Sage exhaled a heavy breath as an unexpected truth settled in her heart.
She was going to miss this place.
The warm, velvety rays of sunrise streamed through the large front windows, bathing CeCe’s café in soft sepia tones. Sage blinked back tears as the familiar shapes of polished tabletops and plump, cozy armchairs nestled around a smooth stone fireplace blurred before her eyes.
She’d taken the part-time job at CeCe’s to pay the bills, but it had become so much more. She’d miss the quiet lull before the doors opened to customers, when baker extraordinaire, CeCe Dupree, filled the entire café with the most mouthwatering aromas, from savory sourdough to sweet beignets. She didn’t even mind the 5 a.m. wail of her alarm clock since it meant an hour of one-on-one time with her busy best friend before the first customer bustled through the front door.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” CeCe burst through the swinging door from the kitchen, her arms laden with a tray of fresh-from-the-oven baguettes.
“No. It’s a terrible idea. But I don’t really have a choice.” She’d just finished regaling CeCe with the details of Edwin Mackensie’s proposition, and her friend still couldn’t wrap her head around the absurd assignment, although she’d given her the next three days off despite her reservations.
“But you and Flynn. Alone. For three whole days.” CeCe shook her head, nearly undoing her disheveled topknot of thick black hair. “That’s like putting the Romulans and Klingons on the same starship and not expecting a bloodbath.”
Sage laughed. “I don’t know what concerns me more. That you’re right, or that I finally understand your geeky Star Trek references.”
“I knew our Next Generation marathon would pay off.” CeCe grinned and slid a baguette into a crinkling brown paper sleeve. She added the still-steaming bread to the cavernous canvas tote bag bursting with half a dozen other loaves she’d already stuffed inside, amplifying their buttery scent.
“But seriously.” CeCe met her gaze across the lacquered cedar countertop, worry reflected in her wire-rimmed glasses. “Doesn’t the fact that you’ll be stuck on a sailboat together seem sort of morose given your history?”
Sage twisted her finger around the handle of her coffee mug, willing the unwanted memories away. If she concentrated hard enough, she barely even remembered the day Flynn left her standing alone on the dock, desperately clinging to the fractured remnants of her shattered heart. “That was a long time ago. We were kids. He’s moved on. I’ve moved on. It’s all in the past.”
CeCe raised an eyebrow. “So, I guess we’re going to pretend like I believe you?”
“That would be great.” Sage shot her friend a wry grin, hoping to lighten the mood.
CeCe rolled her eyes but returned the smile, anyway. “I’ll let it slide this time. But when the next three days are over, we’re going to overanalyze every single detail until we’ve talked for so long, we’ve both lost our voices. Got it?”
“‘Make it so.’” Sage saluted, quoting the catchphrase of CeCe’s favorite Star Trek captain, Jean-Luc Picard.
“I’m not sure you’re using that right, but I appreciate the effort.” CeCe laughed, loading a pastry box with profiteroles before dusting them with confectioners’ sugar. Thanks to her overzealous sifting, the silky white powder plumed from the sieve, speckling her dark skin like freshly fallen snow.
Sage resisted the urge to reach across the counter and brush aside the flecks, capturing the mental image instead. CeCe’s bright, unfiltered smile. The apron that read Made of Pie Crust and Stardust. The way her onyx eyes always seemed to look right through her, to her heart and soul.
CeCe was the one person who knew all her secrets, dreams, and hidden heartaches. She’d been there for her when Kevin’s accidental drowning devastated the entire town. And then when Flynn left Blessings Bay without a single word, least of all a goodbye.
Through it all, CeCe remained ever faithful, ever steady. What would she do without her?
Tears welled in her eyes again. “Maybe I shouldn’t go. Maybe opening a bookstore on a sailboat is a bad idea.”
“It’s a great idea,” CeCe assured her. “I’m sorry I filled your head with second thoughts. Don’t worry about Flynn. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“It’s not that. Well, not just that. But on the off chance this wild scheme doesn’t end in total disaster, we won’t work together anymore. I’m not sure I’m ready for that much change. I’ll miss you too much.”
“The change will be a good thing. Besides, we’ll still see each other all the time. The marina is only a stone’s throw away. Literally. I could throw a rock from my patio and hit your sailboat.”
“I guess.” Sage tried to smile, but once she opened her bookshop—if she opened her bookshop—they’d both be business owners with endless responsibilities. A reality that simultaneously thrilled and intimidated her. Although, it was usually the latter. Especially when her ever-present insecurities whispered familiar phrases like You’re not good enough. What makes you think you can do this? You’ll probably fail.
CeCe finagled the pastry box into the overstuffed bag, then stuck a full pound of coffee on top.
“You realize I’ll only be on board the Marvelous Mira for three days,” Sage reminded her. “And Edwin Mackensie offered to provide all the essentials, even groceries. You don’t have to pack half the bakery.”
“Except you can’t cook. And without coffee, you’re crankier than a Cardassian with a neck cramp.” CeCe rattled off another Star Trek reference as if her extreme level of nerdiness was normal. “Flynn’s already incurred your wrath. He won’t stand a chance if you’re uncaffeinated, too.”
“Fair enough,” Sage conceded, ignoring the way her stomach clenched at the mention of Flynn’s name. “Thanks for giving me the time off, especially on such short notice.”
“Of course! If it means you finally get to open your bookstore, I’m on board. Pun intended,” CeCe teased. “Besides, I’ve heard about Edwin Mckensie’s eccentric shenanigans, but I’ve never been this close to one. I kinda want to see how it plays out.”
“Glad my misery can provide some entertainment,” Sage said with playful sarcasm.
