Meet Me at the Fudge Shop | Jonathon Island #3
Return to Jonathon Island for more love and laughter in book 3, Meet Me at the Fudge Shop by Lindsay Harrel and Rachel D. Russell.
Two rival families. One historic fudge shop. And a second chance at love neither saw coming.
All Lily Hart wants is to prove she’s not the failure everyone thinks she is. After a series of setbacks—including failing out of business school and losing her dream apprenticeship—Lily returns to Jonathon Island with one goal in mind: save her family’s 74-year-old fudge shop and finally show the world she’s a capable businesswoman. The island is starting to bounce back, and Lily’s determined to be part of its revival. But when she arrives, she finds a major problem: her former high school sweetheart, Declan Kelley, is back too—and he’s claiming the shop for his family.
The Harts and Kelleys have been bitter rivals for nearly fifty years, ever since Declan’s grandfather started his own competing fudge shop. Declan’s return isn’t just about family pride, though. He’s here to save his grandmother’s house from foreclosure, and reopening the Kelley fudge shop is the only way to do it.
With the lease in dispute, Lily and Declan strike a deal: whoever sells the most fudge in one month gets the shop. Forced to share the space, sparks—and old feelings—begin to fly. Lily’s creative flair and Declan’s business acumen might just be the perfect recipe for success…if they can stop fighting long enough to realize it.
But with Declan’s future in Chicago and Lily’s heart set on staying, can they truly find a way back to each other? Or will their families’ long-standing feud—and their own desires—pull them apart for good?
Sweet, swoony, and full of heart, this is the story of two people discovering that sometimes, love is the sweetest thing of all.
Keep reading for a sneak peek…
Chapter 1
Genius didn’t always strike at three a.m. on a Friday in June, but when it did, it involved caramel, a decadent truffle center, and roasted cashews—all wrapped in a hand-dipped, dark chocolate shell with a zigzag of white chocolate garnish to make it pop.
Lily Hart’s secret ingredient? Bergamot oil, just the right number of drops to create a citrusy, herby deliciousness.
Elusive. Mesmerizing. Sublime.
So what if she hadn’t slept last night? Hadn’t even gone home after working a grueling twelve-hour shift. But that’s what was demanded if you wanted to be an apprentice to Master Chocolatier Oscar Granger at Palm Coast’s Florida Sullivan Resort.
Who needed sleep, anyway?
This was brilliance. And yes, it had taken her all night, but these candies were her ticket to having Oscar’s ear at long last. To being more than a grunt worker.
To finally proving to herself—to everyone back home—that she was successful. Or at least was on her way.
She glanced past the gleaming commercial-grade, stainless steel prep station, where The Sullivan’s kitchen staff would soon be cooking up one of the best breakfast spreads this side of Orlando, toward the gleaming glass clock set over the swinging double doors that led to an opulent dining room. Soon, Oscar and her fellow apprentices would walk into the kitchen and make their way toward the pastry section in the back corner, roll up their sleeves, and begin another day of creating the award-winning desserts worthy of The Sullivan’s acclaim.
And she’d have one already prepared for Chef Oscar Granger, award-winning, albeit exacting, baker, head of the pastry kitchen.
He’d take one look—and then one taste and…
Well, her big sacrifice of moving thirteen hundred miles from home, hours and hours of training, and even the scrutiny of her resort boss, Daniel Sullivan, would be worth it.
Not an apprentice anymore, but a full-on bakery chef, in one of the best pastry kitchens in Orlando, with multiple convection and deck ovens and space for roll-in ovens when needed, plus a stove, a long wooden island for bread making, a marble one for tabling chocolate, three massive refrigerators, a proofing case, two mixers, and every other tool a pastry chef could desire.
Take that, Declan-the-Jerk Kelley.
