Brock watched as Juliette’s cheeks flushed to a pretty shade of pink. He attempted to come to her rescue. “Oh no, it’s nothing like?—”
“It really was wonderful to see both of you again.” Miss Bobbie was hearing none of it. She simply waved off his explanation with a flick of her wrist. “And to see both of you together, at that.”
“We’re not—” Juliette protested.
“She’s not—” Brock objected.
“I have to go check my roasters and whip up a fresh batch of white chocolate raspberry scones.” Her eyes glittered with mischief. “You two have fun.”
Without another word and before they could deny her claims, Miss Bobbie toddled off to the back of the coffee shop.
Juliette blew out a frustrated sigh and swirled her half-finished cup of coffee. “What just happened?”
Again, Brock laughed. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before the rumors start.”
“I think it might be too late for that.” Juliette rolled her eyes, but this time her grin was real. Wide and beautiful.
All Brock could think about when they arrived back at Mystic Florals was what he could do to see her smile like that again.
He unloaded his tools from his truck while Juliette grabbed two of the bags from the warehouse, and when they walked into the shop, he didn’t miss the way the twins were peeking over at them from behind the counter. Adrienne attempted to inspect her camera while Vivianne appeared to be mindlessly scrolling on her phone, but they were both doing a terrible job of pretending. Because any time Brock glanced in their direction, they quickly averted their gazes. Gigi, at least, was nowhere to be seen.
Heading toward the staircase, he slung his bag of tools over one shoulder.
“Brock.” Juliette stopped him before he got to the second step to start work on the upstairs apartment. “What was Miss Bobbie talking about? With your dad?”
He set down his gear and rubbed one hand on the back of his neck. “His company wants to buy the beach house and all of Yaya’s property.”
Juliette’s brow furrowed. “Is that such a bad thing?”
Brock shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. “It is when he plans on leveling it to build a conglomerate of condominiums.”
“What?” Her voice pitched. “He can’t do that. Could you imagine the mess it would create? The chaos, the traffic.” She shuddered and her nose crinkled in distaste. “The tourists.”
“Trust me, I know.” He chuckled, but there was a lingering sadness that hollowed out his chest. “I’ve been trying to think of ways around it. If I can renovate it and make use of it, or find a way so it gives back to Mystic Cove without causing a bunch of hate and discontent, then maybe I can convince Yaya not to sell.”
“I don’t understand.” Juliette’s lips pressed into a hard line, something she always did whenever she was thinking. “You think she actually wants to sell?”
“I think she might. I think she just wants out from under it.” Brock hated to admit it. He didn’t want to think about the fact that his grandmother might view the beach house as a burden, or even a memory she longed to forget. “It’s one of the reasons I wanted to hire you.”
Not that he was trying to guilt her into joining Silver Eagle Construction. But he definitely wanted her to be aware of the full extent of his reasoning. Sure, offering her a job would make it so Juliette didn’t have to work alongside her mother, but it also gave him one hell of a shot at keeping the beach house in his family.
He gathered up his bags of gear to keep from reaching out to her, to stop himself from begging her to reconsider. “I was hoping you’d thought more about my proposition?”
Her expression changed. He saw the transformation as clearly as if he’d been watching the sun dip into the horizon and bleed into the rise of twilight. Her spirit, her carefree glow, faded. Dimmed. Morphed into something like despair.
“I think I’m going to stay at the shop for now. I’ll just help out Mama as needed and make myself useful to Adrienne and Vivianne.” She forced a smile. It was fake. Lackluster. Similar to the one she gave Miss Bobbie. “I’m more comfortable here.”
“Sure. Yeah, I get it.” Disappointment crashed over him like a rogue wave, threatening to pull him under. A small part of him thought she was going to agree, that maybe she’d want to help him. Or at least, help herself. “If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”
“I will.” Juliette shifted her weight and looked at the ground, then over to the counter where her sisters idly eavesdropped, basically anywhere but directly at him. “I’m sure you know things with my mother can get…intense.”
“Absolutely.” He shifted the weight of the bags in his hands. “I’m going to head up to the apartment and get started. I want to get as much of the bathroom done as possible before the end of the day.”
“Yeah.” She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Thanks, though.”
“For what?”
She lifted one shoulder and let it fall dismissively. “For the coffee. For today.”
