The instant Johnny hit Main Street, he caught the scent.
Melted butter and caramelized sugar, the warm spice of cinnamon … Johnny licked his lips and jogged the last block to the bakery.
Patty was behind the counter again, but she was busy with another customer when Johnny entered. A young woman with strawberry-blond hair and freckles stared down at the glass display case like her choice of pastry was the key to world peace.
She looked to be around Tessa’s age, but something about the way she tapped the dimple in her chin as she pored over the sweet treats made her seem younger than twenty-six.
“I don’t know what he’d like,” she was fretting. “Everyone likes the sticky buns. But what if he’s the one-in-a-million person who somehow doesn’t like them? Some people have no sweet tooth at all. Maybe a loaf of bread is a safer choice. Do you still have the jalapeño cheddar?”
Patty met Johnny’s gaze over the girl’s head and closed one eye in a slow wink. “We sure do, honey. Is that what you want?”
“I’m not sure,” the girl moaned, clasping her fingers on top of her head. “Welcome Neighbor presents are the hardest! How do you know what he’ll like when you haven’t seen him since you were ten years—Oh, hello!”
The girl had turned far enough to nearly take out Johnny’s eye with a gesticulating hand, and now she flushed bright enough to make all her freckles disappear.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t hear the door. You should go ahead of me, I need to think about this some more.”
“That’s all right,” Johnny said, amused. “Take all the time you need. I’m in no rush.”
He’d rather wait for Tessa to come out, anyway.
As if she’d heard his thought, Patty said, “I sent Tessa home early today. She worked a double yesterday and opened for me this morning, so I decided she needed the break.”
… After the day she had yesterday, Patty didn’t add, but Johnny understood her tone loud and clear. “I appreciate that, Miss Patty. I’m glad to know that Tessa’s had someone like you looking out for her.”
It was true, too. As much as Johnny might wish he could have been the one looking out for his wife, he’d made the choice to leave her to take that undercover assignment. He had to own that, and he couldn’t regret it because it had been necessary. The world was a safer place with those guns off the streets.
And, of course, at the time it had seemed like the only way to resist his need for his wife was to take any mission that would get him out of the house and away from temptation.
Patty gave him a nod and went back to helping the indecisive girl, who was wringing her hands and peering woefully between the sugar-crusted gingersnaps and the marbled cream cheese brownies.
“Everything in that case is delicious,” Patty declared. “You can’t go wrong, sweetie.”
“Oh, I know! I love everything you and Tessa bake.” The girl glanced up with an earnest smile. “Those salted caramel shortbread bars, oh, my gosh! But what I don’t know is what Marcus Beckett will love.”
Johnny’s ears perked up, but he didn’t show his immediate surge of interest. But how the hell did a sweet, innocent girl like this have anything to do with a gruff, possibly dangerous bartender?
“That’s right, I heard he was back in town,” Patty said, darting a glance at Johnny. “I haven’t seen him since his mother’s funeral, right after his college graduation.”
“I don’t think he’s been home since, and that was fifteen years ago. I was only a kid, and I remember worrying that cancer was contagious and my mom might catch it since we lived right next door.”
Early death of a parent, Johnny noted, trying not to let the pang of sympathy interfere with inferring what that might have done to a young man at a formative time in his life. Most criminals, in Johnny’s experience, boasted some traumatic childhood or adolescent event that “pushed” them into a life of crime.
Johnny’s own catastrophic childhood tragedy had shoved him in the other direction, straight into law enforcement.
“Such a sad thing, what happened to that family.” Patty sighed. “What a bright future Marcus had ahead of him, and then … Didn’t he go into the army?”
Johnny felt an internal rush of satisfaction. He hadn’t lost his ability to spot military training. Now, the only question remained—was Beckett a veteran who should be honored for his service to his nation? Or had he turned the training Uncle Sam gave him into something shady as hell?
“Yes, and that was the last anyone heard from him. I’m sure he turned out wonderfully!” The girl bit her lip. “Except for the part about how he hasn’t visited his poor father in years and years. But maybe Marcus was busy. With work, or something.”
Yeah, or something, Johnny thought grimly. Something illegal, maybe. The way Beckett had warned him off the subject of where he’d gotten the money he seemed to be spending like water … There was a secret there. Johnny was sure of it.
And where there were secrets about money, there was usually criminal activity.
In fact, maybe it was time to warn this sweet young thing off her mission of welcoming Marcus Beckett home. Johnny put on his most charming, trustworthy smile.
“You know, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking about Marcus Beckett—and as it happens, I’m staying in the apartment next to his, above the bar he’s opening.”
Quinn turned to him with a dazzling smile at the coincidence. “Oh! Do you know if he likes cream cheese brownies?”
“Um, I don’t. Sorry. But I’d be happy to bring him whatever you pick out. Save you a trip.”
