Simply Irresistible (Crescent Cove Book 2) Read online

  Movers? I pinched my brow and tried to sound normal, even though I wanted to shriek. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re coming home.” No mistaking the sharpness in Bethany’s voice. Sometimes, I heard it in my sleep. “Your silly adventure in Maine is over.”

  Silly adventure. I blinked back the sting in my eyes. Why couldn’t she understand how important this was to me?

  That trapped feeling I’d lived with since marrying Jason poured through me all over again. Panic edged into my voice. “I just moved home. I bought a building. I’m renovating.” Wind had barely begun to fill my wings.

  “Sell it.” The steel I’d associated with Jason came through in Bethany’s voice. The Stillmans bred true. “Arie needs to be here, with her grandparents.”

  “What about my dad?” I whispered. “He’s a grandparent, too. Over the past five years, he’s only seen Arie twice. Once after she was born and two years later when he came out to visit. Dad was a lobsterman. If he didn’t work, he didn’t have money. A man couldn’t get to know his only grandchild through photos.

  “You know she loves us. Misses us.”

  “She does.” Despite how they treated me, it was clear my in-laws loved Arie as much as they had Jason. But still… Please. Let me live my own life. “I want to give this a chance.”

  “You’ll fail,” Bethany said sharply.

  There she went again, tightening the cord around my neck. My confidence fading, I could barely force out the words. “I deserve this.”

  “We deserve to see our only grandchild on a regular basis. It’s our legal right.”

  Legal? I shook my head, pushing the word from my mind. “You’re flying here this summer to see her.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  I almost caved and said I’d put my building on the market. That I’d move back to California, settle into the house next door, and pick up my dictated life as if I’d never left it. But I couldn’t do it.

  From somewhere deep inside, I found some resolve. “It will be enough. You’ll see.”

  Bethany’s whimpers turned into weeping. I knew her body shook and that John would be putting his arm around her shoulders.

  My breath came out in sharp gasps. I’d been a wreck after I stood up for myself and told them I was moving home, and I felt the exact same way now. But if I didn’t show some spine, I never would. I needed to find myself again, not live a life controlled by my in-laws.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay.” I pushed the words out. “You’ll see.” And, because I couldn’t handle this confrontation any longer, I said, “You want to talk to Arie?”

  “We’re not finished discussing this, Cara.”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “The house!” Bethany’s anger charged through the phone like a slap, and I flinched. “We’ll lose the deposit.”

  “I can’t move back.” I dragged the words from deep inside me, where a solitary spark flickered. “Talk to your lawyers.” She had a fleet of them on call 24-7. “They’ll be able to get your deposit back.” Lowering the phone, I crossed to where Arie sat on the sofa, watching TV. “Sweetie. It’s your grannie.”

  Arie reached for the phone. “Grannie!”

  While they talked, I rushed into the kitchen and splashed water on my face. So much for feeling cold. Now, my body flamed. Clenching the edge of the sink, I took long, deep breaths and pushed out my frustration with each exhale. In no time, I’d suppressed my irritation. A skill I’d mastered after considerable practice.

  I returned to the living room as Arie hung up, grateful Bethany hadn’t insisted on speaking to me again.

  If I knew my mother-in-law, this was nowhere near over. She’d call, again and again, wearing me down until I gave in solely to get her to stop. Somehow, I’d have to find the will to hold onto my dreams.

  “Time to eat.” Arie flipped open the lid of the pizza box.

  “Dining room,” I said in a shaky voice, pointing in that direction.

  “Mommy,” she said, long-suffering.

  “Mommy,” I said, using the same tone, and we laughed. Nothing cheered me up more than letting fun back in. I needed to do it more often.

  “Dad eats—used to eat in the living room.”

  Hard to believe Arie might not always remember everything Jason had done. She was old enough to miss her father for a while, but was she old enough to hold onto the good memories forever?

  For that matter, could I?

  Roan

  Talk about torture.