“I mean, all you have to do is throw in a cute dog, and you’re basically starring in one of Jayce’s movies.” CeCe blushed, as she did every time she mentioned their childhood friend turned mega Hollywood star Jayce Hunt. But for once, Sage breezed over CeCe’s lifelong unrequited crush, intent on setting the record straight.
“Except, Jayce only stars in romantic comedies. And there is zero chance Flynn and I will be sailing off into the sunset. Zero,” she added for emphasis.
Thankfully, CeCe had the good sense not to respond. She slid the overflowing tote bag across the countertop. “You’d better hurry. You’re supposed to be at the marina in five minutes, and you don’t want Flynn to get a head start on finding that diary.”
Sage drained the last drop of her lavender honey latte and hopped off the stool. “Wish me luck.”
CeCe rounded the front counter and enveloped her in a hug. “Three days will be over before you know it.”
Sage sincerely hoped so, but as her sandals slapped against the wooden dock mere minutes later, time seemed to slow with each footstep. Apprehension built in her chest, crowding out her lungs.
Breathe. In and out. In and out.
She concentrated on each breath, matching the rhythm to the gentle lapping of waves against the pilings. Internally, every impulse screamed for her to turn and run. Outwardly, she raised her chin an inch higher, feigning confidence.
Don’t let Flynn see how much he hurt you. Be strong. Be impassive.
The Marvelous Mira loomed ahead, moored in the last slip at the end of the dock. The main mast partially obscured the sun, splitting it down the middle, scattering streaks of bronzed light on either side. Her pulse quickened. Even after months beached ashore a small uninhabited island, sun-bleached and weather-beaten, the svelte schooner was easily the prettiest boat at Blessings Marina. And to think, in a few days, she could be hers.
Sage tightened her grip on her duffel bag, careful not to shift the heavy tote slung over one shoulder. Her heart pounded, vibrating with the force of a hundred honeybees humming in unison… until her gaze fell on Flynn, standing beside Herman Chesterfield near the gangway. Their eyes met, and the frantic beating stopped instantly, as if he’d thrown a switch. As if he still had control over her heart, even after all these years.
Each carefully controlled breath evaporated, leaving her light-headed. She reached for a railing for support, but her fingertips met air. She had nothing to hold her steady. Nothing to ease the dizziness. She could only hope Flynn felt equally disoriented.
No such luck.
He smiled when he saw her—actually smiled!—like her presence didn’t evoke unbearable dread and discomfort. The nerve! He should be sweating. Or squirming. Anything but smiling.
She glared when she should’ve glanced away. She didn’t need to see how good he looked in his light-blue polo and linen shorts. Or the way his chestnut hair ruffled in the salty breeze. Her fingers had once combed through those windswept strands. They’d traced the tender spot behind his ear, down the curve of his neck, making his toes curl. Sage wet her lips. Her mouth felt dry, as if she’d swallowed buckets of sand, and heat blazed across her skin. Mortified by the intimate memory, she tore her gaze away from Flynn, only to glimpse something equally unnerving.
An adorable golden retriever sat by Flynn’s feet, gazing at her with the most beautiful heart-melting brown eyes.
CeCe’s words flooded her mind. Throw in a cute dog, and you’re basically starring in one of Jayce’s movies. Sage groaned. Great. Just what she needed.
“You bought a dog?” she blurted before she could stop herself. Dog lover didn’t jibe with her image of Flynn as a soulless corporate sellout.
“Technically, I didn’t buy him. We sort of found each other five years ago. It’s a long story.” He turned to Herman. “Hope it’s not breaking any rules if Cap tags along. I couldn’t leave him with my parents. Their version of pet-sitting is a bowl of water and a flat-screen set on an endless loop of Animal Planet.”
“I don’t anticipate that Mr. Mackensie will mind.”
As Flynn scratched the scruff at the pup’s neck, Sage suppressed an irrational, inexplicable, utterly irritating sliver of envy.
Five years. He can commit to a dog, but not you.
Ugh. She was jealous. Of a dog. She’d sunk to a new low.
“Shall we get started?” Herman interjected. “I’ll need to lay out a few ground rules before I leave you.”
Before I leave you. The words echoed inside her head, loud and ominous. She contemplated begging Herman to stay as some sort of buffer. Maybe she could bribe him with a binge session of The Great British Bake Off?
“Let me guess,” Flynn said. “The boat’s rigged with sensors, so Mackensie will know if one of us tries to bolt. Or throws the other person overboard.” He caught her eye and flashed a wry grin.
Her traitorous stomach did a somersault. Cut it out. Sure, she used to find his playful personality charming. And his easy, fun-loving smile used to make her swoon. Used to, past tense. Before she learned the hard way that Flynn Cahill may have charisma, but he didn’t have character. A far more important quality.
She frowned, shooting him a look that said, Can we stay on track, please?
“Mr. Mackensie is abiding by the honor system,” Herman told them. “But he wanted to let you know that he’s made sure the head and galley are in working order. And all provisions are to be shared equally.”
Relief raced through her. With all her worrying about today, she hadn’t even considered the condition of the bathroom and kitchen. Thankfully, Edwin Mackensie had. But why had he gone to so much trouble to fix a boat he planned to sell for next to nothing? He’d just leapfrogged from eccentric to certifiable.
“Any questions before you embark?” Herman glanced between her and Flynn.
“Just one,” Flynn said. “How many beds are there?”
“I believe there’s only one, sir.”
At Herman’s far-too-casual confession, Sage’s stomach vaulted before plummeting into a free fall. No way. This wasn’t happening. Under no circumstances would she share a bed with Flynn “Can’t Be Counted On” Cahill. She’d sooner sleep topside with a life buoy as a pillow than sleep in the same room with him, let alone the same bed.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Flynn. But for a split second, from the corner of her eye, she thought she caught the faintest of smiles. A possibility that didn’t upset her as much as it should.