Blinking away the exhaustion that kept sneaking up on her, Lily took a swig of her coffee, now cold, and leaned down to take one final look over her confections at eye level. Ten gorgeous chocolates seemed to wink back at her from their placement on a simple white plate with a golden caramel spiral. She inhaled the sweet, rich chocolate aroma.
Mmm. Yes. Genius.
Grabbing her pen, she added one final word to her recipe card.
Enjoy.
“Lily!”
She jumped, her pen clattering onto the island as she glanced up to find her coworker-slash-friend Kayleigh standing over her, hands on her hips.
Kayleigh sported a frown to go with her stark-white apron and brown hair pulled tight into a bun at the base of her neck. “How long have you been here?”
“Hi.” Lily straightened, smiled. “All night. But look what beauty my efforts produced.”
“All night? But why?”
“I couldn’t exactly create on my wonky stovetop. I needed the chocolate tempering machine?—”
“No,” Kayleigh said. “Why?” She pointed to the dessert.
Oh. “I just told you. I was creating.” Lily rotated the plate. “Oscar can’t ignore my suggestions anymore once he tastes these. I’ve worked here five years, Kayleigh. Five years of making the same old boring chocolates.”
“And I’ve been here three. What’s your point?”
“It’s time for a change.”
Kayleigh gave her a look. “Oscar hates change.”
“He only thinks he hates change. But when he tastes these, he’ll change—his mind, that is.”
“I highly doubt that.” Kayleigh lifted an eyebrow and pushed Lily’s cup of coffee toward her, as if to indicate she needed to drink more.
Fine, maybe she was getting punchy.
Lily drained her cup and tossed it into the garbage. “You’ll see. These chocolates will wake him up from the boring dessert world he’s been living in. He’ll discover there are more ingredients than caramel, walnuts, and peanut butter—though I have nothing against any of them, if jazzed up a bit.”
“Oscar likes classic desserts. That’s the job, Lily. Besides, since when does the word dessert belong with boring ?” Kayleigh glanced back at the door. “He’s going to be here in ten minutes. And we’re supposed to be prepping for the McAllen wedding.” She’d donned her pastry hat. “What kind of bride doesn’t want a cake?”
“I think it’s fun—a dozen different desserts and chocolates for the dessert table instead. Which is why I made these.”
Kayleigh shook her head. “You know Oscar’s never going to accept one of your suggestions, right?”
“You don’t know that. Last month, Carlos suggested we add sprinkles to the strawberry Pop-Tart fudge for that kid’s birthday bash we catered, and Oscar agreed to try it.”
“But that was Carlos .”
“Yeah, the Golden Boy.” She finger-quoted the words. “The man has zero imagination. Sprinkles? For a ten-year-old boy? How about the sparklers I suggested?”
“Carlos is smarter than you think. He’s already created a five-year plan to own his own shop. He’s going places.”
Lily blinked at her. “And what, I’m stuck in a vat of cooling chocolate hardening around my feet? Seriously. Did you not see these chocolates?” She held up the plate. “ Perfection. ”
But Kayleigh wasn’t looking at her. In fact, she pushed past her and peered into the tempering machine. “Lily, you need to clean this. You know Oscar insists on a spotless kitchen at the start of the day.”
Oh. “I guess I got too involved with finishing the chocolates.” She hurried toward the tempering machine, grabbed a ten-pound mold, and flipped the switch to empty what was left of the chocolate from last night’s batch into it. The chocolate pumped out steadily at first, then slower, filling the air with the sugar-laden smell of melted chocolate.
“I’ll get these.” Kayleigh walked Lily’s spatula and a few other tools to the sink and began washing them.
“Thank you.” The chocolate stream ended, and Lily moved the chocolate mold to the counter. Then she removed the auger from the machine and placed it in the right side of the sink. “I’ll wash that in a minute.”
“I don’t mind.”
Lily stopped at the exasperation in Kayleigh’s tone. “Clearly you do.”
Kayleigh picked up the mold, started scrubbing. “You just always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Lose track of time, get your head stuck in the clouds, forget about what you’re supposed to be doing.”
