Page 3 of Falling for the Wrong Guy

Right then, the smell of diesel and the sputter of a motor pulled my attention toward the open water. The adrenaline slowed when I saw it was only a passing pleasure boat. Being constantly on edge had come with this new life twist, too. I needed a plan and fast, but first I needed transportation other than a smoke-spewing tugboat. I pulled out my phone and sent a text. “Do you mind if I borrow Quinn’s motorcycle?”

Angie wrote right back. “Sure, if you can get it started. Does that mean we’ll be seeing you today? Max would love that.”

Her response made me smile. “I’d love to see him, too. I’ll catch a bus later this afternoon. See you then.” The day started with disaster. Maybe it would end better. I could really use that.

I turned sideways to get through the bathroom opening. Once inside, I faced the spotty mirror. Brushing my hair took caution. I’d smacked my funny bone more than once on the edge of the shower stall, and as everyone discovered early in life, there was nothing at all funny about the funny bone. Salt water had glued my hair down to my head. I turned to the shower and hung my head under the showerhead. The pipes groaned as water made its way to the shower. The dramatic sounds that came with a flip of the lever always promised a nice rush of water, but as usual, only a trickle came out. I wet my hair, toweled it dry and combed it back.

I stuck my head out of the bathroom at the slapping sound of webbed feet. Gus stood in the middle of the kitchen floor. He stared up at me with shiny black eyes and an expression that might have been his best attempt at looking contrite.

“Never again, buddy, do you hear me? You could have hurt that woman. You try that again, and I’m leaving you behind.” I still hadn’t figured out how to leave behind an animal that could soar through the air, but he understood my threat. In truth, Gus had been my closest companion for the last several months. He was helping me weather yet another dark period in my life. It seemed whenever things were going right, something or someone stepped in to throw on the brakes.

Gus took my lighter tone as an invitation and hopped up to my shoulder. “Nope, not right now, Gus. I’ve got things to do.” I turned to look at him. His beak touched my nose. “You’re staying here, buddy. And try not to scare any more beautiful women into the water.”

ChapterThree

Aria

Istayed on my tiptoes to see past the lettering on my front window. The man’s massively broad shoulders were slightly hunched, and his head was down as he walked toward the bus stop. I pressed my hand to quiet a rumble in my chest. It seemed I’d had way too much coffee this morning. After assuring myself I wasn’t having a heart attack, I took one last glance at the stranger. He leaned against the side of the bus shelter, scrolling through his phone. This morning, his long hair had been inky black with seawater. It had dried into a thick, wavy mass. He was certainly a sight to see, but I’d be just as glad to see him leave. There was something unsettling about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on, but there was definitely something. I was sure he was only stopping in Whisper Cove for a short time.

An urgent knock rattled the door before I made it back to the kitchen. I spun around and saw Isla’s pretty face peering in through the window. She knocked again, urgently. Urgent knocking wasn’t really Isla’s style—it was Layla’s style. Layla was our drama queen. She could turn a broken shoe heel ora cancelled dinner dateinto a major traumatic incident.

Isla was a year younger than me, and she always had her feet on the ground. She did, however, occasionally float around with stars in her eyes, but that was only because she’d found the most charming, wonderful and extremely rich boyfriend. We were all crazy about Luke Greyson. He was Isla’s Prince Charming, and he fit the part in every possible way.

Cold air rushed in behind my fast-moving sister. My middle sister, Ella, strolled in behind her and sent me a secret eye roll to prepare me for a tirade. Isla didn’t have them often, so I knew something big was up.

Isla marched straight through to the coffeepot. “Thank goodness you have coffee brewed.” She plucked a cup out from under the counter and proceeded to pour herself coffee. “I can’t believe this is happening. I mean who would have thought—it can’t be—everyone knows that empty bakery was meant to be a bakery. Not a tax accountant’s office.” She sipped the coffee aggressively, as if it would help to make things right.

I looked to Ella for an explanation because it seemed my usually reasonable and easy-to-understand sister, Isla, was not herself this morning.

“Isla and I went to talk to the realtor who’s handling the empty bakery lease,” Ella started.

“I finally have enough for the deposit and the first six months. That was all they required,” Isla said between fervent sips. Isla’s dream had been to open a bakery at the end of town. The shop had always been a bakery under a variety of owners, some successful and some most definitely not. Isla was a talented baker, and the town was waiting eagerly for her to fill the shop windows with her sweet and sumptuous delights.

