Paige tossed and turned all night, puzzling over Declan’s cryptic words.

“Maybe you’re not the woman you think you are.”

She got up and went to the window, looking out across the moonlit bay. Even though she knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her, she couldn’t shake it. Of course she knew herself: she was nearly thirty years old, a grown woman. She had a job, an apartment—a life. She’d been out in the world on her own for years, and now he’d rolled up for all of twenty minutes and thought he had her figured out? Arrogant didn’t even begin to cover it.

Arrogant and hot.

But he was wrong, Paige thought stubbornly. There was nothing holding her back from her new adventures. She could do anything she wanted! She could strip naked right now and go skinny-dipping in the midnight waves, just her and the ocean tide.

Except, the water might be rough out. And she could catch a chill. And somebody might see.

OK, so maybe that wasn’t the best idea.

She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, closing her eyes a moment to remember the feel of his fingertips brushing her bare shoulder. Her body tightened just thinking about it, the delicious rush of sensation she could feel echoing through her, even now.

She exhaled. This was why she stayed away from men like Declan: the charmers, the chancers. Men who were used to getting everything they wanted, walking in the room and seeing women’s heads turn. Their confidence could be intoxicating, but the next morning, they would be off craving another adventure, another conquest, while the last one was left still dizzy from the adrenaline, feeling like nothing would live up to the thrill again.

Paige had fallen for someone like that once. She was just out of college, and he’d been a regular at her local bar. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark leather jacket . . . Looking back, she couldn’t believe she’d fallen for his whole “bad boy” thing, but what could she say? She was young, and he knew all the right lines. It had been thrilling, that summer—a whirlwind of heat, and sidewalk kisses, and nights they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. And then, of course, summer had ended, and he’d figured it was time to move on. “You knew what this was,” he’d said, almost kindly, as she’d tried her best not to let him see her cry. “I’m just not a ‘meet the parents’ kind of guy.”

He was right, she should have known better, and Paige remembered that, every time another dazzling stranger wandered into her life. When someone tells you who they are, believe them. Declan had made it clear exactly who he was . . .

So why couldn’t she shake this restless desire, still itching in her veins despite all her better judgment? She was letting him get under her skin, when all she really wanted was—

Him in her bed.

Paige flushed. She wondered what would happen if she just showed up on his doorstep, dressed in the new nightgown she’d been working on. Purple silk, dark as dusk, a sinful scrap that barely covered her body . . . She’d brought it with her for the weekend, to work on the embroidery. She went to her bag and lifted it up, imagining the look on his face as she peeled off her jacket to reveal the seductive curves . . .

Unless he burst out laughing at her for even trying to play the femme fatale.

Just then, she saw headlights approaching down below. She stuffed the negligee away and watched from the window as a car pulled up out front. The engine cut, and she could hear the sound of Eliza and Cal’s laughter as they opened the front door and made their way upstairs, hushing their whispers, and giggling in the dark hallway until their bedroom door clicked shut.

Paige slipped back into bed and closed her eyes. Her sister never cared what people thought of her. Paige had always envied that. While Eliza stomped around their high school in chunky boots and grungy dungarees, she’d labored to fit in with the rest of the girls: sleek hairstyle, the right denim, the little pink backpacks everyone was wearing that year. No scandal, no gossip. She’d become an expert at flying under the radar, so agreeable, that it surprised people when she dared stand up for herself. She wasn’t a pushover, but Paige preferred to keep a low profile rather than make trouble.

Now, she wondered if she should have risked a little more. Practiced, so that now that she was older, she might have been more comfortable stepping out of line.

But maybe it wasn’t too late to try . . .

---

Despite her restless night, Paige woke to such a blue-skied, bright morning that all her turmoil was forgotten. Now this was a summer day just made for relaxing. She showered and dressed quickly in cut-offs and a loose, breezy shirt, tying her hair up in a ponytail with her favorite silk scarf before bounding downstairs.

“Look at you, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed.” Eliza was in the kitchen, hugging a mug of coffee like it was her favorite childhood security blanket. “You must have got back early last night.”

Paige gave a vague shrug. “I was tired from the drive,” she lied. “Where’s Cal?” she asked. “Do you guys have plans for the weekend?”

“Nope.” Eliza beamed. “I mean, he’s around, but I cleared my schedule for you. I haven’t seen you properly in months.”

“We chat all the time!”

“I know, but it’s not the same.” Eliza got up. “Ready for breakfast? I thought we could head to the bakery for our sugar fix. How do fresh maple morning buns sound?”

“Like heaven.” Paige laughed. “I’ll drive.”

“Wait!” Eliza brightened. “I have a better idea.” She grabbed her purse and led Paige out to the garage, throwing open the doors to reveal their old bicycles. “Do you remember, we used to ride them all around town.”

“Do they even work?” Paige looked dubiously at the rusted frames.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Eliza wheeled hers out and mounted it. “Race you to the top of the hill?”

She took off before Paige could stop her, leaving no choice but to follow. Paige quickly swung her leg over the saddle, and set off after her, pumping hard on the pedals. Her spinning classes were good for something, at least. She crested the hill just behind Eliza, and then overtook her, coasting down the other side. The morning breeze rippled her linen shirt, and she laughed, feeling weightless for a moment.

