Pretty as a Peach by Juliette Poe (29)

Darby

Six weeks later

I run up the porch steps and burst through the front door of Millie’s. Three pairs of eyes all turn toward me. Larkin, who is on top of an eight-foot ladder stringing lit garland over the entryway into the sitting room; Morri D, who is standing at the bottom of the ladder and feeding more garland up to Larkin; and Laken, who is slouched sideways on one of the chairs filing her nails.

“Where’s Mely?” I ask as I look around.

“She and Lowe left this morning,” Morri says.

I do a double take at his outfit. He’s wearing a winter white suit with a red lamè shirt underneath of it and a dashing piece of red lamé in the front pocket poking out. This is set off by the glittering red loafers and a white Fedora with a red lamé strip around it.

I nod at Morri’s clothes. “You look festive.”

“’Tis the season,” he says with a snap of his fingers by his head.

Indeed.

’Tis the season.

We are five days away from Christmas, and Santa just came early today.

I had forgotten Mely and Lowe were taking a much overdue and needed honeymoon. They’re going to St. Lucia for a week, and I envy them. Not because it’s overly cold here in North Carolina, although there are some nights it can get down into the twenties, but because I have been working my butt off at the farm and I need a vacation myself. But that I can deal with later. This is much more important.

“So what’s your news?” Laken asks.

Mely and Lowe opened Millie’s Bed and Breakfast four weeks ago. They did an amazing job with the decorating and furnishing. When people walk in the front doors, they enter into a large foyer which was turned into a registration area. There’s a curved writing desk with an elegant white leather chair that sits behind it. It holds a leather-bound registration book that guests fill in by hand. The old-fashioned and oversized brass keys to the four rooms upstairs hang on the wall. To the right is a large entryway that leads into a formal sitting room filled with plush seating. Heading through that room toward the rear of the house is another room Mely turned into a dining area. It has six round tables that each sit four people. To the left of the foyer is the kitchen, which is closed off to guests and has become Larkin’s domain.

About two weeks after opening, Mely had approached Larkin about coming on as a partner in the business. The deal was she would not have to put any money in but would supply both time helping to run the place and coordinating the kitchen staff.

It turns out Larkin ended up doing a lot of the cooking and baking herself. Of course, she had to hire some extra help over at Sweet Cakes, but she said the money she made at Millie’s more than offset it. Plus, she said she liked the challenge.

To everyone’s surprise, Millie’s ended up becoming a huge hit. While it wasn’t completely booked every single night, at least three out of the four rooms were usually taken at any time. One of the things that drew people in was that Larkin started having a high tea every Thursday afternoon. This often brought in out-of-town visitors who wanted to get away for a few days and would stay throughout the weekend.

Morri walks up to me and snaps his fingers in front of my face, causing me to blink and focus in on him. “Morri to Darby… Morri to Darby… Come in, Darby.”

I laugh and swat him away from me.

“It’s final,” I say with an excited shake to my voice, holding up the manila envelope that had just come in to the post office. I give a little squeal of excitement.

Larkin scrambles down the ladder and rushes toward me. She snatches the envelope out of my hands and digs into the opening I had torn into not long ago. She pulls out a multipage document stapled in the upper left corner. Holding it out, she reads it like a proud mom, “Final Divorce Decree.”

“You’re a free woman,” Laken exclaims as she bounces off the chair and joins us.

Morri peers over Larkin’s shoulder to look at the most beautiful document in the world. Mitch and I are now officially and legally over. Of course, he’ll always be in my life to some extent. He does have to pay child support for Linnie, and I suppose there will be occasions where he wants to see her. So far since the entire spectacle went down with him torching Colt’s farm, he has not asked to see Linnie once.

On the flip side, Linnie hasn’t asked to see her dad either.

I find that incredibly sad because even though I’m not Mitch’s biggest fan, I’m afraid he’s going to end up having massive regrets one day. As for Linnie, she seems to be handling this better than I am. I’ve been told kids are more resilient than adults, and she is making me a believer.

These days, her life is filled with so much friendship and activity I have to keep a daily planner just so I know where my daughter is.

“Have you told Colt?” Larkin asks.

“He was the first call I made,” I tell her. “We’re going to eat dinner tonight at Clementine’s to celebrate.”

“So much for being a free woman,” Laken mutters.

