The Summer of Us (Mission Cove 1)

Her eyes searched mine, her dark gaze soft. “Yes, Linc. I know the truth now. I’m coming to terms with it.” She cupped my face. “You have to as well.”

“I hate him more than ever. I hate him for the years he stole from us. The pain he caused you. All the what-ifs he stole.”

“What-ifs?”

I leaned into her touch. “I imagined us married, maybe a baby or two by now, Sunny,” I said quietly. “Building a life together as a family. He stole all that from us.”

“You wanted to have babies with me?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out. “I still do.”

“Oh.”

“I used to dream of a little girl who looked like you whom I could spoil. A little boy I could carry on my shoulder and teach about baseball and fishing. A house we’d share. The love we’d give our kids. Each other.”

She tilted her head to the side, studying me.

“Sometimes, our dreams change,” she whispered. “Or sometimes, they’re put on hold.”

I pushed closer to her. “Are you saying you’d still have my babies, Sunny?”

Pink tinged her cheeks. “It’s not impossible, Linc. We’re still young, and we can rebuild our dreams.”

“Sunny.” I captured her mouth with mine, running my hands up her neck and bunching them into her hair. I kissed her with everything in me. The years of pain, the emotion of the moment, the joy of realizing my future—the one I had thought I had lost all those years ago—might still be possible. Of knowing that regardless of what had transpired, she was back in my life. I kissed her until we were breathless. Until she knew, without a doubt, the boy who loved her then, was the man who loved her now. That I was here and not leaving her.

I kissed her until my knees ached, and I knew if I didn’t stop now, then I wouldn’t stop. Not until she was under me, naked and pleading, and I was inside her. And I didn’t want that to happen with my assistant not far away and no privacy. I needed to take Sunny somewhere we could be alone. I wanted to rediscover her all over again.

And I had an idea of where we could go. I would have to arrange for Sunny to have some time off, but I would wait until this weekend was over before I told her about my plans. For now, I was all hers—whatever she needed me to do, I would help.

But then, she was mine.16LincI sipped coffee and watched Sunny race around the bakery, her owner hat firmly in place. She directed, moved, adjusted, instructed, and never once lost her patience or the smile on her face. She was in her element, and I felt a glow of pride observing her.

I had put aside my own work for the next few days. The long weekend would bring in a flurry of tourists, many of whom would want to buy cookies, biscuits, or other tempting treats. Sit for a few moments and eat a sandwich or sip a coffee. Sunny had extra staff, lots of her delicious baked goods, and tons of supplies for sandwiches and coffee on hand. She also had one area set up with samples. Her idea was simple. Let them taste before they buy. Because, she assured me with a wink, once they taste, they always buy.

That was my job this weekend. Official sampler overseer. I had a T-shirt and hat, both branded with Sunny’s logo. Abby was helping in the kitchen. She was excited and relaxed, which was great to see. Much to my delight, she and Sunny had become friends, and the two of them worked well together. We were both eager about helping out Sunny.

The door opened, and Michael came in, his arms filled with towels and linens. Sunny liked white cloths on the tables, and she went through a lot every day. Michael kept them clean, as well as all the towels, aprons, and other items she wanted pristine. Her entire shop had an old-fashioned feel to it. The soft color on the walls, the woodwork, linen cloths, and the mismatched pieces of china all gave it a homey vibe. It suited Sunny.

Sunny hurried forward with a smile. “I’ll take those, Michael.”

He gave them to her, then came over and shook my hand. “Linc.”

Sunny came back through the kitchen door. “Sit, and I’ll bring you a coffee.”

He smiled as he sat, pulling off his baseball cap. “A cinnamon bun would go well with that,” he called out. “I’ve been smelling them baking all morning,” he informed me. “A man can only take so much.”

I chuckled. You could smell the bakery for blocks. The rich scent of cinnamon, sugar, and butter drew you in.

Abby came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of the cinnamon buns. Her wild curls were held back with a hairband, her bright-pink stripe vivid against the blond. She was wearing her pink high-top sneakers and swaddled in an apron. After talking to Sunny, she slid two buns onto a plate and carried it over to the table, along with a coffee. As she approached, I turned to say something to Michael, except he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at Abby, his eyes focused entirely on her.