. It was aweinspiring, life-changing—and she wanted every memory to last a lifetime. “Just open your eyes.” This time, it was Carina, who

tried to peel her hands away. “If you keep doing that, you’ll smudge your makeup.” Alicia took a deep breath, finally lowered her hands and opened her eyes. “Oh my god!” she breathed, staring at her reflection. It was incredible. Her dress was designed in cascading petals of white silk, floating down from a fitted strapless bodice. There were dozens of tiny pearls embroidered at the neckline, and woven into the veil that tumbled down her back over her red hair, styled in loose waves. She looked just the way she’d always dreamed she would on her wedding day—but even better, she knew Dex would love it too. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. After all those years alone, wistfully daydreaming about true love, she was about to pledge her life to the best man she’d ever known. “No crying!” Juliet swooped in with a tissue, carefully dabbing at the corner of her eyes. “Or you’ll set us all off too!” “You look beautiful,” her mom smiled, squeezing her hand. “Radiant,” Tegan agreed. “And my dress is fabulous,” Brit beamed. Alicia laughed, “It’s mine now. I feel like a princess. I don’t ever want to take it off!” “I bet Dex will beg to disagree,” Carina winked. Tegan cleared her throat loudly.

“Come on,” Carina turned, sighing. “Your brother has a sex life, deal with it.” Alicia let them bicker; she was still overwhelmed by the picture in the mirror. Brit came closer, their eyes met in the reflection. “Everything you wanted?” she asked Alicia softly. Alicia knew she wasn’t just talking about the dress. Alicia nodded without hesitation. “Everything and more.” There was a tap at the door, and then Zoey stuck her head in. “Everybody’s ready for you,” she smiled. There was a chorus of excitement. Brit adjusted Alicia’s dress one final time, then handed her the bouquet of pale pink and white roses. They all made their way downstairs and out to the back pool area that led onto the beach, where the bridesmaids arranged themselves into a line, and Alicia’s dad came to accompany her down the aisle. She clutched his arm, her nerves returning. “One foot in front of the other, sweetheart,” her dad kissed her on the forehead. “You look just splendid.” The music started, a slow instrumental song played by Dex’s bandmates. Alicia watched as Juliet, Carina, and co. headed out in turn, walking down the sandy aisle, strewn with rose petals. This was it. She wanted to freeze time somehow, and savor this moment forever, but she felt her father give her a nudge,

and then they were walking, slow towards the crowd of people. Everyone turned to stare. Alicia recognized friends and family, all beaming at her with affection and pride. Her heart swelled. The beach looked so beautiful, flowers everywhere under the midsummer skies. Then she saw Dex waiting by the altar, and everything else melted away. He made her heart stop: dark and gorgeous in his tux, cleanly-shaven with his hair slicked back. But it was the look in his eyes that she would remember forever. Like she was the only woman on earth. Alicia drifted the rest of the distance towards him in a dream. Her father kissed her cheek, and stepped back, and then they were together under the rose arbor. Dex tried to remember how to breathe. He hadn’t been nervous; he’d taken all the wedding stuff in stride. He would have been happy running off to Vegas, anything to get a ring on this woman’s finger, but Alicia was a romantic, and more than anything else, he wanted her to have the wedding of her dreams. Now, he sent silent thanks for every sample book and afternoon they’d spent picking out flowers and cake. Because just standing there, looking at her so beautiful in her white silk dress, he wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. She was his. His love, his inspiration, his saving grace. She’d rescued him from the darkness clawing at

his soul, and now they would spend their lives in the sun. Together. “We’re gathered here today among friends…” The minister began his speech, but Dex was still gazing at Alicia, in awe. Her eyes were shining with emotion and happiness. He barely heard a word, didn’t register anything but her, until his brother, Blake, elbowed him in the ribs. He snapped his head around. “The rings?” Blake whispered, looking amused. Dex looked down, then took the gold bands from his outstretched hand. “Do you, Dex Callahan, promise to take Alicia Wright as your lawful wife—to honor her, and love her, through good times and bad, until the end of your lives?” His answer was simple, and from the heart. “I do.” “And do you Alicia, promise to take Dex as your husband—to honor and love him, through good times and bad, until death parts you?” Alicia met his gaze with a delighted smile. “I do.” “Then by the power vested in me by…” The words melted away; Dex couldn’t wait another moment. He pulled Alicia into his arms, and spun her around before dipping her in a deep kiss. He heard cheers and applause, but it was nothing compared to the thunder of his heartbeat, and the joy singing in his veins.