Her words struck something deep inside Lily—and a memory surfaced from long ago. Another voice, much angrier, more masculine, saying similar things. She pushed the thought aside. No. She was different now.
But Kayleigh’s words still stabbed at her. And maybe she hadn’t changed that much because shoot, it ignited all her defenses.
“What I’m supposed to be doing here is becoming a better chocolatier. Learning from one of the greats. But how can we become great, how can we push ourselves to become better, if we aren’t allowed to experiment, to create? That’s the best part of this whole job.”
Kayleigh dropped the clean mold into the rinse sink, looked at her, suds on her arms. “The best part of this job is keeping it. We’ve got an amazing opportunity here.”
“I know that.”
“Especially after the pandemic.” Kayleigh dove again into the sudsy water, this time with the auger. “You’re lucky you had a connection with Mr. Sullivan. I waited two years, and called every week, hoping they’d take my apprentice application.”
No, she was lucky that her childhood friend Dani Sullivan had talked up Lily to her father, Daniel, who had grown up eating the Hart Family Fudge.
No, lucky might be her family’s shop not dying after the pandemic.
Maybe she didn’t believe in luck, really. Just…reality. Tempered occasionally with a good dessert. Like Mr. Sullivan said, desserts brought people together.
She wanted to believe that with everything inside her.
“Listen, I’m grateful that Oscar hired me.”
“Are you?” More suds went flying as Kayleigh dropped the auger into the rinse sink. “Because you seem intent on throwing that opportunity away.”
Okay, ouch. “I just think this job should be, I don’t know, fun. Creative.” She scraped the remaining chocolate down the drain.
Kayleigh sighed. “I’m sorry, Lily. I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve clearly got a lot of talent. I just think you should be careful. Stay focused. I won’t always be here to clean up your messes.”
Lily’s head shot up. Never mind the clean up your messes part. “Are you leaving ?”
Kayleigh grabbed a towel. Turned, her mouth tight.
Oh no.
Finally, “Oscar recommended me for a job as Assistant Master Chocolatier at a new hotel in Nashville.”
A beat. Then, somehow, “Wow. Congratulations,” emerged from her mouth. Nah, she could do better. Kayleigh was her friend . “That sounds like an amazing opportunity. But I’ll miss you.”
Kayleigh lifted a shoulder. “They wanted someone with a degree. Otherwise, I’m sure Oscar would have recommended you, since you’ve been here longer than me.”
She didn’t bother to argue that an associate’s degree was a degree. But Lily knew what Kayleigh meant. They wanted a bachelor’s degree, and Kayleigh had graduated top of her class with a bachelor’s in Chocolates and Confectionery Arts Entrepreneurship from the Sunshine State Culinary Institute.
The same program Lily had failed out of five years ago. So yeah, there was that.
“Lily…” Kayleigh took a step toward her.
Lily held up her hand. “I’m fine. It’s fine. And great for you. Seriously. You deserve it.” She gave Kayleigh a quick hug. “And to celebrate—here.” She moved to her plate of chocolates, pulling one off and holding it out to Kayleigh’s hands. “You can be the first to try them.”
“You haven’t tried one yet?”
“Don’t need to. I did several small batches that weren’t right, but I just have a feeling about this batch.”
“You and your feelings.” Kayleigh huffed out a laugh. “Honestly, they’re usually right. At least where chocolate’s concerned.”
“Thank you.” Lily took a bow, then grinned and held up a second chocolate. “Here’s to new beginnings.”
Kayleigh’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, a rare sight. “That means a lot, Lily. And I know you’ll get your big break someday.”
The sentiment warmed Lily’s heart. “If this chocolate is as amazing as I think it is, maybe sooner rather than later.”
“I hope so.” Then Kayleigh took a bite of the chocolate. Her eyes closed and she tilted her head toward the ceiling. Then groaned. “Okay, I think I just got seven cavities. That’s delicious.”
