Fitz hadn’t planned on staying at the little inn the magazine was paying for, but he’d gotten distracted by the town and by the people. It was only an hour and a half drive to his place in the city, but why turn his back on a free vacation?
After all, he usually wrote travel articles, and Park Creek was new to him. Maybe after he was finished telling fairy tales for Kiss the Bride!, he could do an actual story on the town. The inn he was staying at had history, the pizza place on Main had a loaded pie to die for, as he’d discovered last night, and the antique store just down the street had a nice collection of baseball cards.
He ate a bagel in the dining room while he caught up on emails, and then grabbed a cup of coffee to go and headed out into the sunshine. Right next door, he spotted a park with a gazebo and shaded benches, and headed in that direction.
Today he had to suck it up and get to work. Brides, grooms, cakes, tulle, “I do,” “You may kiss the bride,” and all that. He’d gone through those steps half a dozen times with his parents. Any day now, he expected a call from either one with new news.
“Hey son, it’s a destination wedding this time. Don’t forget your snorkel.” Or eventually, a call from his mom. “Honey, you work too much. You should settle down. And speaking of settling down, I’m engaged…”
He was pretty sure they had a bet who could get married the most times. His dad was winning, but not for long. Mom was tenacious.
Fitz settled on a bench facing the town. The photographer would be down later this morning to start with the wedding cakes, so he planned on meeting with Anna Keller first to check out the bakery and interview her.
But it wasn’t Anna he really wanted to talk to. In fact, he had half a mind to head over to Keller Designs first just to get another glimpse of Summer. Maybe charm a little smile out of her. Maybe see if she was free for lunch.
To his left, a group of women did yoga on the lawn. And just behind them, arms full of bags and trays of coffee, came the exact woman he wanted to see. She headed toward the bench next to his.
He stood automatically, setting aside his own coffee and reaching for the tray she was about to fumble.
Her eyes flashed to his, and he didn’t have to charm the smile after all. It came on its own.
“Let me help,” he said, taking the tray and setting it on the bench.
She lowered the rest of the bags to the seat and sighed, rolling her shoulders. He tried to keep his eyes from her collarbone, or the soft slope of her neck. Or any of the exposed skin he could see around her printed dress. But damn, it looked soft. Same with her hair. Just a sweep of deep blonde across her shoulders.
“You must really need the caffeine this morning,” he said.
She laughed. “It’s not for me.” She gestured to the yoga ladies. “It’s for them. And decaf so they don’t get all jittery.”
“You brought coffee for all of them?”
“Sure.”
He eyed her outfit. “But you don’t…” He mimed a yoga position, making her laugh again.
“Nope. I just watch.”
She unloaded one of the bags, pulling out a sketchbook and a pencil holder.
He lifted his eyebrows. “Just watch? I don’t think you get quite the same amount of exercise doing it that way.”
Again, those dimples flashed. “Nope, but it’s good practice.”
With that, she sat on the bench, faced the other way, and opened her sketchbook.
Dismissed. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Of course, he had given her a bit of a hard time yesterday. But it was all in good fun.
He hoped she didn’t act like this when it came time for the interview. Probably best if he told her who he was.
Fitz returned to the seat, picked up his coffee, and narrowed his eyes. He could barely make out the outline of a form on her sketchbook. The shape of a body, one of the yoga ladies. The arms stretched to the side, willow-slim, and toes pointed like a ballerina.
So she was an artist? She used the figures for inspiration? That’s what she meant by good practice.
As he continued to watch, she sketched a gown over the top of the form. Not just a gown; it looked like a wedding dress.
When she shifted and he glanced up, he found her eyes on his.
“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked.
He hid a smile and shook his head. “No, nothing at all. I like your sketch.”
Her eyes fell to the pad of paper. She shut the sketchbook and set it aside, standing once more. Okay, a sore spot, maybe? Either that or she thought he was rude. So he’d been staring. Who brought a whole group of women coffee and…croissants? Is that what he smelled? Something fresh, anyway.
She unloaded the bags in front of her, pulling out more than just croissants. Muffins. Bagels.
“I didn’t mean to stare,” he said, trying to get her to open up to him again.
“No problem.”
“Would you like some help?”
Her lips curved. “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”
“I’m Fitz, by the way.”
She stopped, propping one hand on her hip. “I know who you are, Mr. Tennyson.”
He blinked, mouth open. But she abruptly turned as the ladies finished their yoga, giving a wave and immediately striking up a conversation with the instructor. So much for getting her to open up.
He grabbed his coffee cup again, hauled the strap of his satchel over his shoulder, and headed back to the inn. No problem. He’d talk with Summer later—she’d have no choice. And maybe then he’d see just what it was about her that intrigued him so much.
