Saturday morning, Sage rushed into her office at the Tribune and closed the door. Pressing her back against it, she pushed her fist against her mouth to muffle the sound of her tears. She’d fled from her apartment as soon as she’d heard the news about the paper through the Cape Van Buren current—it was faster than the Gulf Stream off the coast.

She couldn’t stay where she could still see her rumpled bed sheets—she’d slept on her couch—where she could still smell the warm scent and feel the firm caress of the man who’d broken her heart.

But the newspaper wasn’t much better. All her memories with her grandfather—reading the comics at the breakfast table, the two of them taking over the empty building after hours. All those magical moments were being stripped away like the waves do to the sands along the coast.

That thing that made her who she was, that bliss her grandfather had always encouraged her to find, the whole infrastructure of his support, was being ripped down like an out of date set of curtains over a kitchen sink—unimportant and unimpressive to everyone else, but priceless for the mother who had watched her kids play through that window while washing dishes and making years of memories.

She walked over to her desk, chewing on her lower lip. With a practiced hand, she laid out a fresh sheet of drawing paper.

The view and laughter of the firemen working through some drill below without their shirts on couldn’t even ease her pain. For some reason, they all seemed somehow lacking.

What was the world coming to when she didn’t find pleasure in ogling Van Buren’s finest?

Because you just had the finest yesterday.

And she wasn’t talking about Maxine’s moonshine.

The letter she’d finally received from Andrews McMeel Publishing sat at the corner of her desk, and the sight of it made everything seem worse. She turned it upside down, then set her cup of drawing pencils on top of it.

Opening it would mean facing her dreams, and she wasn’t ready. If it was good news—which wasn’t likely—she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it having lost her grandfather’s paper. If it was bad news, well then, everything she loved would be lost to her all in the span of twenty-four hours.

And that wasn’t a reality she could face at the moment.

Long strokes of her pencil served as an immediate salve, like a light wash of cleansing rain over her brain. Each stroke relieved a little more of her pain and replaced it with pleasure. That was the magic in drawing, in any kind of art, really. Its beauty was hers for the taking whenever she needed to take it.

A knock sounded at her door.

Pushing her hair behind her ears, she straightened in her chair. “Come in.”

Banon James Edwards I poked his head around the corner of the door and cleared his throat. “I thought I heard you in here.”

She swiveled to face him, surprised to see him standing there with his fine suit and polka dot tie—Evette’s doing—it reminded Sage of the icing design on the North Cove Confectionary’s Blueberry Lemon twist cupcake.

“May I come in?”

Asking for permission was unexpected, as well. It was like her whole damn world was being turned upside down.

A look of concern filled his blue eyes—eyes that reminded her of Parker and left her heart pumping empty. “So, you heard about the news,” he said.

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

“I know how much this place means to you. Horace used to spin tails to me of all his dreams for his little Hershey Kiss while we drank Scotch and smoked cigars like important men of men when we were young. We were such fools.” His tone was wistful and formal and reminded her of everything she’d lost.

“At least, I was. Horace was one in a million of men. Do you know he stood as my best man at my wedding?”

She shook her head. Banon Edwards had never been one to share, and since she was young, she’d learned to stay away from his bark. She’d never asked her grandfather about him, just always thought their friendship was odd. Horace loved people. Banon loved himself.

At least, that’s how it appeared to her, anyway.

“My grandson presented his findings to the board. He did a very thorough job going over the projections and giving the newspaper multiple options. The research and stats left no question as to the direction we need to take The Van Buren Tribune. I have to say, he delivered and then some, exceeding not only their expectations but my own. And that’s no easy feat.”

She swallowed. “Parker is a hard worker, sir. One of the best.”

He studied her face. “You’re hurt by his decision.” His question seemed ridiculous to her, but his expression was open and curious.

“Devastated. I knew it was coming, but it seems so much worse…” She couldn’t finish.

“Coming from the man you love.”

Her eyes snapped to his.

Who was this man, and what had he done with Banon Edwards?

“I’ve learned a lot over the past week or so. Evette has opened my eyes to many things. My grandson, though he doesn’t realize it, has opened my eyes to many more.”

Sage studied the old man, her heart turning over at the look of regret in his eyes. She was happy he was finally seeing Parker for who he really was—a good, hard working, caring man who had simply been trying to carve his place within the family circle, instead of sitting outside and looking in.

“One of those being that I’ve been holding Parker responsible for the actions of his father for years. Let’s just say that looking at Parker was a constant reminder of not being loved by my own son. It killed me, so I kept my grandson at a distance that hurt less. But in doing so, I hurt him a lot. I see that now.”

Her heart turned over for the years of missed memories in the old man’s eyes. “Evette’s pretty special,” she offered.

He cleared his throat in a gruff cough. “Don’t hold Parker responsible for the decisions of the board. In the end, we’re the ones who let the paper fall into this precarious position.”

“I just think there should be another way. Grandpa Horace worked so hard, had such big dreams that included the families of Cape Van Buren.”

Banon looked over the walls of her office, then past her shoulder to the fire station outside. “That he did. That he did.” He turned his attention back to her. “Things change. It won’t be the same, but I think if we try hard enough, we can continue to honor his direction.”

He moved back to the door. “It might be too late for me when it comes to Parker, but it doesn’t have to be for you.”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t get me, doesn’t see me, Mr. Edwards. Not the real me.”

“I think all he sees is you.”

The door closed with a soft snick behind him.

Sage stared at it a moment, then turned back to her sketch. Parker’s face stared up at her with intense blue eyes and a knowing smile. She could pretend not to care, but the truth was in her art.

