A Sweet Possibility (Archer Cove Series Book 2) (11 page)

"They'd go here, buddy." Jim pushed off of the desk. "We have a full recreational facility. That means weight room, cardio room, and pool. You can talk to management about offering personal training. They're open to new ideas. Plus, and this is the best part, you'd get a referral fee for every new member you bring in. Let me tell you, those fees add up quickly. Then if you can convince your rich clients to also pay you for personal training sessions..." Jim whistled and shook his head. "Let's just say you'd be doing well for yourself."

He turned that over in his mind. It was true that to an extent, his income was capped as it was. There were only so many clients he could accommodate in a day. But Nate was fine with what he earned, even if it wasn't all that impressive. It was nowhere near what Quinn earned, for example. He took a deep breath.

He was earning a living as a freelancer, and where was that getting him, anyway? The girl of his dreams was treating him like he didn't even exist because she was hung up on the guy who earned the impressive salary.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't know, Jim. I guess I'll think about it."

"That's all I'm asking. Hey, you're on the way to yoga, right? You want a bottled water?" Without waiting for the answer, he walked over to a small refrigerator in the corner of the office and removed two bottles.

"Thanks, I'm all set."

Jim shrugged and tapped the door closed with his foot. "If you change your mind, you can help yourself." He twisted the top off his own bottle and grinned. "Your class is sold out, and that's never happened. People here like you. It's nice to be appreciated."

The comment struck Nate as a perfect summary of his life. It was nice to be appreciated, all right. At least his clients appreciated him, and maybe they'd follow, and maybe he could help more people if he took the job. "Thanks for thinking of me," he said. "I'm definitely interested."

J
essie stirred the thick
, buttery batter with the red rubber spatula. Her hands were covered in flour, as was her apron. On the counter before her was a chaotic spread: paper butter wrappers and eggshells, spilled sugar crystals, and smears of flour. She only baked messy when she felt messy.

Jessie had never actually seen auras before, though she'd always been jealous of those who claimed to have that ability. But on the day that Emily made plans to go out with Nate, she felt as though she could actually feel her own aura, and it felt spiky and irritable. Before the day was done, someone might lose an eye.

Not that this was Emily's fault. She'd done nothing wrong, and so Jessie felt bad for avoiding her. It was just that if she looked her in the eyes, she felt certain that Emily would be able to tell how much it bothered her that she was going out with Nate. She was even more afraid that Emily would know why she was bothered, and even Jessie couldn't figure that part out. So she hid herself in the kitchen and directed an unusual amount of attention to baking scones and mulling over her feelings. She sure had a lot of them right then, and the ugliest was the painful jealousy that ricocheted inside her chest like she was a human pinball machine.

I am a chocolate warrior. I am focused on my goal in a single-minded, obsessive way that is totally healthy and functional. That day, the affirmations were coming out all wrong.

She dropped cups of wild blueberries into the batter and slowed her aggressive stirring, blending them carefully. Yes, she was jealous. She could admit that. After all, Nate was a dear friend, and she was used to having him around. It was only natural that she'd fear being supplanted by Emily. Except she knew that wasn't the problem, exactly. She wasn't afraid to lose pizza-and-beer nights with Nate — not when all she could think about was that single, perfect kiss, and about how he might go and kiss Emily that way, too.

She set the spatula down beside the bowl, feeling ill.

"You okay?" Uncle Hank asked from the small desk at the back of the kitchen. He peered at her from above a stack of documents. "You look pale."

"I'm fine, thanks." Jessie inhaled and reached for the spatula. "Just thinking, that's all."

"If it's anything you want to talk about, I'm here."

She smiled. "Thanks." She most certainly would not be discussing any of this with her uncle.

Jessie lifted the batter from the metal mixing bowl and set it on the floured surface, smoothing it into a circle. She sliced the dough into triangles, set them on a baking sheet, and sprinkled the tops with sugar. As she was opening the door to the industrial stainless-steel oven, Emily walked into the kitchen. No, make that bounced.

"I just locked up. Should I run to the bank?" She held up a navy blue deposit bag.

Jessie slipped the baking sheet onto the oven rack and closed the door. "I could do it on my way out."

"You're busy," said Uncle Hank. "I'll head over. I could use a walk." He stood and stretched behind the desk before approaching Emily, arm outstretched. "Good day?"

"Very. Jessie, I sold a few boxes of your chocolates."

Jessie couldn't meet her smile, so she looked down at the floor instead. "That's great." She crouched down to the black-and-white checkered tile floor and pretended to pick something up. "I should sweep the floors."

"I can do that," Emily chirped, reaching for the broom.

