Early Saturday morning, before the sun crested the Atlantic horizon, before the birds started singing or the bees buzzing, Mitch and Ryker made their way through the woods of the cape with rolls of black tar paper.

Beekeeping was a passion passed from his grandfather when Ryker was a boy, and one he returned to last year when he moved back to the cape. Thankfully, Larkin had envisioned a different way to help Ryker heal from his painful past. One that allowed Mitch’s friend to love the cape again and not sell it off in pieces as he’d originally planned.

“What are we doing again? And why the fuck did I agree? It’s freezing out here.” Mitch shivered, burrowing deeper into his winter jacket.

“Well, if you’re cold, put yourself in the bee’s shoes.”

“Please, you know my reputation well enough to know my shoe size is way bigger than that.”

“You’re an ass.” Ryker led him toward a hive. “We’re out here before they start their day to wrap the hives in the black tar paper to help keep them warm and dry over the winter.” He inspected the roll of paper, unfurling it and looking over the front and back. “I was out here last week to inspect each hive. They’re all at critical mass, no disease, and abundant food stores. It was a great summer.”

Mitch shook his head. “You act like I know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“You just pretend you don’t in order to get out of helping.”

Laughing, Mitch nodded. “That may be true.” He couldn’t count the number of times he’d skipped out of helping Ryker and his grandfather, Stuart, when they were kids, but his fear of getting stung was way stronger than his desire to learn. As an adult, he was glad. It was those times that Ryker had with his grandfather alone that gave him the courage to come back.

Mitch took the front edge of the paper and held it in place while Ryker slowly made his way around the hive. “Listen. I want to tell you before you hear it from somewhere else…”

Ryker raised a brow, then it dropped back into his usual frown of concentration.

“Last night, Claire and I—”

“Claire and you did what?” Ryker grated out, freezing in place and lowering his chin as he gave him a hard stare.

“Knock off the aggressive stance. It wasn’t my idea. I was helping her out.” But his fucking problem was he couldn't wait to help her out again. He hadn't been able to get her face out of his mind, her flavor out of his mouth, or the silky slide of her smooth skin off his hands since he'd gone home last night.

“Yeah, that's what they all say. Claire’s not one of your trophy-bunny lays.”

Mitch gave him the finger. “Do you really think any woman that I've dated would appreciate you calling them that? I know you guys like to rib me, like to give me a hard time. Ever stop to consider that any woman I've ever been with knows exactly where I stand and if she decides to be with me has decided that on her own?” He squared off with his friend, legs braced apart, his arms crossed at his chest, letting the tar paper fall to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing? Grab the paper.”

“Fuck your paper, Ryker. To play it off like I could so easily manipulate every woman in Cape Van Buren is simply an insult to their intelligence.”

His pal relaxed his shoulders. “You might have a point, but this is Claire. She’s already had to deal with more in the past few years than most people do in a lifetime.”

“You think I don't know that?” he gritted out, grabbing the paper and carefully holding it back in place until his buddy secured the wrap. Switching gears, he asked, “Is this the hive that produced the honey you're going to sell at the fall festival?”

Ryker grunted. “Some. I have an amazing batch from mid-summer that includes all of the hives. Claire actually modified the logo that Jay had made for Cape Van Buren and added a couple of bees around it for our new labels. She really has an eye for aesthetics and design.”

They moved to the next hive. “She does,” Mitch agreed. “You can see it in her house, you can see it in any of the events she's planned.”

At the word house, Ryker tensed. “Oh, come off that man.” Mitch shoved the roll of paper at his friend’s chest.

“Look, at this point, she's like a sister. She and Blayne, they go with Larkin as a matching set. I can't separate protecting her from them.”

Mitch scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You don't have to protect her from anyone, certainly not me. We’ve formed a sort of friendship.”

Ryker's bark of laughter echoed off the trees, and he grimaced watching the hives for any activity. “I’ve never known you to be just friends with any woman.”

“The fuck you don't,” Mitch said. “I’ve been friends with every woman I've ever been with.”

