Just a Kiss: The Single Girls Wine Club (A Wine Country Romance #1) (3 page)

She checked again and found the organic eggs from Nightingale Ranch out front. She headed back to the kitchen with them, sure she’d find Jamie, but found Manny, the first employee she’d hired.

“Morning Sarah,” he said, putting on his apron. “So where’s Mr. Movie? Wasn’t he supposed to be here by now?”

“Guess he’s running late, our hours are pretty gruesome for most normal people,” Sarah said.

“He’s not normal, I’m sure if we were on a movie shoot he’d be here on time. They do it all the time, shoot early scenes, so they don’t mess up traffic.”

Elbow deep in flour, Manny already had two large copper bowls in front of him. After counting the cups, he glanced at the radio. “Hey, you mind if I change the station, I’m not feelin’ this.”

Sarah and Manny found their rhythm and by six, strawberry turnovers, chocolate croissants, and ginger pear tarts were either cooling or coming out of the oven.

Sarah turned on the house lights, and let her staff in, looking down both sides of the street for Jamie. She didn’t have time to give him another thought.

She always got a little rush of butterflies waiting for the first customer. Even though she had years of experience owning or working in one form of café or another, she always wondered if this day might be her last. She didn’t need to worry.

The same locals came in at the same time. Shooting the breeze with a few regulars and giving tourists suggestions and directions, she didn’t see beyond the work in front of her until ten.

While stretching on tiptoe to change the CD in the main room, someone smelling clean and dangerous, firmly gripped her waist and pulled her hand over her head for a showy twirl. “May I have this dance?” Jamie's dimples flashed, and he bowed to the group in the takeout line.

Feeling a flush that started on her neck, Sarah looked around the room and saw everyone, including Manny, staring at her. When she shook Jamie’s hand away, the café became quiet, and she didn't know what to do. She plastered a fake smile on her hot, sweaty, and most likely red face and beelined to the safety of her kitchen.

Sarah peered through the plastic windows before calling out from behind the swinging doors, “Jamie, would you please come into the kitchen?”

“Beautiful.” Jamie snickered to his small audience. “I’d hoped to get a little private time with the boss but not on my first day. Wonder what I need to do for a raise?” He bowed before disappearing through the doors and crashing into Sarah right behind them.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Sarah asked. “You waltz in here at ten and mock me in front of my customers? Make a joke of me in front of my staff?”

She cursed her eyes for starting to fill and yanked her apron off. She threw it into the hamper and stamped her feet but wanted to scream.

“Whoa, whoa. You’re taking this way too seriously. I’m here, just like I promised, ready to work.” Jamie smiled.

Sarah had a sneaky feeling Jamie used this particular dazzling grin whenever he was in trouble and needed to get out of it. Boy was it good.

“This isn’t what we discussed yesterday.” Concentrating on breathing to control her anger, Sarah tried slowing down. “You agreed to be here at four and you’re six hours late. I decided to teach you techniques for your role. You said you’d be grateful if I helped. But what do I get? I get humiliated!”

“Hey, Sarah,” Jamie said, his face softening. “I’m sorry. Honestly. Crap. I just forgot. I stayed up late last night making script changes. And I just thought the dance would be fun, but I’m sorry.”

“I know this little place is no big deal to you. I get it,” Sarah said, staring him down without flinching. “But, this café is
everything
to me. It’s not easy for me to make room for one more thing on my plate, I only agreed to this, to help you. But I can’t do this. Won’t do this. You’ll have to find someone else to play with.”

Jamie’s mouth fell open.

Sarah reached for her coat and purse. No way was she going to look at him. He might suck her into his magic movie mojo power and make her change her mind. She’d worked too hard to get the café off the ground and wasn’t about to be sidelined by a game playing Adonis or anyone else.

“Man-nee,” she called, wondering why he hadn’t come into the kitchen to back her up. “I know you’re right behind the doors listening.”