Holding her breath, she pulled the envelope from the publisher out from under her pencil cup. Grandpa Horace always told her to go after her bliss. She loved Parker, but she couldn’t make him love her, so it was time to be brave, and go after her other true love.

With fear in her heart and hope in her veins, she opened the envelope.

Parker pulled in a deep breath. His blood rushed in his ears, and his heart beat wildly in his chest. He hadn’t felt this kind of panic since dinging his grandfather’s car with a grocery cart back in high school—the car he shouldn’t have been driving.

Shoving a hand through his hair, he knocked on Sage’s door.

Silence.

He tried again. “Sage, let me in. Please.”

Nothing.

The tension in his shoulders only worsened with each passing second.

Checking over his shoulder, he checked along the lush grounds of North Cove gardens to make sure no one called the police on his ass.

He couldn’t leave Cape Van Buren with her thinking he didn’t take her seriously. If anything, it was the very reason he was leaving. He took her happiness so seriously that he didn’t want to be the one to screw it all up.

Wrapping his hand around the door handle, he turned it, expecting to find it locked, but the door opened, leaving him standing there, unsure about what to do next. “Sage?”

With a furtive glance over his shoulder one more time, he stepped inside.

The apartment was silent and smelled of strawberries and sugar cookies with hints of his cologne. It was a combination that should never work, but did, as if made for each other from the start. He shook his head.

Peeking in her room, he found the bed unmade, with the sheet she’d covered herself in on the floor as if she hadn’t slept there since. The bathroom light was on, and her drawers left half opened. All signs pointed to her leaving in a rush, and a heaviness settled in his gut.

The door opposite her room was closed, and just to be sure, he knocked lightly. “Sage?” He turned the knob and pushed it open.

Her studio.

He should shut the door and walk away. The space was sacred to her; she cherished it and poured her whole heart into everything she did there. Respecting her wishes for privacy was important.

But then, his eyes lit on a sketch hanging from the opposite wall, and his feet propelled him forward all on their own.

He devoured sketch after sketch after sketch.

Having no idea didn’t even begin to describe his ignorance.

Sage didn’t just see inspiration and draw something. She felt it, then put that feeling on paper.

There was a sketch of Evette propositioning his grandfather at the festival. It wasn’t just fear on the old man’s face, but curiosity and, dare he say it, yearning? He didn’t know if his grandfather was even capable of such emotions—but there they were.

Another captured the kids at the vineyard, peeking out from behind grape vines with delight and wonder on their faces.

He approached her drawing table.

Multiple sketches were tacked to the surface, his own eyes staring back at him. He was strong, capable, with kind eyes and a playful smile—much different than the damn gorilla named Edward.

He picked one up, the corners of his lips pulling into a grin. This one was of the two of them on the ground, a freaked-out Moby snorting off in the distance.

The look on his own face as he stared down at her in shock and awe was unmistakable.

Because it was the same feeling in his heart.

Love.

Goddammit.

He loved her.

She may not have known it, but it was in her sketches all the same. He might be scared of hurting her, scared of facing his grandfather’s disappointment day after day if he stayed, but the love he had for Sage, as well as the love she had for him, was all around him, painting the room in floating hearts.

Hell, he hadn’t even thought of Cape Van Buren as Tiny Town in days. Sage had wheedled her way in and set her hooks without him even guessing that was her intent, much less knowing.

Now, he just hoped it wasn’t too late.

She loved him, but would she give him the chance to love her back?

Did he even deserve it?

It was time he grew a pair and found out.

And it was time he relinquished the hold Banon James Edward I had on him. If his grandfather didn’t want him in his life, Parker would set him free. But if Sage didn’t want him in hers, he didn’t know what the hell he’d do.

Because suddenly, having to leave Cape Van Buren was no longer possible.

He couldn’t live without a beating heart.

And his beat on the Cape.

Throwing open the board room door, Parker rushed in. “I’m sorry I’m late, but there’s been a change of plans.”

His grandfather pushed back from the table, and for the first time, Parker saw how old he was getting. “Parker...”

“Mr. Edwards, I know what you’re going to say, but please, hear me out. This isn’t just about the The Van Buren Tribune, but about the people, too.”

His grandfather raised a brow with hope in his eyes. “People, you say?”

Parker had to look twice to make sure he was still talking to his grandfather and not someone he’d only mistaken to be him.

“Does this ‘people’ happen to be Sage Mathews?”

Rubbing the back of his head, Parker blinked. All of a sudden, it was as though he’d been pushed into a twilight zone. He looked from his grandfather to the board members gathered around the table and nodded.

Banon slapped his hands together. “Well, then close the door and sit down, boy. We’ve got work to do.”

Parker shook his head, unable to process what was happening. “This will change the bottom line from my original assessment and recommendation, Grandfa…I mean—”

Banon raised a hand to stop him. “Grandfather is fine, but let’s ease into it. It’s been a while since I’ve been comfortable hearing it. I don’t know what we can make of our relationship, or if you even want to try. But I’m telling you, I’d like the chance to find out. If we decide we still don’t like each other, well then…we won’t be the first Edwards to have a relationship in name only.”

A weird feeling of weightlessness seemed to move Parker to take a seat. He was numb and cold and unsure of what to say. He’d faced nothing but judgement for years. Was he capable of something more with the man? He glanced at the board, but they sat at attention as if Banon’s speech was an expected agenda item, and his grandfather stared back at him…waiting.

“I don’t think this is the time—”

Banon nodded. “We’ll take care of that later. Horace would have my head if he was here right now. We need to find a way to keep Ms. Mathews drawing that damned gorilla.”

Parker nodded with a wide grin. “I have an idea, but I need the board’s approval first.”

“Well, let’s have it, Mr. Edwards,” his grandfather said. “You’re the expert, and you know we only hire the best.”