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But it wasn’t just one night of fun with Rudy, was it? Because today, the sight of him made me stop in my tracks. And I’m going to that charity auction with him. And it might make me an irresponsible, bad person, but I want to go on another date with him.
“It’s casual,” I finally say.
Trina just nods. “Well, come on. I was on my way to the café to get drinks and treats for everyone. You can help me with that.”
Heaving a sigh of relief, I nod to my sister and follow her to my car. It’s only when we approach that I see Rudy on the sidewalk. I don’t think he heard anything Trina and I said, because he just meets my eyes with a concerned expression on his face.
“You okay?” he asks, catching my hand in his and squeezing. “You rushed out like something was wrong.” His other hand slides over my hip and damn it, but it feels good to be wrapped up in his arms.
“Just got a little nauseous from the smell of paint,” I tell him. It’s the truth—sort of. I point my thumb over my shoulder to my sister and her car. “I’m going to Four Cups to grab drinks and snacks for everyone. You want anything?”
“One of Jen’s salted caramel brownies,” he says. His hand drifts lower, fingertips touching the cleft of my ass. “Those things are like crack. I think I’m addicted.”
My eyebrow arches as I let my eyes roam down to his chest and back up again. I even work up the nerve to slide my hand over his sweaty bicep and squeeze. There’s not an ounce of excess flesh on him. “Somehow I doubt you’re eating too many of them.”
Rudy gives me a grin that makes my knees weak, that hand on my lower back pressing ever so slightly.
Then I realize he’s hard. I can feel it up against my stomach, and I’d be lying if it didn’t send my body into a lust-induced tizzy. If I keep hanging out with him, I’m going to need to start carrying spare panties in my purse.
Just then, Trina honks her horn, and I jump. He gives it one last squeeze and lets me go. I feel his eyes on my back until I’m safely in the passenger seat of Trina’s car.
She gives me a completely unimpressed stare. “Casual, huh?”
I just click my seatbelt and nod. “Yeah. Casual. We agreed.”
CHAPTER 7
Trina
I never knew how good I was at biting my tongue until I found out my little sister was pregnant and couldn’t tell anyone. As we load up boxes with pastries and sandwiches from the Four Cups Café, I steal surreptitious glances at Lily.
She looks…fine. Maybe there’s a little tension in her shoulders, and her smiles are a touch forced. But if I hadn’t seen that business card, I doubt I would have even known there was anything wrong. I would have assumed she was just a bit awkward being in Heart’s Cove instead of some multi-month, multi-country trip.
She’s never been good at staying in one place. Did she come back here because of the baby? Because this is the only place she has any family?
“Allie,” my sister asks the curly-haired blond girl behind the counter, “would you mind wrapping up a salted caramel brownie separately for me?”
Candice’s daughter nods, a rogue curl bouncing with the movement. “No problem.”
As Allie works, I lean against the counter. “Are you excited about leaving for college?”
My niece glances at me and gives me a brilliant smile. “Can’t wait. Six weeks seems so far away and I just want to go now.”
“It’ll fly by, don’t worry,” Lily says. “Time seems to speed up these days—or maybe I’m just getting older.”
I throw her a sharp glance, which she ignores. Her words had a distinct flavor of…dread.
Behind us, the café door opens, and I hear Nora Richter’s voice. “This is the best café in town,” she proclaims.
“I thought you said it was the only café in town,” a wry voice answers.
I turn to see a beautiful woman who could be anywhere from her mid-fifties to mid-seventies standing beside an equally beautiful Nora. The older woman is short—shorter than Nora, who can’t be more than five foot five. The woman’s back is straight as a rod, her silver hair streaked with black, tied back in a thick braid that falls over her shoulder and down to her ribs. Her skin is deeper than Nora’s, a rich bronze color, and her eyes are as black as Fallon’s. She casts an assessing eye over the eclectic mix of tables and chairs, the local artwork, and the handmade cups and saucers that give Four Cups its unique vibe.
She must be Nora and Fallon’s mother.
When the woman’s gaze falls on me, she tilts her head.
I wave. “Hi. You must be Mrs. Richter. I’m Trina and this is my sister, Lily.”