Forever started right now. *

Sophie & Austin After the ceremony, the real party began: tables arranged out on the terrace overlooking the shore; white linens and silverware, champagne and delicious foods laid out on the buffet. Sophie couldn’t believe the spread. “I’m going to need seconds,” she said hungrily, as another waiter passed by with a platter of lobster rolls. “And thirds, and fourths.” “How about you start with that plate first?” Austin laughed, pulling out her chair for her to sit. They were right by the head table, their names marked with sheet music, a nod to Dex’s musical passions. “If there’s one thing Dex gets covered, it’s the food,” Austin added, digging in. “You should have seen our rider on the last tour, he had fresh BBQ waiting for us in Memphis the minute we stepped off the bus.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” Sophie sighed. “Finishing up my master ’s dissertation was a nightmare.” “But you made it through.” Austin slung a proud arm around her shoulders. “You’ll be Doctor Young before long.” “I have to get accepted on a counseling course first,” Sophie reminded him. “I’m still waiting to hear back about the programs in New York and San Francisco.” “They’d be fools not to take you. And whichever one

takes you, that’s where we’ll go.” Austin was so confident, Sophie couldn’t help but feel reassured. It was one of the things she loved so much about him, how sure he was about the future. About their future, together. “Wasn’t the ceremony gorgeous?” They were interrupted by a bustle of activity as the other guests at their table arrived. Carina and Garrett arrived with baby Sawyer, and everyone paused to coo over the sleeping baby. “Beautiful. I can’t believe he’s still out,” Sophie breathed, lowering her voice. “Me either.” Carina looked amazed. “Then again, he was up half the night, so we’re due a little shut-eye.” She passed him to Garrett, who carefully cradled the infant in his arms. Carina collapsed, smiling, beside them. “Now, this mama needs some food!” Soon, the terrace was full of laughter and good eats. Sophie sat back, happy beside Austin. She loved that she’d been absorbed into this extended family of friends and relatives since they’d become a couple; her own family was small and fractured, but here, everyone was connected. She caught up with everyone’s news, since it had been a while since she’d been out of her study bunker: Emerson and Juliet’s restaurant in the city had just got another rave review in Zagat, and Carina and Garrett were thinking about opening another business in Beachwood Bay.

“Jimmy’s is booming,” she explained. “There’s such a great tourist crowd, it would be fun to do something else too. Maybe an ice cream store, something for families like that.” “You should talk to Noelle,” Juliet suggested. “I know she’d love to sell her pastries somewhere.” Carina’s eyes lit up. “Oh my God, that’s a great idea!” “Sign me up for a dozen a week,” Garrett agreed, through a mouthful of cupcake. They chatted a while more, until Sophie noticed Austin had fallen silent. She gave him a questioning look. He smiled. “Just thinking about my speech.” “You drew the short straw, huh?” she teased. “More like Blake and Ash refused,” Austin pointed out. He looked around; everyone was pretty much settled, Dex and Alicia exchanging whispers together at the main table. He took a gulp of champagne to brace himself, and then stood; tapping his fork to his glass for silence. “So, I’m not one of the best men, but somehow, I got stuck with the speech,” he began. There was laughter. “That’s what you get for snoring on our tour bus all year,” Dex called. Austin flipped his middle finger. “Are you going to heckle all night, or let me toast your epic love?” he joked.

