He's the One (20 page)

“Home?” he asked as they left Lavender’s
.

“Bed,” she answered.

“How fast can you walk?”

She noticed the bulge in his pants.

“Faster than you,” she teased, stepping out ahead of him.

“Don’t bet on it, babe.”

She felt his hot breath on the back of her neck for the next three blocks. Followed
by the warmth of his hands as he stripped off her clothes the minute they burst through
the cottage’s front door and settled her on cool fresh sheets. It was a night of extreme
heat and endless orgasms.

 

 

The following day, Violet worked the morning shift at the diner and Brad was scheduled
to cover the dinner hour. She couldn’t deny she’d been dreading this day, what with
the investor coming, but she didn’t share her fears with her aunt. How could she?
Molly was in her own world, fluttering here and there and not concentrating on her
baking. She burned two cherry pies. A first for her. She didn’t seem to care. Her
mind was elsewhere. No doubt on Joe. Or possibly on the investor.

Violet made it through the noon rush, growing more and more anxious. She kept looking
at her watch, wishing she could stop time. The businessman would arrive shortly. Minutes
ticked toward the inevitable.

Two fifteen, and the man had yet to make an appearance. Customers had thinned out.
The only ones who remained were those lingering over a second cup of coffee. Putting
on a brave smile, Vi kept their cups filled with hot brew.

Her stomach dropped when the front door swung open moments later and an unwelcome
customer strolled in.

“Lydia.” Violet narrowed her gaze on her sister when she entered the diner. She was
alone. “Where are your children?” she asked as Lydia took over a counter stool, sitting
next to the mailman. Vi didn’t try to hide her concern. She couldn’t trust her sister
to do the right thing, even when it came to taking care of her own.

“My kids are with Mark,” she told Violet. “It’s his day off from the garage. He took
them fishing at Barefoot Cove.”

“You chose not to go?” Violet asked. Lydia’s boyfriend was nice enough, Vi knew, maybe
too
nice for her sister. Seemed she took advantage of him, too.

Lydia turned up her nose. “Too much sun, too much quiet, and I refuse to bait a hook.
I hate the smell of fish.” She swung her stool right, then left, and said, “I’m ready
to order.”

“No dine and dash today, Lydia.” Vi was firm and to the point. Her sister always ordered
a big meal, then split before she paid the tab.

Lydia flicked her wrist. “Whatever.”

Violet planned to keep a close eye on her sister. By the gleam in her eye, she was
certain Mark had given Lydia her weekly allowance. No wonder she was flippant. What
irked Violet more was that she often spent the money within a matter of minutes, then
found herself scamming for handouts the rest of the week.

Lydia tapped her fingers on the counter. “I want the daily special: fried chicken
dinner, white meat; mashed potatoes; corn; and cole slaw. Possibly a piece of pie,
if I don’t bust a gut.”

Violet jotted down her order, then clipped it to a revolving wheel in the cook’s window.
Joe grabbed it, then got busy preparing Lydia’s meal.

“Coffee, too, Vi,” Lydia requested.

Violet poured her a cup. Her sister sweetened the Colombian blend with three packets
of Sweet’n Low. Vi caught her pocketing several more sugar packets. No surprise there.
Lydia’s kids liked sugar on their morning cereal.

By four o’clock, Molly announced she’d received a phone call from the investor. He
was running late. Vi exhaled her relief. Perhaps
late
meant a year from now or maybe never. She could only hope so.

She wished she didn’t have to be around when he arrived. Unfortunately, her shift
didn’t end until five. She’d get a good look at the guy with a long résumé in the
food industry.

The diner soon began to fill with the late-afternoon coffee crowd. Regular customers
claimed their favorite tables; a few older men preferred to sit at the counter. This
was their home away from home.

Lydia had finished her meal, but she had yet to move on. Unless she physically tossed
her butt out the door, Violet knew her sister wouldn’t leave until she was good and
ready. Lydia had drunk an entire pot of coffee and polished off two pieces of lemon
meringue pie. She was too full to walk to the door.