Her face fell. Johnny hoped to God she never tried to play poker for money.
“Gosh,” Quinn said. “That’s really nice of you. But I couldn’t impose … Oh, and I have to go see him anyway, because I’m going to ask him for a job! So I might as well deliver the cupcakes myself. Yeah, cupcakes, I think. The yellow cake ones with chocolate buttercream.”
The relief in her happy smile was equaled only by the alarm Johnny felt at this turn of events. “You want to work for Beckett?”
For some reason, that made her blush again. “Well, I bartended in college, and I’m kind of between jobs right now, so I was sort of thinking it might be a good fit. Why, does he already have a bartender?”
She looked so anxious at the thought. Johnny hated to crush her dreams, but he hated the idea of this nice girl getting mixed up with Beckett even more. “He’s probably a good week away from opening up, but I’m pretty sure he plans to tend the bar himself.”
Her brow cleared. “Oh, that’s all right, then. No one wants to work seven days a week, and I’m good with part-time. It’s sort of my thing.”
“Here are your cupcakes, sweetie.” Patty handed a plain brown box tied with red ribbon across the counter. “Tell your parents I said hi, the next time you talk to them.”
“I will!” Quinn bounced on the soles of her sneakers as she counted out change. “They’re loving the vagabond life. I haven’t heard from them since they hit Yellowstone, but I think they’re getting to the lodge in the next day or so, and they should have better reception then. I’ll give them your love. Thanks, Miss Patty!”
With that, she wafted out of the bakery on a cloud of shiny optimism bright enough to make Johnny’s head hurt. Part of him wanted to run after Quinn and keep her from going to talk to Marcus Beckett, but Johnny consoled himself with the realistic understanding that there was almost no way Beckett would be interested in hiring Little Miss Sunshine to work in his bar.
Again showing an uncanny, discomforting ability to read his mind, Patty shrugged. “No use trying to talk that girl out of anything. For such a flibbertigibbet, she’s got an obstinate streak a mile wide.”
Flibbertigibbet? Who said that?
“She seemed very sweet,” Johnny said after a short hesitation.
“Oh, very. Always has been. But she’s twenty-five years old and she’s never had a real job. No idea what she wants to do with her life, no direction, nothing permanent. Even her living situation—she’s house-sitting for her parents while they take an extended RV trip out West.” Patty shook her salt-and-pepper curls. “In my day, most girls were married by her age. And if you weren’t married, you’d better have a good backup plan like my bakery here. Not that I’m saying women today ought to get married young. That’s usually not a good idea these days.”
Johnny stared at her. “I guess I don’t need to ask where you stand on the subject of Tessa and me.”
“Don’t be too sure.”
What was it about older women? How did they perfect that mysterious, cryptic, all-knowing attitude? Johnny was pretty darn sure his instincts had been correct about this one. Patty could either be a valuable ally … or an adversary Johnny didn’t need.
When he was pretending to be Alex Santiago, he’d gotten in good with the second in command of the gang. Sometimes it was more fruitful to go around the top guy and get to the right-hand man, to convert the person who had influence with the top decision maker.
It felt weird to apply the lessons he’d learned undercover to the problem of seducing his own wife, but Johnny was prepared to be ruthless.
To that end, he dredged up a grin and a twinkle for Patty. “That’s good to hear. I can use all the help I can get convincing Tessa to give me another chance after the way I left her.”
A strange look came over the older woman’s handsome, laugh-lined face. “You know she’s not angry with you. Don’t you? She didn’t leave to get back at you.”
That brought Johnny up short. On some unspoken level, that was exactly what he’d thought. He felt his lips twist ruefully. “She seemed plenty mad when she stomped off yesterday, after I slipped and called her Terri. I didn’t mean to, but it’s automatic. She’s been Terri to me for a long time.”
“It’s not about the name.” Patty folded her lips together and shook her head, as if she’d said too much. “Look, John. I’m not here to be your go-between. I’m here for Tessa. End of story. If you’re what’s going to make her happy, then I’ll be cheering you on all the way. But if you can’t get your act together and figure that out, well, I’ll be the one who keys your car and leaves that bag of flaming dog poop on your front porch. You hear?”
From the pugnacious tilt of her chin and the snap of defiant pride in her deep brown eyes, Johnny thought Patty expected him to get pissed off. Instead, all he felt was gratitude.
“I hear you. And I’m glad she has you. Tessa’s gone a long time with no one but me in her corner. The people who should have put her first, before everything else in their lives … well, they weren’t nearly as strong as you. I’d include myself in that group.” The admission hurt, the words sticking in his throat like he’d swallowed a bone. “But I’m here now. And I’m trying. In fact, we’ve got our first couples-therapy appointment this afternoon at the Windy Corner Therapeutic Riding Center. That’s what I came to tell her.”
