Page 12 of Tempt Me

“Plus, it’s a gorgeous locale,plusit’s peak Magnolia Bay?—”

“Just like you,” Charlotte teases.

I smile. “Exactly. I think this all worked out for the best.”

I finish the egg whites and frown into the bowl. Charlotte glances at the contents and looks up at me.

“Have the eggs done something wrong?” she asks.

“I really should let them age for twenty-four hours.”

Charlotte claps her hands together. “Excellent! That gives us plenty of time to go get a drink at the Screw. Celebrate your dress and spread the news of your wedding venue change. I bet Linda May will start trumpeting this information up and down Main Street before we finish our first glass of wine.”

I chuckle. Linda May Cheswick is a notorious gossip—it seems every generation in Magnolia Bay has one, and she’s ours. She gives old Mrs. Greerson a run for her money.

“Luke can join us if he’s in town,” Charlotte adds.

“No, he’s staying in the city tonight. He has work to do, and then he’s golfing with clients I think.” This is another reason why we’re so compatible—we simply don’t need to spend every waking moment together. I love that he’s really trying to stand out in his family’s business and working late nights and weekends is part of that. It’s the same as how I have to wake up at the crack of dawn to get pastries ready for the guests.

“Let me just change quickly and make sure my parents don’t need anything,” I say.

My parents have a small apartment at the back of the B&B, and while I don’t live here anymore, I keep some extra clothes on hand. I slip into a comfortable pair of jeans, a yellow tank top, and a pair of ballet flats. When I tell my parents I’m heading to the Crooked Screw with Charlotte, they wave me off happily. Well, Dad looks a bit crestfallen about the lack of macarons in his future, but I can make them tomorrow once the egg whites have aged and I finish the breakfast pastries for the guests.

The Thorn is in walking distance from the center of town, so we stroll along the sidewalk beneath the sugar maples and gray birches that line the road, past houses painted in cheerful pastels. The center of Magnolia Bay is bursting with life, as it always is in the summer months at the height of tourist season. Charlotte and I wave to Franco Amercini, the owner of Osteria Fortuna, as he pours wine for a couple seated at one of the outdoor tables beneath the red striped awning of his busy Italian trattoria. Dev Chadhra, who runs the Grater Good, is doing a tasting for a tour group and the scent of cheese makes my mouth water as we pass by. An athletic-looking couple holding hands follow a sign that points toward the bay with the wordsCochran’s Bike and Kayak Rentalson it.

The Crooked Screw is on the next block, kitty corner to Magnolia’s Petals, the flower shop that I live above. Just past the corner, the shops fall away, revealing a large green that sits on the water. That’s where the booths and tents will be set up for Magnolia Day later in the summer. The Thorn doesn’t have a booth, but I usually help out anyone who needs it, from Eric Kim crafting his latest coffee concoction to Sara Summers featuring her handmade jewelry.

I’ve secretly dreamed of having my own booth for Magnolia Day. Showcasing my baking skills, from the comfort foods to more elevated patisserie. But it’s not like I have a shop to promote the way Sara and Eric do. I don’t want to take a permit from someone who really needs it.

The Screw’s exterior is pale brick, with industrial style windows and a skylight, a wrought-iron corkscrew hanging above the entrance. The windows are thrown open and even though it’s early, there’s a healthy crowd already inside. A couch and several armchairs surround a dormant fireplace at the front of the room. There are high-top tables and more seating in the back, plus a patio that looks out over the bay. The long bar is recessed, with exposed beams above and sleek wooden stools with low backs.

Linda May is seating a couple of tourists. When she sees me and Charlotte, her face lights up.

“Oh my god, you guys! Have you heard?” she says, pushing us over to the corner by the fireplace.

“Heard what?” I ask.

“Whatever it is, can we get a drink first,” Charlotte says. She always pretends like she doesn’t care about Linda May’s gossip, but she eats it up just like everyone else in town.

“No! You won’t believe who’s here!” Linda May hisses.

“Is it someone famous?” I ask. We do get some celebrities in town from time to time and by the way Linda May is bouncing on her toes, this feels like it’s someone big.

She giggles. “Kind of,” she says, and turns to the bar. Charlotte and I follow her gaze.

A couple have just paid their check, and as they get up to leave, I see the three men seated behind them.

All the air in my lungs seems to evaporate. My heart slows, pounding a dull rhythm as my brain processes what I’m seeing.

There were days—months really—when I used to catch a glimpse of mahogany hair and think,that’s him. He’s come back. I saw him in strangers’ faces, in the flash of a dimple, in the deep baritone of a laugh. But it was never really him.

Until now.

Caden Everton is sitting at the bar with his brother Alistair and Noah Patterson.

Caden. His name breaks through the carefully crafted wall I’ve built over the years and crashes down around me. Heat flames over my skin, and my heartbeat sounds too loud in my ears.

The world moves in slow motion as Caden turns and catches sight of me. Those eyes. I’m pinned in place, remembering how they raked over my naked body and saw me for who I was. Steel-blue eyes that were filled with so many promises—they look hard as flint now. His jaw is more angular, his cheekbones sharper. His hair is longer, almost shaggy like Noah’s, and he wears a tight-fitting white T-shirt that hugs his massive expanse of chest. He was always muscular, but this is something else—something primal. Those muscles weren’t carefully crafted in a gym. There’s a ruggedness to him that was never there before.

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