Starting Over – By Christine Ashworth #2
Her daughter? How did he not know that? Ethan watched as Carla and her daughter chatted in low tones. Carla nodded at something her daughter said as she wrapped an apron around her trim waist. Now that he was looking, he could see the resemblance.
“It’s fine, Skye. Jenny’s coming in for her mom as Donna is out with the flu, it looks like.” She patted her daughter’s cheek. “Go on and finish up in the back. You know it’s slow until eight, anyway.”
“You got it, Mom.”
She said something else in a low tone, and Carla chuckled.
“We’re their place to work.” She shrugged. “They’re here most of the morning.”
Ethan caught the new girl looking at him and swiftly dropped his gaze.
Damn it. He couldn’t work like this, but he couldn’t leave quickly, either.
Besides, the coffee was excellent. Still…
once she disappeared back into the kitchens, Ethan packed up, left a five dollar bill on the table, and hustled out of there.
On his drive back to his beach house, the emotions churned inside him. He needed to run, that’s what he needed. He’d never forgotten her; never forgotten the way her eyes would light up when she talked about baking, or how good she’d felt in his arms when they danced.
He remembered everything about their time in the coffee shop, talking until almost dawn. And while he knew, deep within himself that it wasn’t her fault, at the same time he blamed her for Lissa’s death.
Skye dug her toes into the still-warm sand and leaned back on her hands. She loved the beach at night, when most everyone else was home. The sand on either side of her was deserted; there was just her, the beach, and the waves curling to the shore with a soft shushing sound.
It had been a weird day. That man in the café, so damn familiar, a memory just out of reach.
Then she had to wait tables until Donna’s daughter could come in.
She hadn’t been a waitress for years, but didn’t skip a beat when she needed to fill in again around lunchtime.
They’d had another waitress call out with the flu, and their backup waitress was out of town, so Skye had taken orders and delivered food, chatted with customers, and worked from eleven to two without a break.
She’d gone home for a nap before heading back to the Busy B to start the prep work for the following day.
The pressure of working in the family business wasn’t bad. It was just different. Her bosses were now her parents. She wanted to help them as much as possible. But she also wanted a life, and that was not compatible with full-time restaurant work.
If she had her own bakery, well…she could start work by four in the morning, open at seven, close at three. No tables, just takeout. No coffee service; just cakes and cookies, pastries and pies, and bread of course.
“That’s entirely possible,” she mused aloud.
“What’s possible?”
The voice came from behind her. Skye scrambled to her feet and whirled about, surprised to see it was the man from the café that morning, and his voice…so familiar. He wore jogging clothes.
She frowned and put her hands on her hips. “Who are you?”
He looked up at the stars spangling the sky, at the bright moon, and took a breath. “It’s been a long time, Dancing Girl. We never did get around to names.”
Skye’s whole world tilted. “Shy Guy? Holy shit. Holy shit! From Sally and Rance’s place. You’re really here.”
“Ethan Winters. I’ve lived here for six years.”
Automatically, she took the hand he held out. “Skye Rivera, Carla and Damon’s daughter. They own the Busy Bee. Of course you know that because you’ve been here for six years.”
“Should I apologize for disturbing your peace, or would you like some company?”
The moon, high above, shone brightly enough for her to see his face, the rather wry smile on his lips.
“Please, stay.” She turned back to face the ocean and plopped down onto the sand. Wrapped her arms around her knees so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach for him. OMG he’s really here!
Ethan sat beside her, stretched his legs out and leaned back on his hands. “This is a beautiful spot.”
“I like it.” She shoved down her nerves. “So, tell me some details about you. How old are you? Where did you grow up? Family? Stuff like that. You know. Stuff we didn’t talk about seven years ago.”
“Hm. Well. I grew up in Manhattan, went to Columbia University for Journalism. Managed to obtain my master’s degree. I write novels now.”
“Oh! I’m so glad you followed your bliss on that.” She grinned over at him. “I remember you talking about the struggles with writing.”
He ducked his head and kind of shrugged.
“Yeah. Well. I’m forty-one, and all my close family is dead.
I have an eccentric aunt who may or may not move out here because she’s tired of the cold winters back east. I moved here after New York broke my heart.
