“I’ll get there, too,” Isabel said. “At least I hope so. It’s just some days I feel so pathetic. When some excited, bright-eyed bride-to-be walks in the store, I can’t help wondering if she’ll still be married to the guy in twenty years or if she’ll be a statistic, too.” She sighed. “Okay, I’ve officially become the depressing friend. I don’t want that.”

“You’re still healing. Give yourself a break.”

Isabel managed a smile. “What? You’re saying beating myself up isn’t the quickest way to a happier tomorrow?”

“Not even close. You’ve temporarily left New York. Take advantage of that. Lose yourself in the quaint, small-town gooeyness that is Fool’s Gold. Go to a festival. Gain five pounds from eating locally made goat cheese. Seduce a handsome tourist.”

“Not sure I’m up to that last suggestion, but the others sound fun.”

Patience drank some of her soda. “You’re not ready for transition guy?”

“Not even close.” Isabel studied her. “I can’t see you having one, either. Not with a child to worry about.”

Patience was too embarrassed to admit there hadn’t been a man in her life since Ned left. “No transitional man for me, either. I was busy with Lillie, and now it’s been too long. But I do like the theory.” She grinned. “Ford is coming home any day now. What about him? You had a huge crush on him years ago. Maybe he’s still gorgeous and sexy.”

Isabel’s expression brightened. “If only that were true. You promised he wouldn’t be.” She sighed, obviously remembering. “I was so insanely in love with him.”

“The love of a fourteen-year-old girl is very special.”

Isabel laughed. “I hope he saw it that way rather than as something he had to escape.” Her smile turned rueful. “Of course, my sister had just dumped him, so I doubt he had much time to think about my feelings. He was too busy wrestling with his own.”

Patience had been only a couple of years older than Isabel, but even she remembered the scandal. Ford had been engaged to Maeve, Isabel’s older and very beautiful sister. Only a few weeks before the wedding, he’d caught Maeve in bed with his best friend, Leonard. Words and possibly blows had been exchanged. Maeve had been apologetic, but refused to give up Leonard. The engagement had been broken and Ford had left town. He’d joined the navy, had become a SEAL and until recently had pretty much never returned.

There had been the one or two weekends when he’d been spotted around town, but mostly he’d seen his family in other places. Patience wasn’t sure if that was a logistical choice or if he’d been avoiding Maeve. Either way, after close to fourteen years, he was coming home now.

“Maybe he kept all your letters,” Patience said, her voice teasing. “Read them when things were tough.”

Isabel laughed. “Sure he did. Because hearing about my life was so special. I just hope I edited myself and didn’t dump on him, emotionally. High school is never pretty, and I don’t think telling him about my experiences would have been very entertaining.”

Patience leaned toward her and lowered her voice. “Or they could have been extremely entertaining.”

Isabel winced. “Oh God. You’re right. I remember going to a prom with a guy named Warren. There was no happy ending.” She picked up her soda. “I’m sure I didn’t mention that.”

“You could get on the welcome committee,” Patience told her. “Be one of the first to greet him.”

“There’s a welcome committee?”

“Not that I’ve heard of, but who knows what this town will do? Ford is a returning hero.”

“He’s going to hate hearing that over and over again.”

“You could comfort him.”

Isabel sighed. “Stop trying to throw us together. The man isn’t even home yet.”

“I’m a romantic. I can’t help it. One of us has to have a summer romance.”

“I’m fresh off a divorce. Any romance is up to you. What about that guy? Justice?”

Patience cleared her throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Isabel raised her eyebrows. “Uh-huh. You’re blushing.”

Patience ducked her head. “I am not.” But she was. She could feel the heat on her cheeks. “I like him,” she admitted. “But it’s confusing. Exciting, but confusing.”

“Good luck with that. I’m the last person you should come to for advice. I still have a tan line from my wedding ring.”

Patience sighed. “I really am sorry about that.”

“Me, too. But I’ll move on.”

* * *

“OKAY, so here’s the counter, obviously. And this is where the magic will happen.” Patience ran her hands over the large espresso machine. It was big and shiny and the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. At least in the mechanical world. Lillie was the most perfect in the life-form department.

“I know all the specs by heart,” she continued. “Want me to tell you how many cups per hour and the amount of milk we’ll go through making lattes?”

Justice leaned against the counter and smiled at her. “If it’s important to you.”

“It is but I won’t torture you. Not when you’ve said you’ll help me.”

There were the last, most recent boxes of mugs and plates to be unpacked. As the dishwasher wasn’t coming in until next week, they would also have to be stacked neatly next to the others in preparation for their professional sanitizing.

