Sweet Somethings Page 6

  Letting out a sigh, he told himself to stay in the moment and stop dwelling on what he couldn't control or predict. He turned away from the view. He needed a distraction…maybe some food.

  Spying a café down the road, he quickened his steps, and a few minutes later he was sitting at the counter of the Sea Bird Café.

  A cheerful woman named Ruth took his order for a bowl of turkey chili and a salad, which he ate while watching a basketball game on the television behind the counter.

  "Are you new in town?" Ruth asked, as she cleared his empty plates.

  "Not exactly. I lived here a long time ago; now I'm back."

  "Welcome home. Are you going to the movie fest tonight?"

  "I don't know what that is."

  She looked at him as if he'd just crawled out from under a rock. "You must not have been back in town long if you haven't heard about the film festival. It starts tonight in the town square. They put up a big screen, and they'll be showing romantic movies the next two nights. Tomorrow, they'll also be having a costume contest for best romantic couple in history. My boyfriend and I are going as Rose and Jack from Titanic."

  "That sounds…" he could hardly say really bad, so he settled for, "like fun."

  She laughed. "The look on your face matches the one my boyfriend gave me when I showed him our costumes the other day."

  "Doesn't Jack die, and Rose ends up with someone else?"

  "Yes, but they still had the love story of a lifetime, and he died for her. What greater love can you have than that?"

  He could not argue her point.

  "My boyfriend is being a good sport," she continued. "Of course, he agreed, because if he wants to keep getting lucky, he has to put in a little work ahead of time," she said with a mischievous smile.

  He grinned back at her. "I suspect he'll do whatever is necessary."

  "I suspect he will, too. Are you married?"

  "Nope," he said, seeing the interested gleam enter her eyes.

  "That will make a lot of single women in this town very happy."

  He finished off his beer and then put enough cash on the table to give Ruth a generous tip.

  "That is too much," she protested.

  "Not at all. You made my dinner very enjoyable."

  "That's good. Sometimes I get in trouble for talking too much. You have a nice night. Maybe I'll see you at the movies."

  "Maybe you will."

  Despite his words, he really had no intention of going to the movie fest, but as he got closer to downtown, the sparkling lights in the trees around the square drew his attention. He could just check it out for a few minutes; he didn't have to stay.

  The park was packed with people. In the center of the square, a dozen or so rows of chairs had been set up in front of a big screen, and Casablanca was already playing. Beyond the chairs, couples and families were also at picnic tables, sitting in beach chairs or sprawled out on blankets on the grass. Around the outskirts of the square were several tables set up to sell coffee, desserts, and other snacks.

  He saw Donavan first, selling her Ethiopian coffee, then his heart sped up as his gaze moved to the next table—to Juliette.

  She had on a red sweater and dark jeans, her long, brown, wavy hair flowing around her shoulders, her smile bright in the evening light. She had a middle-aged woman helping her sell desserts, which looked to be a good thing, since they had a line of eager customers. He wondered if they were all buying her Wish cookies.

  He smiled at the memory of that ridiculous story. Who would ever believe a cookie could grant your deepest desire? But he supposed it was no different than believing in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy or the Easter bunny.

  Not that he'd ever believed in any of those mythical characters. There certainly had never been any dollars tucked under his pillow at night after a tooth fell out, and Santa had never seemed able to find his house, but then they hadn't had a chimney. His mom had told him once that was the reason. It hadn't made him feel any better.

  He thought about saying hello to Juliette, maybe buying one of her desserts, but he'd wait until the line died down. Glancing away from her table, his gaze caught on a child standing under the trees some distance away. He looked like the child Juliette had chased after earlier in the day.

  He seemed too young to be all alone, and there was a wistful expression on his face, as if he wanted to be part of the crowd, but he just didn't know how he could be. It felt like he didn't belong there. There was certainly no family on a blanket or at a table, waving for him to come over.

  He'd been that kid once—and probably at that age.

  He didn't know what the child's story was, but he knew down deep in his gut that it was a story he'd heard before—lived before.

  The question was: what to do about it?

  He could try to talk to him, but the kid would probably run.

  "Roman?"

  Juliette's voice turned his head. He was surprised and bemused to see her standing in front of him. She had a small paper plate in her hand with two purple heart-shaped cookies on it.

  "I saw you and thought if I couldn't get you to come inside the bakery, maybe I should bring the bakery to you. These are the infamous Wish cookies," she told him.

  "They're pretty," he said, thinking she was even prettier than the cookies with her sparkly blue eyes, rosy-colored cheeks and soft pink mouth that he was itching to taste.

  "They're also good. Care to try one?" she asked.

  He was tempted—and not just by the cookies. He swallowed hard. "In a second." He tipped his head toward the trees. "Does that kid look familiar?"

  "Oh, my goodness. That's the little boy from this morning. I have to talk to him."

  He put a hand on her shoulder as she started forward. "Are you ready to run again?"

  She frowned. "No. Why?"

  "He saw you this morning, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Let me take him the cookies."

  "You? A strange man, in the dark woods, at night, offering him cookies…"

  "Good point."

