French Roast (2 page)

Chapter 1

Eight years later

J
ill Hale’s heart fluttered when Brian McConnell’s silver SUV turned onto Route 44 ahead of the vehicle she was riding—Dare Valley’s newest red fire truck. The fire chief, Ernie, had given her and her sister, Meredith, rides growing up, and he’d suggested one today to cheer her up. Her inner child had jumped at the chance.

Her eyes tracked to Brian’s rear-view mirror, hoping for a glimpse of his face. She only got a partial view of his strong chin and easy smile. She gave a breathy sigh.

Jill had loved Brian since she was a toddler, but before his return to town the previous summer, she hadn’t spoken to him for eight years. Their falling out had left wounds that had scabbed over without fully healing. She had forgiven him now. Mostly. The death of their childhood friend, Jemma, had pulled them together, sparking a tenuous reconciliation.

They’d been hanging out a lot—going to the movies or the pizza parlor, skiing up in the valley. It was all very enjoyable…and very platonic. She was trying to play it cool, but the waiting was driving her crazy. Brian
had
to make a move after everything that had happened between them.

“Earth to Jill,” her sister called over the roaring engine. Meredith Hale’s wedding ring flashed when she waved a hand in Jill’s face. “Man, you have it bad. You go into the Zombie Zone every time you see him. Even his car.”

Gripping the brass fire pole as the truck accelerated through a traffic light, Jill said, “I can’t help it! Brian’s been back for months, and I’ve finally decided to make him mine. Mua-ha-ha.”

“Don’t do the scary laugh,” Meredith pleaded jokingly, her red hair swinging as she shook her head.

Jill didn’t know where Brian was going, but she hoped he was driving to her coffee shop to see her. When he turned onto the road leading to downtown Dare, she smiled to herself—it was in the direction of Don’t Soy with Me. “Hey, Ernie, can you head south on Dare Avenue?”

The old fire chief, who was dressed in a uniform resembling a yellow jacket wasp, glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. “Sure thing, honey. After all, this ride is supposed to cheer up my favorite girl.”

Her heart contracted. The whole town had been trying to help her cope with Jemma’s sudden death. Most of the time it warmed her heart, but sometimes it just reminded her of all she’d lost—their day-long banter while working at the coffee shop together, girls’ nights out at Hairy’s Irish Bar, a shoulder to lean on whenever she needed one.

Brian cruised down the street, the fire truck in hot pursuit. Maybe this wasn’t what Ernie had intended when he’d offered her a ride, but this whole car chase
was
raising her spirits. She hadn’t seen Brian in a week, and she was feeling a bit starved for his company.

They continued to follow the silver SUV. She leaned with every turn in the road, her cork-screw red curls brushing her flushed cheeks. Ernie spun the massive wheel to follow Brian onto Main Street without being asked. Yeah, he knew. Heck, everyone in town knew about them.

“Can I hit the siren when we pass the newspaper?” Jill asked, dancing in her winter boots. The fire truck sparkled in the Cut and Curl’s front window like Dorothy’s ruby red slippers as they passed.

Meredith raised an eyebrow. “We’re on Main Street with no fire in sight. It’s against the rules.”

“I
like
breaking rules.” She gave a pout. Her older sister could be such a party-pooper. Why not have a little fun?

Ernie chortled. “Okay, but only because your grandpa bluffed me out of fifty bucks last night at poker.”

Jill put her hand near the button as they closed in on the headquarters of the family newspaper.

Putting her hands over her ears, her sister said, “As a current employee of
The Western Independent,
I should note you’re going to have at least four reporters—my husband and our grandpa included—scurrying out of the front door like ants to see what all the commotion is about.”

Jill pressed the button, and the siren’s circular, ear-piercing wheeze rolled out. “I know. Isn’t it great?”

Her sister stuck her tongue out. She reciprocated and hit the horn, punching the air with a
cronk.

Brian parked his car on Main Street in front of a row of brightly painted shops. Her heart rate escalated. He
was
coming to see her!

“Ernie, can you swing around the back? I need to do something at Don’t Soy with Me.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

She ducked down as they passed Brian’s car, curling her tall frame into a ball.

