Those Cassabaw Days (25 page)

It still floored him that Emily had called old man Catesby
sweet
.

He was anything but.

Then again, she thought Matt sweet, too, and Jep Malone would definitely argue that point. Straight directly into holy ground, so he’d say.

Matt hopped out, ran around to the trunk and jammed the key in. Thunder boomed overhead just as he shouldered the old gramophone and LPs and headed up the gravel lane.

On second thought, he stopped. Emily was probably in the front of the café. If he truly wanted to surprise her he’d carry the gramophone in through the back entrance, make her close her eyes, then he’d set it on one of the dining tables. Satisfied with that idea, he turned, slid his key in through the back-door lock and eased in as quietly as he knew how. Setting the gramophone down on top of the chest freezer, he strode into the dining area.

And stopped dead in his tracks.

Shocked. Surprised. And suddenly very, very hollow inside.

He could do nothing but stare as Emily stood locked in the arms of a tall, tailored man in an expensive-looking suit. Not Jake. Someone else.

Then the man’s hands moved to her head, held it still and swept his mouth against Emily’s lips.

For a moment, his eyes were glued to the man fused to Emily’s mouth. Anger and disappointment—two emotions he had no right owning—washed over him. So much that he had to take in a deep, inconspicuous breath, then slowly release it.

And then he did the only thing left to do.

He let himself out of the back entrance of the Windchimer, just as stealthily as when he’d arrived.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

E
MILY WRIGGLED FREE
, pressed her palms to his chest and thrust him away. “Trent!” Surprised and angry, she stood back, staring in disbelief. “Stop it! What—
what
are you doing here?”

Trent Hughes straightened his tie and gave her the million-dollar smile he was famous for. “Emily—I wanted to surprise you is all,” he said. “I honestly couldn’t help myself.” He stepped closer, his blond hair perfectly styled, his blue eyes fanned with long lashes. White teeth flashed against his tanned skin. “The second I decided to fly down and surprise you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And, about kissing you.” He reached for her hands. “I’m sorry. Honestly. Don’t be angry.”

“Surprised? Most assuredly, you’ve managed that element,” she said. She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him. “Did you fall and hit your head? Do you have a concussion?”

His brows raised and he did that shrug with one shoulder—a movement he routinely did when he was surprised. “Of course not. Why?”

“Do you not recall the whole breaking-up thing we did?” she asked, frustrated. “Or did you forget to add that to your agenda?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave her a slow smile. “Well, Emily-girl, that’s what I flew all the way here to say.” He sighed, his gaze still on hers. “I was hoping to convince you to take me back.” His eyes softened. “You wouldn’t talk to me on the phone. You ignored my emails.” He sighed. “I was a stupid fool. And I’ve missed you like crazy.”

Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She should’ve seen it coming, actually, with the calls and the emails. But she’d ignored it. And now she was staring at Trent Hughes, in Cassabaw Station. In her café.

Truth be told she hadn’t missed him one little bit. Hadn’t even given much thought to him. Bethesda. Or even her old life there. Especially not since Matt—

And now there wasn’t a Matt.

What did that mean?

Trent shifted toward her, bent down on one knee and grasped her hand.

“Whoa! Hold on there, Hughes,” Emily said in a panic as she snatched her hand back. “You do have a concussion! Get up!”

“Emily, hush,” he said softly.

She firmly shook her head and paced. “No, I will not hush,” she said hurriedly. “There’s only one reason why a man bothers to get down on one knee and it’s not happening, Trent. It’s just not. You’re freaking me out! Please.” She looked at him. “Get up.”

With a sigh, he dropped his head and stared at the floor, then rose. He walked to her and with intense blue eyes, stared at her. “Please give me another chance, Emily. I’m begging you for it.” He gave her a smile, and it was familiar, like an old friend. “We’ve had a lot of good times together, haven’t we? So many years between us. We can have more.”

Disbelief nearly made her speechless. “Trent,” she responded, “you can’t just...blow in here, into my new life, and expect me to disrupt it, drop everything I’ve been working for and move back—”

“I’m prepared to move here. To be with you. If you’ll only give me another chance.”