Dex held up his hands in surrender, leaning back with his arm around Alicia. They looked so happy together, Austin couldn’t be more pleased for his best friend. It took a special woman to take on a life of press attention and adoring groupies, but Alicia took it all in stride. Dex was lucky to have found her—and Austin knew he was blessed to have found that woman in Sophie, too. “Seeing you guys together,” Austin began, “and all the happiness here today, it makes me think about love. About how rare and precious it is. We take it for granted, sometimes, but it’s an everyday miracle that we find our partner in the world. A hundred million random coincidences and split-second choices, just to bring two people together, right when they need it the most.” His gaze went to Sophie. Her eyes widened in recognition at his words. He’d said them to her, the night they first met. He’d been joking, at first, but he knew now just how true they were. “Love is just the beginning,” he finished, still looking at Sophie. “What comes next, that’s the real adventure. Here’s to you, Dex and Alicia, for the next part of your journey.” He raised his glass, and everyone followed suit. “To Dex and Alicia!” Dex nodded across the table, and mouthed “thank you.” “Anytime,” Austin winked, then sat back down.

Sophie leaned in. “That sounded familiar,” she said and squeezed his hand. “Really?” Austin drawled, teasing her. Her eyes glittered with mirth. “Some guy tried to pick me up in a bar with that same line.” “Sounds like a smart guy,” Austin grinned. “Whatever happened to him?” Sophie smirked back. “He got lucky.” “Damn right he did.” Austin drew her closer for a kiss. “And our luck’s going to stay, just you wait.” Sophie melted into him. This love, she could believe. *

Carina & Garrett After dinner, the party kicked up a gear. They set up speakers, cleared space for a stage and a dance floor, and started the real show. Live bands and singers, all of Dex’s music world friends took their turn, dedicating special songs to the happy couple. The music and laughter echoed out across the bay as the sun sank lower, and the sky streaked with blazes of pink and gold. Carina watched them all pack the dance floor, but every time someone came to try and pull her into the fray, she shook her head. “I’m beat,” she protested, tucked in a corner with Garrett and the baby. “You go ahead!” Juliet pouted, but was all smiles as she lead Emerson onto the floor. “You can go,” Garrett told her, still cradling Sawyer against his chest. “The little guy and me will be just fine.” Carina looked at the men in her life, and felt her heart melt all over again. “It should be illegal for you to look this good,” she scolded him playfully. “Hot Dad of the Year award, right here.” Garrett chuckled. “Sure, catch me first thing in the morning changing his diaper, and you’ll be taking that back.” “Never,” Carina swore. Garrett had taken to

fatherhood like a natural: up every time he heard a cry; playing with Sawyer for hours, even placing up his seat on the counter at the bar so he could chat to the baby as he did his early-morning set-up. Becoming a parent may have been stressful and tiring, but Carina couldn’t imagine what it would have been like with any other man at her side. She had a good one, right here. “Did we tell mommy how beautiful she looks today?” Garrett rocked Sawyer, and gave Carina a wicked look over the baby’s head. “Now, if you could just sleep extra-late tonight, I might even get a chance to show her for myself.” “I’m going to hold you to that,” Carina warned him with a grin. With the new baby, they had to steal time together alone whenever they could. But even running on three hours sleep, Carina was never too tired to share a moment with him. “We could ask Jules to babysit…” Carina suggested. “You know she always loves to look after him.” Garrett shook his head. “Not tonight. I think Emerson has something special planned for them.” He opened his arm and beckoned her closer, so Carina pulled her seat in, until she was snuggled in his embrace with Sawyer. She leaned back, feeling a new glow of contentment as she watched her family and friends celebrate all around. Maybe some people could take a life like this for granted; she knew her old

sorority friends couldn’t understand why she was building a home here after leaving the glamor of her old world and designer parties behind, but Carina knew the truth: she was more blessed here with love and belonging than she’d ever known in her life before. Sometimes, she would be doing something completely ordinary—unloading laundry, or rocking Sawyer on her shoulder as she watched a movie with Garrett on their couch—and she would be struck all over again with a sense of gratitude, so deep and true it took her breath away. Not everyone got a second chance like this, a love to last forever. Garrett watched Carina as she leaned her head against his chest. Even now, she made his heart beat faster, just by touching him. “What are you thinking?” he murmured, brushing his lips against her silky hair. “How lucky we are.” She tilted her head up to him with a smile. “You, me, Sawyer…it’s everything I ever wanted.” Pride swelled in his chest. Pride, and fierce possession. “Me too,” he said, holding his family tight. “Me too.” *