Ryker studied him a moment, then dipped his chin in agreement. “Fair enough.”

The two continued to wrap the hives in silence, working comfortably as lifetime friends. Mitch needed to get Ryker on board with the kind of man he really was if he had any hopes of landing the city attorney seat. If his best friend didn’t trust him, no one would.

“Hey listen, I'm preparing a portfolio for a new opportunity. Considering the work I've done with Cape Van Buren in its entirety, I'd like you to consider writing a recommendation for me.”

Ryker gathered his tools while Mitch collected the remaining tar paper.

“New opportunity?”

Mitch hadn't told anyone about it and wasn't too thrilled to even mention it to his buddy, but if he was going tell anyone, Ryker deserved to know more than anyone else. “Yeah, I'm putting my name in the ring for the city attorney.”

“Wow,” Ryker said as he led Mitch across the lawn and into the honey room of the Cape house. He washed his hands, drying them on a towel, then turned around and leaned back against the sink. “City attorney, huh?”

Mitch waited for the joke, used to the fact he was often the butt of one.

“Honestly?” Ryker stared at him with a thoughtful expression, gave a nod. “Can’t say I’m totally surprised. I was wondering when you were going jump in.

Mitch slowly set the paper on a large shelf against the back wall. “What do you mean, you've been waiting?”

“Dude, how long have we known each other? Practically our whole life? I fuck around with you like anyone else because it's easy and you ask for it and you're a good sport. It's almost therapeutic.” He splayed his hand over his chest. “But you've been a man of service your whole life. How many times did you put yourself between my dad and me, even though there was no guarantee you wouldn't get hit, too? How many times did you make room in your house for me? Your whole family has taken care of everyone in this town. It was just a matter of time for you to take on a more public service role.”

Shock and something else expanded in Mitch’s chest. Ryker was not a feelings kind of guy. The spark of possibility replaced the pressure, and he pulled in a breath. “I don't know what to say.”

Ryker grunted. “Please. Don't say anything. It was bad enough I had to sit and listen to Jay pouring his heart out when he and Blayne were working through their shit. Promise me you won't do that to me, and you'll have my vote every time.”

“You have my word.” Mitch moved a stack of washed hive frames against the wall as Ryker pulled out a large tub. He opened its valve, holding a jar under the spigot as thick, dark honey filled the sterile glass. “And Ryker?”

“Yeah?” he grunted.

“Thanks.”

Ryker nodded and put his hand out for another jar. They worked in silence for a moment filling a jar, then sealing it closed.

“What are you going to do about Claire?” Ryker always knew him much better than Mitch wanted him to.

“The fuck if I know,” Mitch said.

But the idea of never holding her in his arms again was about as likely as Ryker giving up beekeeping.

There was no walking away from such sweet honey.

Claire carried a travel tray full of coffee out the door of the Flat Iron coffee shop, sliding her free hand quickly over the top to stabilize the special brew from flying out of her hands as the brisk wind came off the ocean.

“It’s chilly today.” She said to Larkin and Blayne as they walked toward Van Buren Square.

“Only a few days till autumn.” Blayne also protected the tray she carried while Larkin tightened her grip on a bag of pastries.

The three crossed the street, looking like an L.L. Bean advertisement. “Now explain to me again what we're doing here,” Claire asked again. She was trying to pay attention, she really was, but each sigh, each groan, each cry from the night before echoed in her head, setting her body on fire.

An embarrassing situation when she was hanging out with her girlfriends. Larkin slid an exasperated look her way. “Seriously? I've gone over this three times already.”

Blayne laughed. “We need to get Claire laid and clear up that foggy brain of hers. That may be the only way she pays attention to us ever again.”

Clara's chuckle sounded strained, so she attempted to force it out more naturally.

Blayne tilted her head with a curious look.

“Oh! I know now,” Claire said. “We're meeting Maxine.”

Larkin nodded. “She has her coffee date which with Judge Carter.”

“She’s headed to a coffee date with the judge, but we’re meeting her for coffee first.” Blayne lifted her tray.