Emily blinked. Stared. Blinked some more. “You own a shipping company, Trent. And you’re already established in the political institution with your father on the Hill.” She half laughed. “Your mother would never allow it. You can’t move to this tiny island and do all that.”

A slow, easy smile curled his lips. “You underestimate my capabilities, Emily-girl, as well as my desires. My mother doesn’t control me. I can do anything I set my mind to.”

Emily grasped the sides of her head with her hands and continued pacing. Oh, yes, Mrs. Allegoria Hughes did indeed control him. She tried to control everyone around her. “No, Trent. You can’t just blow in here and expect me to just drop at your feet.” She whirled on him, holding out her hands. “Do you see this? Have you even noticed it?” She glanced around. “This is mine and Reagan’s now. I’ve been here working day and night on getting it up and running and the grand opening is on the Fourth of July!” She shook her head. “Have you even noticed?”

Trent stopped and glanced around. “Of course I have,” he said. “You’ve done a wonderful job on this fixer-upper, Emily. It’s very quaint. Very...you.” He turned to her. “You’ve always loved the olden days, haven’t you? I’m not at all surprised at what a fine job you’ve done. You’ve always been masterful at whatever task you tackle. I’m not asking you to give it up.” He moved toward her. “I’m asking you to give me another chance. That’s all.” He glanced away, then back to her. “My life seems empty without you in it, Emily-girl.”

Lord, it was all so fast. One second, she was going through the menus and then rechecking the food stock, turning the insulator lights on and off because, well, she just loved to see them come to life inside the Windchimer.

She’d been waiting for Matt to return, too. She knew he’d been angry that Jake had stopped by. Jake was nice. Fun. Very handsome. Any girl would be happy to go out on a date with him. And she did enjoy herself when they went out.

Only, he wasn’t Matt.

And then the next second, in blew Trent. He’d just...walked in through the front door like some hero in an old black-and-white movie, sweeping in to rid the heroine of all her untimely woes. Only Emily didn’t have any woes. This was her new life and she rather loved it.

Fixer-upper? Quaint? Please!

“What would it hurt, Emily?” Trent continued, and his voice quieted, softened, just like the handsome features on his face. “Just to give me another chance?” His grin was crooked, giving him a boyish expression. “I’ll woo you properly. Just like we’d just met.”

The anger subsided. Slightly. And only because she knew Trent Hughes. They’d started dating in college and so it’d been years since they’d first bumped into each other—literally—at the library, her books had gone flying out of her hands and he’d asked her out. She remembered how crazy excited she was about that first date.

When had it all changed? Before the breakup, she imagined. They were just too different and it took the breakup, and her finding herself, finding Matt, to realize it fully.

The sincerity she saw in the depths of those blue eyes now—along with a tinge of fear, maybe, that she’d deny him—took Emily by complete surprise. She knew it was real.

This was a man she used to say “I love you”
to. But she’d changed her mind about Trent. What if that happened with Matt, too?

She blew out a frustrated sigh. “Trent, you can’t appear and expect me to just...agree,” she said, walking to the back room. She passed the penny counter, saw all of the copper faces staring back at her. “We’re very different people.” She turned to him. “And I like who I am. Really, really like.”

His gaze stayed on her as he nodded. “And so do I. It only took me being without you for me to realize just how much.”

She closed her eyes. “You can’t put me on the spot like this. My grand opening is
day after tomorrow
.” She looked at him. “I refuse to concentrate on anything else other than a big, successful weekend for the café.”

Trent nodded enthusiastically. Almost like an overzealous Saint Bernard. “Honey, I’m sure you’ll rake in the bucks—especially on the Fourth. You’ll make a killing!”

Emily groaned. “No! No, no, no! See?” She pleaded to him with her eyes. “You still don’t get it. Don’t get me! Success to me isn’t defined by money, Trent.” She raked a finger over the penny counter, glanced at the old vintage checkerboard-tiled floor. “It’s defined by how much folks love coming here, and not just to eat my food but to just enjoy being here, in this environment!”

“Oh, of course,” he said, nodding. “That, too, sweetheart.” He smiled. “I meant that, too, of course.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying anything right.”