“Well, that’s good, right?” I asked, apparently still behind on what this rant was about.

“Someone beat her to it.” Ella stepped over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. She seemed to enjoy being the calm, cool-headed sister this morning, a job that usually fell to me and Isla. Right then, her phone beeped. She put down the coffee and pulled out the phone.

I turned my attention back to Isla. She’d sat down on a counter stool to finish her coffee. “Can you believe it, Ar? Some tax accountant swept in with a deposit and twelve months rent. The realtor said the contract would be signed later today. The only way I can have the spot is if I buy the building outright.” She laughed. “Sure, when pigs fly.”

I sat on the next stool. Ella was furiously sending off a text. So much for her position as the calm, cool-headed sister this morning.

“Continuing with the improbable animal analogies, I’d like to point out the elephant in the room that could very easily put wings on that pig.” I started. “Luke has offered to buy that building for you. Why don’t you swallow your pride and take him up on his offer? It would make him happy, and it would solve the entire problem.”

“I know. He’s such a sweetie. But I told him I wanted to do this on my own. This is my dream, and when I finally open those doors, I want to be able to say to myself ‘Isla, you did it.’”

“But you’ll be responsible for everything else. You can use the money you saved to buy the ovens and equipment. You’ll be able to open those doors sooner.”

“Well, that’s it.” Ella smacked her phone down. “I’m a complete failure as a writer. The agent said the publisher didn’t want to see the rest of the chapters. They thought the first three were too meandering and the voice was toopithy. My writing isn’t pithy, and if it was—is that necessarily a bad thing? Apparently, it is, and so I will now start looking for a real job. I saw the drugstore needed someone to stock shelves. Perfect for me because I won’t have to do any thinking for that job.” Now it was Ella’s turn to guzzle coffee.

“Surely there are other publishers to try,” Isla suggested. Ella’s turmoil had now replaced her own. “How could I possibly accept Luke’s offer?” In a whiplash move, Isla was back to her own turmoil. “I’ve told him ‘no’ so often, but now, I fear that without his help, I’ll lose the shop for good.”

“I mean here’s the definition for pithy.” Ella was scrolling through her phone. “Concise and forcefully expressive.” She looked up. “What’s wrong with that? Should I be un-concise? And how can I be both meandering and pithy?”

I looked at Isla for support, but she was deep in thought, contemplating her own problems. When our wonderful Nonna was in the hospital, enjoying her last few days in this world, she called each of us in, one at a time, for a chat. None of us ever spoke about those last words to each other. We all carried them deep in our hearts. They were personal and unique. Nonna had used her last precious breaths and bouts of wisdom to make sure she let each of us know how much she loved us and how to carry on without her. Her words to me were exactly what I expected: “Aria, my solid, smart girl, you’ve been burdened with being the oldest, and your sisters will count on you even more after I’m gone. I can leave this place much easier knowing that you will be there to guide them.” Nonna was weak and drowsy and barely hanging on at that moment. She had no idea just how heavy those words were to me. I’d suddenly been left with the role of parent, guardian and protector for four younger sisters. I left the hospital room shaken and terrified that I wasn’t up to it. And one question kept circling my head for days, weeks and years afterward—who’d watch overme?

I glanced at both my sisters, equally pretty and smart and determined in their own ways, and both still counting far too much on their older sister for advice. “Isla, you can always give up on this particular shop and find another one. Of course, as you mentioned, that shop space is literally meant to be a bakery, and it’s got a great position in town, so you’d almost be guaranteed success. Or you can push aside that Lovely family pride and accept Luke’s generous offer to buy the building. It’ll help him feel like he’s part of your dream, and that can only make your relationship stronger.” I turned to Ella. She was still apparently torturing herself with the text her agent sent. “And El, you’re a good writer and you know it, and more importantly, you love it. Every great author has been rejected, so you’re in good company. You can either keep at it or hang up your writer’s cap and find a job in the real world. Though you might be somewhat overqualified for stocking shelves. You’ve got a degree. You could teach.” Ella crinkled her nose at that suggestion. “Then keep going. And there—the wise woman has given all the nuggets of advice she cares to share this morning.”

“On to more interesting things,” Ella said. She knew darn well she had no intention of quitting her writing. “There was a mysterious and menacing man at the bus stop. Very handsome too, right?” she asked Isla to confirm.

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