One Funeral (No Weddings Book 2) (8 page)

Quick math reminded me that Chloe was only nineteen, maybe twenty. “You go to bars?”

Chloe leaned forward and whispered, “Fake ID.”

Lila brought our sandwich orders before I could respond, giving me a chance to process all that information. I picked up my chicken salad croissant and took a bite, reassessing my friend-selection strategy. With Chloe, I’d randomly chosen someone I knew but actually knew nothing about.

Chloe and I didn’t talk about much more as we ate. She didn’t ask me about how my life was going outside of work, and I didn’t feel comfortable offering. And she had no clue that I’d had an ulterior motive for our outing today. Which was fine. How would that disclosure even go?

I’m on a therapy homework assignment, and you’re my first attempt at making friends.

The entire idea sounded ridiculous and lame. Plus, our worlds were too different. I was a new business owner. She was just starting college and hung out at bars, scoping out guys with her fake ID.

Nice
miserable
attempt at making friends, Hannah.

By the time we finished eating, only two more customers had wandered in, both with to-go orders. The restaurant had ten tables inside and two small bistro sets on the porch.

Lila came up to our table, a stainless steel carafe in hand. “Can I freshen your coffees?”

“Sure.” Chloe slid her cup closer, and Lila topped her cup off.

I held mine up for her. “Is it usually this slow?”

After pouring my coffee, she put the carafe down on the table behind her and turned a chair toward us, taking a seat. “Not usually. One of the customers who came in reminded me of a local restaurant-crawl event happening today and tomorrow. My place is scheduled for tomorrow. I suppose I should rest up before the mad rush. It can be like that sometimes, feast or famine.”

I turned more toward her. “You opened a few months ago, right?”

She nodded. “Two. But this is my second café. First was in Sedona.”

“Arizona?” Chloe asked.

“That’s the one. Opened a place about this size with my daughter fifteen years ago, and the business kept us hustling from the moment we opened our doors.”

“What made you come out here?” I lifted my cup and took a sip of coffee.

“My baby brother, Willard, lost his wife. They never had kids, and he grew despondent when she died. So my daughter stayed in Sedona with her family, and I came here to gripe at Willard until he agreed to open this place with me. First he helped me fix it up, and now I got him workin’ back in the kitchen.”

I smiled. “Ahhh, his is the deep laughter we heard. Didn’t sound too depressed to me.”

“No siree. Turns out, he just needed someone else to put a fire under his ass. I’m widowed going on ten years now, so I was more than happy to fill the position.”

As I looked at Lila, similarities jumped out at me. She reminded me of my Gran. And we both had start-up businesses within blocks of one another, even if she had fifteen years of business experience on me.

“Hey, Lila? What do you say we get together sometime to talk about our businesses?”

She gave me a warm smile. “I’d like that a lot.”

I grinned. The friend attempt had been salvaged. And it happened the moment I stopped trying so hard.

Chloe’s phone chirped, and she pulled it out. “Uh-oh. A Brownie troop has descended on the shop.”

I stood, sorry to see the conversation with Lila end so abruptly. “Looks like we need to rescue my other employee.”

Chloe shook her head. “I’ve got this. I can jog there in just a few minutes.” She pointed to her running shoes.

But as Chloe left, a group of five customers stepped onto Lila’s front porch. “Looks like you’ve got lunch customers after all.”

Lila turned and tucked her chair back under the table. “I wonder if one of them might want a red velvet cupcake.” She winked at me, then surprised me by giving me a big hug.

I hugged her back, and a cinnamon and apple spice scent surrounded me. “Thanks, Lila. It was nice meeting you.” I fished a business card out of my purse and handed it to her.

“Great to meet you too. Let’s get together this weekend. We’ll talk about business, then dish gossip about everything else.” She smiled at me, then turned and greeted her new customers.

I stood in the shade of her front porch still amazed that as an emergency called away my awkward first attempt at a friend, another better match had fallen into place.

My phone vibrated. Two texts alerts had come in, one from Cade and the other from Chloe.

Cade sent the first text at 10:15 a.m., which I must’ve missed while Chloe and I were busy meeting with the restaurateurs.

His was simple, classic Cade:

What are you doing?

Chloe’s told me the fire was out at the shop, no need to rush.

I wound my way back along Lila’s front garden path, texting a reply to Cade.

I was hawking cupcakes.

A bubble appeared a second later.

And now?

I smiled.

I’ve just made a new friend.

T
he next day at work was insanely busy and flew by. Chloe and Daniel baked and bantered as if nothing had happened the morning prior—which told me nothing really had. After closing up the bakery, I enjoyed a quiet Friday night dinner at my place with Cade, grateful for the calm.

“Gonna tell me about this new friend?” He arched a brow.

I arched a brow back. “Gonna tell me anything about your first therapy session?”

He folded his black linen napkin and placed it beside his empty plate. “Not much to tell. Abigail thinks I need to work on a few things. I’m going to work on them.”

Unimpressed with his vague answer, but fairly certain I hadn’t given him more about my therapy session, I shrugged. “Not much to tell about my new friend. She owns a restaurant that Chloe and I went to for lunch yesterday. We’re going to get together this weekend to swap business notes.”

“Replacing me so soon as a business advisor?”

I scoffed. “Hardly. You and she are like apples and oranges. You just graduated from school, and she’s more like old school.”

“Sounds stimulating.”

I lowered my hand under the table, sliding it over the rough denim on his leg, resting my fingers along the inside of his thigh. “I find you stimulating.”

He sucked in a breath, snapping his gaze toward me. Those blue eyes instantly darkened, dilating. His nostrils flared, and his breathing grew shallow while he searched my eyes—probably for an explanation as to why we’d agreed to take it slow, yet I’d suddenly shifted into third gear.

