Chapter 5
The scent of yeast and cinnamon apples was the unofficial morning perfume of Central Avenue and Holly breathed it in, grateful the windows were down for Digby. The little guy sat on Seb’s lap, as regal as a king. So far, she’d managed not to comment or chuckle at the two of them.
Parking her truck in the lot at the end of the street, the engine let out a familiar rattle before settling into silence. Digby cocked his head, then peered up at Seb.
“No front door service?” Seb stroked the dog’s ears.
She shook her head. “I like to save the parking spaces for tourists.” She pushed open her door. “Plus, in my head it negates the calories I’m about to consume.” His lips parted and she held up a hand. “Do not destroy my delusion with facts. Please.”
“Noted,” Seb replied with a smile. He climbed out of the truck and, with Digby secure in a stylish harness, he fell into step beside her while the dog snuffled the sidewalk in front of them.
Just like last night, Seb looked as if he was bracing for a tactical extraction rather than a pastry run.
She didn’t understand it. Everything had gone smoothly at Parker’s. Almost too smoothly. He’d handled all the introductions like a natural extrovert and when they were alone, their conversation had been so familiar and easy, she’d nearly lost track of her role as a guide.
Her mind had drifted away from the agreement and interview toward enticing what-if scenarios of a much more personal nature.
Not. The. Goal.
Today, he continued to prove he knew how to dress the part of new, easy-going professional in town. Instead of last night’s golf shirt, this morning he wore fashionably faded jeans and a bright white tee under an open navy button-down, with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows.
Had she always been so attracted to muscular forearms? That was a question better left for later.
“Wow. I can’t believe the line isn’t as long as the street,” he murmured. “That’s heavenly.”
“Right?” Holly agreed. “And around the holidays, the line is that long.” She paused at the entrance and Digby stopped too, plopping at Seb’s heel.
“Deep breath,” Holly teased, reaching for the leash.
“It’s strudel and small talk, that’s it.
No one will grill you for your name, rank, or social security number. ”
“In my experience, small talk is just a precursor to a pitch,” Seb muttered, tucking his hands into his pockets.
“And in this case, the pitch is melt-in-your-mouth baked goods. Easy as strudel.”
“All right.” But he didn’t move. “You know there were three coupons for the best ‘charter boat experience’ in my mailbox this morning?”
“Word travels fast.” She hitched her tote higher on her shoulder. “Brookwell Island thrives on tourism. We’re all entrepreneurs at heart. I’ll wait here with Digby.”
“All right,” he repeated. “You want a scone.”
“That’s right.” She’d texted her order to Lila earlier along with a head’s up that Seb would be coming in. If anyone could put him at ease, it would be Lila and her grandmother, Connie.
“I’ve got a Coke right here.” She patted the bag. Since they’d brought the dog, the plan was to eat on one of the benches dotted around Central—one more beloved local tradition.
He reached for the door and the bell chimed, but he stepped back to allow a woman to exit.
Holly managed not to cringe, recognizing that steel-gray bob immediately.
The Bread Basket was a local institution with a consistent flow of locals.
She’d hoped for some easy small talk and instead she’d be guiding Seb through a gossip gauntlet.
“Good morning, Mrs. Gable.” Of all the lousy luck. Mrs. Gable was one of Brookwell’s most prolific chatterboxes.
And her sharp, inquisitive gaze was currently locked on Seb. “Holly! How are you, dear? And who is your friend?”
Holly deliberately misunderstood, looking down at the dog. “This is Digby. He’s helping me with my errands this morning.”
To her credit, Mrs. Gable greeted the dog warmly before straightening once again. “And your other friend?”
Seb had let the door close, and though he stood still, Holly would’ve sworn the man was trying to suppress a smile.
“Sebastain Sterling. He’s just moved into the old Marion estate.”
“Is that so?” Mrs. Gable was well-versed in feigning shock and surprise. “Welcome to our little town, Mr. Sterling.”
He nodded, gently shaking the older woman’s hand. “A pleasure to be here. And to meet you,” he replied.
The three of them shifted slightly to let others through the door.
“We’ve all been wondering when you’d show your face, young man.
” Mrs. Gable adjusted her glasses. “My grandson tells me you’re some kind of genius with computers.
I do hope you can fix the Wi-Fi at the primary school library.
It’s been sluggish since the last hurricane. ”
Seb blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I… Um, I will look into it, ma’am.”
“We’ll add it to his to-do list,” Holly promised. “Have a lovely day, Mrs. Gable.” She plucked Digby into her arms and yanked the door open.