Keeping an eye on her sister, Violet circled the diner and took everyone’s standard
order. Her regulars ate the same flavor of pie every single day. She sensed an undercurrent
as the table talk centered on the new investor. Word had spread fast. Most of the
customers were curious; a few were apprehensive.

Vi served them in record time. She then moved to the edge of the waitress station
and leaned against one of the shelves. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, and
collected herself. She thought about all the good times she’d had here at Molly Malone’s.
Laughing and joking with Molly and Joe, chatting about life’s highs and lows with
the customers, and, most of all, working with Brad. And how that might soon change.
Fear of the unknown left her feeling low.

“Wow, check out the Mercedes,” Lydia said, her voice pitched high to get everyone’s
attention. “Someone’s owning Center Street.”

Violet blinked, straightened, then looked out the window. She watched as the driver
parked the black luxury vehicle near the curb.

“Money, money, money,” Lydia chanted.

Violet’s heart dropped so fast she felt dizzy. So the investor had shown up after
all. Somehow, she had convinced herself he wouldn’t. Now she couldn’t hide, run from
the truth. Whether she liked it or not, life at Molly Malone’s was about to change.
Forever.

She grasped the side of the soda machine, steadied herself. Sadness swelled in her
throat. She had the urge to escape into the kitchen, to hide in the storeroom, while
the investor took inventory of the diner.

She didn’t want to face the man who could turn her world upside down. She desperately
wished Brad were there. He’d give her the courage she needed to get through this.
Unfortunately, his shift didn’t start for another hour.

Molly swung through the kitchen door. Joe took off his apron and followed close behind
her. “I just received a text,” she said, smoothing her palms over her apron. “I believe
my appointment is here.”

Violet turned away so her aunt couldn’t see the disappointment written all over her
face. She felt guilty even thinking about the man not showing up. Molly deserved this
chance at happiness, and she was acting selfish thinking about her own future. And
Brad’s, too, she reminded herself.

“The guy’s getting out of his car,” Lydia said, craning her neck. “He’s got dark hair
and nice shoulders.”

That he had, Violet agreed, straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of him. Street shadows
made it difficult to see his face. She watched as he closed his car door and stepped
onto the curb.

Time slowed, and Vi felt as if she stood in the still-frame of a movie. Familiarity
and confusion crowded her. Her jaw dropped along with everyone else’s in the diner
when he moved into the sunlight. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Brad fuckin’ Davis,” said Lydia, unfiltered.

Violet couldn’t say a word, only stared.

He entered Molly Malone’s, looking like himself, only different. He’d gotten a haircut,
shaved, and now wore a tailored navy sport coat over a pair of jeans. A burgundy tie
hung loosely about the collar of his light blue shirt. He gave her goose bumps.

The silence held as he nodded to Molly and Joe and walked straight to Violet. Gone
was the short-order cook and skimboarder. Before her now stood a man with a sharp
gaze and professional shrewdness. He was all business.

She was so stunned that she barely registered the fact that he’d pulled her close,
that his presence surrounded her with unsettling warmth.

Her cheek pressed his chest, and his heart beat steadily beneath her ear. He gently
stroked her hair. The scent of his Fierce cologne mixed with the starch of his dress
shirt. His new jeans pressed her khaki skirt. The toes on her tennis shoes kissed
the tips on his leather loafers.

“What’s going on, Brad?” she finally managed. “I don’t understand.” She’d never felt
so lost.

She felt his smile against her cheek. “I love you, Violet Cates,” he whispered against
the background hush of the diner. “You’ve had my heart since your eighteenth birthday.
I will always do my best for you. For us. That best starts today.”

She eased back slightly, her breathing uneven. “I’m listening,” she said, keeping
her voice equally low.

He dropped a light kiss on her brow. “You’ve always wanted a diner like Molly Malone’s,”
he said without missing a beat. “I’m here to offer you the opportunity to take over
ownership of the restaurant.”

Her eyes rounded. “So that’s your car out there? You didn’t arrive by bus?”

“I drove into town,” he confessed. “I parked my Mercedes in a private parking garage
at Saunders Shores.”

“You’re rich?” It was difficult to believe.