  It had been too long since I’d seen Cara. Laughed with her. Touched her. Yet here I was, getting one more chance to hold her in my arms.

  Being near her had brought our one night together back into my mind as if it happened yesterday, instead of almost six years ago.

  I swear, sometimes, it felt like a dream, not reality.

  But that scent she still wore…fresh air with hints of vanilla. Just one whiff and I’d been reminded of the raw need I’d felt while exploring every inch of her body.

  She’d pulled away from me tonight, essentially brushed me off. When all I’d wanted to do was to stare into her gray eyes while losing myself inside her again.

  And I was an asshole for thinking about her like this when she was still mourning her husband, Jason. The man she’d loved. The friend I’d tried to steal her away from. The guy she’d chosen instead of me.

  I should’ve patted her back to show her I respected our former friendship. Told her it was great seeing her. Forced a generic smile on my face, while focusing only on the girl I’d grown up with, instead of the woman she’d become.

  After what I’d done to her and Jason that night after graduation…well, I was surprised she hadn’t smacked me. I sure didn’t deserve anything else.

  My assistant manager, Mei’s face scrunched. “Umm, boss?”

  I dragged my brain back to the present and groaned. Smoke poured from the oven, coating my sinuses. Wasn’t this fantastic. While I’d been rehashing what I could never have with Cara, my life was crapping out around me. Served me right for letting my attention slide for even a second.

  Striding to the oven, I used the paddle to pull out the pizza. I ignored Mei’s snicker while rushing the back door and throwing the charred sphere out into a snowbank. But while I remade the pizza and then orders of hot wings and curly fries, I couldn’t stop thinking about Cara.

  I’d stayed in touch with her dad, and he’d bragged all the time about her. Told me about her job at the bakery. The apartment she’d fixed up with plants and artwork.

  Jason. The wedding. Their kid.

  Cara only deserved the best, but I hated that she’d found it easy to put our friendship behind her.

  No wonder I’d hooked up with my old girlfriend, Lainie, and signed on for the shit she fed me after that.

  A few months ago, Ken told me Cara bought a building on East Main. He hadn’t said anything about Jason dying. Or I hadn’t heard if he mentioned it.

  If Cara let me back into her life, I’d fight for our former friendship and never ask her for anything more than that again.

  “You going home soon, boss?” Mei asked a few hours later. I’d hired her a year ago, and there wasn’t a better employee anywhere. “You’ve been here since six.”

  In the morning, not the evening.

  “I should.” If I could make myself leave before closing. After my ex-wife took off with my factory renovation funds, I’d become cautious. Overprotective, my older sister, Samantha, called it, but what did she know? She didn’t have to worry about keeping two businesses afloat, let alone make payroll.

  Mei’s soft brown eyes studied my face. “I’ve helped you close this place for months. You know you can count on me to make sure the ovens are off, the kitchen’s clean, and the doors are locked up tight when I walk away.”

  And that our daily take would be deposited in the bank as expected.

  I took in a breath and shoved out my hesitation because she was right. As usual. As much a
friend as an employee, Mei hadn’t failed me yet. She’d listened when I vented about Lainie. Made sure I didn’t go without eating. She’d even come up with menu items that increased our customer base. I should make her full manager of the Brew House, but, for whatever reason, I couldn’t hand her full control.

  “Go home.” Mei patted my shoulder. “Get some sleep. You need it.”

  A valid statement, since I could barely keep my eyes open. If she kept at it, I’d have to give her another raise.

  Mei tugged my apron from my hands and handed me my car keys. “Go. I’ll make sure nothing falls apart for the rest of the night.”

  Overseeing two businesses was running me ragged. My body needed time off more than it needed sleep. I should take a vacation. Assuming everything would survive while I was gone. “Okay. I’ll go home.”

  “Promise?”

  I grinned. She knew me too well. “I’ll try. How’s that?”

  She shook her finger at me. “Try harder.”

