Read French Roast Online

Authors: Ava Miles

Tags: #romance, #contemporary, #small town, #New Adult, #foodie romance

French Roast (25 page)

BOOK: French Roast
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Chapter 32

P
eggy threw
The Western Independent
in the trash can. Was it immature to want to ball up the page with Maven’s hotel plans and stomp on it?

She booted up her computer. There had to be some way to stop him. His assistance to Keith had made him the town’s hero. The conflict between gratitude and gall warred in her tight chest. She tapped the computer keys, logging into her police background software.

As she worked, she thought about her father, coming home drunk and broke from a spontaneous trip to Atlantic City. She refused to allow other families to be destroyed because of gambling. Her fingers keyed in her search. When the doorbell rang, she tucked the laptop away and headed downstairs.

Her conscience felt like a snake slithering down her spine when she saw Jill. She was trying to undermine her friend’s plans.

She flung the door open. “Hi, there.”

“Hey, you feeling better?” Jill asked, wiping her feet on the rug.

“Getting there. Come on in.”

When Jill walked into the family room the hitch in her gait gave her away.

“Someone’s had a whole bunch of sex,” Peggy commented.

Her friend’s head whipped to the side. “Wait. How did you know?”

Peggy snorted. “I know a prostitute walk when I see one. Close your mouth. I’m used to watching suspects. Prostitutes who’ve been well used have a walk.”

Jill immediately stopped walking. “Well, thank you
very
much.”

“No need to get your panties in a twist. Although you probably haven’t been wearing them much. Having fun?”

Her grin called to mind giant sunflowers. “Yep.”

“Then enjoy the prostitute walk. It’s not like you got arrested or anything.”

Jill tucked her arm through Peggy’s. “Right, nothing illegal. Just hot sizzling nights of sex after—”

“Please, don’t make a single mom cry. I’m sick. And I haven’t had sex in…I am
so
not sharing.” She tapped her temple. “Must be the cough medicine. I’m babbling worse than a first-time offender.”

She almost rushed to clean up. Kleenex puffed out of the waste basket like popcorn. The heating pad’s orange light shone on the couch. Her place could be called The Sick Zone. After a moment she gave up, and settled onto the couch, patting the cushion next to her.

“I’m heading back to work tomorrow,” Peggy said. “Thank God. This Kleenex could be made of silk, and it would still hurt. I’m hoping there’s a scuffle or something at Hairy’s bar. I want to cuff someone.”

“That’s pretty sick.”

“You make lattés. I arrest people. It’s what we do.” She put the heating pad on her chest. “And you’re sleeping with a hot guy, while I’m left with this for warmth. How sad is that.”

Sitting cross-legged, Jill put her hands on her knees. “I want to talk to you about something.”

Uh-oh. “What?”

Jill rearranged Keith’s books on the coffee table. “Would you go to PolarFest with me? I need moral support.”

Phew. Nothing serious, and nothing to do with the hotel. “I don’t like parties.”

“Please. It’s the biggest party in Dare since Halloween.”

“Are you going to tell me the real reason?” Peggy said gently, reaching for a Kleenex. She wished she could do without a nose. At this point, she’d have it removed if it would stop running.

Jill sat on her knees. “Okay, Brian asked me to go. He’s helping out, but you know how angry I am with Pete, who’s going to be hosting. I
need
to take Mac to mingle with the professor set. And I need to go with Brian, because he’s still Pete’s friend.” She held up a hand when Peggy opened her mouth. “I’d like to have all my friends around me.”

“Jill.” She let her voice break down her friend’s walls.

Jill rocked in place. “And okay, this will be the first real party I’ve been to since Halloween. I don’t want to be thinking about that night.”

Finally. Peggy sighed. “Okay, but you’d better not be asking me so you can set me up with Maven.”

A goofy grin broke across her face. “Do I look like Cupid?”

“I can see you wearing a diaper and wings.”

Throaty laughter bubbled out of her mouth. “Why, thank you. It’s a lifelong dream, shooting people with arrows.’”

Peggy threw the tissue aside and missed the waste can. “I’m the one who likes to shoot things.”

“I’ll only say this once. Mac’s more than easy on the eyes. And his voice. Margie almost has an orgasm every time she hears him talk. She’s spilled more coffee this week than—”

“I’ve got the drift. But you need to leave it alone. I don’t think he belongs in this town.”

Jill’s mouth twisted. “Fine. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I hope our different views…” Peggy pushed the heating pad aside. “Don’t screw up our friendship.”

“My family has always managed it. I don’t see why we can’t.”

She reached out her hand. Peggy grasped it. “So we agree to disagree?”

“Yep.” Jill stood up. “I’m going to go wash my hands now.”