Lily pumped her fist and then took her own bite. Flavor exploded on her tongue—unique, immersive.
And yes, perfect.
The door slammed open behind her. “Good morning,” a baritone rang out.
Carlos stood on the other side of the island, staring at the kitchen behind Lily, his bushy black eyebrows bunched together. He made a huffing noise and shook his head. Gave a small grin. “You are in so much trouble, Hart.”
What—?
But behind him, through the door walked Oscar, a tall fifty-something with a handlebar mustache and piercing brown eyes.
His gaze landed on the tempering machine, still crusted with chocolate on the inside.
He looked at her. “Tell me.” And then he pointed at the machine.
“I’m sorry, sir. I was just getting the machine cleaned.”
“You mean the machine I assigned you to clean last night?”
Lily darted a glance at Kayleigh, whose eyes widened.
“Um, yes. Well, actually, I did clean it but then took the initiative to create some new chocolates for tonight. I worked all night on a new recipe for a bergamot chocolate crunch. That’s not the name—I haven’t come up with the name yet, actually, but?—”
“Ms. Hart?—”
Nope, she couldn’t stop now. “Try one, sir. I think this could be our next big thing. I even wrote down the recipe so we could mass produce it for tonight’s wedding if you like it.”
“Tonight’s menu is already set.”
“Sir, if you’ll just try one, I think?—”
He held up a hand. “I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to do what I assign you. And you clearly haven’t done that.”
“No, but if you’ll just try?—”
“This isn’t the first time, either. You know what’s holding you back? Discipline. You’re impulsive and flighty. Not dependable.”
She stilled, the words pinning her in place. No, that wasn’t…she wasn’t?—
“If you could just taste?—”
“I don’t need to.”
And then he walked over to her plate of chocolates, picked it up, and…
Dumped it in the trash.
She stared at the mess, then back at him. “Have you lost your mind? That—those took me all night!”
And maybe something just snapped inside her. “They were delicious. Artwork. Pomp and circumstance. It’s a medley of flavors, a symphony for the mouth. And you just dumped them because of what? Pride? Just take a look at the recipe!”
He just stared at her, nostrils flaring.
Okay, so maybe…um. She cut her voice low. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to insult you or your work, but?—”
“That’s enough, Ms. Hart.” He snatched the recipe card from her hand, glancing at it, then back to her. “The thing you don’t seem to understand is that this is my kitchen. My kitchen, my rules, my recipes. When you have your own kitchen—and honestly, Ms. Hart, I very much doubt you’ll ever reach that level of success— you can decide what to make. Until then…”
He ripped the recipe in half, then again, and again. Then he added the papers to the chocolate, spilled in with the other debris from last night’s dinner.
She barely had a voice. “Why did you do that?” She took a breath, found more of it. “I’ve given you five years of my life. I’ve catered to your every stupid whim, spent countless hours doing tedious work, cleaning and sanitizing, and—this is how you treat me?”
She might be shouting now, so she schooled her voice. Hated the tears that rimmed her eyes. “That was mine. You had no right.”
“Correction,” he snapped, stepping up to her. “You used company resources to create it, so it was actually mine . And I decided I didn’t want it.” Oscar slid the garbage receptacle back into place. “Just like you, Ms. Hart. I don’t want you.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I don’t want you here anymore. As of this moment, you are no longer an employee of The Sullivan.”
Lily just stared at him, the words not quite landing. The silence buzzed loudly in her ears.
What—?
No, no, no. This is not how things were supposed to go. Lily pressed her lips together and blinked her eyes rapidly. She would not cry. Crying hadn’t stopped her grandpa’s disappointment in her. Hadn’t stopped the Kelleys from accusing her, or Declan from turning away from her. Hadn’t stopped Professor Hamilton from failing her.
