Half an hour later I push open the door to the space next to The Nutty Muffin. Ethan is hunched over a table looking at some plans, but he glances my way and gives me a wave.
“Coffee and muffins from next door are over there, help yourself.”
I walk over and pour a mug of coffee and take a bite of a carrot muffin. Goddamn, Mila can bake. Somehow, when our pretend relationship is over, I need to find a way to keep visiting the bakery for coffee and muffins. We might have agreed to remain friends, but something tells me that will be easier said than done.
“So what are we working on?” I ask, coming to stand beside Ethan.
“Most of it I can do myself, but I need to lift this beam up,” he points to a long, thick, square piece of wood on the floor, “and it’ll be a team effort. Mila and Summer are going to come over when we go to lift, but first we’ve got some prep work. Have you done any renovations before?”
I shake my head, “No, can’t say that I have. But I know which end of the hammer to hold, if that helps.”
Ethan chuckles at that. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll give you the simple jobs.”
I quickly finish my coffee and muffin. Ethan hands me a tool belt, and points me in the direction of some bracing that needs to be in place before we can install the beam. For a while we work in a companionable silence; the repetitive motion of hammering nails is soothing in a weird way.
“I know it might not seem this way, but I’m glad you and Mila hooked up.”
Ethan’s statement comes out of nowhere and I almost drop the hammer I’m holding. “Okay,” I say warily.
“She needs someone who makes her realize there’s more to life than just the bakery. The girls get her out for yoga and book club, but my sister is obsessed with this place. You can help her find balance.” He puts down the board he was cutting and comes closer, crossing his arms over his chest. I’m not a small guy, but Ethan has this gruff, large presence that makes me stand up even taller. “Do you know why this expansion is so important to her?”
I shake my head.
“She opened the bakery two years before our parents died. Mom taught her how to bake, taught her everything she knows. And it was Mom’s dream to open a café in town. They used to talk about turning the bakery into something more, a place that served lunch and not just baked goods, but Mila always refused to let Mom and Dad invest in her or pay for anything. She said she had to do it herself or it wouldn’t feel right. I think she regrets that decision now. If she had joined forces with Mom, they could have opened the café together. Now she wants to do it in Mom’s memory. The problem is, she’s been so focused on making enough money to be able to do this on her own that she’s forgotten to live her own damn life.” He looks down at the floor, then back up at me, and there’s a fire in his eyes I haven’t seen before. “She’s got other reasons for hesitating with relationships. I don’t know details, but I know enough. Which is why I need to say one more thing. Hurt her, and you’ll have me to answer to.”
My eyes widen, and I manage to croak out, “Got it.” Ethan nods and turns back to work, leaving me to my thoughts. I think about how busy Mila is, between the rental properties she and Ethan own, and the bakery, and I understand what he is — and is not — saying. She has buried herself in work, heading toward a goal she can’t let go of. A goal she will do anything to achieve. I know the feeling.
“Hey, handsome,” Summer’s voice comes in, and I look over to see Mila following behind. Her dark hair is swept back in a braid, but a few pieces have come out. As she walks over to me, I see a smudge of something on her cheek, and when she stands beside me, my thumb comes out to sweep it off.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, looking up at me through her long lashes.
I bend down and give her a kiss. “The muffins were delicious.”
“Okay, you two, enough canoodling. Let’s get building.”
Mila looks over at Summer and arches her brow. “Canoodling? What are we, seventy? Besides, if anyone is guilty of too much PDA, it’s you.”
I watch with a smirk as Summer wraps her arms around Ethan’s waist and leans her head against his chest. Mila rolls her eyes, but her hand seeks out mine.
“I can’t help it if your brother is irresistible.”
“Enough already. Shorty, I love you, but stop harassing my sister. Mila, I’m happy you’re happy but I don’t need to see it. Got it?” Ethan’s tone is teasing, but I see the way he looks at the girls. One is his sister, and one is his soulmate. He’s a lucky guy.
We get to work, following Ethan’s directions, and soon the beam is hoisted into the air and settled on the supports I helped to build. When we’re done, the four of us stand back and look at it.
“That’s a good-looking beam,” Mila says, clasping her hands under her chin. She looks so adorably excited; I don’t think twice before wrapping my arms around her and tugging her back into my chest. She tips her head up and looks at me curiously, but I just hold her. I can tell myself it’s just to make sure we’re convincing in front of Summer and Ethan, but the truth is, the more time I spend with Mila, the more time I want to spend with her. And when I’m with her, it’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands to myself.
So what am I going to do when I no longer have the excuse of our fake relationship to fall back on? When I can’t touch her or kiss her and justify it as playing a role?
Chapter 15
Mila
I’m taking a rare Saturday morning off with the girls to hit the Westport Farmers Market. I didn’t want to, but it’s hard to say no when Summer, Serena, and Paige are all ganging up on me. They didn’t really give me much of a choice when they arranged for Kelly to deal with all of the baking and Sebastian to run the front of house. Those two really will make good managers when I’m ready to take that step.
As I walk arm in arm with Serena down the colourful stalls of the market, I have to admit it was a good idea. Getting out of the bakery, out of Dogwood Cove, and out of Jackson’s powerful orbit is making me breathe a deep sigh of relief. It’s hard to be around him right now. I’ve had a taste of something more from him, even if, for him, it was just physical. Going back to a friendship, with our forced PDA’s only when absolutely necessary, is hard.
The worst part is, I’m so in tune with everything he does that every now and then I catch a glance or I sense a vibe coming from him that makes me wonder if he’s struggling with our re-established boundaries as much as I am.