Her sister crouched next to her. “I’m only hiding with you because I love you. Everyone—and I mean
everyone
—is going to know we rode the fire engine today since you blasted
The Independent.
”

A black fireman’s mask banged into her head when she wobbled. “Shit. You’re right. I don’t always think things through.”

“You can say that again. It’s like your spontaneity card gets jammed, overriding all logic.”

What was so great about logic anyway? “I didn’t
have
to bring you along on my ride.”

“Girls, girls,” Ernie shouted, making her smile. How many times had he said that to them while they were growing up?

The brakes whooshed when he pulled to a stop. He spun in his seat. “Guess I should be grateful Brian wasn’t heading to Denver. I don’t have enough gas to make the two hour trip.”

Jill leaned forward and kissed his bearded cheek. “You old buzzard. You know you would have done it for me.”

He held up a hand. “You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since you were a kid, wearing those red pigtails like Pippi Longstocking.” He pointed to Meredith. “You too, missy. Now git on out of my fire truck.” The radio crackled. “Calls are starting to come in about the siren. Can’t wait to talk to your grandpa. Hope he’s aggravated enough to take Maalox.”

The sisters hopped down from the truck, narrowly missing a puddle of snow melt. “Thanks, Ernie!” they chimed.

The thick burn scar around his mouth shifted when he smiled. “Oh, go on with you.”

Meredith grabbed Jill’s hand and—in unspoken agreement—they ran to the back of the shop together. “You know you’ve lost your mind, right?”

“I wasn’t in my right mind anyway.”

They hurried through the back door and down the hallway past Jill’s office, skidding to a halt when they reached the main part of the shop. Don’t Soy with Me had exceeded everyone’s expectations—hers, her family’s, and the town’s. Though the Hales were a big name in the newspaper world, it had been a while since a Hale had found success in something other than paper and ink. And the shop showcased Jill’s unique style to a tee. The bold color scheme of fire engine red—so appropriate after today—and sunshine yellow was eye opening, and the walls were lined with local artists’ paintings, most of them modern, with splashes of bold, primal color.

Her patrons ran the gamut: students from the local university studied here, while their professors graded papers; locals talked about the weather; and the California transplants ordered soy lattes and tofu-stuffed croissants.

She’d found a way to draw everyone in, making Don’t Soy with Me more than just a coffee shop. It was
the
local meeting place. She’d expanded her menu to sandwiches, pizza, and light plates, and now they served food and drinks from 6:00 a.m. until midnight. Not too shabby for a business that had started as a class project.

“Compose yourself and stop wheezing,” she told her sister, smoothing down her hair.

“Wheezing? I swim four miles—”

“Blah-di-blah-blah,” she interrupted. “Margie, our favorites, please,” she called out to the barista—one of the perks of being the boss—and they darted over to a table that had opened up near the front window. Jill scanned the street with laser focus, immediately catching sight of Brian’s green Spyder jacket. He was heading away from them.
Darn it!
She’d interrupted a ride in a fire truck so she could sit like a wallflower in her own coffee shop.

“You’re right. I’m pathetic.”

Her traitorous eyes couldn’t stop following his progress toward the drug store. Even though he was wearing a coat, her mind conjured up those rigid back muscles. Those broad shoulders. The way he filled out a T-shirt at the gym, all sweaty and ripped. He’d been handsome in high school, but eight years in New York City had only honed his appearance. He had the whole casual sophistication thing going for him now, and he was all man.

“Do you even have a clue where this is leading?” Meredith asked, a hint of older sis in her voice as Margie set their drinks down.

Brian turned to greet an old lady in the street, his bow-shaped lips tilting into a smile as he laughed at something she said. His easy gait hinted he wasn’t in a hurry. No, he was never in a hurry, not with her or anyone.

“Hey!” Meredith punched her lightly. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes! Well, I know where I want it to go, anyway. Us together. Finally!” She’d decided he was The One in second grade after he socked Timmy Caren for calling her carrot top and pulling her ponytail. She’d drawn pictures in colored pencils of the two of them holding hands, and all her notebooks had been scrawled with “Jill McConnell” in hesitant cursive.

She’d waited for him to make a move. And waited.

In the history of courtship, two turtles could have come together faster.

Then he’d changed the rules, and everything had gone to hell. Before leaving for the Culinary Institute of America, he’d promised to keep calling until she relented, but after six months, he had finally given up. Until his return to town, that was.