Claire shot out her hand, then grabbed the top of her cups again. “That's my point! I just don't get it.” If they’d explained it more thoroughly earlier, she hadn’t been listening; she’d been stuck in a memory loop that included two orgasms, chicken caprese, and knock-off North Cove Confectionery cupcakes. It was the best dinner she'd ever consumed.

“Claire! Have you not been listening to anything we’ve said?” Larkin grumbled.

“Oh my God, this day is dragging, and we just started. I'm right here.” Claire tried to think back to what they might have been talking about.

“Anyway,” Larkin said. “Deep down, I think Maxine’s nervous. She really cares for Teddy but also needs to save face from the incident at the Cape house.”

“It sure was awkward, and Jamie certainly hadn't helped any.” Blayne giggled at the memory of Jay’s inability to read a room on the day that Judge Carter caught Maxine selling moonshine at the Cape house.

Larkin and Claire snapped their heads around to look at her. Giggling was a very un-Blayne thing to do, but love did strange things to people. “I think it's cute if she's feeling nervous.”

“Cute?” Larkin shuddered. “There’s nothing cute about Maxine being nervous. It only makes her a little mean, and when she's mean, she threatens to take all the moonshine away.”

“We give her way too much control with that moonshine of hers.” Claire followed the arch of the Fountain of Youth as they approached the town square, loving the history and presence it maintained in the heart of town.

Blayne shrugged. “Well, until you're able to copy her recipe and make it taste the same, the control is in her hands.”

There was a pancake festival taking place, and Evette was there with her North Cove Confectionery booth, setting off a waterfall of tingling memories throughout Claire’s body.

The woman’s pancakes were as delicious as her cupcakes, and Claire couldn't help but think that a cupcake pancake was pretty damn decadent. “Here take this.” Claire shoved the coffee into Larkin's arms.

“Where you going?”

“I'll be right back.” She made her way over to Evette’s stand. “I would love a lemon blueberry sunrise pancake, please.” These were the kind of pancakes that didn't need any syrup. One of Evette’s workers handed her the goodies, wrapped in parchment paper stamped with the North Cove Confectionery logo.

The pancakes were warm and the aromas amazing, everything Claire'd never let herself eat for breakfast before. A grin stretched her lips wide, and she took a bite as she made her way back over to her friends.

Blayne and Larkin stared at her. “What's going on?” Blayne demanded.

Claire took another bite. “Oh my gosh, these are fantastic. Have you tried them?”

Larkin nodded. “Yes, they’re Ryker's favorite, but I don't think I've ever seen you try them before...something about cupcakes for breakfast not being a healthy choice and all that.” Her friend waved her hand at the food.

“Well,” Claire admitted. “I was wrong.”

Blayne stepped over and broke a piece off, shoving it in her mouth with a sigh. “Holy fuck. These are damn good.”

Claire nodded with a laugh.

“Are you ladies gonna get over here with our coffee or what?” Maxine teased.

A local jazz band was playing music on the stage. People milled around the park, trying pancake flavors from several vendors. The smell of roasted coffee filled the air, and of course, Shelly Anne had a stand set up with a line a mile long.

Blayne pointed. “And that is why we got the coffee at the coffeehouse.”

Larkin nodded. “Every year that line is atrocious, and I never understood it when you could just go right across the street, but that’s the point of the pancake festival, now isn’t it?”

Claire finished the pancake and brushed off her hands with a deep sense of satisfaction. She couldn't think of a better way to start the morning after the night of the best sex of her life.

Tendrils of guilt tried to worm their way into her mood with an image of Jimmy’s smile. She held it for a moment, and then released it. She would never be able to move on completely or all at once, but Jimmy had been a kind man, a good man, and he would want her to live her life to the fullest.

Having the courage to do that would be one way to honor him. “So, what's this about Maxine?” Claire took a coffee from Larkin and helped herself to another pastry. Why the hell not?

Maxine eyed her up-and-down with interest. The kind of interest Claire wanted to avoid. “What's gotten into you?”

