Page 39 of The Barista's Beloved

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Maeve shut the door of her car and leaned against it in the driveway of The Oakwell Inn. She stretched, feeling her muscles loosening and her body relaxing. After a long night and day with Ben—followed by an even longer day at work—she really should be getting caught up on her sleep. But a meeting of River Hill’s super secret romance book club was not to be missed.

Angelica had inadvertently started the club when she’d made Naomi read some of her beloved historical romances. Maeve and Jess had joined later on, and now she relished the infrequent meetings—they could only meet when Angelica’s inn wasn’t booked, which was rare these days. They probably could have gathered at any of the other members’ houses, but Maeve and Jess’s places were too small, and Naomi was weird about people being in her house. Iain lived there, too, but Maeve rarely visited her brother at home. They saw each other plenty at work and with their friends. So now, whenever Angelica had a free night, the romance bat signal went up, and they gathered here at The Oakwell to discuss their latest read.

Maeve slung her green canvas messenger bag over her shoulder and patted it warmly, feeling the outline of the paperback inside. This month, they’d read a book about a woman who’d discovered that the supposedly spam emails she’d been receiving from an African prince were the real thing, and she was actually an actual modern day princess. Reading about the heroine balancing love, royal duties, and her desire to have a career in public health had been a joy—and the sex scenes had been great, too.

Maeve grinned slyly as she headed for the front door. For once, the steamy scenes in the books they read had nothing on her real life sexy times. The smirky smiles that Angelica and Naomi—and even Jess, lately—exchanged whenever the subject came up had been pretty grating until she met Ben. Or rather, until she’d gotten naked with him. Being “just friends” had done a number on her vibrator. Thank goodness that drought was over.

“Knock knock,” she called as she pushed open the unlocked door. “Anybody home?”

“I’m not,” Noah said, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Ignore me, I’m on my way out.”

“Not joining our discussion?” she teased.

“I’ll email you my thoughts.” His tone was dry, and she laughed.

“I look forward to it.”

“You should; I’m very witty.”

“Stop congratulating yourself and get out,” Angelica said from behind him. “If you’re not here to talk about romance novels, you’re not allowed to be here.”

“I read the book,” he protested, to Maeve’s great surprise. She’d assumed he was joking.

“But you don’t want to talk about it.” Angelica’s hands were on her hips, her brows drawn down into a frown that almost looked real.

“Only to you. Preferably in bed.” He leaned forward and kissed her, then hoisted his leather folio under his arm. “Got distributor contracts to review tonight, and you don’t want to listen to me talking about that, either.”

Maeve raised her hand. “I do.”

He shot her a quick grin. “Don’t go poaching my distributors, you whiskey maven.”

“It’s a completely different market! We could share!” Her fingers itched to see what was in his folder.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” He eased past her, holding the bundle high over her head. Noah Bradstone was a very tall man, and built rather like the side of a mountain. He easily evaded her, and she stuck her tongue out at him as he went out the front door.

“Call Iain, at least!” she shouted after his retreating backside. “He’s very generous!”

“I’ll say.” Naomi’s purring voice came from behind her, and Maeve turned to find the artist leaning casually against the archway that led into the front parlor, where they usually gathered for these meetings.

Maeve held up her hand. “Whatever you’re thinking about is definitely not what I’m talking about.” Ignoring Naomi’s satisfied grin, she stalked past the other woman into the parlor and sank down onto one of the antique upholstered sofas. The last time they’d all gotten together—for Gilmore Girls night, a ritual where they let the show play in the background while they gossiped about each other and the town in general—Maeve had managed to avoid discussing what had happened with Ben, while Jess had waxed poetical about married life and Naomi had made gagging noises until they’d all been clutching their sides and gasping with laughter. Naomi and Iain were happily unmarried, and as far as anyone could tell, they intended to remain that way in perpetuity.

Maeve had stopped discussing the matter of her brother’s love life with her parents—even though they brought it up about every other phone call. The Brennans had two other sons, both married with children, but their father frequently badgered Iain to “make things official” in front of a priest back home. Frankly, Iain’s relationship with Naomi seemed far healthier than their older brothers’ did, so Maeve couldn’t understand why their father refused to accept it as it was.

The slam of the front door distracted her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Jess flying through the foyer carrying a stack of magazines and heading for the kitchen. Curious, Maeve rose and followed her.

“These are the ones you asked for.” The pile of magazines slid out of Jess’s arms to land haphazardly over the kitchen island’s Carrera marble countertop.

Despite not having a background in design, when Angelica had renovated this place, she’d done a beautiful job. The Oakwell Inn frequently appeared on the cover of both lifestyle and home renovation magazines. Of all the rooms here, the kitchen was Maeve’s favorite. She paused in the doorway as she almost always did, admiring the sunny space in front of her. While it looked like it had sprung from the pages of a magazine, the exquisite décor was made warm and welcoming by the fresh flowers scattered in vases throughout the room and bottles of Noah’s wine littering the countertops. In addition to the tasting room at the vineyard next door, the couple frequently hosted tastings and other events here. Maeve made a mental note that she should do the same. What was the use in having a friend with a perfectly-styled B&B if you couldn’t sell your whiskey there?

She strolled further into the room to examine the magazines as Angelica began to gather them up. Oh. Bridal magazines, all of them. “What are these for?”

“Planning my wedding,” Angelica said, giving her a strange look.

“Oh. Oh, right.” Maeve flushed. She’d forgotten that Noah had finally convinced Angelica to set a date after Jess and Sean had surprised them all by eloping to Costa Rica.

“And when you’re done, they’ll make lovely kindling for the fire pit,” Naomi said.

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