Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
On my way home, I stop at a deli to pick up my favorite Italian sub for dinner. But while I wait for it to be made, I start thinking about Lauralee and the Sundries shop. She has the small café and bakery, which are her pride and joy from what I’ve seen. I wonder if she’s thought about expanding to a full deli or restaurant. I don’t know her mom’s or her finances, but food is what brings people together and to town. A bar and a few other stores, so even locals wouldn’t have to travel to Dover County anymore, would be a good addition.
I get my sandwich and head home with more ideas, though I really need to be hands-off. Ultimately, it’s an investment to make money and not a side project I need to take on.
I know a little brunette I wouldn’t mind taking on. I just don’t know how she will feel about me being back in the Pass tomorrow. Hopefully, she’ll be grateful since she’s making bank off me on that rental. But we’ll see. Lauralee is nothing if not spirited. I’m just hoping some of the energy can be expended in bed like last time.
I will either be welcomed with open arms and kisses or have the door slammed in my face. I shouldn’t be looking forward to finding out as much as I am. But I can’t wait to see her again.
The instructions were clear. Go to the counter in the Sundries shop to retrieve the key. I park the rental car out front on Main and check the mirror like a teenager going on his first date. I slam the visor up. “What the fuck am I doing?”
I could pat my face or douse myself in cologne, hoping I don’t look as tired as I feel and don’t smell like the stuffy air of an airplane, but I don’t. A shot of adrenaline is running through me because I’m about to see her again. It’s noticeable because I haven’t felt like this about someone in a long time. Hoping for the best, I run my hand through my hair and get out.
Opening the door, my gaze travels to the bakery counter first. Disappointment is quick to set in. The bell already alerted my entrance, but I still don’t hear a welcome or announcement coming from the back kitchen. I look around and walk to the register. “Hello? Hey Shortcake?”
The kitchen door swings open, and Peaches greets me with a smile. “Baylor Greene is back in town. Welcome home.”
“Thanks. It’s good to be back.” I ask, “How have you been?”
Her grin grows as she stops on the other side of the counter from me. “Fantastic actually.”
“I like to hear it. Fantastic looks fantastic on you, Mrs. Knot.”
She laughs. “Peaches works.” Waving me off, she says, “I’m not going to bore you with old lady stuff. Did I hear a request for shortcake?”
Shit. “Uh, yeah. I crave Lauralee’s more than I should when I’m back in New York.”
“Hers is the best.” She slides the door to the glass case open. “Do you want one or two?”
I haven’t heard anything or anyone in the back. No noise is heard at all other than the two of us. “One or two what?”
Her brows pinch together, and she laughs humorlessly. “Strawberry shortcake.”
“Oh.” I bend to look in the case. “I’ll take all eight for the family at the ranch.”
“Perfect.” She pulls the tray out and says, “I’ll box these up in the back.” Before the door swings closed behind her, she looks back. “Lauralee’s at the apartment waiting for a renter to show up if you want to stop by and say hi. This will take me a few minutes anyway.”
“Good idea.”
“Cut through the kitchen. It’s quicker.”
I come around and follow her through the door. She has her back to me when I push out the door under the staircase. With that earlier adrenaline rushing back, I take the steps by two and knock on the door.
When it swings open, her smile falters. Not the welcome I was hoping for, but the door hasn’t slammed closed yet. “Hi there,” I say, keeping my voice low for no other reason than it feels like the moment calls for it.
She blinks a few times, then smiles. It’s not as big as it was, but it’s sweet, matching the one I’ve been dreaming about for almost a month now. Leaning against the door, she tilts her head to touch the wood, and says, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes, I’ve been wondering . . .” Her gaze drops down between us, a shyness coming over her as her cheeks pinken.
She’s better than any memory. Her brown hair shines in the sunlight, and a sparkle allows me to discover the gold flecks and a few greens dotting the comfort of her warm brown eyes. I’m given a teasing peek of her tan stomach when the top rises along her ribs, and her shorts hang lower. She’s summertime personified and so beautiful that I’m tempted to skip the pleasantries and kiss her. I don’t because she’s one of the reasons I was looking forward to this trip, and I’m not going to blow it on the first day back. I ask, “About?”