Oscar folded his arms over his chest. “Did you not hear me? You’re fired, Ms. Hart. And I won’t be giving you a reference, so don’t even ask.” He pointed toward the door. “Your chocolate-making days are over.”
* * *
Declan Kelley stepped off the Chicago “L” train—and straight into his new life.
Adjusting his tie, he made his way down the platform, relishing the tug of the crowd flowing around him. Everyone had somewhere to be, something to do.
Including, finally, him.
At seven thirty, the July humidity lay on his skin, his shirt sticky under his three-piece suit. But not even the oppressive heat could steal the pep in Declan’s step as he approached the skyscraper on The Loop where McGentry Food Company occupied the top four stories. Was his corner office visible from way down here? His neck craned upward, taking in the building’s seemingly endless rows of windows glinting off the rising sun—a gorgeous sight, given how cloudy the summer had been so far.
If Declan believed in omens of good luck, he might think the appearance of the sun on his first day as McGentry’s business operations manager portended good things.
But Declan just believed in the value of hard work. And goodness knew he’d worked his tail off—both in his career so far, and all throughout his MBA program—to get to this place. Add to that six months of job searching…
But that was then, this was now, and hello to a perfect future.
Cold air blasted him as he stepped inside, blowing so hard he smoothed his hand along his hair, but his new gel had seemed to hold things steady up top. Being inside muted the din of honking taxis but enveloped him into a sea of people in suits, many talking on their Bluetooth devices, dressy shoes echoing against the travertine and through the stories-tall lobby. Declan flashed his shiny new-as-of-yesterday badge at a security guard, who waved him in, and headed toward the bank of six elevators.
His phone vibrated. He pulled it out—Brandon, his cousin. Probably just calling to wish him good luck, but the doors to the elevator opened, so he declined the call and got on with a handful of others.
He’d text him back later.
Scanning his badge, Declan hit the button for the eighty-first floor.
Eighty-first. Which meant a view of the Windy City. Looks like we made it. A tune sang in his head as he flashed a grin at the pretty brunette in a pencil skirt across from him. She smiled back.
Oh—he didn’t want to get too friendly. He pulled out his phone, swiping open his email as an excuse to look somewhere else. Not that he wanted to be rude, but after Kim, the last thing on his mind was dating.
His phone vibrated in his hand. Brandon again. Weird. His cousin wasn’t the type to call twice.
Not unless something was wrong.
He glanced up at the numbers. Only at floor eighteen, with clearly five more to go.
Declan answered, pitched his voice low. “What’s up, Brandon?” He put a hand to his other ear, bent his head to capture his voice.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“I’m on an elevator?—”
“Right. Sorry.” Wind blew across Brandon’s receiver. Probably his tour-guide cousin was standing on a cliff somewhere in Arizona, overlooking a different kind of view. “And now you’re the jerk talking in the lift.”
“Yep.”
The elevator stopped and opened. Two of the businessmen stepped out, one glancing over his shoulder at Declan with a frown. Yeah, yeah, he knew it was rude. Declan raised his hand in apology but the guy was already walking down the thick-carpeted hallway.
A sigh came over the phone, and he forgot about the men. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Grandma.”
Sweet Grandma Kelley, who had been frailer and frailer every time Declan had visited home. Who never had a cross word to say to anyone, even though the Kelleys (except for maybe his Aunt Jill) weren’t generally known for their ability to win friends.
“What about Grandma?”
“She had a small…episode last night.”
“What do you mean, episode ? Like a heart attack? A stroke?” He glanced at the brunette. She’d turned, staring at the numbers, as if trying not to listen.
“She fainted and they’re still running tests to verify what happened. But she’s stable now.”
“Good. Stable’s good.” He blew out a breath. “Is she at the Jonathon Island clinic or did they take her to the mainland?”
“She’s at the Port Joseph Hospital, but they said given the fact she’s eighty-three, they’ll keep her overnight for observation. Sorry I didn’t call you sooner. We didn’t want to call until we had good news. I know how much she means to you—to all of us—and didn’t want you to worry.”
