Grayson sat in his empty bookshop, the same way he always did at 4 p.m. on a Friday afternoon. But instead of relaxing, content in his peaceful retreat, he was tapping his foot impatiently against the desk leg, watching the clock tick, too slow, to the end of the day.

It was quiet. Too quiet. He usually loved the calm, but today, he found himself wishing for some distraction—an idle browser, needing recommendations, or even some kids for him to scowl at and scold—anything to keep his mind off the woman he was trying so hard not to think about.

Grayson got to his feet, pacing restlessly. What was he doing? Counting down the hours until he saw Summer again, compulsively checking his phone in case she’d called . . . He was a grown man, but he felt like a boy all over again, aching for her touch like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

It was crazy. Making out like a teenager up against the stacks. Blowing off work and making a public spectacle of himself. He needed to get this thing under control, and fast. Tonight was a start, at least: dinner with Coop and Poppy. That was safe ground. They would grill some steaks, drink a couple of beers like adults, and make civilized conversation—instead of Grayson pushing Summer up against the wall the moment he laid eyes on her and ravishing her the way he craved.

God, it was an addiction. The taste of her, the feel of her body pressed beneath him. The way she laughed, curled up in the sheets late at night. And that look in her eyes, it pulled him under every time. Sweet and reckless, wild and free. He would travel to the ends of the earth to have her look at him like that—which meant having her just a couple of miles away was pure torment, all day long. It had been hell that week, trying to keep to his normal routine with her to tempt him astray. Every morning he had to drag himself out of bed with super-human strength, pounding those miles on his morning run to try and forget the thought of her, naked back in bed. And as for the bookshop . . . He looked around, scolding himself for the mess. The usually-ordered haven had fallen into disarray with his attentions elsewhere. Books shelved in the wrong place, left in stacks on the floor by idle browsers—and his grand re-catalogue plans had only made it worse.

He should have known this would happen. A butterfly flaps its wings and half-way around the world, a tornado whirls to life. So was it any wonder that a beautiful woman’s smile could send ripples of disturbance through his world?

Except she wasn’t just any woman.

Grayson pushed the thought aside and got to work, determined. This couldn’t last, he decided, as he pulled another shelf of history books down to re-shelve it from scratch. He needed to figure out how to handle this whole situation. Clear his head, establish some boundaries. It was just like his work on the orchard, or even this bookshop here: you had to carefully nudge things towards order, but with a little planning and discipline, things fell back into place again.

But there was still only one place he wanted Summer falling. Into his arms—or better yet, his bed.

Grayson let out a groan of frustration, and let the books fall back into a heap on the ground. He’d never had this problem with the women he’d dated before, but they had always been happy to keep things casual: a dinner here, a drinks date there. It was different with Summer. He was different with her. The moment she left, he wanted her back again, and when he was with her . . . all pretense at self-control flew right out the window.

The bell over the door rang, and Grayson made his way back out front. “Hank,” he said, surprised. “What brings you out here?”

Hank Paulson was more at home at the hardware store than around books. He read the local paper cover to cover and declared that was his lot. And sure enough, he looked out of place, gingerly peering at a stack of children’s books.

“I didn’t hear from you about the paraffin stove,” Hank said. “I’ve got the thing in my truck, if you’re still going.”

Camping. Of course. Grayson went every year without fail, Memorial Day weekend, to escape the crowds. “Thanks,” he said hurriedly. “Appreciate it. Sorry I didn’t stop by sooner.”

“No problem. I would have forgotten too, except Maura has it in her calendar. I swear, that woman has everything in there,” he tutted affectionately. “November 2, change the basement light bulb. May 5, lasagna for dinner.”

“Sounds like she keeps you in check.”

Grayson followed Hank out front and transferred the camping stove to the back of his Jeep. “Great weather forecast,” Hank said amiably. “Where are you heading this time?”

“I don’t know . . .” Grayson usually planned his trip way in advance, checking hiking logs and the national park terrain, but this year, it had been the furthest thing from his mind. “Up to Vermont, in the Green Mountain area, maybe? I went a couple of years back, always meant to go deeper into the lakes.”

“Well, you have a good time. Watch out for the grizzlies.”

Grayson chuckled. Hank insisted their national parks were stock full of bears, and warned him every year, but every year, he barely saw a buck or two. “Will do.”

