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CHAPTER15
Chloe
I had a restless night. I woke exhausted and heartbroken.
“You’re not heartbroken, Chloe,” I mumbled, dragging my ass out of bed. “You’re frustrated because you’re horny and blew your chance of getting laid.” Although with Peyton, it would never be merely sex. I debated taking a long hot shower.
However, I required coffee first.
I reached for my favorite mug, the last gift I received from Aunt Catherine. It was pink with a sleepy cat on the front with the caption, Morning is for the birds. I placed my cup under the one-cup coffee maker and reached for the hazelnut dairy-free creamer. After filling my mug, I sat at the kitchen table.
“Good morning,” Amanda bounced into the kitchen, too cheery for my foul mood. “I was awake when you came home. You weren’t gone very long.” As if I needed Amanda to remind me of the horrors of last night.
“I think I need a me day,” I frowned. Never in all the years I’d spent in Tranquility had I not looked forward to opening Catherine’s Sweet Treats. How much of my apprehension had to do with the McHottie owner of the Shake Shack?
I sipped my steaming mug of coffee and debated what to do for breakfast. My stomach churned with guilt from my mistrust of Peyton. Trust was a hard thing to gain but easy to lose.
“Do you think you could manage without me this morning?” A week ago, I never would have trusted anyone with the task of opening Catherine’s Sweet Treats. My request shocked me as much as Amanda.
“For real?” she squealed, hopping up and down excitedly. “I won’t let you down, Chloe.” Amanda placed her hand over her heart, “I swear.”
“I know, or I wouldn’t have asked,” I assured Amanda.
“Is it okay if Ryan hangs out? He doesn’t have to be at the hardware store.” Amanda’s thumbs hovered over her cell, waiting for my approval.
“Sure, as long as he doesn’t eat all my profits.” I shrugged before taking a generous mouthful of coffee. “Maybe he would like to hand out samples.” I pointed to the small stack of cups I used for such occasions.
Once Amanda left, I took a long hot bubble bath instead of a shower. Step one of Chloe’s morning off. The bath relaxed my tensed muscles. Once dried, I applied my vanilla-scented body lotion. I searched through my closet for something other than yoga pants and a t-shirt. I eyed a pretty white eyelet sundress with pink flowers embroidered at the neckline and hem. I paired it with pink ballet flats.
I found myself in front of J & B Books. Peyton would be at the Shake Shack, so there was no chance of running into him. I took a deep breath as I entered. The scent of old books, leather, and coffee assaulted my memories. I took my time walking up and down the aisles appreciating the familiarity. I spied the old restaurant-style coffee maker in the corner by the chairs and sofas. The town had recently revitalized the downtown core. However, there was something to the adage, if it’s not broken, don’t fix it. I was happy to see that not much had changed from when I was here last.
I picked up a second-hand copy of Harold Robbins’ Goodbye Jeanette. It was my first taste of erotica. Someone misplaced it near the selection of Nancy Drew books. I remember Mrs. Benson practically having a coronary when she caught me reading it. When Aunt Catherine arrived, she paid for the book, handed it to me, and told me not to hesitate if I had any questions.
I grabbed a coffee and got comfortable sinking into the soft leather sofa.
I was lost in a world of seduction, lust, and betrayal when I heard Mr. Benson and Mr. Donovan. I continued to read. It was difficult to concentrate due to the conversation near where I sat.
“Don’t wait too long, Gerald. It’s a great offer for this decrepit building. It would be worth more had you committed to the changes the council recommended last year.” I cringed at the condescending tone Mr. Donovan took with Mr. Benson. However, I kept my nose in my book and my opinions to myself while waiting for Mr. Donovan to leave. One Donovan bully was more than enough for me.
“Well, hello there, Chloe,” Mr. Benson addressed. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
I put the book down to see Mr. Benson’s eyebrows raise and a smirk on his lips. Mrs. Benson wasn’t the only one who thought my choice of reading material was not age-appropriate.
“It’s nice to see you too.” I hugged Mr. Benson. The elderly man had been a staple in Tranquility for as long as Aunt Catherine. “How is Mrs. Benson?” I asked, knowing her health had declined in recent years.
“She’s doing well, darling.” Mr. Benson’s smile assured me he wasn’t lying to placate me. “She will be doing much better once we sell the store and move to Arizona.”
“You’re selling the bookstore?” I frowned. Mr. and Mrs. Benson had to be in their early seventies. They had three children, Danny, Ben, and Lisa. Each went away to college and chose not to return to Tranquility. The Bensons were proud of their children, not bitter that they chose a different path than to take over the bookstore. It made sense that if the Bensons wanted to retire, they would have to sell.
“Connor Donovan dared to show up and give me a lowball offer. He thought I would jump at it. The idiot,” Mr. Benson scoffed. “His wife overheard Martha talk about how motivated we were to sell. We’re moving to Arizona to be close to our children. Just because I own a small bookstore doesn’t mean I don’t understand real estate and the market.”
I snickered at Mr. Benson’s accurate appraisal of Mr. Donovan. What little interaction I’d had with the Donovans gave me insight into why Nancy was the stereotypical mean girl. The Donovans walked around town as if they owned it. Which was odd considering the number of wealthy businessmen and women who lived in Tranquility. Peyton’s family would be at the top of that list. Mrs. Donovan was a member of the city council and on the board at the library. Mr. Donovan ran the bank. But their wealth was nowhere near that of the Van de Graafs with their high-profile shoe dynasty. And let’s not forget the Naile Corporation with its vast portfolio or Bentley Communications.
Hell, since my aunt’s passing, even I, Chloe Wainwright, was worth more than the Donovans. I was angry on Mr. Benson’s behalf at Mr. Donovan’s high-handed attempt to undermine the store owner.
But then again, not my circus, not my monkeys. I could sympathize, however I had enough drama in my life. It was the reason I took a day for myself.
“Tell me about Arizona,” I asked Mr. Benson as he took the chair opposite mine. His eyes lit up and his face became animated as he told me about all the things he and Martha looked forward to.
