Chapter 7
Sam paced the recording studio, scotch in hand. In the control room, his producer, Mac Porter, played back the vocals he’d recorded earlier. The song was called “Pieces of You.” Tina Torrey had written it, a breakup tune that had him singing to a lover he’d left behind.
And it felt awfully fucking real. Every word, every take, he’d been thinking of Carly. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her face, remembering the sweet sound of her laughter and the way she felt in his arms.
“This tune is going to be fierce,” Mac said, mixing Sam’s vocals with the sample Tina’s people had sent. She lived outside Nashville. Once they’d both recorded their parts, their vocals would be mixed together to produce the duet. He and Tina likely wouldn’t cross paths until they recorded the music video…if then.
Sam tossed back the rest of his scotch. “Yeah. It’s good.”
“I don’t know what you were channeling while you were singing, but keep it up, man. You’ve got that raw edge back we’ve been missing.”
“Must have been the mountain air,” Sam muttered.
He didn’t leave the studio until somewhere past two in the morning. He was bone tired but buzzing with adrenaline, and so he found himself riding down the Pacific Coast Highway with the top down, letting the ocean breeze whip through his hair.
Wishing it were Carly’s fingers.
He’d walked into a half-dozen different bakeries in the last week. No clue why. He just kept looking for something…something he’d never find here in LA. He’d tasted so many different cinnamon buns, he’d almost lost his taste for them.
None of them tasted half as sweet as Carly’s.
He missed the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. The way she got so adorably flustered when she’d first recognized him that afternoon in A Piece of Cake. The way she looked past all the bullshit in his life to see what mattered.
Shewas what mattered.
Damn it to hell, what was he supposed to do without her?
Real life sucked.Carly thumped her forehead lightly against the counter as her latest batch of butterscotch minis smoked on the stovetop in front of her. It had been a week since the ice storm, a really long, lonely, frustrating week.
She’d burned more cookies in that time than she ever had in her life. Somehow, she had to get her act together and get Sam out of her head before she lost the bakery.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Her grandma stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest. “You look lost.”
“I feel lost.” Carly pressed a flour-coated hand to her forehead and sighed. “The bakery’s not doing well, Grandma. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Ah.” Her grandmother motioned for Carly to join her at the table. “You have a gift, Carly. Your baking is absolutely divine. Frankly, my dear, you put me to shame in the kitchen.”
“Grandma!” Carly slapped her hand playfully. “That’s not true, but I did learn from the best.”
“It is true,” Marlene said. “You know I’ve always said you walk around with your head in the clouds. I wouldn’t change you for the world, but I should have spent more time with you when you took over the shop. What do you say we sit down once a week or so and talk about the business end of things?”
Tears sprang into her eyes. “I’d like that, Grandma. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now tell me why you’re burning all your cookies this week.”
Carly sighed. “There’s this guy…”
“Oh!” Her grandmother’s gray eyes lit with interest. “I just love a story that starts with ‘there’s this guy.’ Someone you’ll be bringing over for dinner soon?”
“No. That’s the problem. He was just in town visiting. He’s…” She looked over at her grandmother. “He’s a famous musician. He lives in LA.”
“Pfft,” Marlene said. “I don’t care if he’s famous. Would I like him?”
Carly remembered the way she and Sam had sat together with his guitar, the things they’d shared. “Yeah, Grandma. You’d like him.”
“So when do I get to meet him?”
“You don’t. He’s already gone back to California. I got stuck at his place during the ice storm, and we had two really amazing days together, but that’s all it was.” She pressed her thumb into the tension headache brewing between her eyes. “I’ve got to get him out of my head.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Tell me about it. But right now, I’ve got to open the shop, with or without butterscotch minis.” She stood and walked to the oven, where the scorched cookies sat cooling. She tipped the tray and dumped them all into the trash.
“You’ve got plenty of other things to offer,” her grandmother said with a wink as she headed into the store to flip the sign from closed to open.
Carly stood behind the counter, arranging this morning’s batch of cinnamon buns.
“You’ve got folks lined up this morning waiting for you to open,” her grandmother said from the front door. “Well, one folk anyway, and oh my, he’s a looker.”
“What?” Carly’s breath caught in her chest. It couldn’t be…
Her grandmother unlocked the front door and pulled it open, smiling up at the man in the doorway, a man that made Carly’s heart somersault in her chest. He didn’t wear a baseball cap pulled low this morning. Nope, he stood there in his leather jacket and jeans, famous smile on display for anyone who might come inside.
“Sam? What are you doing here?” Because they’d agreed…
But dammit, she was so happy to see him. It was like she’d taken her first full, deep breath since she’d walked out his front door a week ago. Oh, she’d missed him so much, but why wasn’t he in LA?
“Good mornin’,” he said, turning his blinding smile on her grandmother. “Sam Weiss.”
“You the one that’s got my granddaughter burning all her cookies this week?” Marlene asked.
Sam chuckled. “I sure hope so.”
“Well, then it sounds like you two have some catching up to do. I’ll just be over here with my morning coffee.” Her grandmother retreated to the table in the corner where she often sat.
Sam walked to the counter and stood facing her, his blue eyes even more dazzling than she’d remembered. Her whole body flooded with warmth.
“Funny thing,” he said, tipping his head to the side. “I wrote five songs while you were at my house, and not a single one since.”
She pressed her fingers against the countertop. “What about your duet?”
“Recorded it day before yesterday.”
So he had gone back to LA. Uncertainty swam in her stomach. “Then why are you here?”
“Because of you.” He stepped closer, his voice lower, more intimate. Except the whole damn display case was between them. “I didn’t want to be there. Not without you.”
Her chest squeezed, and she couldn’t draw breath. “What?”
“I need you. I miss you. Please come to LA with me, even if it’s just for a few days.”
“But…my shop?—”
Sam glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “Maybe your grandmother would be willing to take over the reins for a few days?”
Marlene popped out of her seat, grinning like a fool. “Oh, yes. Take as long as you need.”
Carly scrunched her brow. “But why LA? Why not stay here in Haven for a few days? I don’t see what difference it makes…”
“Because I know we could make it here in Haven. Carly, I’m falling for you. Hell, I think I’ve already fallen.”
“What?” Her knees nearly buckled beneath her. He was falling for her? Was he saying…
He reached across the counter and took her hands in his. “And if I need to move here to make this work, I will. But a part of my life will always be in LA. I want to share that part of myself with you. So what do you say, will you come with me?”
“Say yes, Carly,” her grandmother urged from behind him.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Now you need to go around the counter and kiss her,” Marlene told Sam.
“Yes, ma’am.” He walked to the end of the counter, lifted the gate, and walked into her arms. He pulled her up against him and kissed her until everything that had been out of balance since she’d left his house last week fell back into place.
“God, I missed you,” he whispered against her lips.
“Me, too.” Her arms tightened around him. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“You said we shouldn’t see each other again, and I wanted to respect your wishes, Carly, I really did. But nothing felt right after I left. The whole time I was recording that duet, I was thinking about you, missing you. I was afraid I was being selfish by wanting to see you again because the last thing I want is for you to get hurt. But then I thought…what if it hurts more to just walk away before we give ourselves a chance? I want a chance with you.”
“I want that, too. More than anything.” She pressed her face against his chest. His heart thumped against her cheek. “We might totally rock together.”
“I know we will, baby. We already do.”
And that sounded like music to her ears.