He slammed the trunk shut, feeling better already. A trip to clear his head was exactly what he needed. Back to nature, away from Sweetbriar—and the storm of unwelcome emotions threatening to get the better of him. With any luck, he’d return refreshed, calm, and with some idea how to keep this chaos contained.

But the thought barely lasted another couple of hours—until he arrived on Summer’s step to pick her up for dinner. “Hello?” he called, stepping through the open front door.

“Just a sec!” she called, racing barefoot downstairs, with damp hair already curling in the evening heat. “I’ve got muffins in the oven.” Summer paused, breathlessly reaching up on her tiptoes to press a hot, sweet kiss to his lips. “Be right back!”

She hurried back to the kitchen, leaving Grayson staring after her with his heart pounding.

How did she do that to a man?

He took a breath and looked around. The space had been transformed, and now it was ready for business, with a long counter up front and plenty of space behind a gleaming glass display. Racks on the wall awaited breads, and a chalkboard menu was behind the counter, with Summer’s careful script spelling out the different treats that would soon be on offer.

“It looks great,” he said when she re-emerged. “Ready for business.”

“Fingers crossed.” Summer scooped her hair up into a ponytail and grabbed a bakery box from the counter. She flashed him a smile that could stop traffic—or a man’s pulse. “Ready?”

Grayson swallowed. He wasn’t, not at all. Not for this tempest building between them, raging out of control.

“Yes,” he lied. “Let’s go.”

* * *

They drove the beach road to the coast, and Summer tried to relax. She’d spent all afternoon prepping for the soft open, and now the bakery was ready and her part-time employees were due at 7 a.m. the next day, but still, she had a night of baking ahead of her.

“Long day?” Grayson asked, looking over.

“Is it that obvious?” Summer winced. There were some things concealer just couldn’t cover. “Sorry, I’ve just been racing around trying to get everything together for tomorrow. Poppy better have some good, strong coffee waiting.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” Grayson paused at the light, and leaned over. He kissed her, slow and sweet, as if they had all the time in the world on the empty back road. Summer melted into him, savoring the taste of his mouth and the feel of his beard, soft against her hand.

Mmmm . . .

“Better?” he asked, finally pulling away.

“Much.” Summer smiled back, wide awake now with pleasure singing in her blood. “You should bottle it, you could make a fortune.”

He chuckled. “No, that’s just for you.” He drove on, and her tension melted away on the warm evening breeze.

What had she been so worried about? Grayson hummed along to the radio, totally at ease, his earlier tension forgotten. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed an absent-minded kiss to her knuckles, and Summer’s stomach turned a slow pirouette.

She’d been right. He just needed some time.

“So how was your afternoon?” she asked, relaxing. “Any more hot bookstore action?”

“Not after you left. It was pretty quiet.”

“Quiet sounds nice. I was up to my elbows in pastry cream all afternoon. I want to make most things fresh on the day, but then I panicked about maybe running out of things, so I started baking early to—sorry.” She stopped herself, realizing she was babbling about baking again. “Ignore me. Boring kitchen stuff.”

“Hey.” Grayson looked over and squeezed her hand. “It’s not boring, not for you. And I think you’re right to be prepared with extra stock, you don’t know what the demand will be. Did you decide about the pies?” He added, “I know you were trying to pick between peach and blueberry.”

Summer blinked, then laughed out loud. “Thank you,” she said, beaming. “For pretending to be interested.”

“I’m not pretending,” Grayson insisted. “OK, well maybe just a bit,” he admitted. “But I’m very interested in tasting all your samples.” He winked, and she felt that glow of happiness again. He may not be a part of her chef world, but he was happy to let her ramble about peach frosting and cinnamon glaze when she needed to—and that was more than any other man had ever tried.

Grayson pulled up at the beach house, and she climbed down from the truck, carefully carrying the bakery box of desserts. “What did you bring?” Grayson asked, playfully trying to lift the lid. She whipped it out of reach. “It’s a surprise.” She grinned. “No peeking.”

She wasn’t sure what they were having for dinner, but what the hell: chocolate went with everything.

“Hey!” Poppy greeted them at the door. She was barefoot in jeans, looking relaxed and happy to see them. “Come on in. Cooper’s out back, showing the grill who’s the real man.”

“I heard that!” Cooper’s voice echoed from deeper inside the house.

Poppy grinned, leading them through the house. “He’s winning, of course. The grill didn’t stand a chance.”

