Page 1 of Tempting the Heart
Chapter One
Mae
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scents of cinnamon rolls and freshly ground coffee. There were mornings like these when I still couldn’t believe I owned a slice of heaven—my coffee shop on Marigold Island, the one place that always made me feel at home.
My dream took a little longer than anticipated to get everything just right before opening my café. Still, when the coffee shop officially opened, it was humming with fellow caffeine addicts. The cheerful green walls accented the rustic beams and brickwork left from the renovation of the old building. The shared wall and entrance between my family’s antique store next door and my café always ushered new customers in after a shopping trip. Things were just… perfect.
There wasn’t a speck of dust or a crumb left anywhere. This place was my pride and joy.
But I couldn’t push away the lingering feeling from this beautiful summer morning when the sun had barely lifted over the horizon and I pulled out my red cruiser to pedal to work. I hadn’t biked anywhere for ages, but something about this morning nudged me to dust off my bicycle and give her a whirl.
She was as ancient as they came, but I'd lovingly restored the bike and named her Olga. It was one of the many finds from working at our family’s antique store. Judging by her curves, I guessed Olga to be from the late 1970s.
It wasn’t until I hit the hill coming into town that I reconsidered my bright idea and had to stop at Pigeon Bay Park to catch my breath.
And that was when it hit me, a familiar spark flickering through my body when I spotted a man sitting on a park bench overlooking the glistening water. Broad shoulders stretched into lean, muscular arms as they spread across the back of the bench. He tapped the metal to a beat only he could hear, and I wondered…
There was no way it could behim.
My brother would have mentioned that his old friend was coming to town.
Right?
I shook my head and blinked myself back into reality in the middle of my coffee shop as I reached for a clean rag to wipe down the granite countertops.
There were many fit and muscular men in the world. Spotting one on the island didn’t mean Tyler Grant was back on Marigold. Last I’d heard, he had every intention of staying away. But he also always had a way of tapping his way out of worries or bobbing his knee up and down until he came to some conclusion no one knew but him. There was something… familiar about how that guy moved his hands along the bench.
I shook my head.
I certainly shouldn’t be daydreaming about the impossible. I had a job to do, coffee to serve, and smiles to dole out.
My coffee shop opened in five minutes, and I didn’t need to get wrapped up in some imaginary world where the boy I had a crush on appeared out of nowhere.
Delusional much?
Snickering to myself, I groaned, thankful that none of my sisters or my brother could read my mind, especially Audrey. She was a hopeless romantic who spent most free evenings in search of love in some form, either here or in Seattle. When she wasn’t busy hunting for herself, she enjoyed nothing more than trying to set me up.
I shivered at the thought.
Yeah. I’d definitely be doomed if Audrey could read my mind. I knew my siblings already thought it was ridiculous that I didn’t date much and was all tangled up in an old crush who never knew I existed, apart from being my brother’s sister.
I shoved the rag under the counter, straightened, and closed my eyes.
“Enough,” I muttered into the vacant coffee shop. “Get a grip.”
To be fair to my siblings, it was moments like these when even I worried about my own sanity.
Slightly.
I mean, let’s be honest. Why was I thinking about a man I never had and never would have as he’s quietly tucked away in his own part of the world, living his best life while I was living mine?
A life I'd built from my own dreams had come to fruition. I didn’t need to be bogged down by a relationship.
My fingers slid along my mayflower earrings, and I shook my head, thinking about my mom. Maybe we were all hopeless romantics.
After all, she was the one who gave us each a little something upon our births that she felt held some sort of mystic touch to guide our hearts. I dropped my fingers away from my ears and scowled. The earrings she’d bestowed on me hadn’t cut it so far, but it was a nice thought.
It was also one of the reasons I knew I had to leave the antiques business. Every family member seemed to think that those objects spoke to them and weaved fanciful stories about previous owners and their lives.
