Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Riley Ford woke up alone.
That wasn’t so unusual; he preferred to end the night on his own.
It was hard to sleep with someone else tossing and turning in bed with him, and besides, while the cabin on his sailboat was sized just right for one, most women’s idea of comfort was a little more than a ten-foot-square room bobbing on the ocean tide.
No, what was unusual that morning was that he hadn’t just crawled out of someone else’s bed just a few hours before.
Riley sauntered into the tiny galley kitchen and set his espresso machine on. It took up half the counter in the slim space, but there were some things from his former life he wasn’t set to compromise.
His phone buzzed on the bench. A message from Layla.
I missed you last night. Hang later?
Riley winced.
He shouldn’t feel guilty for blowing her off. They weren’t serious, just a handful of dates while she was in town for a yoga retreat, but still it would have felt wrong to fall into bed with one woman, when his body still ached for someone else.
The blonde in the bar.
She’d struck him as a curiosity at first: so buttoned up and restrained in the middle of the raucous date spot. But her flirty quips had sparked a challenge Riley couldn’t resist—and that was before she turned him down and left him hanging.
Talk about waving a red flag at a bull.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had done that.
Hell, had it ever happened before? Not back when he wore designer suits, that’s for sure, dropping cash on expensive dinners and bottle service at the latest clubs.
Even here on Cape Cod, rolling out of bed in jeans and two-day stubble, Riley had never had a problem finding an appreciative audience for his charms.
But this woman? She hadn’t bought his lines for a second. In fact, she’d seemed almost amused, which only made him want her more.
Still, he wasn’t about to go out of his way chasing someone who wasn’t interested in having a little fun; not when he had plenty of girls on call who knew exactly how the game was played.
This one had turned him down flat, and he knew how to take a hint.
But when he’d stepped out of the bar and seen her there in the alleyway, her hair falling out of that prim braid, and the heat in her gaze enough to ignite his blood at twenty paces . . .
Well, like he said, he knew how to take a hint.
Riley’s blood ran hot just remembering it. The feel of her body, pressing against his. How she’d teased him, her tongue sliding over his, and her teeth grazing his lower lip in a wicked nip. That kiss had been wild, and passionate, and sexy as hell.
And he didn’t even know her name.
She wasn’t a tourist, that was for sure—unless tourists came equipped with a leather briefcase and crisp button-down shirts. No, she must be from around here, but a newcomer, otherwise he would have run into her by now.
And he definitely would remember a woman like that.
Still, Riley wasn’t concerned. He took his coffee up onto the deck and admired the morning view.
Calm blue ocean, golden sands, and a collection of colorful sailboats, bobbing gently beside his on the morning tide.
The listing for his last home boasted of a million-dollar view, but as far as Riley was concerned, his little sailboat had it beat.
Plus, zero maintenance, and these days, Riley was all about keeping things stress-free and easy.
The harbormaster, Pete, gave him a wave from the pier, and Riley waved back.
“You’re up early,” Pete called.
“A mistake I won’t repeat,” Riley yelled back. It was almost nine a.m., which was unheard of for him. When he rolled into bed at dawn, it usually took a little while to recover the next day, but luckily, Riley’s job at the local pub left him plenty of time for that.
He pulled on a clean shirt, poured another coffee into his Thermos, and hopped off the deck onto the jetty. It was a short walk up from the harbor into Sweetbriar Cove, so he didn’t bother driving, enjoying the quiet leafy lanes and the chirp of morning birdsong.
So this was what the world looked like before noon.
He detoured via the bakery on Blackberry Lane, and was surprised to find a crowd already filling the small shop, eating muffins and croissants, and Summer’s famous sticky morning buns.
“Riley?” The baker herself did an exaggerated double take when she saw him by the counter. “Are you feeling OK?”
Summer leaned over the register and pressed her hand to his forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever?—”
“Hey!” He batted her away, laughing. “Can’t a guy get a morning pastry without it being a big deal?”