He nodded. “Comfortably well off,” he assured her.

Her knees grew so weak, she could barely stand. She clasped his forearms, needing
his support. She had so many questions, but her throat had closed and her mouth was
dry.

“Speak up, Brad,” Lydia called from the counter.

“We’ve got a right to know what’s going on. We’re all family here at the diner.”

A murmur of agreement came from the customers.

With his arm still curved about her shoulders, Brad turned slightly, so he faced the
locals. Violet leaned against his side and listened along with everyone else as he
spoke about his travels. “I left Barefoot William five years ago, a man out to prove
himself,” he began, making no excuses. “Violet and I had big dreams. I had to find
a way to make our goals a reality.”

Molly and Joe nodded encouragingly for Brad to continue. The mailman took that moment
to lift his coffee cup. “I could use a refill, Vi, while I hear Brad’s story.”

“I can listen and eat at the same time,” said a second man at the counter. “A slice
of blueberry pie would be nice.”

Violet made a move to serve them, only to stop when Lydia surprised her by hopping
off her counter stool and taking charge. She warmed coffee cups along the counter
before slipping a piece of blueberry pie from the revolving pie case onto a plate.
She added the cost to the man’s bill. Then she returned to her stool.

Vi was as shocked by her sister’s assistance as she was by Brad’s accounting of his
time away from Barefoot William. He ran one hand down his chin, and continued. “I
stayed in Florida, closer to Violet than she ever realized. My first stop was Tampa—that’s
where I sold my car. Success didn’t come overnight, but my earning potential finally
took shape. I bought a hot dog cart, then staked a claim on a street corner near Tropicana
Stadium. Football, baseball, sports fans love their dogs.”

“I like chili dogs,” said the mailman.

“I made enough money from selling hot dogs to invest in a run-down hamburger joint
on the beach in St. Petersburg. I renovated the place and sold it for a nice profit.
I continued to flip small businesses, and I made a lot of money. I called Molly after
a major shopping mall offered to buy my ramshackle clam shack. The restaurant was
old and I had yet to fix it up. The corporation paid big bucks, then went on to level
the building so they could expand their parking garage.”

Brad slowly massaged the back of Vi’s neck. She welcomed his touch. “Once the sale
closed, I got in touch with Molly,” he added. “I told her that I was coming home.
I made a solid offer on the diner, which she accepted.”

Molly had known all along, and kept his secret. “Conspirators,” Vi said on a sigh,
feeling loved.

“His offer was all for you, Violet,” Molly put in then. Her smile was soft, her eyes
misting. “Brad knew I wouldn’t sell the diner to just anyone. I wanted it to go to
you, sweetie. You’ve worked so hard for me. The time has come for you and Brad to
take over.”

“You’d be doing me a favor, too,” said Joe, drawing Molly to his side. “I have a decent
pension and I want to show Molly the world, but she refused to leave Barefoot William.
Brad’s proposition came at the perfect time. It changed our lives. Molly can leave
town with a happy heart, knowing the diner is in capable hands.”

Capable hands
. Vi looked up at Brad, marveling over her good fortune. “We’re going to spend the
rest of our lives together.”

“Together as husband and wife.” He surprised her further by reaching into his sport
coat pocket and producing a small, black velvet box. “I came back to town, hoping
you still loved me. You didn’t blink an eye, even when I appeared as poor as when
I left.”

He gazed deeply into her eyes. “We’ve been married in my heart for a very long time,
Violet. Today, I want to make us official.”

Her fingers shook, and she nearly dropped the gift box. Brad cupped his hand beneath
hers. It took her several attempts to tip back the top.

During those moments, three surfers stood their boards against the outside window,
then bumped shoulders as they came through the door. Lydia was off her stool in less
than a second. She crossed to the boys, shaking her head. “Sorry, guys, no shirt,
no shoes, no service,” she said firmly, turning them away.

The bare-chested, shoeless surfers shrugged, then left. They headed down the boardwalk
toward the vendors selling cheese nachos and corn dogs.

“Let’s see your rock,” Lydia said, crossing back to Violet. “Bet it’s big enough to
blind me.”