He hadn’t meant that, and she knew it. He’d never admit it, but if she did know Trent Hughes, she knew one thing in particular: while he was very nice, a gentleman and extremely generous, he valued a dollar. Big-time.

“Listen, I’ll make a deal with you,” he said. He strode toward her, his long, lean legs clad in his Armani suit, and his
GQ
looks not exactly stirring her the way they had back in college. “I’ll leave right now and head over to my hotel room. I refuse to stress you out with your opening day almost here.” He smiled, lifted her hand and brushed his warm firm lips over her knuckles. “Can I ask you out to dinner? Tomorrow evening, early, perhaps? That will give you a little time to get used to the fact that, while I’m not going to be pushy, I’m not exactly going to give up, either.”

Emily felt her head swim. And for the first time since being back on Cassabaw, she felt indecisive.

It’d been a whole helluva lot easier when Matt hadn’t wanted to just be friends.

Her mind’s eye returned to thoughts of their fiery kisses, and how every fiber in her body had flared with a current she’d never experienced before when he touched her. Looked at her, even.

Yet he’d made it clear he only wanted to be friends. She’d agreed. And it’d been a struggle to make him or anyone else believe that she was okay with it. She wasn’t. She missed Matt more than anything.

Was she just wasting her time hoping he’d come around?

“I flew all this way,” Trent pleaded. “Please don’t dismiss me without at least one dinner date.”

With a heavy sigh, Emily dropped her head. Stared at the sea-serpent-green checkerboard tiles beneath her feet. Sighed again. Then, she looked up. “Okay, Trent. Tomorrow night at six. A quick dinner, and then I’ve got to get home and sleep. I have to be here at 4:00 a.m. And just so you know, I’m seeing...other people.” Crossing over to the register, she tore off a blank stick-it note, scribbled her address down and handed it to him. “I hope you brought something other than Armani,” she said. “This is a small barrier island, not the Hill. Dress casual, okay?”

Trent accepted the address and gave her a broad smile that lit up his blue eyes. “Absolutely, Emily-girl.” With a slight nod, he headed to the front door. “And seeing other people doesn’t sound very...committed.” He smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at six.”

Emily watched him exit the café, and only then did she close her eyes and heave a big, long, frustrated sigh of non-relief.

“Oh, Lord, deliver me,” she mumbled. “Seriously.”

Wondering what in the world to do, she ambled toward the back of the café to grab a Coke from the fridge. The moment she stepped through the archway, she saw it.

She could do nothing but stare.

And as soon as her brain wrapped around what it was she stared at, it—her brain—starting twisting in another direction altogether.

Matt had walked in. He’d walked in through the back and had seen her and Trent.

Why had he gone without saying anything?

She hurried over to the gramophone, the beautifully constructed gramophone, and saw the note attached with a small red string. She untied it and lifted the note.

You did it, Em. It’s perfect. Hope this fits in. You need a nickel, by the way.

Matt

Emily’s heart flooded with emotion at the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her. Beside the gramophone sat a stack of LPs. Inspecting the old machine, she found it to be a nickel slot hand crank. Running to the register, she pulled the lever, opened the tray and grabbed a nickel. Hurrying back, she turned the crank and dropped the nickel in.

“Come Josephine in My Flying Machine,” in all its tinny gloriousness, poured out of the horn.

Emily closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her, and fighting tears that threatened to spill. Matt had put serious thought into the gift. She’d treasure it forever.

Just like she treasured him.

Hurrying, she grabbed her bag and her keys, locked up the café and, with “Come Josephine” still playing, hurried to her Jeep and headed home.

Before she got there, though, the bottom fell out of the heavily laden storm clouds above, and the rain poured. Once she pulled into her drive and came to a stop, she called Matt’s cell. He didn’t answer so she called the Malone house. Jep answered the phone.

“Yeah?” he said in his gruff voice.

“Hey, Jep, it’s Emily,” she said. “Is Matt home? He’s not answering his phone.”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him since earlier.”

“Okay, thanks!”

Before Jep could say anything else, Emily hung up and despite the bucketfuls of rain pouring down, took off down the dock. He was probably there, finishing up the screening. She wound through the marsh, enjoying the feel of sturdy deck boards beneath her feet, and ran straight into the dock house.