“Surely, you’re not taking a dog inside?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. But I’m famished and we need to get back to the office before we cause a traffic jam.” She nodded at Seb to head into the bakery and he dashed away, that smile breaking free.
Mrs. Gable patted Digby on the head and murmured a few sweet words before she walked away.
Holly waited with Digby, but when a few minutes stretched to ten, she stuck her head in at Island Bloomers, the flower shop next door. “Anyone need a puppy fix?” she called out.
Molly, the shop manager, rushed out from the design room and then skidded to a stop. “Nina! Holly brought us a puppy.”
“What?” Nina, the owner, spied Digby and promptly forgot whatever she’d been working on. “Hey, Holly. Who’s this?”
Holly grinned at the women as they crouched down to love all over the dog. “This is Digby. He belongs to Sebastian Sterling.”
Nina’s gaze darted between Holly and the dog. “Seriously? I would’ve pegged Sterling for something more intimidating than this sweetheart.”
Digby was currently trying to climb up into Nina’s lap. The dog truly was dedicated to charming everyone he met.
“You’ve met Mr. Sterling?”
Nina shook her head, her dark ponytail swaying over her shoulder. “Only heard bits and pieces from Boone. He said the Guardian Agency has done some private security work for him.” Nina’s husband had spent years traveling on personal security details.
“Did he really buy the Marion estate?” Molly asked.
“Yes, he really did,” a masculine voice replied.
Holly whirled around to find Seb in the doorway. “Come on in,” she urged. “Nina and Molly were just getting acquainted with your better half.”
Seb cocked a dark eyebrow as he approached. “He is better with people. Good to meet you both,” he said when Holly made the introductions.
“If you’re in need of flowers, just give us a call,” Nina said with a smile.
“We do events,” Molly added. “When you’re ready to host that is.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Holly admired Seb’s commitment to connect this morning, but she noticed how the color drained from his face at the mention of the h-word. She scooped up Digby once more and aimed for the door. No sense pushing Seb into a scenario he wasn’t ready to face. “Great to see you both.”
Outside in the bright morning sunshine, she pointed toward a bench across the street, under a sprawling live oak tree dripping with Spanish moss. “That’s the spot we need.”
“Is it?”
She smiled up at him, undeterred. “We can wallow in strudel while Digby explores all the Central Avenue smells.”
They sat down and he looped Digby’s leash around the arm of the bench. She popped the top on her can of Coke as he opened the bakery bag. After handing her a couple of napkins he gave her the scone—Lila’s newest recipe.
Holly sighed over her first bite. “Can’t help it, it’s heavenly.”
But her apology was ignored as Seb bit into the strudel. “How is it this good?”
“I suspect magic, but I’ve never been able to prove it.”
He laughed, the warm mellow sound wrapping around her. Their arrangement wasn’t supposed to be romantic, just a local woman showing the new guy around town. And yet, she couldn’t quite convince her heart that the ever-present sizzle when he was near was just a random effect.
“You’re doing great,” she said, wiping her fingers on the napkin. “Mrs. Gable is likely to start rumors that we’re together-together, rather than reporter and story.”
“Will she ask me to open the house for a party?”
Holly pretended to think it over. “Fix the library Wi-Fi and you can push off the inevitable.”
“That’s not much comfort, Holly.”
For a moment, she luxuriated in the way he said her name and then pulled herself together. “In the future, if Mrs. Gable corners you about tech support, just tell her you’ll send a memo to your assistant. She’ll be impressed and pipe down. For a few days at least.”
“Noted.” Seb sipped his coffee, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “This is excellent coffee.”
“Delivered from Palmetto Perk.” Watching him assess the shops across the street from each other, she added, “Think of it as a mutual collaboration. The Bread Basket supplies a selection of food items to the coffee shop each day.”
“Isn’t that more complicated than it needs to be?”
She shrugged. “Maybe, but all parties seem to be thriving with the arrangement.”
“You’re serious about transparency.”
“I am.”
The playfulness in the air shifted slightly as she felt Seb studying her.
While Central Avenue was landscaped with crape myrtle and palmetto trees, when she looked west, toward the marshes, she could see the pine trees starting to turn.
It was a welcome sign that spring was on the way, but soon neon-yellow pollen would coat everything within her view.
“You’re good at this.” Seb’s voice dropped and he stretched an arm along the back of the bench. “The way you handled Mrs. Gable was remarkable. You didn’t just introduce me; you buffered me. Why?”