{}{}{}
She knocked on Eli’s door, loud enough to wake him if he’d still been sleeping. Knowing him, he was, but he didn’t get that luxury anymore. Per Jillian’s warning this morning, they all had to be at headquarters or in their own shops all day long in case the reporter came by. Or the photographer.
After a moment, she knocked again and grinned when she heard a loud thump and his curse. Eli opened the door, hair askew and a scowl on his face.
“Dammit, Summer. It’s not even—is that coffee?”
She held it out for him. “You weren’t up? Jillian is going to kill you.”
“No, I was up. Damn coffee pot broke, though. Please tell me you have food in that bag.”
“Anna’s croissants.”
He snatched the bag. “Thank you.”
She followed Eli to the small table off the kitchen, amused when she nearly tripped over a tripod. “You need a housekeeper.”
“What I need is an espresso machine. No, I take that back. I need my own chef. Omelets for breakfast, with a cappuccino. Maybe a BLT for lunch. Or a spicy tuna roll.”
She joined him at the table, laughing when he pulled out a croissant and ate half of it in one bite. “And dinner?”
“God, anything with meat. Bacon cheeseburger, sirloin with—”
“Bacon?”
He laughed. “Sure, why not? Thanks for bringing this over. I’m pretty sure I drank half the bar at Pearl’s last night.”
“Eli,” Summer said softly. “I’m sorry.”
He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Yeah, laid it all out there for some guy who looked like he might be doing his own commiserating. Said true love was overrated, there’s no such thing as forever. Why waste my time, right?”
Summer stiffened in her seat. “Did he have short hair? Kind of light brown? Probably some sort of messenger bag or—”
“Shit. How am I supposed to remember? Sounds about right, but hell, I don’t know.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Eli, if you don’t want to work with Olympia, just say so. I know Mom will understand.”
He rolled his eyes. “And Jillian? She’ll give me that look. You know the one.”
“When she puts on her glasses and kind of looks down her nose like she’s your eighth-grade teacher and she just caught you cheating?”
He chuckled, finishing the last bite of the croissant. “Yeah, that one.”
“You still care about her, don’t you?”
“Jillian?”
She gave him a gentle smile. “Olympia.”
He shoved the bag aside and stood. “It’s—whatever. It was a long time ago. We’re adults now. We should be able to work together in a professional capacity, right?”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for her. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard to be around her.”
“That’s life, right? I’m beginning to think the guy at the bar was making a lot of sense. He said to move on and not look back. Who needs a relationship anyway? Life’s too short to worry about all that bullshit.”
Summer frowned, but didn’t say anything. It had to be Fitz. What the hell was a guy like that doing writing for a wedding magazine? He should be writing his own Love Sucks or Yes, You Should Definitely Get a Divorce column instead.
He’d better be a little more professional than that when it came to his job. Marriage was a magical thing for most people. And more, Keller Wedding Consultants was one of the best. The last thing they needed was a cynical reporter making it look like some big joke.
“Whatever.” Eli sighed. “I’d better get ready or Jillian’s going to send me to the principal’s office.”
“She just might.”
“You ready for this?” he asked, tossing his empty coffee cup in the trash and rooting around in the cupboard for some Advil. “The interview?”
“I’m ready,” Summer said.
In fact, she was more than ready. And Fitz Tennyson was going to get an earful.
{}{}{}
Since Carole was already at the store, Summer decided to go right to the source. She’d find Fitz, warn him to keep away from her brother—except for the interview—and then she’d stay as professional as she could until he was far from town.
Summer hiked down the stairs that lead to the overhead apartments and walked straight to the rear entrance of their main headquarters. She spotted Beckett pulling up to the bakery, but didn’t stop when he slowed and leaned out the window.
“Hey, Summer.”
“I’m on a mission,” she said, casting him a wave.
“But—I had a question.”
She kept going, calling back, “No time!”
She was running on anger right now. No one messed with her family, and if she didn’t speak up, he might go trying to ruin someone else’s day. Like Anna’s, if he found out she and Beckett had just gotten together. The last thing they needed was someone telling them love wasn’t worth it. They’d waited too long to be together, and they were perfect for each other.
Inside the building, she passed the meeting rooms and headed straight for the front. When she heard voices, she paused, her courage faltering. She couldn’t very well chide him in front of her mother or Jillian.
Taking a calming breath, she walked into the lobby and spotted her mother chatting with Fitz. When he saw her, he stood.
“Oh.” Gail smiled. “Fitz Tennyson, this is my daughter Summer. She runs—”
“Keller Designs,” he said smoothly with a nod. “That’s right. I had a chance to stop in there yesterday.”
