Chapter 6 #2
The cold slammed into them as they got out of the truck.
Brock held open the door of Latte & Bean so Juliette could escape the wind’s bitter sting first. They were instantly greeted with the comforting scent of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries.
It was a cozy cafe, all warm woods and cheerful neutrals with a few clusters of tables, chairs, and one evergreen velvet couch for conversation.
Jazz music crooned from invisible speakers, softly disguising the chatter from the handful of other patrons.
Brock led Juliette to the counter where Evelyn, his usual barista, was lazily examining her manicure. “Hey there, Evelyn.”
“Hi, Brock.” From behind the counter, Evelyn’s eyes illuminated and she perked up instantly. She leaned forward, fluttered her false lashes, and he caught a whiff of her overly saturated perfume. “What’ll it be? The usual?”
“Yeah, I’ll take a medium cinnamon dolce latte, please.” He stole a glance at Juliette and didn’t miss the way Evelyn’s gaze narrowed. “Jules—I mean, Juliette. What do you want?”
Juliette skimmed the menu, rolling her lips together. If she knew Evelyn was sneering at her, she made no show of it. “I’ll just have whatever he’s having.”
“Yeah, I bet you will,” Evelyn muttered, just loud enough for Juliette to hear.
Brock scowled. It wasn’t like her to be so snippy. Or rude, for that matter.
After they got their lattes, Brock chose a small table by a window, away from Evelyn’s harsh stare.
“Nice to see you haven’t lost your touch.” Juliette took a sip of her coffee and eyed him over the rim of her cup. “Did you two have a thing?”
Brock blinked, not willing to risk looking over his shoulder.
“Me and Evelyn?” He shook his head, popping off the plastic lid of his latte. “Nah, she’s not really my type. Strange how she’s acting, though. She’s usually pretty friendly.”
Juliette’s mouth pulled into a smirk. “If by friendly you mean shooting daggers with her eyes, then yeah, she looks real friendly.”
Brock laughed, but it was cut short by an all-too-familiar voice.
“Well, well. If it isn’t our very own Kelly Gallagher.” He winced at the use of his middle name and looked up to see Miss Bobbie hovering over their table. “Where have you been hiding these last few weeks?”
Miss Bobbie leaned down to give him a squeeze. She was petite and plump, and wore a busy floral dress to match her personality, with a white sweater wrapped around her shoulders. A bright pink flower was pinned into her mass of silver hair, and she smelled like fresh cotton and faded roses.
Brock offered her a charming smile. “Just working, Miss Bobbie.”
She pushed her purple-rimmed glasses up her nose, and her beady eyes zeroed in on him. One gray brow arched across her wrinkled forehead. “I bet your father’s hostile takeover of your yaya’s beach house has kept you pretty tied up.”
Brock nearly choked. He had no idea how she’d found out about his father’s dealings, but he wasn’t the least surprised. Still, it caught him off guard.
Juliette smacked him firmly on the back, and he coughed again.
He set his coffee down. “It’s hardly a hostile takeover—”
But then Miss Bobbie let out the loudest squeak of a gasp he’d ever heard.
“Juliette Laurent! Well, I’ll be.” She clutched one hand over her heart. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen your sweet face around Mystic Cove. When did you get back into town?”
“I came home on New Year’s Eve.” Juliette’s smile was polite but pinched.
Miss Bobbie’s gaze immediately cut to Brock, and she pursed her bright pink lips in consideration. “Wasting no time, I see.”
Brock watched as Juliette’s cheeks flushed to a pretty shade of pink. He attempted to come to her rescue. “Oh no, it’s nothing like—”
“It really was wonderful to see both of you again.” Miss Bobbie was hearing none of it. She simply waved off his explanation with a flick of her wrist. “And to see both of you together, at that.”
“We’re not—” Juliette protested.
“She’s not—” Brock objected.
“I have to go check my roasters and whip up a fresh batch of white chocolate raspberry scones.” Her eyes glittered with mischief. “You two have fun.”
Without another word and before they could deny her claims, Miss Bobbie toddled off to the back of the coffee shop.
