Chapter Two
Emma watched the dark stranger leave her shop, his profile strong in the morning sunshine. Jeez, if ever there was a man who could embody all her secret fantasies, it was that guy. She dragged her gaze away as he walked down the street toward the waterfront. So long, pirate king.
“Well then,” a chirpy voice called from the front door. Mrs. Mooney, owner of the curiosity shop next door, stood beaming on the threshold. “I’ve got a new shipment of Venus flytraps today. The kids love them, and I brought one for your front window.”
Emma murmured her thanks. A Venus flytrap? Not her first choice for a cheerful window plant, but Mrs. Mooney seemed so pleased with herself. Her white hair was fashioned in its usual shellacked pouf, and her blue eyeliner was just a little too thick and a bit crooked. Emma suspected Mrs. Mooney’s eyesight was going, but it certainly didn’t stop her from seeing everything that happened on Pine Cove Island. If there was one person who knew the latest gossip and kept a sharp eye on everything, it was Moira Mooney.
The older woman bustled in, setting the small plant on a table near the window. “What have you got whipped up today? I could really use something for Bonbon. He’s been chasing squirrels again, and I think he bruised his paw.”
Emma arranged her features into what she hoped was a look of polite sympathy. Bonbon was Mrs. Mooney’s ridiculously spoiled toy poodle.
Mrs. Mooney sidled up to the counter and stared down. “Well, there’s the chocolate one, but that’s poison for dogs.”
“Mmm,” Emma agreed. She had learned long ago that “mmm” was an all-purpose answer that seemed to appease Mrs. Mooney. There were only three other options for Bonbon in the case. “How about ‘Summer Sunshine’? Would Bonbon like to feel warm and cozy?”
“He’s plenty cozy in his new doggy sweater. What else have you got?”
“Well, here’s ‘Raspberry Kiss,’” Emma said. “But I don’t imagine Bonbon needs a boost of confidence in the looks department.”
Mrs. Mooney snorted. “My Bonbon is the most beautiful dog on the island, and he knows it.”
Emma didn’t doubt it. But she did have to wonder if Bonbon minded having his toenails painted fuchsia. “I think this would be just the thing.” She reached in and pulled out a pale lilac–frosted cupcake. “This is ‘Lavender Bliss.’ It is intended to bring about peaceful moments and good feelings.”
Mrs. Mooney nodded firmly. “That’s perfect for my baby. Thank you, dear.”
Emma couldn’t help but feel a wave of gratitude for the older woman. Mrs. Mooney had been a friend of Emma’s grandmother, and she never doubted Emma’s gift. Her grandmother had been kind to Mrs. Mooney over the years, never missing a chance to remind Emma that true friends came in all different packages—sometimes even the nosy, quirky ones. Mrs. Mooney had always been a believer, which wasn’t very common. There were only a few people on the island who truly believed in the Holloway magic. Almost everyone else, including tourists, treated Emma’s cupcake charms as a whimsical marketing gimmick. Oh, they still bought her baked goods with a wink and a good-natured smile. But they felt the same way toward her cupcakes as they would about finding a four-leaf clover, or making a wish on dandelion fluff. Fairy Cakes baked goods were just like their namesake: make-believe. And if a person happened to feel good after eating a “Be Well” cupcake, they usually shook their heads and told themselves it would have happened anyway.
That was the odd thing about people. They were surrounded by magic all the time, but they just couldn’t see it.
Mrs. Mooney leaned in, her voice vibrating with the gossip she was about to spill. “Have you heard the news? You know the old property on the waterfront?”
Emma knew it well. She could see its front door from her own shop window. It had once been a seafood restaurant, before it went out of business when the economy fell. Since then it had remained empty, and nobody had taken it because the rent was so high. “What about it?”
Mrs. Mooney lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “It’s been purchased! I saw the new owner just yesterday.”
“Mmm.” Emma wiped the counter and eyed the clock on the wall. If prattling on forever was an Olympic sport, Mrs. Mooney would win the gold. “Well, it’s good to know we’ll have another restaurant again.”
“But no, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Mrs. Mooney fluttered her hands dramatically. “It’s not nice at all, my dear. At least not for you. The new shop is going to be a fancy restaurant with French pastries and a bakery with cakes and everything.”
Emma stopped wiping the counter and stared at the older woman, a sinking feeling taking root in the pit of her stomach. “What do you mean, cakes?” It was the last thing she expected to hear. In all the years she had lived on the island, restaurants and coffeehouses had come and gone, but Fairy Cakes had always been there. Her grandmother had owned it, then left it to Emma when she had shown her affinity for sweet charms.
Surely, the new place wouldn’t overshadow her establishment. Surely. But a small knot of fear curled its way through her rib cage. Summer was coming, and she needed all the tourist trade she could get. Would the new place ruin her? She clenched her fingers on the edge of the counter as Mrs. Mooney chattered on about the handsome new shop owner, French pastries, and Bonbon.
If Emma didn’t make enough money to pay the property taxes on her house, she could lose it, and she had lost so much already. The tight grief she kept locked away spiked through her, making her knees weak. First her grandmother dying, and then losing all her savings to her scheming ex-fiancé. She rubbed a hand over her eyes to chase away those awful memories. The house and shop was all Emma had left.
“Oh, and there he is now!” Mrs. Mooney burbled excitedly. “His name is Hunter Kane.” She pointed out the window to the far end of the street. A tall, striking figure of a man stood in a navy sweater and dark denim jeans. He was staring at the vacant waterfront shop, eating a chocolate cupcake from a pink-and-white polka dot box.
No.
It couldn’t be. And yet, as Emma watched the wind ruffle his glossy dark hair, she knew she had made a huge mistake.
Hot anger flooded through her and she took a deep breath. He knew. He had to have known her business would be affected by his fancy new restaurant and bakery, and yet he never once mentioned who he was. She balled her hands into fists, barely hearing Mrs. Mooney’s prattle. It was all too familiar, really. A handsome face, a casual attitude. And underneath it all, he was harboring secrets that would ruin her.
The nerve. The sheer nerve of a man like that was enough to make her want to kick something. Just because he looked like some movie-star god didn’t mean he could just waltz into town, upsetting the lives of lowly mortals because it suited him. Emma hated men who lied, and the only thing she hated more than a lying man was a beautiful lying man.
Without another thought, she marched to the front of the shop and jerked open the door, leaving a bewildered Mrs. Mooney mid-sentence.
“Where are you going, dear?” Mrs. Mooney called.
“Watch the shop for me for just a second, will you?” She slammed the door behind her and narrowed her eyes at her target. “I have to go talk to a rat.”