So, hewasthe owner. Claire hadn’t wanted to believe Jane. She wanted the owner to be the soft, balding, work-avoiding guy that she envisioned getting out of his flashy red car with the blond trophy wife. This guy didn’t look anything like that.
She took her phone out of her pocket, quickly checking the time left on the cupcakes she was baking. Seven minutes and counting. She stuffed the phone back into the pocket of her apron and looked Rob Bradford in the eyes, which—her brain happened to inform her, even though she really didn’t want to know—were a pleasingly deep sapphire blue. “I only have seven minutes. Let’s talk outside.”
Something flashed across his face, indefinable and gone in an instant, but it left something niggling in the back of Claire’s mind. The expression had reminded her of something, but she couldn’t think of what.
The sky had darkened. Appropriate for their meeting, Claire thought as she led him to the farthest table she’d set out on the walkway and sat across from him. Her fingers itched for something to do. Rather than drum them on the table, she linked her hands together in front of her and resisted the urge to look at the timer on her phone.
He flashed her a charming smile that emphasized the cleft in his chin, and she got a funny feeling of déjà vu. “So, I suppose you’ve noticed that I’m opening soon.”
Claire raised a brow. Did the guy think she was blind? “Of course. Is that why you came over?”
His smile faltered. Clearly he’d been expecting her to fall for his charms. The bakery owners that he’d surely put out of business in the other towns he’d infiltrated probably crumbled at those perfect teeth and the appealing crinkles around his eyes. He probably expected her to do the same and acquiesce to his plan for town dominance of baked goods.
Claire smiled inwardly knowing that her frosty response had thrown him off balance.
He cleared his throat. “I was thinking we should team up. If we combine our efforts, we could both benefit. Take the sale—there’s no reason customers visiting the grand opening of my store won’t want to step across the road and pick up a batch of cupcakes and vice versa. We can help one another.”
Sure they could. Claire imagined how he would maneuver things in his favor. If they worked together, he would know more about her resources. He would be able to figure out ways to hurt her business. That wasn’t going to happen, but she didn’t want to let on that she was on to him—better to let him think she was naive and unaware of his plans.
With a tight smile, she told him, “I’ll think about it. Right at the moment, though, I’m very busy.”
He looked surprised at her bluntness. Frankly she couldn’t blame him. She had come off a bit ruder than she’d intended. Oh well, better to let him know right off the bat that they were not going to be friends.
As she stood, he did too. He flashed her an uncertain smile. That time a dimple winked in and out of life in his left cheek, making him seem almost boyish. Something in his blue eyes, a twinkle, brought back memories.
It washim. Bobby from under the cedar tree. That one magical kiss of her youth that she’d never forgotten. He was standing right in front of her, thirty-five years later.
Memories of that night came rushing back to her, as if she were there again: the darkness sheltering their shyness and making them braver, her heart fluttering in her throat as she leaned into the kiss, the hope that she would see him again the next day, get to know him better, steal another kiss.
But then there was the bitter disappointment she’d felt at not finding him on the beach or in town the next day, the next night, all through the next week. She’d learned through a friend of a friend that he and his family had left Lobster Bay. Their vacation had ended. He hadn’t said goodbye. He hadn’t made contact with her again.
And even if their kiss had predated the days of Facebook or cell phones and she’d been too swept up to remember to give him her number, he could have found her if he’d only put in a little effort. If anything, the way he’d kissed her and left town without a second thought only proved that he wasn’t to be trusted.
She realized that she was standing in front of him, gawking, not saying a word. He appeared to be too absorbed in his own thoughts to call her on her peculiar behavior. His forehead was wrinkled with concentration, that teasing look replaced with something else. Something pensive.
He tucked his hands into his pockets, curling his shoulders inward like he was a sheepish teenager. “There’s something familiar about you. Have we met before?”
Panic surfaced. She couldn’t let him know she remembered. That might give him an advantage. And maybe her pride was a bit wounded that he’d never made an effort to contact her. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she remembered that long-ago kiss.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you been to Lobster Bay before?”
“I have. It was a long time ago, when I was a teenager. I vacationed here with my family. I think I met a girl named Claire.”
“Really? Huh, I don’t remember you, but there are a lot of girls named Claire. I’m sure it wasn’t me.”
He stared at her for a few more seconds then smiled again. “Sorry. You seemed familiar.”
She cleared her throat and turned away. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run. I’ll think about your offer to work together.”
She managed to reach the door to her bakery without turning back to look at him, but as she opened it, the itch between her shoulder blades grew unbearable. She turned to pull the door shut behind her, taking the opportunity to look at him one more time. He stepped off the curb to cross the street, his strides long and confident. His polo shirt clung to his shoulders, framing the line of his body as he crossed smoothly toward his store on long legs.
One thing was for sure, he hadn’t lost any of his good looks in the past thirty-five years. If anything, he’d filled out from the lanky teenager into a distinguished man who probably drew the eye of any woman with a pulse.
That included Sally, who lurked by the doorway, watching him leave, and made an appreciative sound under her breath. Claire sighed, then her brows snapped together.
What was burning?
Jerking the phone from her pocket, she checked her timer only to find that she had turned it on silent by accident. Her alarm had already gone off.