  A few minutes later, I sat in my car, letting the engine warm while blowing onto my fingers to keep them from freezing.

  When I shifted into gear, I couldn’t make myself head home. I kept picturing my quiet house, where I’d sit in the living room and stare at the TV. Or my empty bed, where I’d stare at the ceiling. With nothing to do except think about Cara, I’d still be awake come dawn.

  I drove out the ocean access road. It was late, but I knew Dag would be up. His house had been finished a few months ago, and he and Lark now lived there together.

  Not a single light lit up the back of the house, but that didn’t mean anything. Dag worked late on his books all the time, and his office was on the opposite side of where I stood beside my car.

  Lark was probably in bed. Dag and I could sit out on his glassed-in porch, where he ran a heater, making it possible to enjoy the room all year long. We could talk.

  Or vent, in my case. He hadn’t known Cara since Dag and I had only been friends for five years, but I knew he’d understand. Sympathize with me.

  My sneakers crunched on the gravel walk that led along the side of the house, toward the front of the building. But I paused before striding toward the door to the porch.

  Low laughter rang out, and the shadows—or shadow of a couple close together—told me this wasn’t the right time for a visit.

  Melancholy set in, as well as a touch of envy. The feelings chased me back down the walk to my car and all the way across town as I drove out to my hot sauce business, Spicy Concoctions. There were a few things I could take care of there before I went home. And, if I worked out in the small gym I’d installed in a back room, I might wear myself out enough to catch some sleep.

  Full darkness greeted me when I reached the bottling plant. Six years ago, I’d been fresh out of college with a shiny new business degree. I bought the Brew House and worked my butt off to make it a success. With my profits, I bought equipment and rented a garage, hoping to fulfill my dream of showcasing Gram’s secret family recipes. My next loan bought the warehouse. A year ago, I borrowed more to expand. If only I’d hired a separate audit of my books sooner, rather than trust Lainie to handle things. Maybe then…

  And maybe never got me anywhere except into deeper shit. The money was gone. My ex was serving jail time for embezzlement. And my mom had loaned me enough to finish my expansion.

  Leaving my car in the lot, I unlocked the main entrance and strode through my new tasting room. Three months ago, I’d opened my doors to the general public, giving tours topped off with chips and salsa samples. I also hosted local microbrewery tap take-overs, which provided the beer I sold to accompany my spicy snacks. A win-win for both businesses.

  We were packed from the time we opened until we closed the outer door at eight. Our retail store sales had skyrocketed. Online sales were booming, and I’d recently started distributing throughout New England. Yes, meeting the monthly payment on two loans might give me an ulcer. But I could do this. For Gram’s memory, if not for my own.

  I walked through the open room where silver tanks stood sentinel, great sauce awaiting bottling inside. I passed the door leading into my new addition with smaller tanks reserved for experimental recipes, such as a cherry-habanero dipping sauce. And my Italy-inspired creation, sun-dried tomatoes and basil infused with Maine vodka. I planned to sell that as a meat marinade.

  A bang from inside the specialty room brought me to a standstill. My pulse thumping faster, I pulled the small knife I carried in my pocket, and the blade sprang free at my touch. Was general theft next on the ruin-Roan agenda?

  With my back plastered to the wall, I crept toward the door. Adrenaline shot through my veins as I prepared to defend my business. I paused by the door and cracked it open. Listened. Hoped I wouldn’t find more than one, maybe two people inside. I was as street-smart as the next guy, but I wasn’t a black belt like my sister.

  Another bang was followed by, “Crap!”

  Great. What was Sam doing here this late at night?

  Putting my knife away, I strode into the room. “Way to send my heart into outer space without me, sis.”

  Sam spun away from the tank, a piece of hose lifted in her hand, her body tensed to strike. She could probably kill me sixteen different ways with that hose. “Way to announce yourself before creeping up on a woman, bro.”

  I nudged my head at the flashing light on the wall. “I reset the alarm when I came in.”

