Page 14 of Wake Me Up Before You Cocoa

Lurching forward toward the antique store, Marina tried to move into a run, but her legs had turned into jello.

Instead—due to her lack of vision—her hip banged against the table, her pastry plate flipped over, exploding into splinters of white ceramic, and the sprinkle of candied pecans on top of the half-eaten maple pecan bar flew through the air, landing on the table next to them and in some woman’s freshly styled salon hair.

The woman screeched, jumping to her feet to shake her head, pecan bits raining—or rather zinging—about the restaurant.

Marina babbled an apology, and then raced for the brick archway back to the refuge of her store.

Instead of finding a safe, quiet harbor, she merely slammed into another brick wall.

The wall of Wade’s chest.

“Oof,” she gasped, her head jerking up.

Wade held her in his arms to steady her. And his eyes gazed into her own. A rich brown color, mysterious and full of questions. “Whoa, Marina, hang on. You’re going to hurt yourself. Or others as the case may be,” he murmured in that deep and sexy voice of his. He sounded like a cowboy who just roped his biggest steer.

Well, no, he sounded like the ex-football player that he was who’d just landed a touchdown and was purring his enthusiasm like a pro player at the Super Bowl.

His brow creased with concern. “What’s going on? Is there a five-alarm fire?”

“Of course not,” she mumbled, pushing him away. Except that he didn’t move an inch. The muscles in his arms merely flexed their grip around her shoulders. “I need to go clean up the mess.”

Behind her, Jenna’s voice came loud and clear over the excited customer voices behind her who were moving out of range of Marina. “Got it all under control. Brooms, mops, trash bin in place. No one is hurt.” She raised her voice a notch. “Free drinks for everyone. Just head to the counter, please, and we’ll take your orders. There are clean tables on the far side of The Coffee Loft. Thanks, everyone!”

Marina twisted around to give her friend a wan and grateful smile. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

Jenna ignored her apology. Instead, she lifted her chin. “You and this guy—go next door while I clean up, please. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wade said firmly. Marina really hoped he wouldn’t salute. Thankfully, he didn’t.

As soon as he headed back to Ruby Rose’s Antiques, Marina quickly pulled Jenna in tight. “I’m so sorry for the broken dishes and the uproar. It was an accident. I’m so flustered.”

“I know it was,” Jenna said, giving her a quick hug. “It’s all good, honey. That man would discombobulate me faster than a bullet train, too,” she joked, jerking her chin at Wade who’s wide and muscled back that rippled underneath his shirt caused every female in The Coffee Loft to turn and stare. “Can you say, hubba, hubba?” she added, lowering her voice.

“We’re still on for our dinner celebration tonight, right?” Marina asked, trying to tear her own eyes away from Wade Kennedy. “Did you make a reservation?”

“Of course, we’re going to dinner,” Jenna assured her. “Girls only, and we’re gonna be footloose and fancy free. Ouramazingremodel turned out fantastic. We’ve only been talking about having an official celebration ever since the painters left two weeks ago. I’ll pick you up in about an hour, and we will toast our magnificence with champagne. Wear something chic and fun!”

Seconds later, Marina stumbled back to the customer service desk while Jenna’s assistant dropped the metal wall divider between the two businesses, and the antique store grew quiet at last.

When she had tugged herself out of Wade’s arms after the crash of crockery, the warmth and strength of his embrace disappeared, leaving Marina feeling empty and cold.

She already missed it. Had missedhim.

Obviously, he hadn’t missed her.

Their break-up decision at graduation had been one of maturity. At least, she had tried to tell herself that at thetime. They were only twenty-two. They didn’t know where their careers would take them—or what theyreallywanted out of life. They had convinced themselves that getting married was foolish and impetuous.

At least it seemed so at the time.

So why had Marina never forgotten Wade? Why did she still dream of him sometimes? Why had shemissedhim so much all these years?

When months turned into years, the idea of finding him or calling him put her off. What if he rejected her? Maybe he didn’t remember who she was? That would be mortifying.

Maybe all her worries meant that . . . she had lovedhimmore than he loved her?

Those were questions she hadn’t wanted an answer to. But no other man she’d met in the intervening eight years had come close to her relationship—and memories of Wade Kennedy.

Instead, she moved forward with life, and kept her romantic—and trivial—daydreams to herself.

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