She reached up to touch his face again, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. “That was…” She paused, searching for the right word.
“Long overdue?” he offered, his smile widening.
She laughed softly. “Yes. That.”
He took her hands in his, interlacing their fingers. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you again.”
“Even when I was glaring at you across the town hall?”
“Even then,” he admitted. “Maybe especially then. You were always beautiful when you were passionate about something.”
She blushed, feeling suddenly shy despite the fact that they’d just been kissing like teenagers. “I don’t know what happens next,” she confessed.
“Neither do I,” he said. “But I’d like to find out. If you would.”
She looked at their joined hands, then back up at his face—the face she’d once known better than her own, now lined with years of experiences she knew nothing about. Years they could have shared if things had been different. But they weren’t different. They were here now, two people with complicated histories finding their way back to each other.
“I would. I’d like to find out too.”
He smiled then, a real smile that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, their breath mingling in the small space between them.
“Good,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
And yet, she knew exactly how much, because she’d missed him that much and maybe more.
Chapter 25
Cliff came in every morning for breakfast, and Beverly couldn’t help the automatic smile that came to her lips every time he walked through the door… or the flutter in her heart. But in spite of the joy in her heart, it had been a rough week. A town meeting had been called about Cliff’s project. And it didn’t help that Maxine and Dale were on vacation together, so she didn’t have her best friend to talk to.
Beverly flipped the sign to open at Coastal Coffee, inhaling the rich aroma of freshly ground beans that wafted across the cafe. Sunlight was just beginning to light the sky out the window. Although the pink sky of sunrise promised the beginning of a nice day, a heaviness hung over her.
The town meeting about Cliff’s development project was scheduled for tonight, and she’d watched the tension building all week. The hurricane recovery had brought Magnolia Key together in a beautiful way, with neighbors helping neighbors and differences set aside for the common good. But as repairs progressed and life started to return to normal, the divisions were resurfacing, deeper than before.
She arranged pastries in the display case, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. Her feelings for Cliff had grown stronger since their kiss, but their relationship existed in a strange limbo. How could she fall for someone whose vision for Magnolia Key threatened to change everything she loved about her home?
The bell above the door jingled as her first customers arrived. “Morning, Nash,” she called out as he took a table.
As the usual morning crowd of locals stopped in before work, she greeted them with a practiced smile, pouring coffee and making small talk as she had thousands of times before. But today, she noticed the subtle divisions. People clustered at different tables and conversations hushed when certain folks walked by.
Mrs. Peterson leaned over the counter as Beverly refilled her cup. “You’ll be at the meeting tonight, won’t you? We need sensible voices to speak up against that monstrosity.”
Before she could answer, Tim Marshall called from his nearby table. “That so-called monstrosity will bring jobs we desperately need, especially after the hurricane. Some people just can’t see past their own front porches.”
Mrs. Peterson’s face reddened. “Some people would sell their grandmother for a dollar.”
“No one’s selling anything,” she said softly, trying to defuse the tension. “The council just wants to hear everyone’s thoughts.”
But her words went unheard as Tim pushed back his chair and approached the counter, coffee mug in hand. “The bridge is gone. Tourism is down. What’s your plan for keeping this town alive? More bake sales?”
She set down the coffeepot. “Tim, please. Can we just?—”
“It’s not about jobs,” Mrs. Peterson interrupted. “It’s about protecting what makes this place special. Once those big buildings go up, we can’t go back.”
Tim scoffed. “Special won’t pay the bills when half the businesses close.”
Her chest tightened as she watched the exchange. These were people who’d been friends for decades, who’d helped each other clear debris after the hurricane just weeks ago. Now, they could barely speak civilly. Tim turned and stalked back to his table.
Other customers joined in, voices rising around the cafe. She moved between tables, refilling cups and trying to maintain peace, but the arguments only intensified.