“That’s more like it.” Cooper joined them, hugging Summer and giving Grayson that manly slap on the back all guys seemed to do in greeting. “Good to see you guys. Beer?”

“Sounds good.” Grayson nodded.

“I’ll take one too, thanks.” Summer smiled.

The guys went through the kitchen, and Poppy steered Summer outside. “Let me guess, you’ve been baking all day.”

Summer automatically reached up to check her face. “Do I have flour on me, again? Grayson didn’t say anything.”

Poppy laughed. “No, you’re good. I just know you too well.”

“Busted.” Summer smiled. “I’m just so excited. And nervous. It’s like the night before Christmas and the first day of school all rolled into one.”

“Whatever happens, you’re a rock star,” Poppy reassured her. “Seriously, I’m so proud of you for doing this. Who would have thought six months ago that we’d both wind up here?”

“Not me.” Summer looked out at the bay, the endless expanse of sparkling blue water and the streaked pink sunset sky. She took a deep breath of salty air and smiled. “But hey, it doesn’t suck.”

“No, it definitely does not.” Poppy grinned.

“What are we drinking to?” Cooper asked as he and Grayson came back outside. Grayson passed Summer her beer and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

“How about those éclairs we’ve got for dessert?” he suggested, and Summer playfully elbowed him.

“I said no peeking!”

“I couldn’t resist.” Grayson gave her a wicked grin, and Summer knew the feeling.

She couldn’t resist him, either.

“I know, let’s toast to unexpected detours,” Poppy announced.

“Amen to that,” Cooper agreed. They all clinked their bottles together, and Summer took a long sip, relishing the moment. Unexpected was right, but as she felt Grayson’s arm around her and the warmth of the evening breeze, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. It had only taken ten years, a run-down cottage, and a kamikaze fluffball hell-bent on running her off the road.

She owed that cat some cream.

The heat mellowed to a perfect evening, and they ate out on the deck, soaking up the view—and the delicious food. The steaks were perfectly grilled, and Poppy had made some delicious salads to pair with a loaf of crusty French bread.

“I’m never eating again,” Poppy groaned, finally pushing her empty plate away.

Cooper smirked. “Don’t believe her. Ten bucks says you’ll be in the refrigerator at midnight, hunting for another snack.”

“Just for that, you’re not getting one of my famous leftover sandwiches,” Poppy teased.

Summer sat back. “I needed that,” she said, satisfied. “I’ve been living off cake batter for days.”

“Poor baby,” Poppy quipped.

“Believe me, the tenth spoonful isn’t as fun as the first,” Summer said.

“What time are the doors opening?” Poppy asked. “I want to be first in line.”

“8 a.m.,” Summer said. “But maybe wait until after lunch, so I’m not distracted trying to talk?”

“We’ll be there. With empty stomachs.”

“And full wallets, I hope.” She turned to Grayson. “What time do you want to come by? I’ll make sure to save you some treats.”

“I won’t make it tomorrow,” he said casually. “I’m actually heading out of town for a few days. A camping trip.”

There was silence.

Summer stared at him. For a moment, she wondered if she’d heard him wrong. If those words somehow didn’t mean what she thought they did. But Grayson took another sip of beer, totally oblivious, and her heart sank.

“You didn’t mention it,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“I like to go every year,” Grayson replied. “Get away from all the Memorial Day tourists. You know me and crowds. I’ll be back Tuesday, I think.”

He gave her a smile, but Summer couldn’t bring herself to smile back.

“What about my opening?” she asked quietly. From the corner of her eye, she could see Poppy and Cooper exchange a look.

“You know, we’ll get these plates cleared.” Poppy bounced to her feet. She grabbed a couple of things and then made a hasty exit inside, along with Cooper.

They were left alone.

Summer fought to control the flood of emotion rising in her chest. Grayson was still lounging there like this wasn’t a big deal, so maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was overreacting here, or reading too much into nothing.

But this ache of rejection didn’t feel like nothing. In fact, it felt all too familiar to Summer. Except instead of it being her mom letting her down, yet again, for something more important, it was the man she hoped would actually want to share this moment with her.

“I want you to be there,” she tried to explain, in case somehow, he didn’t understand. “It’s a huge day for me, and I thought . . . you’d want to be a part of it. Can’t you delay the trip?” she asked, hating that she even had to. “You don’t even have to stay for the main opening. You could leave on Sunday, or even next week. It would mean a lot to me to have you there.”