Oops, he hadn’t realized he was pacing until the door opened and another man got out, and the woman took another step away from him.
He retreated to the corner, facing the wall, and fought to keep his voice low. “I appreciate the call, but you definitely should have told me sooner.”
He’d never be ready to lose Grandma, but especially not now—before he’d figured out some way to restore his family’s faith in him.
But this job…maybe it was a start.
“So she’s okay?”
“She’s okay. Physically, at least.”
Declan stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Apparently the reason she had the episode in the first place is because the county is foreclosing on her home.”
Foreclosing—it took a second. “What?” Declan schooled his voice as the elevator stopped again. He glanced, and the woman got out, leaving him, blessedly, alone. “Why would they do that? The house has been in the family for more than a hundred years. It’s on the same road as all of us. All the kids. Aw, we should have never let her live alone.”
“We? Dude, you haven’t lived here for ten years—since graduation.”
“I know, I know—sorry, it’s just…”
Brandon’s voice softened. “I get it. You never really leave the island.”
Huh. But he was trying to, wasn’t he?
“Apparently, she owes ten years’ worth of back taxes…ever since Grandpa died,” Brandon said. “And she didn’t tell anyone, despite multiple warnings from the county. Now, it’s too late.”
Declan swore under his breath just as the elevator opened again. Oops, his floor.
He stood there, not moving.
This was his fault, wasn’t it?
The doors started to close, but he stuck his foot into them. “Why didn’t she ask Dad for help figuring out her taxes?” Frank Kelley, Grandma’s oldest son, was a CPA and handled all of the accounting and marketing for the three family businesses.
“He asked the same thing. Apparently she didn’t want to be a bother.”
“Aw, Grandma.”
A female receptionist greeted visitors from behind a sleek black desk, the logo of the McGentry Food Company behind her. She sent Declan a friendly smile, wiggling her fingers at him while she spoke into her fancy headset.
Shoot. He took his foot out of the door. It closed.
Declan leaned against the back wall. “Surely someone in the family has the money to bail her out of this.”
“It’s a lot of money, Dec.”
“I get it—I’d do it myself, but most of my savings went to paying down my student loans and living while trying to land this job.”
“I get it too. We all want to help. It’s Grandma. But everyone’s strapped—money is tied up in businesses and home and debt. They don’t have enough pooled between them. And you know what the pandemic did to us. Every restaurant is leveraged, just trying to stay afloat. Mom with Good Day Coffee, and Uncle Patrick with Kelley’s Bar & Grill, and your mom with Martha’s on Main. And it doesn’t help that the competition has rolled into town with the one-dollar houses?—”
“The what?”
“It’s a marketing thing—the town has been giving away houses for a buck for businesses that move to the island.”
“Seriously?”
Someone had called the elevator, and it began to move.
“You do know they’re restoring the Grand Sullivan Hotel, right?”
“I feel like Mom mentioned that, but kind of zoned out when she was talking. Shoot. I have to go, bro.” The doors opened on the floor below, and Declan got out into a hallway of law offices. He followed the signs to the stairs. “Thanks for letting me know about Grandma, and please keep me posted. Are you on island right now?”
“I’m at the hospital in Port Joseph at the moment, but yeah, visiting my mom for a while. But Dec?—”
“Declan, is that you?”
Oh, great. He opened the door to the stairwell. “Hi, Mom.” Clearly she’d stolen Brandon’s phone from his hands. “I heard about Grandma. I’ll be praying for her, all right?”
“Yes, it’s just awful.” But Martha Kelley’s voice didn’t sound tearful or weepy. It sounded…well, the same it always did. No nonsense. Commanding. There was a reason she’d assimilated so well into the Kelley restaurant dynasty on the island, running the café herself after she and Dad had gotten married, changing its name from Kelley’s Diner to Martha’s on Main. Nobody could say no to her. “You need to come home right away.”