“Hey, wait up!” she heard Eliza’s voice behind her.

“I win!” she called, sing-song.

“Did not!” Eliza laughed. “That was a tie.”

She slowed until they were riding side by side, winding down the empty country lane until they reached the quaint bakery, set amongst the blackberry bushes that gave it its name. It was early, but there was already a crowd filling the tables outside in the morning sun. They took their places in line, and were soon at the counter, admiring the spread of scones, pies, and other delicious treats.

“I can’t choose.” Paige’s mouth watered as she gazed at the spread. Airy muffins, glazed fruit tarts . . .

“Then let me.” The baker herself, Summer, appeared from the kitchen with a tray of croissants. “Fresh from the oven,” she said, her blonde hair pulled back with a brightly patterned headband. “And you have to try the sticky buns. I threw some chocolate chips in today.”

“It would be rude to argue,” Eliza agreed, accepting the plates that Summer piled high with flaky pastries. “Come join us, take a break.”

“I will when the rush dies down.” Summer eyed the line behind them. “Which will be sometime next year at this rate.”

“The price of popularity,” Eliza said. “That’s what you get for being a genius with buttercream.”

Paige reached for her purse. “What do we owe you?” she asked, but Summer waved her away with a cloud of powdered sugar.

“Please, it’s on the house,” she insisted, so Paige stuffed a few bills in the tip jar instead and followed Eliza to where she grabbed them a table in the corner. Her sister scooped up a copy of the local newspaper and began reading.

“I thought you spent all week editing that thing?” Paige said, amused at her focus. Eliza had traded her Boston newspaper job for the Cape Cod Caller, but she still treated the gardening columns and local features like they were front-page news.

“I know, but I need to check that the printers didn’t miss anything.” Eliza pored over the type until Paige gently tugged the newspaper away and set it aside.

“What was that about quality time?” Paige teased, and Eliza laughed.

“OK, OK. So What’s been going on? How’s work? Any hot dates I should know about?”

“Um, nope,” Paige replied quickly, glancing away. She didn’t want to mention Declan and make it a whole thing. “And work is . . . interesting.” She quickly filled her sister in on Lexi’s MILF-loving escapades.

“Seriously?” Eliza cringed. “What will you do?”

Paige shrugged, breaking off a corner of croissant. “What can I do? It’s not my company. I’ll design what they ask. Even if it makes me die a little inside.”

Eliza shook her head, angrily munching on a muffin. “I would take a stand. Try and make the boss see sense or organize a walkout. Stage a protest!”

“And then what?” Paige asked, amused. “Wind up job-hunting all over again?”

Eliza grinned. “OK, maybe not.”

“It’s nice to see you’re mellowing in your old age,” Paige teased her. “What was that you learned about compromise and getting along?”

Eliza laughed. “I compromise with Cal just fine,” she said. “But I’m serious, you shouldn’t hate your work. You put your time and energy into those designs, don’t just roll over for some interloper.”

“That interloper is married to the boss, so I don’t think she’s going anywhere,” Paige said dryly. She gave a shrug, not wanting to make a big deal about it. “It’s fine, I’ll figure something out.”

“Of course you will,” Eliza said loyally. Her gaze caught something outside. “Ooh, Gordon! I just need to check about his bridge column for next week. Be right back!” She darted outside just as Summer came over and sank into a free chair with a sigh.

“That’s better,” she said, wriggling her toes free from their sensible clogs.

“You must be run off your feet now that it’s tourist season,” Paige remarked, looking around the bustling space.

Summer nodded. “I won’t complain, but it’s non-stop from Memorial Day all the way through to Labor Day. And then I barely get a breather before the holidays.”

“You moved here recently too, right?” Paige asked curiously.

“Last year.” Summer smiled. “My best friend moved here, and I fell in love with this place too, so I quit my job to make it happen.”

“You just dived right in?”

“Pretty much. Don’t get me wrong,” Summer added, “I’d been dreaming about opening my own bakery forever. I’d run all the figures, planned everything, down to the last teacup. But I had to take a leap sometime, and when I stumbled over this place . . . Well, the hot landlord didn’t hurt either,” she said with a wink, and Paige smiled.

“It just seems pretty daunting, starting out on your own,” she said.

Summer nodded. “There were some close calls, but in the end, I just asked myself, what have I got to lose? I could have spent the next ten years in someone else’s kitchen, waiting for the perfect moment to strike out alone. My dreams were worth the risk, I figured.”

“It looks like it paid off,” Paige noted, as Eliza came bustling back inside.

“Aunt June says Poppy is going stir crazy on bed rest,” she reported. “The baby’s due any day now.”

“You should have said!” Paige cried. “I have a ton of baby clothing samples I could have brought down.”

“Next time,” Eliza promised. “I thought about dropping by. Want to come deliver some pastries and gossip?”

“You go ahead,” Paige told her. “I think I’m going to ride into Provincetown, stretch my legs some more. Meet you there for lunch?”

“If you can even think about your next meal,” Eliza groaned. “I’m stuffed!”

“It’s a gift.”