Larkin gives a slight punch to her sister’s shoulder. “Be quiet. You have no reason to be teasing anyone when you act like a lovestruck fool every time Jake is around.”

Laken blushes, and Morri laughs. Larkin holds up a finger as if she has a brilliant idea and says, “Champagne. This calls for champagne.”

She dashes off into the kitchen, which is closed off from the foyer with a wooden swinging door.

While we wait for her, I point to the garland and ask, “Y’all are a little late in decorating for Christmas, aren’t you?”

“Mely put up a Christmas tree in the formal room, but Larkin didn’t think it was enough,” Morri says with a huff. His tone is prissy and irate at the same time. “Why I’m down here volunteering my time and energy to decorate this place is beyond me.”

“It’s because you have a crush on the FedEx driver, Kelvin. Every time you come to visit, you order stuff to be delivered just so you can see him.”

Morri gasps and flutters his hand over his heart. “That’s a bald-faced lie.”

Laken opens her mouth to retort, but all three of us turn in surprise when the front door to Millie’s opens and a tall, muscular man fills the area. My eyes adjust to the glare from the sunlight behind him, and I immediately recognize him as the biker who had talked to Larkin and me several weeks ago.

He’s dressed much the same way he was then, except he’s got a little bit more gear on for the colder weather. He’s wearing the black leather chaps, but the motorcycle jacket is thicker and comes down below his hips. There’s a bandanna tied around his face just over his nose, presumably to keep the chilly air out as he rides, and he’s actually wearing a black knit ski cap on his head.

Pulling his sunglasses off and the bandanna down so it hangs around his neck, his gaze focuses in on me for a moment before sweeping the interior foyer.

“Um… hello,” I say after I unglue my tongue off the top of my mouth.

The man’s gaze comes back to me, and he nods. “Got a room available?”

I glance at Morri, who is staring with his mouth hanging wide open at the huge biker. He doesn’t necessarily look scared, but he does look wary. When I look at Laken, she is boldly running her gaze up and down him. I nudge her, and she mutters, “There’s no crime in looking.”

The kitchen swing-through door bursts open, and Larkin comes running through holding a bottle of champagne in her hand. She has the foil and wire cage removed, and she’s in the process of trying to pull the cork. “I can’t find any glasses. Let’s just redneck it and drink from the bottle.”

Larkin sees the biker and comes to an abrupt halt. The bottle of champagne falls out of her hands and hits the thick Chinese silk rug, which thankfully cushions it enough from breaking. However, the force of the impact causes the cork to shoot out, whereby it slams into the biker’s calf. It looks like that could have really hurt had he not been wearing thick leather. As it is, he just looks down curiously at the cork lying on the floor.

Larkin doesn’t move. She just stares wide-eyed at the biker while champagne continues to pour out all over the silk rug.

I scramble to pick the bottle up, completely amused over Larkin’s reaction. When I stand, the biker is staring right back at her. I can tell by his expression he was hoping to see her.

Very interesting. In fact, I’d bet he came back to town just to see her.

“Um… Larkin…this gentleman would like a room. Do you have one?”

That seems to startle Larkin out of her daze, and she rushes behind the writing desk to open the leather-bound book in the center. “Um… of course we have a room.”

The biker crosses the foyer to stand in front of the desk. Morri and Laken take three steps back to give him room. Larkin proceeds to flip to a blank page before taking a pen out of the desk drawer. She doesn’t look up from the book, but starts asking the man questions.

“How long are you going to stay?”

“No clue,” he says gruffly. “Until I get bored and decide to leave.”

I find this to be fascinating, but Larkin stares at the blank pages of the registration book. “And would you like to add on a complimentary breakfast each morning?”

“If it’s complimentary, why wouldn’t I?” he asks.

Larkin still refuses to look at him. “Well, some people prefer to eat over at Central Café for a bigger type of breakfast. The complimentary breakfast is nothing but some fruit and pastries.”

“I think I’ll pass on the complimentary breakfast, then. If I want a pastry, I’ll just walk over to that bakery I saw.”

With her head still bowed over the book, Larkin continues this ridiculous conversation with him by saying, “Oh… that’s my bakery.”

“Really?” the biker says with clear amusement in his voice.