Blayne piped up. “We've been wondering the same thing.”

Claire shook her head. “No you don't, this morning is all about you.”

“Fly Me to the Moon” played in the background just above the din of the crowd as she tried not to fidget under Maxine’s wise stare. The woman was as stylish as ever in her long, black puff jacket and large, silver hoop earrings. The straight edge of her salt and pepper hair swung back-and-forth, playing with the earrings.

Maxine pursed her perfectly lined lips.

“Oh, come off it, Maxine,” Janice demanded as she joined the group. “We're all here because you're nervous to see the judge. Just admit it.”

Seeing Mitch's mom’s red curls shot a blush straight to Claire's own hairline, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if her own platinum blond had turned a matching shade. She prayed that no one would notice and worked to keep all eyes on Maxine.

Claire grabbed a pastry from Larkin and another coffee, handing both to their feisty grandmother figure. “How can we help?”

Maxine was busy shooting daggers in good fun at Janice and took the offered meal without a glance.

“You miss him, don't you?” Larkin said gently.

Maxine sighed. “Of course, I do. But he was an ass in front of everyone. I know I'm not innocent. God knows I'm a handful, but I can't abide a man who would humiliate me in front of my family. Because that's who you all are to me. My family.”

“Honestly, Maxine?” Blayne interrupted. “Not one of us thought anything other than, ‘oh shit, Judge Carter's in trouble.’ I don't think he or anyone else has the power to humiliate you. You are too loved and respected by everyone in this town for that to happen. But I have to say this, and I don't want you to get mad at me.” She gripped her hands at her waist, looking to Larkin then Claire for strength. “There’s is a chance he felt humiliated as well.”

Maxine raised her arched brows. “How in the world would he have been humiliated? And why would I be mad at you? I never hold a grudge.” Larkin and Claire burst out laughing, not even trying to hold back the humor at that statement.

Maxine scowled when they didn’t stop right away. Blayne finally put her hand out, palm up. “He’s a county judge. Making your moonshine isn't illegal but selling it is. There's a chance it makes him feel like you don't respect him or his position.”

“That's ridiculous! Of course, I respect him. He’s the judge.”

“You know what I think?” Claire said. All four women looked her way. “I think you care for the judge more than you thought you would, and it scares you. It's easier to have him there but mad at you than it is to have him there loving you.”

Maxine stared at her, took a bite of her coffee cake, washed it down with a sip of coffee. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “Have you learned to say penis in public yet?”

Claire threw her hands up in the air. “I'm done. That's all I got.” She looked at Larkin and Blayne, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “She's all yours.” But her own words haunted her.

How many Judge Carters was she missing out on because she was afraid? Just one face popped into her head, with his golden glow and that drop-dead sex-me-up grin, but she shook it away. She didn't have to miss out on him. He would be her safe and easy fun.

She rather liked his lessons of indulgence. Taking a sip of her coffee, she turned back around and caught Janice staring at her with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Did Mitch give you a lesson last night?”

The coffee had no chance to make it all the way down her throat and instead got caught in her windpipe. A cough burst from her chest, followed by another and another. Larkin and Blayne patted her on her back, and the September breeze blew in thick with their curiosity.

“That's it!” Blayne exclaimed.

All the women gaped at Claire but remained silent. The band on stage had kicked up the energy with the upbeat melody of “New York, New York.” Time slowed with her panic, and she could feel the salty ocean air fill her lungs while she tried to catch her breath. The tang of the ocean melded with the sweet aroma of baked goods, and she wished they could go back to the moment when she was enjoying her lemon blueberry sunrise pancake.

“That is not it,” she gritted out.

Larkin snapped her fingers. “Her cheeks are pink, her eyes are bright, and she was filling her face with sugar. Claire got laid!”

Maxine cheered. “That's my girl.”

And Blayne joined in.

Janice had a confused look on her face. “Who's the lucky guy?”

All the blood drained from Claire's face, and she quickly turned back to Maxine and blurted out. “My vibrator!”