“Yeah, Sarah, I can hear you,” Manny answered.

“I’d like to leave now. Is it possible for you to close for me, please?”

“Of course.” He sounded a little anxious.

“Sarah, wait,” Jamie pleaded. “I’ve obviously upset you, but I didn’t mean to. Let me make it up to you. Please?”

“Thanks for the apology, but no.” She still couldn’t look him in the eye. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears that were threatening to turn this into an even bigger scene in front of her employees. How could a stranger, even a well-known one, unravel her in such a way? How pathetic was she? She walked out of her kitchen and straight to her car.

In front of a gray shingled cottage, somewhere halfway between the Vine Café and Bella Villa, Sarah pulled over and parked because she knew the tears were coming. She hadn’t had a nice, long, sad, crying meltdown for months and couldn't hold back any longer.

Her hair stuck to the back of her neck in a sticky sweat, and her leggings felt itchy. Her chin had started trembling the moment she’d confronted Jamie. Her face ached from all the tension of trying to hold back tears, so she just let go.

The hot droplets rolled over her cheeks as every sad emotion she’d been keeping under wraps surfaced. Sarah remembered the night she and Robert were finishing dinner when her mother called with the news about her test results and awful diagnosis. Her body wretched with sobs thinking about all those futile hours spent together during chemotherapy sessions trying to act cheerful, knowing that no amount of medicine could stop the nightmare from happening. She longed to feel her mother’s arms around her just one more time.

She took a stuttering breath, attempting to shake off the hollow, lonely feeling that gripped her now that she was alone. In all the years her father had been gone, she’d never stopped missing him, and now her mother was with him. She wiped her face with her hands and licked the salt from her lips, but couldn’t stop crying.

Tears streamed down her face when Robert came to mind. She’d been such a fool to give him so much responsibility at her old bakery. She hadn’t paid attention to the books in San Francisco and had trusted him and her accountant Samantha so much, she didn’t even know they were draining every last penny she had. She cried over all of the work she’d done on her old bakery and now had nothing to show for it. She cried because she’d had to start all over, alone.

She put her head down when a jogger passed by her car and hoped he didn’t see what a mess she was. She sniffled hard through her runny nose and opened her glove compartment. Why didn’t she ever have tissues when she needed them? She wiped her nose on her sleeve and thought of Jamie. Leaning forward, she rested her head on the steering wheel. Why had she blown up and acted like an idiot in front of him? Many employees had come in late for a variety of reasons, and she’d never acted the way she did today.

“Kitty, Kitty, Kitty,” Sarah called from the doorway, searching the dark parking lot. “Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty.” She glanced down the alley and waited a few seconds. When the cat didn’t appear, she gave up and closed the door. Humming to the new Baking Zone playlist she’d downloaded last night, she wrote on the kitchen whiteboard in red pen: Need Manny to help the day before Harvest Fest.

Her twelve-day countdown leading to Sonoma’s annual Harvest Festival started today, and the organizers were expecting a donation of fifteen hundred cookies.

Sarah tightened her lucky faded rose apron around her waist, and then bent to sniff the fresh bunches of lavender and thyme on the counter. After tucking the herbs into galvanized metal tins on her pastry table, she smoothed out the recipe she’d worked on before going to bed.

While two heavy mixers combined the dough, Sarah dug through her massive collection of cookie cutters, settling on a few antique crescent moons. Steve Winwood’s “Roll With it Baby” blared from the stereo, and she plunked a heap of dough on the pastry table.

“Come to Mama, my little baby dough,” she said, kneading it. “Oh, you’re so beautiful.” Flipping the mound over, she caressed the other side and spanked it with flour. “You just need a little more love.” She took a deep breath, inhaling the delicious vanilla, lavender, and thyme aromas. Warmth from the oven heated her cheeks, and she smiled.

Grasping the ends of the thin, French rolling pin, she flattened the dough using one, long stroke out. “Roll with it,” she sang at the top of her lungs, pressing lightly over the mound in a reverse motion.

