Chapter Two

 

* JULIA *

 

I wiped my hands on my apron and eyed the man in front of me warily.

“You look an awful lot like Zach,” I said. And it was true. Despite claiming to be Zach’s twin brother instead of Zach himself, the man in front of me looked like the spitting image of Zachary Evans. Well, he looked like the spitting image of all the photos of Zachary Evans that I had ever seen, I should say. I had never seen Zach in person, and up until now I’d had no desire to. But I had to admit that the man in front of me was a treat for the eyes. His dark brown hair was mussed up in an adorable way that looked quite different from the slicked back look Zach’s hair always had in official photographs. The steel blue eyes were the same as Zach’s but these eyes seemed to have more warmth in them than I was used to seeing in photos of Zach. Was it possible that this really was a different man than Zach? The differences were subtle, but there.

“What did you say your name was again?” I asked.

The man sighed, as though he was once again about to explain to a four-year-old why it was a bad idea to run across the street without looking. “I’m Logan Evans. Zach’s twin. Not identical twin, mind you. Although we apparently look enough alike for everyone to mistake us for each other.”

“Logan,” I repeated, trying the name out on my tongue. I liked the way it sounded more than I wanted to admit. Even if this man wasn’t Zach himself, he was still an Evans. And everyone on Driftwood Island knew that the Evans were nothing but trouble. The Evans resort had been trying for years to buy up more beachfront property and expand. Luckily, all of the townspeople thus far had resisted their efforts. The resort was nothing but an eyesore that drained money away from the local economy. Sure, it brought plenty of tourists in from the mainland. But those tourists rarely left the boundaries of the resort property. They never ventured out to the local businesses and restaurants, and as a result all of the local business owners struggled to get by. Including me. Sometimes I wondered why I had ever thought it was a good idea to try to open a little coffee shop here. I knew no tourists visited downtown. But somehow I thought my little café would be different.

Nope. I was struggling just as much as anyone else. Maybe more so, considering I needed money for surgery for my beloved Labrador and had no hope of getting enough anytime soon. My only chance was a bank loan, which was not likely to be granted. Not when everyone down at the bank knew as well as I did that my café was barely scraping by. The scowl on my face deepened. The last thing I needed right now was an Evans boy coming to gloat, regardless of whether his name was Zach or Logan or how handsome he might be.

Logan, as he claimed to be, acted oblivious to my glares. He had sauntered over to the pastry case now, and was squinting down at the goodies inside. For some reason, I felt nervous. I took a lot of pride in my work, and if he made fun of my adorably decorated cupcakes or cookies, it was going to crush me. I shouldn’t care what he thought, but for some reason I did. After all, he was a big, rich billionaire. He probably knew when a cupcake actually looked good or not. I chewed my lower lip as I watched him, trying not to notice how good his ass looked from the side. His jeans were obviously expensive, as was the t-shirt he wore. Everything just looked like it was a step above the sort of clothes my friends and I normally wore. Okay, maybe ten steps above. He was going to hate my cupcakes. I just knew it. They were too cutesy and “homemade” looking. I felt my cheeks heating red with embarrassment, and I wished that he would just leave my shop already.

“These are really something,” he said, cutting into my thoughts as he looked up from the case.

“Um, thanks. I think?” I wasn’t sure if he was complimenting me or making fun of me. He grinned at me, flashing the whitest, straightest teeth I had ever seen.

“Do they taste as good as they look?”

“Uh…” Why had I suddenly lost my ability to speak? “Sure. I guess. You’ll have to try one yourself to find out.”

Did I really just act all snarky to the richest man I’ve ever met? I should be encouraging him to buy up the whole pastry case instead of acting snide. But instead of apologizing or trying to gloss over my words, I just stood there staring at him like an idiot. He looked down at the pastry case again, then glanced up at me with a slightly amused expression on his face.

“I’ll take a dozen cupcakes.”

I swallowed hard. I think I’d only sold a dozen bakery items this entire day so far, and it was late in the afternoon—nearly closing time. Logan was about to singlehandedly double my daily sales, and it was all I could do not to let out a small whoop of relief. Maybe I’d actually break even today.

“Uh, sure. Of course,” I tried not to stammer and failed miserably. “Which, uh, ones would you like?”

He flashed me that bright white smile again, and I felt a strange, fluttering sensation in my stomach. This guy was hot. I was obliged to hate him because of who he was, but damn. I couldn’t keep my whole body from feeling like it was going up in flames when he grinned at me. Too bad he was an Evans and off limits. He would have been the perfect man for a quick summer fling. I’d been wishing for a handsome tourist to waltz in here, eat my cupcakes, sweep me off my feet, and take my V-card already. I was twenty-five years old, and I was starting to feel like it was never going to happen for me. Sure, there were plenty of local boys who would have been happy to help me out, but I didn’t want to sleep with a guy just because he was there. I wanted my first time to be special. Magical. Romantic. The local boys all felt entitled to me just because I was a local. None of them ever treated me like I was special. None of them had ever sparked desire in me like Logan had done in a matter of minutes. I could feel myself starting to go wet between my legs, and it was all I could do to focus on what he was saying. He might be handsome, and I was sure he knew all the tricks to making a woman feel special. But nothing he’d done had implied he had any interest in me beyond my cupcakes. Besides, he was the enemy.

Why was it so hard to keep reminding myself of that when I looked into those baby blues of his?

“Why don’t you choose for me?” The sound of his voice brought me out of my muddled thoughts.

“Choose what for you?” I asked like an idiot.