  Sam snorted and turned back to the tank. “Like I’m paying attention to that?”

  Walking closer, I stooped down beside her, tilting the directional light so it wouldn’t blind me. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

  “Getting this tank ready for the next batch.”

  I held the end cap while Sam wrangled the hose into place and tightened the clamp around it. “Why not do it tomorrow?”

  She sent me a scowl and returned to what she was doing. “You know I’m off tomorrow.”

  I’d forgotten, which made me feel like a bad boss and an even worse brother. A chainsaw sculptor, my sister had a showing a month from now. She was scrambling to get ready. I winced, recognizing the load I’d placed on her when I asked her to help get my business where it needed to be. A few weeks had turned into months. It looked like I needed to step up before Sam’s temporary help became permanent.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” I said. “I’m ready to take over your maintenance job here. Finish out the week, and I’ll cut you loose.”

  Sam shifted back from the end pipe, grease painting her face. Her lips twisted. “How you going to manage the Brew House and the plant, plus do maintenance on top of that?”

  “I’ll find time.”

  “If you don’t sleep.” Standing, Sam pulled a rag from her back pocket and wiped her hands. “I appreciate the offer, but until you’re willing to let people help out, I’m hanging around.”

  Big sisters. Did they have to be right all the time? “I can handle it.” Dag used to help out, but he was swamped with book stuff and working with Lark on the next big charity Highland Games event.

  “Promote Kevin. He took that management program at the community college, which makes him more than qualified.”

  I’d hired Kevin a few years ago. He’d started doing general stuff, then moved into the main room, supervising the tanks. Just last month, he’d suggested a process to increase production in the bottling room, without adding more crew. Worked great. Now he was trying to talk me into distributing four-packs of mini bottles to gift shops.

  I could give Kevin more responsibility. Did I dare?

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “I’m finished here,” Sam said.

  I followed her down the hall to the back room, where she took a beer from the fridge. Skipping the beer, I settled in the recliner, while Sam took the couch. She propped her cowboy boots onto the dinged coffee table. “While I appreciate your willingness to fire me.” Her face scrunched, and I winced, even though th
e gleam in her eyes told me she was joking. Firing her hadn’t been my intention at all.

  “I need this job,” she said. “As much as I’d love to spend all my time doing art, the pesky power company expects me to pay the bill. Internet company, too.”

  “You’ve got a job here as long as you want it.”

  “Thanks.” She took a swallow of her drink. “But that still doesn’t explain why you won’t give Kevin a chance. Give Mei free rein at the Brew House, for that matter. I bet she could run it better than you.”

  “After what happened with—”

  Sam held up her hand. “I get it. Your wife stiffed you.” The sympathy shining in her eyes took the edge off my irritation. “She wasn’t your best choice for an accountant, that’s for sure. But how could you know that? You should be able to trust the people you hire, let alone marry.”

  Lainie had graduated with a degree in accounting. When I started my business, it made sense to have my wife keep my books. It wasn’t until I’d hired an independent auditor to see where I could maximize profits that I discovered she’d been siphoning money from me for years.

  “Lainie was a fluke,” Sam said. “Everyone else you’ve hired has worked out great. Let them do their jobs.” Laughing, she toasted me with her beer. “Then you can get back to what you really enjoy doing—creating fancy hot sauce recipes.”

  How awesome that would be. Crafting recipes sure beat falling asleep over my bookkeeping. Or testing my patience with staffing schedules. Chores necessary for running two successful businesses, but ones I didn’t enjoy.

  But promoting a few employees to managerial roles would mean relinquishing control. “I’ll think on it.”

  “Don’t just think on it, do something about it. By not acting, you’re acting. When you try to do multiple jobs, you’re not giving any of them a fair shot. I don’t know of anyone but you who can manage a restaurant plus this business at the same time. Not without wearing themselves to a pulp. What if you get sick? No one will be able to step in and do it for you. You’re risking everything.”