She heard a soft tap, tap, tap on the side entrance door, then another tap, tap, tap.

It’s a little early for today’s egg delivery.

After wiping the flour from her hands, she opened the door. Jamie had his arms crossed, his head hung low and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He didn’t have his usual charm-boy face on and looked severely gorgeous. Even though the rest of Sarah’s body was still half asleep, the lady bits under her blouse immediately rose and stood at attention.

He wore his sandy blond hair tucked into a thin navy beanie that came down a little on his forehead. To make matters worse, Jamie sported a dangerous weapon. An unshaved chiseled jawline was Sarah’s to kryptonite. Her heart tap danced.
Beanie and stubble on him?! It’s not even fair.

“Jamie,” she said.

“Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“I’m surprised you’re here. I thought we discussed this yesterday.” Sarah looked down at her clogs.

“We didn’t exactly discuss anything yesterday,” Jamie said. “You gave me more of a one-way steam rolling, not that you didn’t have a reason.”

“About yesterday, maybe I shouldn’t have acted the way–”

“Please don’t explain,” he said. “May I come in?”

Sarah backed away from the door.

When he passed her, his fresh-from-the-shower-sexy-man-citrus-ocean smell caught her off guard and smacked her silly. Her body temperature soared, and her heart jumped in her chest. Doing everything to avoid his eyes, she observed the tiny cracks in the ceiling, the canister of flour on the table, her red oven knobs, the yellow floral curtains, and the door. After running out of things to look at, she finally turned back to him and met Jamie’s penetrating stare. The kitchen felt so small with him in it.

“I want to apologize for forgetting our appointment yesterday,” he said.

She nodded. “Look, I didn’t mean—”

“Sarah, you have nothing to explain.”

“Okay, I forgive you.” Sarah hoped he’d leave. She didn’t know how much more of him she could take. Her ears pounded in time with her escalating heartbeat and butterflies pinged in the area below her stomach. She didn’t have time for this. “See? All better. You’re officially forgiven.” She started for the door.

"Please, let me say this.” He stepped in front of her forcefully.

Sarah swallowed for composure and met his eyes.

“I thought about you all night, Sarah. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to you or your business in any way, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

She felt the room overheating listening to his I-just-woke-up gravelly voice. It sounded so erotic she almost didn’t hear the words he was saying. He couldn’t have been awake too long because she noticed the cutest little pillow crease on the side of his right cheek and wondered what he’d look like sprawled on his bed in pajama pants hanging low. Without all of his daylight bravado, Jamie seemed a little bare, and sweet and totally accessible.

“I honestly had too much on my mind and just forgot I was supposed to be here so early.” Jamie looked down. “It’s not an excuse, just a fact. Is it possible for you to forgive me?”

Sarah felt even worse about her tantrum yesterday. “Sure, Jamie. I can forgive you. I do forgive you. Okay?”

“We’re good?” Jamie asked, wide-eyed.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Sarah gave a close-lipped smile.

He exhaled so long and hard, his body moved. He looked at her for unspoken permission and stepped into the room further to check the place out. “Cozy in here,” he said.

He strolled around her pastry table rubbing its honed marble edges.

“My mom and I found that. See, it even has a flour bin,” Sarah said opening the hinged door and then pointing to the table’s carved legs. “We had those retrofitted so they’d be the perfect height for me.”

“Does your mom live around here?” he asked.

“No, she passed three years ago.” This wasn’t the time to add all the dirty details about how right after she'd buried her mother, she’d accepted a ring from Robert, making one of the worst decisions of her life.

In a soft voice, Jamie said, “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t hear anything else. Not the song playing on the radio, not the hum of the overhead lights, or the purr of the walk-in, or the ovens. She watched the way he carried himself confidently across the room to examine the range and realized his swagger wasn’t a put-on. He just walked like sex on a stick naturally.