“The cupcakes. You know better than I do which ones are best. Pick a dozen for me.”

“Oh, right. The cupcakes. Of course.” I felt my face turning hot, and I was sure it was bright red. I ducked behind the pastry case to hide, and wondered why it was so hard to get a grip around him. I found myself feeling irrationally angry at him. Who did he think he was, coming into my shop and acting all nonchalant and friendly, like his resort hadn’t been the bane of my town’s existence my entire life? I decided then and there to choose the most expensive cupcakes possible. I had a few “premium” flavors that involved extra ingredients like fresh fruit fillings, crème centers, or liquor enhanced frosting. He was going to get the priciest cupcakes I had on offer. That’s what he got for being a billionaire asshole.

“Anything else?” I asked, as I popped back up from behind the pastry case, feeling much more in control of the situation than I had a minute ago. He wasn’t even watching me anymore, though. He had wandered over to the old-fashioned jukebox I had installed in one corner of the café, and was flipping through the songs with interest.

“I’ll take a large coffee, too,” he called back without turning away from the jukebox.

“Just a drip coffee? Or do you want a latte or something like that?”

“Just drip. I’m a simple guy.”

I rolled my eyes behind his back. Yeah, right. The billionaire was a simple guy. I thought for a moment about trying to upsell him to at least an Americano, but then decided not to bother. He hadn’t seemed to care about the cupcake flavors, but he obviously had strong opinions about his coffee, and I didn’t want to push him too far.

“Alright, it’ll be just a minute. I’ll need to make a fresh pot.” The coffee on the burner right now had been there for about three hours. As much as I disliked the Evans family and their resort, I wasn’t about to serve Logan hours old coffee. I did have some pride in my work, after all.

“No problem. Take your time.” He was pulling out his wallet to buy some song credits on the jukebox, and I found myself curious as to what his taste in music would be. My guess would be something a little angst-ridden or edgy. He probably liked to claim he was a bit of a bad boy, when really he was just a nerd hiding behind all his money.

To my surprise, a few moments later the room filled with the sounds of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” I couldn’t help turning to give him a confused look, which he didn’t notice because he was still peering at the jukebox’s screen.

“Um, did you hit the wrong button?” I asked. That could not possibly be the song he meant to play.

“Nope. I know it’s June, but I love Christmas music. I just bought three hours worth of it.”

My jaw dropped. “Three hours worth? You realize this café closes in an hour? If you were planning to sit here for three hours and eat all dozen of these cupcakes in one sitting, you probably should have come in a bit earlier.”

He turned around and flashed that irresistible smile again. “Oh, no. I’m not going to stay. I have to get over to the resort to take care of some business. But I thought I’d leave you with a little holiday cheer.”

He winked at me, and I felt my stomach fluttering once again. I was sure he could read my feelings on my face, and I coughed and turned around to try to cover up the fact that he was melting me from the inside out.

“Um, of course. Whatever you say. There’s nothing like a little holiday cheer in the middle of June.” I started pouring him a giant to-go cup of coffee. This guy was weird. And yet he made me feel funny, delightful things that I had never felt before. The sooner I got him out of my café, the better.

He walked back up to the counter, still holding the credit card he’d used to buy three hours worth of song credits on the jukebox. “Here. I’ll pay and get out of your hair so you can start closing up shop. My limo driver is probably wondering what happened to me by this point anyway.”

I took the card he handed me, and gawked at how heavy it was. It felt almost like it was made out of real metal. One glance down at it told me it was a black American Express. I tried not to look shocked, but I couldn’t help it. I’m pretty sure my mouth was hanging open wider than it ever had. Like a total klutz, I dropped the card, and it clanged loudly on the counter.

Horribly embarrassed, I rushed to grab it up again, but he was already reaching for the card to hand it back to me like a gentleman. His hand brushed against mine and I felt like electric sparks had suddenly filled the air. The fluttering in my stomach was now a full blown hurricane, and I found myself struggling to breathe normally. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was this man affecting me like this?

Hurriedly, I pulled my hand away, gripping the card firmly so that I wouldn’t drop it again. I swiped the card before I even bothered to tell him the total, then I winced when I realized how much he’d just spent on cupcakes. Each of the premium flavors I’d chosen for him cost five dollars or more, so the total for his dozen cupcakes, plus his extra large drip coffee, came to seventy-five dollars. I handed him the receipt to sign and braced myself, waiting for him to yell at me that I must have overcharged him, because why else would he be paying the better part of a hundred dollars for a box of cupcakes.

But he didn’t even glance at the total. He just scribbled his name across the bottom of the receipt, took his card back from me, and started fishing in his wallet for something else. A moment later, he pulled out a handful of cash and dropped it in the tip jar without even looking at how much it was. He slipped his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, grabbed his box of cupcakes and his coffee cup, and winked at me again before heading out the front door of the café just as the sounds of “Santa Baby” started filling the room.

For a good three minutes, at least, I don’t think I moved an inch. I just stared at the door where he had been moments before, and allowed myself to daydream about what it would be like to lose my virginity to a man as rich and handsome as Logan Evans.

When the song once again switched, this time to “Jingle Bells,” I forced myself to face reality. I turned to begin cleaning up what little there was to clean behind the front counter. I was definitely ready to close up shop and go home. No way was I going to hang around here for three more hours, listening to Christmas music and thinking about the strange yet seductive man who had made such a ridiculous playlist on a hot, steamy June afternoon.

Especially when that man, for all his charms, was one of the biggest enemies of everyone I knew and loved.