For the first time since he met Tessa’s new boss, Johnny saw Patty’s sharp gaze soften a bit. She harrumphed and hit a button on the cash register to pop the drawer out. With a great whack, she broke open a roll of nickels and dumped it into the drawer. “Well. Good. That’s something, at least. Here, have a cheddar pecan scone. You need to keep your strength up.”
Johnny took the crumbly wedge gratefully. It was still warm from the oven, and the first bite shocked him with a burst of savory flavor he hadn’t been expecting. Not that he was some expert on scones, teatime not being a big hobby at the ATF, but he’d had the impression that they were a dry, sort of tastelessly sweet type of biscuit.
This scone was sharp with cheddar and rich with the buttery taste of toasted pecans, with a fiery kick of cayenne at the back of his tongue. Johnny basically inhaled the thing without even pausing to say thank you.
When it was gone and he was seriously considering licking the crumbs from his palm, he blinked his eyes open to see Patty watching him with a proud gleam in her eyes.
“That was amazing,” Johnny said honestly, brushing his palm on his jeans. “I see why this bakery is such an island institution. You’re a great baker.”
“Oh, I didn’t bake those. Your wife did. In fact, those scones are her original recipe. She won a prize for them at the county fair, had her picture in the papers and everything. I guess you didn’t see it.”
Johnny blinked. Tessa had cooked for them most nights, and he’d certainly never had any complaints about the simple, nutritious meals she’d provided. But she’d never produced anything as knock-your-socks-off delicious and unexpected as that cheddar pecan scone.
“I had no idea she could cook like this,” he said blankly.
“When she first came here, she couldn’t.” Patty went about straightening her display case, filling in holes in the trays of muffins and rolls from the tall, wheeled racks behind her. “At first, all she’d do was follow my recipes. But after a few months, I started noticing that those old pastries that I’ve been making forever … they came out a little differently when Tessa was the one doing the baking. I watched her one morning, and I saw that without even seeming aware of it, she was tweaking the recipes as she went along, adding a pinch of this and a dash of that, and every single time it was an improvement. Well, I won’t fib, at first I was a little put out. I mean, those recipes are tried and true! I’ve been making my cinnamon-streusel muffins the same way for twenty-five years! But when Tessa started folding a little dab of sweetened cream cheese into the cinnamon-brown-sugar filling—boy, I tell you what. I saw the light in a quick hurry! She’s got a real knack for this work, and a real passion for it, too.”
Johnny stared down at what looked like little round knots of sweet, white dough, baked to golden brown and scattered with crunchy sugar and cinnamon-laced crumbs. “There’s cream cheese inside there?”
In answer, Patty pulled out one of the rolls and broke it open, releasing a warm, spicy scent. White cream oozed in the center of the roll, ribbons of dark cinnamon sugar running through it, and Johnny’s mouth watered.
Taking pity on him, Patty handed him half the roll and took a big bite out of the other half. Johnny had to hold back an obscene groan at the decadent richness of the yeasty, light pastry wrapped around warm, tangy-sweet cream cheese. They finished their treat in the silence that accompanies food so delicious that the eaters want nothing to distract them from their enjoyment.
“Incredible.” Johnny gave in to temptation and licked his fingers clean. “I never knew … and she must love it. No one could create something this delicious without enjoying the process.”
Patty’s smile widened. “There may be hope for you yet, boy. Yes, she does love it. And the bakery customers love her. She’s been happy here, John.”
He wanted to argue, to deny it. He’d been miserable every day they’d been apart. How could Tessa have been happy? But he’d seen it for himself. The way this island had set her smile free and unlocked her laugh. The way she’d grown into herself once she was out of the shadow of their unusual marriage.
“She has a life here,” Patty continued, gentle but implacable. “One she can be proud of. And I won’t lie, I have my own reasons for wanting her to stay—but if you convince her to leave Sanctuary Island with you, you’ll be denying her the chance to live the life she built with her own hands and talent and heart. I’m asking you. Please don’t take her away, John.”
There it was. The answer he thought he’d come here to find … and now that he knew that Tessa was fine without him, that she was happy, what was he supposed to do next?
“I want what’s best for her.” The words scraped painfully on their way out of his constricted throat. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, since the moment I met her.”
Patty’s answering gaze was full of solemn sympathy. “What a coincidence. That’s what I want, too.”
Behind Patty, a muffled thump sounded from the other side of the door to the kitchen.
With a sense of inevitability, Johnny watched as Patty glanced over her shoulder to see Tessa standing in the doorway, fingers cramped white-knuckled around the shoulder strap of her purse.
Eyes flashing and lips pale, Tessa lifted her chin and said, “Maybe one or both of you should take a minute to ask me what I want.”