Juliette blew out a frustrated sigh and swirled her half-finished cup of coffee. “What just happened?”
Again, Brock laughed. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before the rumors start.”
“I think it might be too late for that.” Juliette rolled her eyes, but this time her grin was real. Wide and beautiful.
All Brock could think about when they arrived back at Mystic Florals was what he could do to see her smile like that again.
He unloaded his tools from his truck while Juliette grabbed two of the bags from the warehouse, and when they walked into the shop, he didn’t miss the way the twins were peeking over at them from behind the counter.
Adrienne attempted to inspect her camera while Vivianne appeared to be mindlessly scrolling on her phone, but they were both doing a terrible job of pretending.
Because any time Brock glanced in their direction, they quickly averted their gazes. Gigi, at least, was nowhere to be seen.
Heading toward the staircase, he slung his bag of tools over one shoulder.
“Brock.” Juliette stopped him before he got to the second step to start work on the upstairs apartment. “What was Miss Bobbie talking about? With your dad?”
He set down his gear and rubbed one hand on the back of his neck. “His company wants to buy the beach house and all of Yaya’s property.”
Juliette’s brow furrowed. “Is that such a bad thing?”
Brock shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. “It is when he plans on leveling it to build a conglomerate of condominiums.”
“What?” Her voice pitched. “He can’t do that. Could you imagine the mess it would create? The chaos, the traffic.” She shuddered and her nose crinkled in distaste. “The tourists.”
“Trust me, I know.” He chuckled, but there was a lingering sadness that hollowed out his chest. “I’ve been trying to think of ways around it.
If I can renovate it and make use of it, or find a way so it gives back to Mystic Cove without causing a bunch of hate and discontent, then maybe I can convince Yaya not to sell. ”
“I don’t understand.” Juliette’s lips pressed into a hard line, something she always did whenever she was thinking. “You think she actually wants to sell?”
“I think she might. I think she just wants out from under it.” Brock hated to admit it. He didn’t want to think about the fact that his grandmother might view the beach house as a burden, or even a memory she longed to forget. “It’s one of the reasons I wanted to hire you.”
Not that he was trying to guilt her into joining Silver Eagle Construction.
But he definitely wanted her to be aware of the full extent of his reasoning.
Sure, offering her a job would make it so Juliette didn’t have to work alongside her mother, but it also gave him one hell of a shot at keeping the beach house in his family.
He gathered up his bags of gear to keep from reaching out to her, to stop himself from begging her to reconsider. “I was hoping you’d thought more about my proposition?”
Her expression changed. He saw the transformation as clearly as if he’d been watching the sun dip into the horizon and bleed into the rise of twilight. Her spirit, her carefree glow, faded. Dimmed. Morphed into something like despair.
“I think I’m going to stay at the shop for now. I’ll just help out Mama as needed and make myself useful to Adrienne and Vivianne.” She forced a smile. It was fake. Lackluster. Similar to the one she gave Miss Bobbie. “I’m more comfortable here.”
“Sure. Yeah, I get it.” Disappointment crashed over him like a rogue wave, threatening to pull him under. A small part of him thought she was going to agree, that maybe she’d want to help him. Or at least, help herself. “If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”
“I will.” Juliette shifted her weight and looked at the ground, then over to the counter where her sisters idly eavesdropped, basically anywhere but directly at him. “I’m sure you know things with my mother can get…intense.”
“Absolutely.” He shifted the weight of the bags in his hands. “I’m going to head up to the apartment and get started. I want to get as much of the bathroom done as possible before the end of the day.”
“Yeah.” She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Thanks, though.”
“For what?”
She lifted one shoulder and let it fall dismissively. “For the coffee. For today.”
“Anytime.” Brock headed up to the apartment to start the bathroom renovations. It took everything in his power not to glance back at Juliette. To see if she was watching him the way he wanted to watch her.
He would have to find a way to change Juliette’s mind. Not only to save the beach house, but to save her. Because if he knew one thing for certain, it was that Juliette and Gigi were like sparks shooting from the same piece of flint. And it was only a matter of time until one of them ignited.