He stood in the cold hallway and rubbed the vein between his eyes—the one that always throbbed when he spoke with Mom. “I’m starting my new job today, remember?”
“Right.” She sighed. “If they’re a good company, they’ll understand that family comes first.”
Ha. And the words were right there, on his lips—then why didn’t she get along with her own brother-in-law? Then again, if anyone outside the family ever spoke ill of Patrick, she chewed that person out. Apparently, only a Kelley could insult a Kelley and get away with it.
“Listen, Mom. Brandon said Grandma’s doing okay. Maybe I can come visit this weekend, once she’s out of the hospital.” He did the mental math—he’d have to leave early on Friday to beat the traffic out of town for the Fourth of July weekend. Six hours to the ferry in Port Joseph, and then another hour to the island.
“You should be here. Now.”
He sighed. “Mom, I appreciate your desire for our family to be together at a time like this?—”
“What I appreciate is that shrewd brain of yours. You’ve got financial savvy, and we need that now to save Grandma’s house.”
“Me? What about Dad? He’s the accountant.”
“And he’s good at what he does, but I need someone who can think outside the box.”
Voices lifted in the hallway. Declan caught sight of several businessmen and women stepping off the elevators. He glanced at his watch, frowned. People were starting to arrive for work, and he was going to be late for his eight a.m. with his new boss. What kind of impression would that make?
“Send me all the information and documents, and I’ll work on a solution from here.” He started up the stairs.
“Declan James Kelley, this needs to be your main focus. Put that big MBA brain of yours to use.”
“I’m trying,” he muttered.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” Another glance at his watch. “Mom, seriously, I’ll call you back in a bit. I promise, I’ll think of something.”
“It’s so sad. Grandpa never forgot to pay his mortgage. Grandma’s been lost without Grandpa.”
And there it was. The reason he’d mostly stayed off island for the last decade except for holidays and a few weeks in the summers between classes.
Because the guilt would always be there, would always be a part of him, something he’d never forget. And if he did, his family was right there, more than happy to remind him of what he owed them.
What he owed Grandma.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I’ll do my best to come.”
Another sigh. “The family needs you, Declan. We can’t lose that house.”
She made it sound like they were in the mafia. Sheesh.
“Mom. I can’t request a leave of absence on my first day of work .”
“I know.” Her voice shook.
“No, I don’t think you do. If I do this—there’s no guarantee my job will be here waiting for me when I return. And it took me six months to find this one.”
“I know.” A big sob. “It’s fine. I just…we need you, Declan.”
Oh, shoot, those were the words, weren’t they? He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Calm down, Mom.” He sighed, and the words just spilled out. “I won’t let you down.”
Because it had only taken one selfish decision to let down the entire family ten years ago. One mistake that had changed everything. That had made him the family pariah.
And the consequences of that error in judgment had been fatal.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He barely heard her thank him as he hung up.
Then he sighed and stared up. So much for his first day of triumph.
Get your copy!
* * *
Have you read our FREE Jonathon Island prequel, Meet Me on Jonathon Island by Susan May Warren?
Her first love has returned to Jonathon Island. Sorry, but it’s too late.
As assistant tourism director for the Grand Sullivan Hotel, Evie Jonathon might have to work with her ex-flame, Boy Who Ghosted Her, but she doesn’t have to talk to him. Or fall in love with him again. No way, no how…
Waterfront director and sailing instructor Kyle Munson is back for one reason—to prove he’s not the same reckless boy who broke Evie’s heart. Except Kyle has his reasons for his silence…reasons that just might break her heart again.
Then their boss orders them to enter a newly minted Jonathon Island yacht race—and the old feelings reignite. But can their love survive beyond a summer romance? And when a jealous rival targets them, can Evie and Kyle win the race against time to save not just their jobs but their lives?
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* * *