  "Let's do it together."

  The boy was looking in the other direction, so they were able to get within a few feet before the boy saw them. He tensed and looked immediately ready to bolt.

  "I thought you might want some cookies," Juliette said quickly, holding out the plate in her hands.

  The kid's eyes widened, but he made no move to take the plate of cookies.

  "I'm Juliette. I own the bakery. This is my friend, Roman. Everything is okay. I'm not mad about the cookies you took this morning."

  "I have to go," the kid muttered.

  "Hang on," he said, grabbing the kid's arm as he tried to leave. "We just want to talk to you for a second."

  "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," the boy said.

  "That's smart," Juliette said, squatting down in front of him, so she was at his eye level. "I was worried when I saw you this morning. That's why I ran after you. I thought you might be hungry, or you might need help. What's your name?"

  The boy hesitated, then said, "Cameron."

  "It's nice to meet you, Cameron," Juliette said. "Are your parents here?"

  The little boy shook his head.

  "Is anyone with you?" Juliette asked with concern.

  "My grandma," he said, with a vague wave of his hand. "I have to go. Sorry I took your cookies."

  "Can I meet your grandma?" Juliette asked.

  "She doesn't want to be bothered during the movie," Cameron replied.

  "You're a little young to be out here in the trees alone," Roman put in.

  "I'm not afraid," he said, a defiant note in his voice as he looked up at him. "Let me go."

  "I'll let you go after you take us to see your grandmother," he told him firmly.

  Cameron measured his words, then let out a sigh. "Fine."

  Roman kept a grip on Cameron's arm as the child led them into the park and over to an older woman sitting in a beach chair next to another woman. Th
en he let go.

  "Grandma," Cameron said. "I brought you some Wish cookies."

  "Oh, my, are these the cookies I've been hearing so much about?" the grandmother asked.

  "Yes," Juliette said, stepping forward. "I'm Juliette Adams. I run the Sweet Somethings Bakery."

  "Adams? You're Frank and Tricia's daughter? I remember you when you were a little girl. I'm Donna Mays, and I see you've met my grandson, Cameron." She gave Cameron a shake of her head. "I told you to stay in the playground, not go over to the dessert tables."

  "Sorry," Cameron muttered, not admitting he'd actually been in the woods.

  Donna bit into one of the cookies. "So delicious," she murmured. "And I hope it makes my wish come true."

  "Can I have the other one?" Cameron asked.

  "Of course, you can. Georgia, we'll need to get you a cookie, too," Donna added, speaking to the woman sitting next to her.

  "I've had far too many cookies already," Georgia said with a laugh. "I love your bakery, dear. I'm Georgia Rogers."

  "It's nice to see you again," Juliette said.

  "Your bakery is filled with so much sweetness and delight; you're very talented," Georgia added.

  "Thanks," Juliette replied.

  "Are you enjoying the movies?" Donna asked.

  "I haven't had a chance to watch yet," Juliette said. "But I hope to catch some of the films."

  "She doesn't need a romantic movie," Georgia told Donna. "She's young enough to have her own romance going on." Georgia's gaze encompassed them both. "The two of you are such an attractive couple."

  "Oh, we're not a couple," Juliette said hastily. "We're not together."

  "You look together now," Donna said, with a pointed smile.

  "Just friends," Juliette said, giving him a look suggesting that he join in, but he didn't feel like saying anything.

  No one had asked him who he was, and he was fine with that. Donna looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place her. Maybe she was one of his grandfather's friends.

  "I should get back to my table," Juliette added. "Have fun."

  "Oh, we will," Donna said. "We just love romantic movies, especially tragic love stories. Those are the best. So much drama."

  "You and your drama," Georgia said with a laugh.

  As the ladies teased each other, Roman and Juliette walked back to her dessert table. "What do you think?" she asked.

  "Cameron has a grandmother."

  "Who wasn't paying very close attention to him."

  "He wasn't that far away."

  "Yes, he was," she argued. "And he was alone when he took the cookies from my bakery. I should have asked her about Cameron's parents." She paused. "Maybe I should go back and tell her what happened this morning."

  "You can if you want, but he's with a responsible adult, Juliette. She might not be watching him the way you would, but she seems nice."

  She glanced back at Cameron, who was sitting on the ground next to his grandmother's chair. "She does seem nice. I just have an uneasy feeling. There's something we don't know."

  "I'm sure there's a lot we don't know, but we can't butt into their lives. It's their family business. And the fact that she told him to stay in the playground and he didn't isn't a crime."

  "But you think there's something off, don't you?"

  He took another look at Cameron, who was now flat on his back, gazing up at the stars. He remembered doing that, too, hoping to find some sort of divine intervention. "I think the kid has some problems, but I obviously don't know what they are."

  She looked at him in surprise. "Really? I thought you were going to disagree with me."

  "Cameron seems sad, but that could be due to anything. And I don't think he's in any immediate danger."

  "No, not tonight anyway. I'm going to find out more about him, though."