” He said it in a rueful tone. “I decided I needed to be near the Pacific to ease the pain. Now it’s your turn. What’s your story?”
Skye looked out over the indigo dark sea. “I grew up here and it was fine until it wasn’t. I left seven years ago to hit up New York. I did get into culinary school. Then I worked in more restaurants there until I got tired of it.”
She took a breath and continued. “I went to Europe to work for a couple years, came back to New York, went to work at La Gallette Aux Folles as their pastry chef. They’d changed ownership, though.
The head chef, as well as the owners, were, well.
Let’s just say it was an easy job to leave. I’m now thirty-two.”
He sat up, wrapped his arms around his knees, and chuckled. “I used to like La Gallette.”
“I can still make their wicked good desserts.”
“I bet. What about that bakery you were planning to open?”
She laughed. “Well it’s not going to be in New York, that’s for sure. I am looking at properties out here, though. The town needs a local bakery. There hasn’t been one since the owner of Sweet Things died, almost twenty years ago.”
“I like that name. Would you keep it, or do something different?”
“Oh, maybe a play on the original name. I haven’t thought too much about it.” Which was a total lie.
Skye took a shaky breath. The night was quiet around them, just the sea shushing to shore and the moon spreading light above them. “May I ask you a question?”
His answer came immediately. “Of course.”
She spoke carefully. The last thing she wanted was to send him away from her. “I really need to know. What happened, that day seven years ago? I went to the ladies’ room and when I came back, you were gone.”
“Ah.” Ethan moved restlessly. “I had turned my phone to silent that night, not expecting to get any calls. Plus, there I was at a noisy party where I only knew one person that I didn’t actually like but who had invited me.”
“Right? For me, it was a college friend who asked me to do the food. She paid me. I was also a guest, but it didn’t really feel like it. Anyway.” She waved a hand. “I’m right there with you. My phone was on silent, too.”
“When you went to the restroom, I checked my phone. There were nine messages from my little sister, asking me to pick her up from her party. Then she asked me to pick her up at an all-night diner. Both the party and the diner were across town from where we were.”
“So you went to pick her up.” Skye nodded. “That’s the brotherly thing to do.” She slanted him a look.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t leave any sort of message.”
“No, I get it,” she said, and put her hand on his arm. “I totally get it. Family is important.”
He shifted away from her, and her hand fell from his arm.
“Did I say something wrong?” Her stomach grew uneasy.
“No.” He stood, brushed the sand off his running pants. “No. Well, it’s getting late. I need to be up early to take a call from my editor.”
Skye stood, shoved her hands into her pockets. “You take care, okay? Don’t work too hard.”
“I swear I won’t.” He walked away.
“Ethan, wait.”
He stopped, but didn’t turn. “What is it?”
Skye came around him, caught his face in her hands, and kissed him as if she’d been saving up all these years since their first kiss. One hand slid into his hair while the other cupped the back of his neck. She moved into him, her body caressing his.
As if something inside him burst, he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, desperate for the connection.
She tasted faintly of coffee and her scent was of cinnamon and sugar. His mind hazed with it; his hold gentled, even as all the reasons he shouldn’t be around her raced through his brain.
“I’m so glad we’re both here, now.” Her voice was soft, with that sweetness he’d never forgotten.
He put her away from him and took two steps back, his breathing harsh. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Before he said something he would regret, Ethan turned away from the beautiful woman, the hot summer night, and jogged back the way he came, up the small street that led to Main Street.
Ethan kept up the jog at a pace faster than his usual so by the time he got to his cottage, he was out of breath.
Posey barked at his key in the door, sat and wagged her tail when he stepped inside. He dropped beside her and buried his face in her fur.
“Gods. I’m so sorry. So damn sorry.” He rubbed the wetness off his cheeks and allowed the oversized mutt to crawl into his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder and pressed up against him, her tail softly thumping the floor.
“You’re the best girl, Posey. The very best puppy ever, yes you are.” Ethan hugged her, accepted the swipe of her tongue on his cheek, and sighed. With a last hug for his dog, he stood and walked to the fireplace where his family photos took pride of place on the mantel.