Gail angled her head. “Is that so? Summer didn’t say.”
She forced a bright smile. “It got busy last night. I didn’t have a chance. Where’s Jillian?”
Gail stood as well. “She was supposed to be putting on some coffee. I’ll go check and see if she needs some help. Summer, why don’t you tell Mr. Tennyson a little about your shop.”
“It’s Fitz,” he said with a wink.
Her blood boiled. She waited until her mom left the room before jerking her thumb to the front door. “Can I speak with you, please? Outside?”
His eyebrows shot up. “On or off the record?”
“Off the record. Outside.”
He left his messenger bag on the seat and followed her out the front door. They stopped in the shade of the overhang, and she folded her arms.
“Where were you last night?”
His mouth popped open. Then he grinned slowly. “Why? Am I in trouble?”
“Were you at Pearl’s? At the bar? Sharing your idiotic ideas on love and forever?”
Fitz’s smile faded, and he crossed his arms, mirroring her stance. “I’d say ‘idiotic’ is a matter of opinion. And it’s my business who I share my ideas with. The guy seemed to agree wholeheartedly, though, in case you were wondering.” His eyes narrowed and the smile appeared again. “Wait a second. That wasn’t your boyfriend, was it?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said, keeping tight control over her temper. Even her family couldn’t get her this riled. “It was my brother.”
“Your brother? Oh, the photographer. Isn’t that ironic?”
“That he’s a photographer?”
He reached out, and to her surprise, touched her shoulder, nudging her closer to the building. “People are trying to pass.”
She glanced over her shoulder and murmured, “Sorry,” when she saw a couple waiting patiently for her to move.
Fitz gave her a laughing smile, and even though she could still feel the warmth of his fingers on her bare skin, the anger wouldn’t subside.
“It’s ironic,” he said, “that he’s in the throes of angst over a woman, and yet your family is all about happliy ever afters.”
“He’s not—the throes of angst? Are you—are you serious?” she sputtered. “This is real life. People get their hearts broken sometimes, but that doesn’t mean all is lost. Might as well give up and resign ourselves to a life without love. Man, you must be depressed all the time if that’s how you really feel.”
He grinned. “Not depressed at all. But thanks for your concern. You look really cute when you’re flushed. Anger suits you.”
Shit. He was flirting with her. Her cheeks burned hotter, and she frowned. “I know we have to work together. At least for an interview. A short one. But will you please keep your opinions to yourself? Especially around Eli?”
He’d gotten hurt enough by the situation with Olympia, and he felt bad about it. He didn’t need it being shoved in his face again.
Fitz considered this. “What do I get in return?”
“You’re getting your interviews. With the best wedding planning company in the state, if you want to know the truth.”
His lips twitched. “True. But.”
“I could call your editor,” she threatened, surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. She’d never truly jeopardize his career, but he did have a way of making her want to fight with him.
“And what would you say? ‘Fitz doesn’t like weddings’? ‘Fitz doesn’t believe in forevers’?”
She didn’t answer. She had no idea what she’d say.
Fitz grinned. “And you know what my editor would say to that? ‘I know.’ She’d say, ‘I know Fitz doesn’t like weddings, even though he’s been to half a dozen in the last two years alone. But hey, we’re paying him to write an article, not to love the topic.’”
“Sounds like a poor way to run a business to me,” she said. “Employing people who hate the job.”
His eyes flashed, and for a brief moment she felt triumphant. Good. Now he knew what it was like to be on edge. To have someone he hardly knew light a fire of frustration inside.
“I love my job,” Fitz said. “But everyone has to do things for their job they’re not so fond of. Even you, Miss Everything-Is-Magical, should know that.”
She gritted her teeth together, remembering her mom and Jillian were waiting inside for them. “I’m asking nicely. Please leave Eli alone about this. You don’t know the situation, but he doesn’t need any comments about his love life.”
“In my defense, he started talking to me, not the other way around. But, yes, I’ll keep my thoughts to myself when I’m around your brother.” He held out a hand. “It’s a deal.”
Warily, she put her hand in his, already sure he’d find some way around the agreement. But she nodded. “Deal.”
He squeezed her hand when she tried to pull it back. “You really are hot when you’re angry.”
She yanked her hand from his grasp and turned for the door. “They’re waiting for us.”
“Let me.” He tried to reach around her to grab the handle, but she didn’t move.
“I’ve got it,” she said.
Then she yanked the handle, hard enough to have the door flying open and hitting Fitz with a thud. Her mouth dropped open, and when she glanced over to see him covering his nose, she gasped.
Then she saw the blood.
“I think,” he said calmly, “you might have broken my nose.”