Playing With Trouble (Desire Bay 1)

He parked, turned off the truck, and turned to look at her. “They are.” With his hand resting on the back of the seat, he trailed a fingertip along her ear, gently tucking a piece of her hair behind it. “You never need to be anything better than what you are,” he said softly.

She looked into those blazing blue eyes, and the warmth in her chest bloomed another degree.

“Many people would disagree,” she said.

“Then they’re idiots.”

She glanced at her hands in her lap and gently shook her head. It took her a full minute to work up the guts to say what they both knew was true. “I may be my father’s daughter, but he loves you, Jacob.” She gave a sincere smile. “How could he not? You’re something special. And you run the warehouse really well. Have for a long time, while I wasn’t here.”

She opened the truck door and got out, and Jacob called her name and rounded the truck to catch her just as she closed the door and walked toward the bar.

“Hey, Laura, let’s talk about this.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry about today. I’ll try harder, and maybe we can figure out a schedule or peace treaty or whatever that can work for both of us.”

She started for the bar again, but he grabbed her hand. “I mean, let’s talk about what you said.”

“Not tonight. Please.” She glanced between him and the rowdy bar, where music was blaring and people were laughing and talking. “I’m here now. I can’t make up for the mistakes of the past. And things are the way they are. I don’t want to dive into things I can’t change.” She also wasn’t in the mood to admit out loud how lacking she’d become in the past decade. How she was trying to build her self-esteem back. How badly she wanted to do something right by her mother’s memory, by her father, by herself.

“Can you just take me inside and enjoy the night?” she asked, and if she were honest, there was a slight plea in her voice.

“Yeah, of course,” Jake said, and with a hand on the small of her back, he led her to the bar and inside.

Music and people and commotion were all in full swing. And the flowers on all the tables and gave pops of color to the entire room; Laura saw a woman lean in and look at one centerpiece closely, then nod happily to her friend and point.

Looked like a good review.

She turned to tell Jacob and realized that he’d gotten swallowed by a crowd of people giving him slaps on the back and talking his ear off. One guy handed him a beer. The man hadn’t even made it all the way in the door yet and he was engulfed like a celebrity.

Must be hard being so well liked . . .

He met her eyes and tried to make his way toward her, but she shook him off with a smile and motioned that she’d be around. They weren’t dating—no reason they had to stay together. So she wandered around, checking on the vases. The flowers were holding up nicely, and after getting a glass of wine from the bar, she settled in a corner and watched.

She didn’t fit in. She knew it. Thank God she was in jeans and a sweater, at least, since she was learning quickly that the standard attire around Yachats was casual. At least she didn’t stick out in a bad way, but she wasn’t embraced like Jacob. Not that she expected to be, after she’d only been in town for a couple of weeks. No, what worried her was that she might never be embraced.

“Hello there again,” a sweet older woman’s voice called.

“Tilly?” Laura said as the woman came to stand by her. “I haven’t seen you since book club.”

“You’ve kept up with the reading?” Tilly asked.

“Not exactly,” Laura admitted. She’d been busy with the shop, not to mention having her own steamy scenes with Jake.

“Well, that’s all right. We’ll catch you up. I see you’ve been busy. These centerpieces are lovely.”

“Thank you,” Laura said. She was glad she knew a friendly face.

The old woman smiled and looked around. “I’m so glad that you’re reviving that shop. Your mother would have been proud.”

Breath stuck in Laura’s lungs. The idea that her mother would have been proud was a gift to the goal she’d been chasing. And yet, it hurt as much as it warmed her entire chest. Because she wanted to make her proud. So much. Almost as much as she missed her.

“Thank you,” Laura said softly. “I’m happy to be doing it.” She looked at Tilly. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”

“Well, I have to be, dear, I’m the mother of the bride.”

“Congratulations!” Laura said, happy for her. Tilly ran a hand through short gray hair. Her smile was one of pride and dark purple lipstick.

“My daughter hasn’t picked a florist yet for the wedding, you know?”