  He was amazed by her persistent bullheadedness. "Don't you have enough to worry about? You're building a business. You're trying to buy a house you can't afford. Now you want to figure out why one little boy is sad?"

  "I can find time to do everything I need to do." She paused. "I know what it feels like to be sad, Roman. I guess there's something about that child that resonates with me. You wouldn't understand."

  "Actually, I would," he said quietly. "I know what being sad as a kid feels like, too."

  She stared back at him and as their gazes clung together, he felt a strong and intense pull of attraction, not just physical, but emotional. He didn't know why he'd just told her something so personal. He barely knew her, and he never spilled his guts—not to anyone. There was only one person who knew even a few things about his childhood, and that person was his grandfather. He'd never talked about his past with anyone else. He didn't know why he'd come so close to the subject now, and judging by the gleam in Juliette's eyes, he was going to regret his brief lapse in judgment.

  "You said your dad died, and I know you came to live with your grandfather when you were fifteen. What happened to your mom?" she asked.

  "She had a lot of problems—addictions, mental issues. I was taken away from her a couple of times. The last time, my grandfather stepped in and brought me here."

  Her gaze filled with compassion. "I'm really sorry."

  "It is what it is. I learned early on that the only person I could count on was myself."

  She stared back at him with her big blue eyes, and he could see a dozen more questions brimming in her gaze. He needed to cut those off right now.

  "I don't really want to talk about my past." He waved his hand to the crowd of customers at her dessert table. "You should get back to work. Your assistant looks like she's going under."

  She started. "I do need to help her. Can we talk about Cameron again, maybe tomorrow?"

  "What's to talk about?"

  "How we can help him."

  "We don't know if he needs help."

  "Yes, we do. And I don't want Cameron to think that the only person he can count on is himself," she said, throwing his words back at him. "I don't think you do, either."

  He wanted to deny her words, but he couldn't. And why fight her on a desire to help a little kid? Maybe sticking her nose in Cameron's family business was exactly what the child needed.

  That didn't mean he had to help her.

  But he was starting to realize that she was really hard to say no to. There was something about her pretty blue eyes and those tantalizing lips, and the fact that every time she walked away, he wanted to call her back. But he shouldn't call her back, and he shouldn't make himself available to her. She was the kind of woman who would want too much from a man. She'd want to get inside his head, his heart, his feelings… He did not need that. He'd locked away a lot of stuff a long time ago, and he wasn't breaking that safe open for her or giving her a key. He wasn't that reckless—at least, he didn't think so.

  Six

  Saturday morning, Roman rolled out of bed a little after five, put on his running clothes and hit the streets before the sun came up. He put in six miles of hard running before he turned down the street where Juliette's bakery was located. He slowed his pace down, but forced himself to stay on the other side of the street.

  He could see the lights on in her bakery, and as he stopped to stretch, she came into the front of her store and started filling up her display cases.

  His heart flipped over in his chest.

  He'd thought about her most of the night.

  He couldn't have her. He was leaving. Even if he wasn't, she'd soon figure out that they were as opposite as night and day, as light and dark, as sweet and sour. He felt comfortable here in the shadows, where his secrets and his pain stayed hidden. She was bright lights and sweet smiles, serving up warm, delicious goodness. She even had half the town believing in a magical cookie.

  While he had half the town believing he was a troublemaker, a liar, a cheater.

  Yeah, he needed to keep running—as far away from her as he could get. She couldn't bring him up, but he could bring h
er down, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

  He started back down the street, arriving at the house a few moments later. After a shower and a quick breakfast, he got to work. He didn't take a break until his grandfather arrived around eleven.

  "Looks good, Roman," his grandfather said as he perused the work he'd done so far.

  "Thanks."

  "Jeff been helping you out?"

  "He came for a few hours yesterday, but he said he had a basketball tournament this weekend so he won't be able to work again until Monday after school."

  His grandfather's lips tightened. "He didn't tell me that. He said he was free today."

  He shrugged. "It's fine. I've got a good handle on the demo, and he's not that great of a worker. Where are you on hiring more crew, or subbing out some of this job?"

  "I'm talking to people," his grandfather said vaguely.

  "You've been saying that since I came back."

  "Well, it's still true."

  "You know that I can't commit to being here long enough to help you finish this."

  "I'm aware," Vincent said shortly.

  "You could scale back your plans," he suggested. "You could improve the house and add value without pushing out the back or moving as many walls around. Or you could stop right now and sell it to Juliette Adams. She'll take it as is."

  Vincent's brows furrowed together as he frowned. "She can buy it when it's done, but I doubt she'll be able to afford it. She's young. There will be other houses for her."

  "Not ones she grew up in." He didn't know why he was fighting Juliette's cause, because in truth he thought she'd be weighing herself down with this house, and it would never make her happy the way she thought.

  "Like I told her, houses have many stories. Hers is only one. She'll be all right. You just worry about what needs to be done now. I'll take care of the rest of it."

  "Fine."

  "Max and I are going out on Hank's boat this afternoon. You need anything from me before I leave?"

  "Nope. I'm set for now."

  "I'll check in with you tomorrow then."