Tegan & Ryland The sun set, but the party continued late into the night, a glitter of candlelight and lanterns, and the silver of the half-moon reflecting off the ocean. Tegan had long since switched her heels for sneakers; she spun around in a swirl of bridesmaid silk and danced in the sand until her feet hurt. “Happy?” Ryland asked. He’d abandoned his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He spun her again, then pulled her into his arms. Tegan caught her breath against him, dizzy. “Yes,” she answered, holding on tight. Everything had worked out just the way it should. Dex and Alicia were singing champagne-fueled karaoke with the other members of his band; Blake and Zoey snuggled up sharing a slice of cake, and even Ash, who she’d become resigned to winding up alone, was slow-dancing with Noelle, their foreheads touching as they exchanged soft whispers in the dark. Her brothers had all found someone—a love to share their lives. They were settled now, no longer broken, the shadows of the past erased under the glow of warmth and new beginnings. And Tegan had a love all her own. Suddenly, a happy cry broke through her thoughts. Zoey came charging towards them, holding out her

phone. “It’s up, it’s up!” she exclaimed. “What is?” “The video! Delta Lane!” Tegan’s heart skipped. “They said it wasn’t launching until next week.” Zoey shrugged. “I guess it leaked early. Look!” She showed Tegan the phone screen, and Blake and Ryland crowded in too behind her. Zoey hit play, and the music video began to run: a gorgeous slow ballad. Tegan’s song. She held her breath, hardly able to believe it. A song she’d written had been recorded by a major singer, and now, the whole world would see it too. Ryland squeezed his arms around her tight. “You did it, baby.” He grinned. “Straight to the top of the charts.” “Don’t say that!” Tegan gulped. “I don’t want to jinx anything.” She still hadn’t wrapped her head around the whirlwind. Before this year, her songwriting had always been private, her own personal therapy. But Ryland’s support had given her the confidence to share her work wider, and soon her demos had earned attention from some of the biggest record labels around. The video finished, and Zoey immediately hit play again, but Tegan shook her head. “Later, I’m still all emotional from the wedding, and I want to absorb it properly.” Zoey gave her a huge hug. “I’m so proud of you,” she beamed. “I’m going to track down our music teacher

from tenth grade and email him the link. What did he say about you?” “That I was sadly lacking in any musical ability,” Tegan laughed, remembering the snooty man who tried to make them sing chorus. “Well, he can go suck it,” Zoey crowed. “My best friend’s a world-famous songwriter. Or, will be,” she added. Tegan felt her excitement bubble up. She’d been waiting for something to happen, some reason for this dream to slip away, but it was still really happening, everything she ever wanted. Ryland watched her, loving the glow of happiness on her face. She’d worked so hard to make it this far, and he’d never stopped believing in her. She deserved this; she deserved nothing but the best. The party was finally winding down, only a smaller group left outside. “Let’s take a walk,” he tugged on Tegan’s hand. “Come on, I want to get my feet wet.” “You guys go ahead,” Zoey told them. “I think we’re going to call it a night. See you tomorrow?” “We were thinking breakfast at the diner,” Blake added. “For anyone still in town.” “Or conscious,” Zoey grinned. “Sounds great, we’ll see you there,” Ryland replied. He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and draped it carefully around Tegan’s shoulders as they headed onto the sand. The breeze was cooler here,

swallowing up the party noise until the crashing waves were the only thing they could hear. Tegan slipped an arm around his waist and hugged tightly. “I can’t believe it!” She sounded dazed. “I thought for sure they’d change their mind, or choose another track for lead single.” “When are you going to believe good things happen?” Ryland scolded her gently. Tegan arched an eyebrow. “Says Mr. Pessimistic himself.” Ryland chuckled. “OK, so maybe you bring out the optimist in me.” He paused, looking out at the curve of the dark horizon, and the lights glittering on the other side of the bay. There was a time he’d thought he’d never come back to this town. Now, it was the only home he could imagine. The place where the two of them would build their tomorrow. He turned back to Tegan, her dark eyes shining in the moonlight. “How about we make a deal?” he said, loving her with everything he had. “No more thinking the worst, not for us. We’ve made it through the worst, and now there’s nothing but blue skies ahead.” Tegan’s smile soften with emotion. “Deal,” she nodded, and reached up to kiss him. Then she pulled back, and her smile turned mischievous. “Let’s go swimming.” “Now?”