I smirked, biting my lip, having no logical explanation. “Sorry. Just wanted to…touch.”

He shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re playing with fire, Maestro. I’m barely holding it together.”

Although a part of me wanted to screw carefulness and throw stifling caution to the wind, I removed my hand from his thigh and took a deep breath. There’d be plenty of time to be wild without rushing things.

Cade smirked, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Don’t think I don’t want to do exactly what I
know
you’re thinking, Hannah. I do.
I very much
fucking
do.
And soon. After we know we’re good to go, when you
know
you have no fear or doubts, then you’ll be ready. And I promise you, we’ll make up for lost time.”

I smiled, glancing down as he gripped his fork until his knuckles blanched. “And what are
you
thinking about, Cade? You’re about to bend the flatware with your bare hand.”

He dropped the fork. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking. Trust me.”

I shoved at his shoulder with an open palm. “Come on. Since when do we hold back on sexual teasing? What’s the matter? Did you go hotter than chocolate sauce, caramel, and honey? What are we talking now, cherries flambé?”

His gaze darkened, eyes glittering. “Damn. There’s a thought. Add it to the list.”

I stood as he did, putting my hands on my hips. “Well? You gonna share, or what?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze scanning down my body to my bare feet, which peeked out from beneath the frayed hem of my jeans, then back up to meet mine. “I hope you like more than food in your sex play, sweet Hannah.”

Stunned, I stood there staring as he grabbed both of our dessert plates and forks and left the room. He murmured something as he rounded the corner. One of the words sounded like “leather” and another, “blindfold.” My body shuddered at the thought of what those words meant. I inhaled slowly, deciding not to ask for clarification. Not yet, anyway.

Instead of hooking a left into my bedroom, he turned right, heading toward the living room. “Bring our coffees, will you?” he called out.

Curious, I picked up the steaming mugs and followed him up front.

The room was a treasured space of mine, because it remained the only room in the house that was a true time capsule from my childhood. As far as I was concerned, the matching sofa and two upholstered chairs had the perfect amount of fade in the yellow cotton fabric. On them were two brightly colored pillows Gran had bought when I was in high school; they were the newest items in the room.

A low curio cabinet held porcelain collectibles behind glass doors and supported a handful of family pictures in silver frames on its wooden top. Behind Cade, where he perched our dessert plates on the narrow edges of a square, antique end table, was a built-in bookcase with old classics from decades past. Many were classics from Chaucer and Twain, Granpop’s favorite authors. Other books were tawdry romances both Gran and Mom had read. And I’d read them all, multiple times. They were my connections to the past, pages my loved ones had turned, adventures they’d enjoyed.

“What are you doing?” I watched as Cade picked up one of the pieces on the board in the center of the table.

“I’m admiring these chess pieces; they’re carved semiprecious stones. How old is the set?”

I shrugged, taking a seat opposite him and handing him his coffee mug. “It’s been there since before I was born. Granpop and Gran played together every night. Sometimes Mom would play with one of them. After Granpop died, Gran lost interest. No one has played with it since then.”

He examined them more closely. “These look to be obsidian. You can almost see through the smoky black stone. Your side is jade.”

I arched a brow. “My side?”

Pulling his mug into his lap, he nodded. “Yep. We’re gonna play.”

Shaking my head, I picked up my fork and speared a piece of dark chocolate cake, starting at the back corner where the greatest amount of icing was. “I don’t know how, really. I’ve only played a couple of times in my life. With Mom, when I was just a kid.”

“Well, prepare yourself. We’re playing. Consider it part of my business mentoring. Chess is an invaluable tool to exercise the mind.”

I gave him a skeptical look. He countered with his classic deadpan expression. Considering his suggestion, I picked up the piece that resembled a green castle.

Cade stuck a large bite of cake in his mouth but quickly chewed, pointing a fork at the playing piece I held. “That’s the rook. C’mon, it’ll be fun, and I guarantee it will help you with your business.”

Blowing on the hot coffee, I peered at him over the rim. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips about his level of excitement over ancient stone pieces on a matching chessboard. “Okay. One game.”

“Three.” He leaned back, a smug expression on his face.

“Three? We’ll be here all night.”

Tilting his head, he arched a brow. “Sounds perfect.”

I shook my head, laughing. “I knew you were up to something.”

“Nope. No strings attached. And it won’t take that long. I’m a master at this. You’re a novice. I could easily end each game in a few moves. But this is instructional to start.”

I replaced the rook onto its corner square and considered the depth of his words. All along, in both our growing relationship and his business tutoring, he could have raced light-years ahead with his experience, but he hadn’t. With me, he took his time, using great skill and care.

And if that wasn’t enough to turn a girl on, with the thought of other activities he’d take at an unhurried and detailed pace, he sat in the dim light of my living room, looking dangerous and sexy. A thin, black T-shirt hugged cut biceps and broad shoulders, but even more tantalizing were the cords of muscle chiseled into his forearms. And those powerful arms controlled large hands with long fingers, which now handled delicate pieces on a chessboard.

My throat went dry as I imagined those fingers handling
me
. I sipped the hot coffee, which didn’t help to cool the fire my wandering thoughts had ignited. An uncomfortable ache grew ever more insistent between my legs the longer I fantasized about the man who seemed larger than life in my living room.

Think about something else, Hannah. Think about
anything
else.

I ran his most recent words through my mind again. “How will it help me with my business?”

“Chess trains you to think big picture. The player who thinks only of their next move, of a single piece’s cause and effect, is the player who loses. To win at chess, the entire board must be taken into consideration. Because each piece moves differently, and all of them are out to get my king or disable my pieces to protect yours, every move must be looked at from both your angle and my angle.”