Jack's Surrender (Holiday Cove 5)

I groaned. “Ugh. Not the high-rise thing again.”

Carly shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s doing. I haven’t been to a town meeting in a while. But I heard he was rich and ready to start building. Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll open a bunch of commercial places. Then you and Merle can duke it out for the territory.”

I nibbled on my sandwich and considered her point. As much as Holiday Cove resented the idea of a giant mall, resort hotel, or condo building to be plopped on the sand, it would increase revenue and, therefore, opportunity. If Jack and I were staying in Holiday Cove long term—which, by all accounts, we were—it certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen.

“Maybe you could even rent out one of the spaces and open your own office like what you had in Irvine,” Carly said as she wiped her hands off on a paper napkin.

“True.” I smiled. “Although I have to say, there’s something wonderful about working in yoga pants!”

Carly laughed. “As long as you don’t mind the dog fur!”

“Dog fur is my constant accessory,” I teased. “I’ve learned to embrace it.”

Carly was still giggling as she made her way back to the front counter. I turned in my seat and saw that Margot, her newly minted full-time employee was flagging her down. Margot had been holding down the fort while we ate but apparently ran into trouble.

I studied them for a moment as they leaned over the cash register. Margot was tall and curvy with long dark hair and was the complete opposite of Carly, who was at least eight inches shorter—even in heels—with a bleached out pixie cut tipped with purple streaks at the moment. However, the two of them shared the same bubbly energy and the town was just as smitten with her as they were with Carly. The cash register rang out through the small shop and they both did a little victory dance before Carly rounded the counter and came back to our table.

“I should have you comb through my finances and figure out how the hell I can afford a new one of those,” she said, sinking back into her seat. “I swear it has a mind of its own sometimes.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I agreed with a smile. I glanced at the shining rock on her finger as she took a sip from her iced tea. “Speaking of wedding dates, what about you and Nick? Any movement there? You two have been engaged as long as Jack and me.”

Carly followed my gaze to her ring and rolled her hand so the light sparked off the diamond. A dreamy smile melted across her face. “We’re thinking the fall. I like September.”

I fought back a swell of jealousy. I’d been trying to get Jack to set a date for months, since we’d returned from Germany really, but it hadn’t gone very far. After buying the house, our collective savings was wiped out and Jack used that as an excuse anytime I busted out the bridal magazines.

“Excuse me, ladies.”

We both jumped at the smooth male voice and were met with a polite smile and a dazzling pair of blue eyes that put the morning tide to shame. The rest of him was just as impressive. A chiseled jaw, coated with at least two days’ worth of scruff, and ruffled, run-your-fingers-through-it kind of dark wavy hair. He was wearing a pair of dress slacks and a buttoned shirt rolled to the elbows and displayed impressive forearms. No tie.

“Hello?” Carly sputtered, appearing just as caught off guard as I felt by the mysterious stranger’s appearance at our table.

The man took a step closer and smiled at each of us before transferring his to-go cup from one hand to the other. He stuck out his hand to Carly and she shook it and then he offered it to me. “I don’t mean to be rude, but that lovely woman at the counter told me you’re the owner,” he said, returning his attention to Carly once our hands broke apart.

“That’s right. Carly Roberts. Who’s askin’?”

The man smiled. “Noah Scoville. I’m going to be hosting a conference later in the week and was hoping I could convince you to do a little catering for it.”

“Catering?” Carly shook her head. “I don’t really do full-scale catering. But I could certainly make up some sandwiches and provide a coffee bar.”

“That sounds perfect. Tell you what, here’s my card,” he said, pausing to grab a leather wallet from his front pocket. He fished out a shiny embossed business card and handed it to her with another hot as fuck smile. “Call me when you have a minute and we’ll work out the details.”

Carly returned his warm smile as she took the card and brushed a finger over the textured lettering. “I’ll do that, Mr. Scoville.”