“You heard me,” Tegan beamed. She reached behind her to undo her dress, and Ryland’s pulse kicked. The silk dropped to the sand. Tegan gave him a wink. “Last one in the water buys breakfast!” *

Juliet & Emerson After the last guests had departed, and the shower of confetti was swept aside, Juliet and Emerson said their goodbyes and headed back out to his truck. “I’m getting old,” Juliet yawned, holding onto his arm tightly. “I haven’t stayed out this late for years.” “You’re cute for a geriatric,” Emerson teased. He opened the passenger door for her, and helped her up inside. Juliet curled up in the seat, content. The wedding had been beautiful, and it was always fun to catch up with the rest of their sprawling group of friends. “I love how connected everyone is now,” she said, when Emerson was behind the wheel. He started the engine. “It’s one big family here in town.” “And to think, you never wanted to come back at all.” Emerson glanced over, his eyes dark and thoughtful in the moonlight. Juliet’s heart ached, even thinking about a different life; another path she might have taken. Just a few years ago, she’d been determined to avoid Beachwood Bay forever, block the painful memories from her mind and wipe the slate clean. It was chance that had led her back here, to the only man she’d ever truly loved, to mend both their hearts and forge a new future with him. It could have easily been so different. She could have never known the strength of this love

—or the future they had awaiting them. “But I did.” She took his hand and held it tightly. “I came back for you.” Emerson didn’t let go as he drove them back down the dark country roads, but instead of turning off toward their beach house, he kept going, out through town. “Where are we going?” Juliet asked sleepily, glancing out the window. Emerson just gave a mysterious smile. “You’ll see.” Juliet settled back in the seat, letting the comforting haze wrap around her. The year had flown by, a crazy and hectic time filled with opening the restaurant in the city and getting it on its feet. That place had been Emerson’s dream, and she was so proud to see it become a reality, a place they’d built together. She was taking more risks in her career too now: submitting her photographs to galleries and magazines. Every time she won another exhibition, however small, Emerson would grab a bottle of wine from the restaurant and take her up on the roof of their building, to toast and laugh and talk together until the morning came. It was the kind of life she hadn’t dared dream of; a love that only grew deeper with every passing day. Juliet only wished her mom could see her now, and know the happiness she’d found. And everything to come. The truck came to a stop, breaking through her sleepy haze. “Where are we?” She looked around. They

were alone on the pitch-black highway outside of town, pulled off to the side of the road. “You don’t recognize it?” Emerson got out, and came around to lift her down from the truck. Juliet yawned, and looked again. He’d left the headlights on and the engine running, the bright lights illuminating the stretch of highway that ran along the shoreline; the waves crashing in the distance as they stood in the shadow of the sign that read Welcome to Beachwood Bay. She shook her head. Emerson looked down with a private smile. “It’s where we first met. Remember, you ran me off the road that summer, six years ago.” Juliet’s heart leapt at the memory. “First of all, you were the one going way too fast,” she corrected him, smiling. “And second, I wasn’t even driving!” “But you crashed me, all the same.” Emerson paced a few feet away. “I was standing right here,” he said, planting himself in the spot. “I can remember everything. You looked at me, and I knew, nothing would ever be the same.” Juliet felt tears well up in her throat, but before she could say anything, Emerson went back to the truck, and turned the stereo up. An old song was playing, she recognized. Time After Time. Emerson returned, and held out his hand to her. His eyes met hers in the darkness, full of love. “Dance with me.” Juliet went to him. As his arms slipped around her,

