Hometown Valentine. Lissa Manley

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СКАЧАТЬ swallowed and tried not to gawk. “You’re welcome,” she managed, somehow sounding completely unaffected by him. When had she become such a good fake-out artist?

      Blake flipped the towel down and began wiping the counter in front of her, bending just a tad closer. “Again, if the kid I hired doesn’t work out, I’ll call.”

      She picked up the drinks, glad they had lids. “Okay, sounds great.” She lifted one drink-laden hand. “Bye.”

      With that she turned and headed to the front door, where Mrs. De Marco waited, sure she would never hear from Blake Stonely ever again.

      And given her unwanted reaction to him, that was probably for the best.

      * * *

      Blake covertly watched Lily and Mrs. De Marco as they walked away. After a brief discussion, Lily grabbed her umbrella from the holder by the door with her free hand and then followed Mrs. De Marco out. Before the door could even close, Lily had the umbrella up and over the elderly woman to keep her from getting wet.

      Blake watched them walk left, presumably toward Mrs. De Marco’s car. He couldn’t help but be impressed by Lily Rogers. She’d jumped in to help him out, and had also been quick in assisting Mrs. De Marco. He liked her. From afar, of course. And there was no harm in that.

      Once the ladies were out of view, he turned and began putting clean coffee mugs in their place. But his thoughts remained on Lily. She’d looked younger than his own age of thirty-one, but she had to be close to that age to have brothers in college who were nine years younger than she. He’d noticed that she was tall and slender with long chestnut-hued hair and a pale, smooth complexion devoid of much makeup. Very pretty, in a natural, girl-next-door kind of way.

      What a refreshing change after Amy, who’d spent a good hour in the morning getting ready for work and was always shopping for the latest makeup products and clothes in Manhattan, where they’d both lived and worked. He’d guess she spent a good portion of her lawyer’s paycheck on makeup, her expensive car and clothes every month.

      Just the thought of his former fiancée had Blake’s hackles rising. He let out a breath, searching for calm. Had he really lived that high-flying lifestyle once? It seemed five lifetimes ago, though in reality he’d left New York just under a year and a half ago.

      Left New York. The burn of failure spread through him, hollowing out his gut as it always did. He couldn’t bomb out again.

      He looked around The Cabana and his resolve wavered. Though he’d had a spurt of customers this morning, overall business wasn’t good and the shop was hovering on the edge of red. And now with Peyton to take care of, he was wondering how he was going to make it all work.

      How was he going to keep the wolf away this time?

      Just the thought of failing again filled him with dread, and made him wonder if he’d done the right thing by following Anna to Moonlight Cove when his job had gone bust in New York. It had seemed like the perfect plan to Blake: move to Moonlight Cove, live in the same town with Jim and Fran, and Anna, too, who had moved to Moonlight Cove three years earlier to be close to Jim and Fran, as well. His family. Small but perfect.

      But now Anna was gone.

      A wave of grief washed over him and he felt his eyes burn.

      His downward spiral of emotions was interrupted when the buzzer over the door rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. Blake looked up.

      A group of five ladies he didn’t recognize—tourists, he figured—came in and ordered, keeping his hands busy for the next little while, and his mind focused on the here and now.

      Just as they all sat at a table by the window, drinks in hand, two more customers came in. He recognized Jeb Campbell, who ran the local hardware store, and Myra Fleming, the local librarian. He got them their drinks, and very quickly the bell over the door was going off again. Maybe all this business was a sign of busy times to come.

      Blake looked up from making a fresh pot of brew and saw Jim Wilson, his foster father, come in, his trademark baseball cap in his hands—he’d always been a stickler for manners. Jim’s gray hair was, as usual, cut military short and neat. He wore a pair of worn jeans and a green windbreaker, and had a large square bandage on his right cheek. Jim was in treatment for a relapse of skin cancer and had just had a biopsy yesterday. Just the thought of losing someone else filled Blake with heartrending grief.

      “Hey. What are you doing up and about?” Blake said as Jim headed to the counter. “I know for a fact you’re supposed to be resting.”

      “Aw, don’t you start,” Jim said, waving a hand. “Fran’s been all over me to take it easy, and she knows I hate just lyin’ around.” Fran was Jim’s wife of forty years and one of the most wonderful, kindhearted women Blake knew. He’d been blessed with fantastic foster parents. Having no kids of their own, Fran and Jim, Blake’s freshman math teacher, had taken Blake and Anna in out of the goodness of their very big hearts when Blake and Anna’s mom had died of a drug overdose during Blake’s freshman year. Blake and Anna’s dad had walked out when Anna was just a few months old.

      “That’s because she cares about you, and because you’re a stubborn old goat when it comes to taking care of yourself.”

      “I know. I just needed some fresh air, so I thought I’d come down here and get me a cup of your strongest brew.”

      “Coming right up.” Blake turned and went to the special pot of straight black coffee he kept just for all of the older customers who weren’t interested in frothy drinks and just wanted a good old-fashioned cup of hot joe. He poured, expecting to see sludge ooze out at any moment. To each his own.

      He set the cup of goo in front of Jim.

      As usual, Jim went for his wallet.

      “It’s on the house,” Blake said per tradition, waiting for the dialogue that always followed.

      “You sure?”

      “I’m sure,” Blake said, taking comfort in the reliability of their discussion.

      “If you insist.”

      “I do.”

      “Okay, then.” Jim picked up the cup and drank. He sighed heavily. “Oh, yeah, just what I needed on such a wet, cold day, especially since Fran only serves decaf.”

      “You still telling her that’s what I always give you?”

      “Maybe,” Jim said with a quirk of his lips.

      “If she asks me, I’ll tell the truth.” Blake’s mom had lied to him and Anna all the time about anything and everything; he hated falsehoods, even harmless ones.

      “I’d expect nothing less.” Jim looked around. “Place seems busy.”

      “Right now,” Blake replied, his jaw tight. Jim knew the business was struggling. Though The Coffee Cabana was the only stand-alone coffee store in town, for some reason the locals weren’t coming in as much as Blake had planned. He did okay in the summer, when the tourist business was good. But it wasn’t enough to sustain the business all year.

      “Overall, though?” СКАЧАТЬ