“Now I know how a leper feels.”

“Haha. I’d hug you, but…Eww. Germs.”

“Germs are like radiation. You’ve already been exposed by being in this room with me.” She started hacking to mess with her.

Her friend’s full-body cringe made Peggy fight a grin. “Yuck, thanks for the image. I’ll be sure to wear a Haz-Mat suit next time I visit. Thanks for agreeing to come, Peg. It means a lot.”

Peggy coughed into another Kleenex. “You’re welcome. Just don’t meddle with Maven and me. If you do, I’ll have to arrest you for your prostitute walk, and then you won’t be able to keep having hot sex.”

“The horror,” Jill replied, dancing out of reach. She headed out, strutting her prostitute walk the whole way, making Peggy laugh.

She headed up to her office to resume her investigation of Maven. The water she’d poured coated her dry throat as she pulled open her laptop and scanned his background. When she only saw one criminal charge years ago, she almost snarled. Why couldn’t he have a rap sheet as long as her arm? That would have helped. She clicked on it. Well, well. So, he’d been charged for assault and battery, but he’d found a way to weasel out of it. Why was she surprised? Time to find out why.

She called Atlantic City’s police department. The arresting officer didn’t remember anything, but he dug out the short case file and read it to her over the phone. Maven had apparently beaten up some rich kid so bad he’d been hospitalized, but he’d refused to explain his reasons. The family had pressed charges after their son was hospitalized, but they had dropped them a few days later without saying why. When she hung up, she set the phone down and tapped the arm of the couch. Was it enough? She’d be skating an ethical line.

But he couldn’t bring poker to Dare. No one here understood what that meant, how it changed families, increased alcoholism, domestic and random violence, but she did.

She’d used this because the ends justified the means. Everyone in town needed to be reminded of gambling’s darker side, and this incident would throw Maven’s reputation into the muck. It might be enough to shift public perception toward him. She needed some seriously concerned speculation from the town, especially the councilmen and women. Did she spill everything now or wait for the vote? No, he was as slick as a lobbyist. If she put this out now, he’d find a way to spin it.

Better to inform the paper she had something on him and then announce it at the town council meeting. If law enforcement had taught her one thing, it was that the mere speculation of guilt could tarnish a reputation.

She picked up the phone to call
The Western Independent.

Chapter 33

P
erhaps it was the slight guilt Brian felt about the scene at Hairy’s, but he decided it was time to unveil the surprise he’d been planning for Jill since their Valentine’s Day picnic.

“Hey,” he said, calling her at the shop. “Can you sneak home to have lunch with me? I’m going to be working late tonight.”

She made a humming noise. “Miss me, huh?”

If she only knew… She was on his mind all the time—just like in the old days. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” she responded.

“So, can you?” he asked again.

“Uh-huh. We’re close to securing enough votes for the hotel. I think I can take a break. Let me just check with Mac.”

So the hotel was looking like a go. His breath huffed out. Given how darn happy Jill was with the work, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what she wanted to do.

She would keep working for Mac and the new hotel.

Which meant his best option for staying in Dare to be with her was starting the restaurant with Simca, which he wasn’t sure she would support. Shit.

“I can get away,” she said brightly when she returned to the phone. “When?”

“How about noon? And Jill.” He paused for effect. “It’s going to be a long lunch.”

“Excellent,” she replied, the smile in her voice obvious. “See you soon.”

At the appointed time, she pranced through the door looking beautiful in a brown wool skirl and one of those sweater wraps she favored in a bold lime-green. “A nooner!” she cried, reaching down to give Mutt a good rubdown. “I’ve been wanting one all my life.”

His laughter floated out. “Well, then, Red, you’re in luck.”

Sailing into his arms, she took his mouth in a passionate kiss, but he broke away. “Later. I have a surprise for you. This time you have to close your eyes.”

Her lids closed immediately, making him aware for the first time how long her lashes were. “Are you planning on showing me some new moves? Have you started taking dancing lessons with Mrs. Ellison?”

He shuddered. “Jesus, Jill, she’s got to be seventy. Now quit chattering and give me your hands.”

He took them in his own and led her into the kitchen.

“Ummm, it smells awesome in here. Are you brewing some new coffee?”

She couldn’t see it, but his smile could have beaten the Cheshire cat’s. “Kind of. Here, sit down and keep your eyes shut.”

As he helped her into one of chairs at the kitchen table, he surveyed the four bags of coffee he’d artfully arranged on a platter.

“My God, whatever you’re drinking,” she said, “I want some. Is that a floral scent?”

Damn, he should have known her nose would be able to pick up on what was going on.