“That’s right,” Larkin says in a noticeably high-pitched tone. She still refuses to look at him and starts rambling on. “I opened it almost six years ago. I do mostly cakes and cookies, but I do some specialty items like seasonal pies.”

To my surprise, the biker reaches a hand out and puts a finger gently under Larkin’s chin, forcing her face up so she has to look at him. “You have pretty eyes. You shouldn’t be hiding them.”

“Oh, my word,” Morri says dramatically. He turns to sashay into the sitting room while fanning his face with his hand. Taking a seat on the chair Laken had vacated, he watches the action with avid interest.

I eye Laken, and she smirks back at me.

Larkin seems to remember she was in the middle of registering a new guest, so she turns the registration book toward him. “If you would just fill this out.”

The man bends over after pulling his gloves off and takes the pen from her. He scratches the information down and then pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. “I assume you need a credit card?”

Larkin nods as she turns the book back around to read what he wrote. She peers at it a moment, and then looks up to the stranger. “Deacon Locke?”

He grins at her. “That’s my given name. But most people just call me Locke.”

The front door to Millie’s opens again, and we all turn to see Colt walking in. His eyes zero in on me, and he makes a beeline my way. “Saw your car out front. Thought I would come steal a kiss.”

With no shame or embarrassment, Colt draws me into his arms, puts a hand to the back of my head, and lays a kiss on me that causes my toes to curl so tight I doubt I’ll be able to walk again.

“That was nice,” I murmur as he pulls away.

Colt smiles, but then looks over my head at the man we have just learned is called Deacon Locke. He nods at the guy and says, “What’s up?”

Locke nods at Colt before turning back to Larkin. He hands his credit card to her. She takes it and runs it through a machine before handing it back to him. She then grabs one of the keys hanging behind her.

“Room number three. Top of the stairs, turn left, second door on the right. It has its own bathroom.”

Locke nods and says, “I’ll check it out later. Going to grab something to eat.”

And with that, he walks out the door. There’s nothing but silence for several long moments.

“Who the hell was that?” Colt finally demands of Larkin.

“Just someone who needed a room,” Larkin mutters. She leans to the side to look out one of the glass panes beside the door. If I had to guess, her eyes are probably pinned to Locke’s butt as he walks away.

I turn back to Colt, and he does not look happy about what he’s witnessed so far. He’s only seen a few seconds of the interchange between Larkin and Locke, but it’s enough he’s aware there is some serious chemical attraction going on between the two of them. Although if I had to guess, I would say Larkin probably doesn’t quite understand Locke’s view on things. She’s not the most confident woman.

I can see Colt wants to grill his sister, and I decide I’m not going to let that happen. Grabbing his hand, I pull him into the kitchen.

“Are we still on for Clementine’s tonight?”

“Is Linnie staying all night at the Goddard’s?”

I give a coy smile as I nod, inching closer to him. His arms come around my waist, and his eyes twinkle with mischief. “Think you would be willing to have a sleepover at my place?”

I nod again. “Oh, yeah.”

In the past six weeks, Colt and I have taken our relationship to a physical level. It was slow going, particularly given the fact I have a young daughter and our time together in a truly alone capacity is limited.

But once we got there… Oh, man. It was well worth the wait.

Colt tilts his head and brings his mouth to my neck. The kiss he gives me causes my entire body to shudder. He murmurs in my ear. “Then it’s a date.”

Pulling away from me, he says, “I’ve got some errands to run. Seven o’clock tonight?”

I nod effusively, wishing the hands of time would hurry up and move. “Can’t wait.”

Colt winks at me before he steps through the swinging door. “Do you love me today?”

He asks me that question every day, not because he has any doubts, but because it’s just sort of become our thing.

“Every day and twice on Tuesday,” I reply, which is how I always answer him.

“Love you too, babe,” he says with a grin, and then he’s gone from sight.

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Juliette Poe is the sweet and swoony alter ego of New York Times Best Selling author, Sawyer Bennett.

A fun-loving southern girl, Juliette knows the allure of sweet tea, small towns, and long summer nights, that some of the best dates end sitting on the front porch swing, and that family is top priority. She brings love in the south to life in her debut series, Sex & Sweet Tea.

When Juliette isn’t delivering the sweetest kind of romance, she’s teaching her southern belle daughter the fine art of fishing, the importance of wearing Chucks, and the endless possibilities of a vivid imagination.