To support her. Like couples were supposed to do.

But Grayson didn’t waver. “It’s just a couple of days,” he argued, getting up to take a new bottle of beer from the ice bucket on the table. “Like I said, I need to get away.”

“From me?” Summer asked, holding her breath.

“No.” Grayson cleared his throat. “Just . . . away. I didn’t think you’d mind,” he added quickly. “I would just be in the way, and you’ll be focused on the customers.”

Summer stared at him.

“Did you? Think—about what I wanted? Or did you just think about what you would want?”

He looked away, a flash of guilt on his face, and she realized in a terrible moment that the man in front of her hadn’t dropped his defenses one bit. That even after the nights they’d shared, the hours in each other’s arms, he was still as remote and untouchable as the very first day they’d met.

She’d stripped herself bare for him. Peeled back the layers of her hopes and dreams and darkest insecurities, and offered her beating heart for him to take.

And he’d placed it neatly in some convenient box and shut the lid, and expected her to wait there until the moment he chose to open it again.

When it suited him.

When he wanted to be with her.

Summer’s heart broke apart, realizing just what he was saying to her. “You won’t be there,” she said slowly, getting to her feet. “Will you? You were never planning on being there for me. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done, and you can’t even show up to wish me luck.”

Grayson looked uncomfortable.

“It’s not like that. I always go on this trip, every year.”

“And nothing’s changed for you.” Summer searched his face, hoping to find something, some hint of the emotions that were storming in her own chest, but Grayson was inscrutable to the end. “What are we?” she asked simply.

He blinked. “We’re . . . spending time together. Having fun. You know . . .” He looked away, and Summer felt something break apart.

“Fun,” she echoed. “That’s all this is to you? I’m crazy about you, Grayson. The past few weeks, being together . . . I thought you cared about me. That I mattered—”

“You do matter,” Grayson insisted.

She shook her head. “Not enough. If I did, you wouldn’t think twice about supporting me. You would want to share this, because it’s important to me!”

“I can’t turn my whole world upside down for you.” Grayson looked stubborn, and it split Summer’s heart in two.

“I’m not asking for the world,” she said sadly. “Just one day.”

There was silence.

If he was going to apologize, it would be now, Summer realized with a terrible ache. If he truly hadn’t realized what this weekend meant to her, he’d be promising to delay his trip a couple of days so he could support her, share in this big event. He would give her that much, at least.

But Grayson just stared at the ground, his shoulders tense. She could almost see the wall he’d built around himself, a force field to keep his life calm and undisturbed. She’d thought their connection was enough to breach it—that their passion, and all the emotion they’d shared, could somehow dismantle it for her, piece by piece—but now she finally knew there was no reaching him.

This man was an island, and worse still, he was perfectly happy that way.

“Well. I guess I know where I stand.” Summer blinked back tears. She started to turn away, but Grayson caught her arm.

“Wait, it’s not like that.”

“Then how is it?” Summer shot back.

“I . . . I don’t know.” Grayson looked torn, his dark eyes full of conflict. “You have to understand, my life was perfectly fine before I met you. I had everything running exactly the way I wanted, and then you came along . . .”

“No!” Summer interrupted him angrily. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m some wild temptress come to lead you astray. I’m not chaos. I’m not burning everything to the ground. I’m just asking you to meet me halfway, or even want to. You chose this too,” she reminded him. “You kissed me, and made love to me, and acted like you cared.”

“I do,” Grayson swore.

“But not enough.” Summer swallowed back her tears. God, it hurt to look at him, to see the possibility of what they could have become.

But maybe it had always been a fantasy. The Grayson who held her close and whispered in her ear was only half the story. And if all he could do was push her away, then she wasn’t going to keep reaching out, hoping that this time, he would catch her fall.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, taking a step back. “I’m sorry you can’t see how good this would be, if you’d only let yourself fall in love.”

“Summer . . .”

She waited another beat. She shouldn’t, she hated herself for it even as she stood there. Just a word from him. Just one more try. He could still make this right and choose a future for them.

Choose her.

But Grayson’s voice trailed to nothing, and she could see it in his eyes, there was nothing left to say.

She wasn’t enough for him. After everything, she still wasn’t good enough.

“Enjoy your trip,” Summer whispered, and walked away before he could see her cry.