“You’re too good, Red. Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Those green eyes darted from him to the platter. Her mouth dropped open. And then she shrieked and shot up from the chair. Started jumping up and down, crying out, “Oh my God, oh my God!”

He grinned and pulled her into a hug. “I’m glad you like your surprise. I thought you might appreciate a specialty coffee tasting.”

She levered back, her hands still gripping his waist. “Are you kidding?” Her head swiveled to the platter again. “These are some of the priciest coffees in the world. Like fifty to two hundred bucks a bag—and super rare. How did you manage it?”

His shoulder lifted. “Someone I went to school with has incredible connections with the specialty markets, and he managed to arrange it for me.”

“This is too much,” Jill said as they both sat down. “I can’t take it all in…So, we have Panama’s famous Hacienda la Esmeralda Geisha.” She brought the bag to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Ah, this is the source of the floral notes I was smelling. And it has a strong fruit aroma too. Yummm.”

“You’re too good, Red. I’ve worked with some incredible sommeliers, and you have the same knack for coffee they have for wine.”

She waggled her brows. “Well, I should, babe. I own a coffee shop, after all. Oh, Bri, this is like the best-est surprise ever. How can I ever thank you?”

His throat thickened. It seemed like just being with her every day was the way she constantly thanked him. “Just by enjoying it.”

She picked up the St. Helena coffee and took a deep inhale. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah, pretty cool, huh?” He’d inspected them earlier. “It’s made on the island where Napoleon was exiled in 1815.” His friend had sent descriptions of each of the coffees.

“He was the French Revolution dude, right?”

He almost rolled his eyes. “Yep. And the little guy.”

She snuck a hand under the table and caressed him through his jeans, making him instantly hard. “Yeah, I don’t know any guys like that.”

His snort carried across the room. “Lucky you. Now, how about we try these coffees?”

“Okay, no offense, but
I’m
in charge here.”

He settled back as her hand stopped stroking him. Plenty of time for that later. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He’d sat through thousands of wine tastings, so he knew how long the process could take. And it was so much more complicated with coffee. They would have to grind the beans first and then analyze their aromas before putting a couple of tablespoons in individual cups with six ounces of hot water to “break the crust,” Jill explained, inhaling deeply as they pushed the grounds to the bottom. Of course he’d researched how coffee tastings were done, but he could tell how much joy she took in sharing with him.

After the grounds settled, they slurped each brew from a spoon to take in the flavor, the sounds rudely filling the kitchen. The table was littered with mugs—one of them was an official Abba cup, which made him smile.

She moaned with each taste. Hell, he did too.

“You’re spoiling me for other coffee,” she said, sipping from a cup of the enticing Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee, the spoon now discarded.

As he watched the light from the kitchen window play upon her hair, he thought about how she was doing the same for him when it came to other women. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone but Jill. Hadn’t he always known she could do that to him? Isn’t that why he’d been so afraid in high school?

“Come here,” Jill called, standing up and pulling him out of his chair. She turned back and grabbed a few El Injerto coffee beans in her hand. She ran them along his neck and then leaned in and inhaled, moaning. “God, you smell good. We might have to look into a coffee-scented cologne.”

“I like your coffee-scented lotion,” he told her. Funny, everything about coffee reminded him of her now.

She raised his shirt and ran a few beans down his chest and then kissed the path she’d made. His breath sucked in. His arousal, ever-present when Jill was around, spiked.

“I want you here,” he told her. “With the coffee all around us.”

Their clothes flew in their haste. He pulled her into his lap and entered her forcefully, causing her to cry out.

As he thrust into her, his gaze pinned on the necklace bouncing against her collarbone. It was different from the amethyst one she always wore, the one that had been Jemma’s. There was something familiar about the heart-shaped pendant, and when the memory clicked into place, his heart burst in his chest.

It was the necklace he’d given her after high school graduation.
J&B, BFFs
.

He pressed his forehead to hers, gripping her hips, wanting to be absorbed into her. She came with a loud cry.

She’d never mentioned the necklace. To his knowledge, she’d never worn it until today.

His release poured out of him with a harsh shout.

He stroked her hair, then raised her chin so he could meet her gaze. It was a sign. The feeling of redemption blew through him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “More than anything.”

Her green eyes looked like melted glass. “And I love you more than anything.”

His fingers trailed to the necklace.

Her gaze stayed locked with his as he traced the heart.

He swallowed thickly. Couldn’t speak.

So he pulled her close and held her until their bodies cooled, wishing he could go back in time and thank the scared kid who’d entered Dare’s finest jewelry store on a windy May morning eight years ago to buy her this gift.

He’d known the truth back then.

And now their connection had grown into so much more.

BOOK: French Roast
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