Jessie's shoulders tightened and rose closer to her ears. Did Emily have to take everything? She ground her teeth and headed back to her messy workspace on the counter. As she collected the broken eggshells and the butter wrappers and dropped them into the trash, Emily pushed the broom merrily across the floor. Jessie half expected her to break into song and swing on the hanging pot rack like she was trapped in some damn musical. People shouldn't be that chipper in real life.

Emily glanced up from her happy sweeping. "Did you end up applying for that small business loan? It seemed like you were interested in it, but I haven't heard anything else."

"I'm working on it." Jessie's forehead was tight. "It's going to take me a while. I've got to put together a marketing plan, form a company. There's no rush, since there's nowhere in town to put a chocolate shop."

The thought stirred something small and self-pitying inside of her. She felt herself getting into a bad spot and she needed something — or someone — to pull her out of her doldrums. Who could she turn to? Let's see: Quinn had dumped her, and Nate had put her in a foul mood. Jessie crushed an eggshell in her hands before tossing it into the trash.

"Something will come along," Emily said. She stooped to lift a dustpan from the floor and empty it into the trash. "I'm excited about my date. Nate texted me. We're going to Sam's." She paused. "I hope you don't mind."

Jessie started. "Yes. I mean, no, of course not. Why would I mind? I don't mind."

Emily leaned against the propped handle of the broom. "I just know you and Nate are friends, and you and I work together. I want to make sure nothing's strange." She smiled and resumed sweeping. "I was thinking it would be a lot of fun if we went on a double date. Oh!" She froze, her eyes wide. "You and Quinn...I forgot. I didn't mean —"

"It's okay," Jessie said abruptly, needing a change of subject. "Don't even worry about it."

"Sometimes I say the stupidest things," Emily muttered, more to herself. She continued to sweep, but moved quickly away to the other side of the kitchen.

Jessie felt a twist of guilt. Emily was one of her friends, and so was Nate, and it was great that two nice people were going out together. She set the spatula in the metal bowl, carried them both to the sink, and turned on the hot water. "It was a nice thought, Em. And you really shouldn't feel bad. Quinn and I are only taking a break." It sounded less and less convincing every time she said it.

She scrubbed the pots, pans, bowls, and utensils that were piled in and around the sink, dried them, and then wiped down the counters. By then, the scones were finished. Jessie was just setting them on a tray when her cell phone rang. When she saw the number, her mood instantly lifted. "Wren! How are you?"

"Low on chocolate stock," her cousin said. "We had a large tasting party last night and we paired wine and chocolate. Do you think you can swing by? I can send you an order sheet."

Jessie was proud to be the exclusive supplier of chocolate at Wren and Jax's Cliffside Vineyards, and Wren was exactly the person who could lift Jessie's mood. Selfishly, she couldn't have been happier that her cousin was running low on inventory. "I can load your order right now and come right over. Just tell me what you need."

T
he catering van
was white and roomy, and the words "Hedda's Bakery — Catering" were painted on one side in purple. In the back were rows of racks to secure trays of food. Uncle Hank had purchased the van used when a local restaurant was looking to unload it. Jessie had taken advantage, offering catering as a means to raise a little extra money for Hedda's. At one point, her Auntie Lil had even helped her with the menu. But business over the past year had slowed down as more competition crept into the area, so Jessie had devoted more attention to her chocolates. The van was convenient, though. They still had a few catering jobs a month, and it was perfect for carrying large orders of chocolate.

Wren and Jax were her best customers, which wasn't saying all that much. She'd stop by every other week with an order, and they always paid her and gave her a few bottles of wine from the vineyard as a tip. As Jessie wound the van up the hills to Cliffside Vineyards, she hoped they'd spare a bottle of ice wine. She loved the sweet, syrupy treat, and she and Nate had whiled away quite a few evenings in the cottage sipping small glasses.

Jessie's heart pivoted in place. It was like she kept forgetting about how complicated things with Nate had suddenly become. Maybe he and Emily would really hit it off, and then it wasn't like they'd be drinking ice wine together very often anymore. Not alone, with him teasing her about the silly things that secretly made her cry, and her teasing him about his weirdo workout routine ideas, like that time he was going to make a client do pull-ups on monkey bars. This was what she'd lose if Emily was in the picture.

Jessie bit the inside of her cheek. It was just one date, not marriage. No need to get ahead of herself.

The vineyard itself was easy to miss, set back as it was from a narrow, rarely traveled road that jutted through a dense forest of pine. A carved wooden sign announced "Cliffside Vineyards" in simple type. It was only when one followed the long gravel drive that one saw the hidden gem: acres of rolling vineyards overlooking a sliver of the ocean; a newly constructed red barn that included a comfortable tasting room with a long bar, an imposing stone fireplace, and a large deck for summertime gatherings; and a renovated white farmhouse with a wraparound porch that was exceedingly modest by Hollywood standards, but was the place Wren and Jax called home. It was the sort of property that few found by accident, but if they did, they were rewarded with a spectacular experience.