Meredith neatly placed her napkin in her lap. “You think he plans on staying? New York can be hard to get out of your system. Dare’s not exactly a hot restaurant scene.”

She bit her lip. “I know. That’s why I’ve been trying to persuade him that we should open a restaurant together. He’ll cook the food. I’ll handle the biz. I need a new project now that Don’t Soy with Me is a huge success, and this will be a great way to reconnect with him. Plus, it fits in with my plan to be a big-time businesswoman someday.”

“Give it time.” Meredith hugged her. “I know you want this to work out, but have you thought about setting the whole restaurant idea aside? If things don’t work—”

“It’ll screw everything up.” She tugged on a red curl.

“Jill, seriously, why don’t you give your relationship some time to develop before pushing ahead with this?”

Rolling her eyes seemed appropriate. “Meredith, seriously,” she mimicked, “why don’t you stop raining on my parade?”

“You darn well know what I mean. It just doesn’t seem smart to me.”

“Well, it does to me,” she said, lifting her chin, telling herself it would be fine.

“Promise me you’re going to be reasonable.”

“When have I ever been reasonable? Drop it, Mere.”

Her sister held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, but take it slow.”

Big sisters. “I’ve only been trying to talk Brian into it. It’s not like I’ve drawn up plans yet or taken out a loan. Jeez.”

“I’m only trying to gently say you’ve been through a lot with Jemma dying. Heck, we all have.”

“Easy for you to say. All your ‘stuff’ ended up turning out great.”

Meredith and Tanner had just gotten married on New Year’s Eve after a whirlwind courtship and were living in their own Nora Roberts Land—just like in the sisters’ favorite novels.

“Don’t worry, Jill. Yours will too.”

“I miss Jemma, Mere.”

“I know. That was so sweet of Ernie, trying to cheer you up like that.” She scooted her chair closer and leaned in toward her. “Are you still visiting her grave?”

Jill straightened. “I know you don’t like it, but I need to talk to her. She was my best friend!”

“The family’s worried,” her sister said with a sigh.

“I’ll stop going when the time is right.” If only she could shut the grief off like it was a porch light. “It helps that Brian and I are hanging out so much.” It was true, even if it wasn’t as hot and steamy as she’d like it to be.

“I still don’t understand why he came back to Dare Valley.” Meredith licked the foam off her chocolate mocha.

“Me either,” Jill replied. Brian didn’t say much about his time in New York or why he’d returned to town. In some ways, it was mysterious and a bit sexy, but in others, it made her realize they were no longer the best friends who could finish each other’s sentences.

He came out of the drug store with a small bag in his hand. Had he bought shaving cream to slowly scrape off the day’s growth of beard darkening his face? She hoped not.

As if sensing her speculation, he looked straight through the window, then lifted a hand and waved. Great. She’d become a stalker. First the fire truck and now this. The movie could run on
Lifetime.
She waved back as if to say ta-ta, not watching you like some lovesick chick. He entered another store. Her frown just about cracked her lip, so she reached for the bubblegum lip gloss in her tiger-print purse.

The punch on her arm interrupted her speculation.

“Hey!”

“You’re in Lust Land, lil’ sis.”

“Spoken like a happily married woman.”

“Yep, but I remember feeling all itchy before Tanner and I got together. The same thing’s going on with you, except you’ve known Brian forever.”

“I know. Makes it…weird sometimes.”

“You’ll get there. Your whole getting-to-know-you phase has been short-circuited since you grew up together. You just need to catch up on all the years he was gone.”

“Sometimes he seems so familiar,” Jill said. “And then others… Well, it’s like there are these new layers of caution, quiet, and…confusion.” Like he didn’t always know what to say or how to act around her.

Of course, the freaking lust shooting through them both might have something to do with that. She knew he was attracted to her, and he darn well knew how she felt. And yet they hadn’t touched each other recently. Okay, except for a couple of weeks ago when she’d slipped on the ice as they were walking to the movies. And that
so
didn’t count.

The new-customer bell chimed. Her head swiveled. Brian strolled into the coffee shop—all tousled and rugged like he’d just rolled out of bed. His maple-syrup hair curled at the nap of his neck, and his blue eyes never failed to pack a punch.