“Not when the guy in question never shows his face before noon.” Summer grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Let me guess, you’ve been up all night.”
“Does it look like I slept in these clothes?” Riley protested, only half-joking.
She grinned. “Knowing you, there wasn’t any sleeping involved.”
Riley gave her a smug look. “I’ll have you know, I slept all night through—alone.”
“Are you sure about that fever?” Summer reached her hand up again, and he ducked away.
“Hey, I’m not that bad,” Riley protested again. “You’re talking like I’m a total man-whore.” There was silence. “This is where you say no, of course not,” Riley prompted her, but Summer just smiled.
“What can I get you?” she asked instead.
He took in the spread of delicious-looking treats. “I don’t even know. Usually there’s nothing left by the time I come by.”
“Early bird catches the pastries.” Summer grabbed a paper bag and slipped a couple of sticky buns inside. “Here, I’m experimenting with a cherry glaze. Let me know what you think.”
“Feel free to test your recipes on me anytime.” Riley pulled a few bills from his back pocket to pay. “I’m surprised Grayson hasn’t put on ten pounds since you arrived in town.”
Summer laughed. “I’m working on it!”
Riley exited the bakery, his mouth already watering from the scent of sugar and cinnamon.
Maybe there were perks to this whole morning thing, although he didn’t see it becoming a regular routine.
He’d had enough dawn alarms to last a lifetime, stumbling out of bed and into his car for the morning commute, then staying so late at his computer it was dark by the time he even came up for air.
Eighty-hour workweeks vs. a leisurely stroll to open up the bar?
He knew which got his vote.
His phone buzzed as he made his way into town, and he answered with a mouth full of sticky bun. “Mhmum?”
“Good, you’re picking up.”
Riley sighed. “And there I was, having a delightful morning.”
“I wouldn’t need to call if you’d reply to my emails,” his brother pointed out dryly.
“I’m detoxing,” Riley said. “No screens. This girl I dated said the rays were damaging our free radicals, or something like that.”
“You’re avoiding me,” Max said. “Correction, you’re avoiding everyone. Mom says you aren’t calling her back, and I have a stack of mail piling up for you here. Why did you set it to forward to my office?”
“Because I knew you’d take good care of it for me. Come on, Max, you know that stuff’s all junk now. It’s over, I’m done.”
“Not until you sign the final settlement, it isn’t.”
Riley sighed. Even out here on an empty country lane, the real world had a way of muscling in. “I’ll sign when I’m ready.”
“They’re not happy, you know,” Max warned him. “The lawyers are calling every week. They don’t understand why this isn’t wrapped up already—and neither do I. We came to an agreement almost a year ago now.”
“So a few more months won’t hurt. Let them wait,” Riley said. “Patience is a virtue.”
Max didn’t sound happy. “You ever think you’d be better off just putting it all behind you and moving on?” he asked.
“I have moved on,” Riley said firmly. “Doesn’t mean I have to make it easy for them. Tell Mom I’ll call her on the weekend.”
He hung up, feeling a grim satisfaction.
Tate was getting antsy? Good. Maybe it was petty, but Riley thought he deserved it after the damn mess he’d been through.
Losing his best friend, business partner, and the project he’d worked seven years on was bad enough, but having the whole thing drag through half a dozen lawsuits was even worse.
They’d finally reached an agreement Riley could just about live with, but that didn’t mean he was just going to roll over and thank the guy for screwing him over like that. He had more important things to do.
Like the woman from the bar . . .
Riley’s mood lifted, just at the thought of her. He’d see her again. The Cape was full of small towns, and his was smaller than most. Someone in Sweetbriar Cove would know about his mysterious blonde, and when he found her…? They could pick up right where they’d left off.
Preferably with fewer clothes. And more ice cream.
Riley smiled to himself and polished off the last pastry. She was out there, somewhere. And he had nothing but time.