When she arrived, the tasting room was closing for the evening and the visitors' parking lot was empty. She continued up the hill to the farmhouse. As she drew closer, she saw that the lights were on. Jessie could smell marinara sauce. She pulled a shipping box filled with truffles out of the van and lugged it to the front porch. Fortunately, Jax opened the door before Jessie was forced to decide how she was going to ring the doorbell. "I thought I was going to have to shout at you to get off my property," he joked, and lifted the box from her arms. "What is this, more chocolate?"

"Wren called in an order. She said you had a tasting."

His strong arms handled the box easily. "She's in charge of that. Did you eat? We're just sitting down and we have plenty."

"It smells great." She reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "You had a nice time in France?"

He wrinkled his handsome face and gave a noncommittal shrug. "I didn't get to see much of it. All your cousin ever wants to do is have sex with me. Ow!" He winced as Wren came up from behind and whacked him in the shoulder. "It's true."

Jessie had heard all about Jax long before she'd actually met him. Who hadn't? He'd been all over the celebrity gossip blogs, always with a different woman. The best, most surprising thing about Jax was that beneath the brash exterior, he was a softie who loved to spend his evenings chatting in the kitchen at Hedda's and helping the family to bake. What Jessie loved most about him was seeing the look on his face every time Wren was around. He was like a lost puppy when she entered the room.

But as Jax was looking at Wren with his characteristic adoration, Wren was rolling her eyes in mock consternation. "Those are for the event we have on Friday night. I'm putting everything in the hall."

"Yes, ma'am." He winked at Jessie before turning and heading into the home.

Wren reached for Jessie's hand. "Come in. We're just having dinner. I'll get you a plate."

The smells of pasta, marinara sauce, and garlic sent Jessie's stomach rumbling — she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Her gaze took in the domestic scene: the farmhouse, with its wide floorboards and light yellow walls, and Wren and Jax in blue jeans, light sweaters, and socks, joking and smiling at each other. The thought of returning to her empty cottage made her heart sink.

She said eagerly, "I'd love to."

Jessie envied the chef's kitchen, with its stainless-steel appliances, generous granite countertops, and wide picture window overlooking the stretch of vineyards. It had been designed for their gourmet chef, Tyrone, who lived in the guest quarters whenever Jax was preparing for a movie and needed to be in peak physical shape. As far as Jessie knew, Wren was trying to pick up some cooking basics, but she'd always been a sandwich and frozen pizza kind of girl. As she pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar at the center island, Jessie was secretly thrilled that Tyrone was back in LA. When he was around, dinners were vegetable-based with small portions of lean meats and unsweetened berries for dessert. He never would have cooked this dinner, which looked and smelled amazing.

She inhaled as Jax spooned a serving of bowtie pasta and sauce into a white bowl and set it before her. Wren said, "It's nothing fancy, but we made the sauce ourselves from the Roma tomatoes that grew in our garden last summer."

"Nothing fancy?" Jessie said. "I was just thinking that if I could, I'd unhinge my jaw and devour this entire bowl all at once."

"Now there's a visual," Jax said pleasantly, and set a bowl in front of Wren. "Do you want water, darling?"

"Darling." Jessie giggled. "You two are so gross."

"I'd love one," Wren said, and shot Jessie a knowing look. "Like Quinn has never used a pet name for you?"

Jessie picked up her fork and stabbed at her pasta. "Nope. And we broke up." She took a bite. Wow. Worth the calories.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Wren's eyes widen with concern. "You did? You didn't tell me this."

"It's not important. We're taking a little break so he can focus on his career. No big deal."

"A break? What's that mean?" Wren's pretty face was scrunched, as if she'd just caught a whiff of something that stunk.

"He's working so many hours these days that it's hard for him to focus on a relationship." She poked a piece of pasta too aggressively, and it flew over the side of her bowl. "This sauce is great, by the way. You should consider canning it. You could put your pretty faces on the label."

Jax was bustling around the kitchen, opening cabinets and slicing lemons and trying — so it seemed to Jessie — to appear that he wasn't listening. "Jess? Lemon or lime?"

"Lemon, please. Anyway, as far as Quinn goes," she said around a mouthful, "it's okay with me. I am also focusing on my career. I'm going to open my own shop, really work on selling my chocolates. I figure I've been developing my line for so long, I should go all in. What am I waiting for, right?"