Emerson felt it all over again: the shock of recognition that had crashed over him that very first day. This girl. This life. This love. He held her close, feeling the warmth of her body, and every breath she took. He hadn’t known it then, how she would come to define his life; his every choice. Whether he was trying—and failing—to forget her, or falling even more deeply in love, Juliet had always been his Northern Star, his guiding force. The one light on the dark horizon he could trust to carry him home. They danced on the dark highway together, two bodies so close it was as if they were one. Emerson cradled her to him, and thanked every star in the midnight sky that they belonged to each other. He would have held her forever, but the song came to an end, and he remembered something else. “I forgot.” He pulled away, smiling. “I got us a party favor.” He went to the truck and retrieved a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “How about a toast?” he asked Juliet, levering the cork out with a pop. But Juliet paused, and shook her head. A curious smile was playing on her lips. “I can’t,” she said. “What do you mean?” Emerson asked, distracted by the froth of bubbles spilling out over his hands. “I mean, I can’t,” Juliet said again. Emerson looked up as her words finally sunk in—

and the happiness glowing in her eyes. The knowledge hit him like a meteor. A supernova in the night’s sky. Their love was bigger than just the two of them now. “You mean…?” he moved closer, barely able to find the words. Juliet nodded. She bit her lip, looking nervous for a moment. “I took the test this morning, I wanted to tell you, but with the wedding stuff, there wasn’t a moment alone.” She paused. “Is it…OK?” Emerson couldn’t believe she would even ask. “Yes, it’s OK. It’s incredible!” He set down the bottle and picked her up in one motion, swinging her around as his heart raced. He could see them now; the family he’d secretly wanted ever since Juliet had come back into his life. He hadn’t let himself dream, but here it was, finally coming true. Juliet shrieked with laughter, clinging to him until he set her down. She searched his face, but found nothing but joy. “We’re going to be a family,” she said, unable to keep the tears from falling. Emerson kissed her tenderly. “We already are.” Juliet held him tightly, lost in wonder at the precious future she held in her grasp. Their love had changed her world forever, and it was only the beginning. THE END

*** Coming in December 2015…

Holiday Kisses Enjoy another charming, romantic holiday story from New York Times bestselling author, Melody Grace! Hot British director Dash Everett needs inspiration - and fast. He’s hoping that a Christmas vacation on Cape Cod will give him everything he needs to break his writer ’s block: a deserted cabin, his laptop, and his old friend Jack (Daniels, that is). But it turns out, isolation isn’t nearly as inspiring as the beautiful spitfire behind the front desk… Ellie Lucas isn’t crazy about spending her holidays catering to the arrogant (and sexy) guest in Cabin 4 -and she really doesn’t have time to play muse. She’s ready to leave her small-town behind for a fresh start, but when an unexpected snowstorm sends both their plans awry, she finds that a dash of Hollywood magic is exactly what she needs to see the joy in one last Cape Cod Christmas. Available to order now!

Take a trip to Beachwood Bay: the small town where passion and romance are making waves… Each book is a stand-alone romance following a new couple, but you’ll enjoy reading the whole series and seeing familiar faces return. THE BEACHWOOD BAY SERIES: BOOK 1: UNTOUCHED (Emerson & Juliet’s story begins - novella) BOOK 2: UNBROKEN (Emerson & Juliet’s story) BOOK 3: UNTAMED HEARTS (Brit & Hunter ’s story begins - novella) BOOK 4: UNAFRAID (Brit & Hunter ’s story) BOOK 5: UNWRAPPED (Lacey & Daniel’s holiday novella) BOOK 6: UNCONDITIONAL (Garret & Carina) BEACHWOOD BAY: THE CALLAHANS BOOK 7: UNREQUITED (Dex & Alicia begin – novella) BOOK 8: UNINHIBITED (Dex & Alicia) BOOK 9: UNSTOPPABLE (Ryland & Tegan) BOOK 10: UNEXPECTEDLY YOURS (holiday story) BOOK 11: UNWRITTEN (Zoey & Blake) BOOK 12: UNMASKED (Ash & Noelle begin —

novella) BOOK 13: UNFORGETTABLE (Ash & Noelle) *

Do you like foreign adventures and sexy Italian men? If so, then check out my DIRTY DANCING series!



A man dances the same way he makes love. His stamina, his rhythm, the slow grind of his hips. Some people are born to it, others learn through years of careful study.

And dancers? We do it best of all.

The moment I saw her, I knew. Her innocence is intoxicating. My lust is fierce. Primal. To watch her dance is to know the torment of true temptation.

She will be mine.

Series available now: FIRST POSITION SECOND POSITION THIRD POSITION

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