She turned toward the space that would be filled by a very large dishwasher and sighed. “Held up by a shipping glitch,” she said. “Mom and I decided that since we hadn’t picked an actual date for the opening, we’re going to delay it three days. That way the dishwasher will be installed and we’ll have more time to train the staff.”

She drew in a breath and pressed her hands together. “There’s going to be staff. Actual employees. And we have our food on order and the coffee is here. We’ll have intermittent times when we’re open for about a week, then the real thing.”

She turned to him. “You said you could make it. Is that still true?”

“Yes. My trip’s been cut back—I’ll only be gone a couple of days.”

“To the dangerous place you can’t name.”

His blue eyes brightened with amusement. “That’s the one.”

“You could give me a hint. Is it an island or a continent?”

“There’s a big size difference there. It’s a continent.”

“But not this one.”

“No.”

She tilted her head. “You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Fine. Be that way. I still owe you. You’ve helped so much. So when you’re ready to unpack your bullets or whatever for CDS, I’ll be there for you.”

“No bullets.”

“I thought you were going to have a shooting range.”

“Okay, some bullets.”

She beamed. “See. I can be helpful.”

It was a beautiful spring afternoon, with sunlight spilling in through the freshly washed windows. Crisp curtains fluttered in the breeze or would if the windows were open. Right now they were closed and the front door was locked. Patience had learned if she didn’t keep the place locked, people tended to wander in and ask when she would open. While she appreciated the interest, every conversation took time, which meant she was always running behind on her work schedule.

She looked at the tables and chairs, the humming cold case and the shiny floor. There was coffee for sale on the shelves, along with various coffee supplies. The last delivery of mugs, glasses and plates had come in. She’d hired some help, been instructed on using all the equipment and once the dishwasher made its debut, she would be ready to open the doors to her new business.

“I can’t believe it,” she admitted. “This is really happening. Did you see the sign?”

“I saw the sign.”

She clasped her hands together in front of her waist. “I love it so much.”

The logo she and her mother had chosen was a yellow oval with a red coffee cup in the middle. Adorable hearts graced the cup. “We’re going to have T-shirts and aprons with the design,” she added.

“You mentioned that.”

She looked at him. “Is that your polite way of saying I’m getting boring?”

“You could never be boring.”

She frowned. There was something about the way he was looking at her. An intensity. She couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, but something was wrong.

She crossed to him. “Justice, what is it?”

“Nothing. We should start unpacking your mugs.”

She put her hand on his chest, as much to feel the rock-hard muscles as to hold him in place. “Am I keeping you from something?”

He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “No. But you’re on a schedule.”

He wasn’t making sense. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

His expression sharpened. He looked away, then back at her. He muttered something under his breath, then moved so quickly he was a blur. One second he was putting distance between them; the next he was hauling her against him and pressing his mouth to hers.

The kiss shocked her, but only for a second. Then she leaned into him, wanting to take all he offered. He moved his tongue against hers, igniting sparks and inspiring need. His hands moved from her waist to her back, then lower, cupping her rear. She grabbed hold of his shoulders, feeling the power in his arms. From there it was an easy journey to his chiseled chest.

“Patience,” he breathed against her mouth before kissing his way along her jawline to that sensitive spot below her ear. He nipped on the lobe before drifting lower.

His tongue teased even as he grated lightly with his teeth. Shivers rippled through her. He went down and down, across her collarbone to the neckline of her T-shirt. After dipping his tongue into the valley between her breasts, he made the return journey up the other side.

With each brush, each nibble, she found it difficult to breathe. Her skin was sensitized, her body exquisitely poised for the next erotic assault. Her br**sts ached and she knew her ni**les had tightened into anxious points. Between her thighs she was already wet.

Her head dropped back, giving him more access. When he shifted his hands to her breasts, she closed her eyes to avoid the distraction of looking instead of feeling.

As his thumbs and forefingers closed over her nipples, his mouth settled on hers. He pushed his tongue inside and stroked her in rhythm with the magic he worked on her breasts. The combination had her straining toward him. Liquid heat pooled in her center and she knew she was seconds away from begging him to never stop.

He dropped his hands to her waist and drew her against him. She went willingly, needing the contact. His erection was hard against her belly and she pressed into him, happy to know she wasn’t the only one enjoying their game.

Only Justice wasn’t playing. He cupped her face in his hands and stared into her eyes.

“I want you,” he breathed.

Words designed to thrill, she thought, as a shiver raced through her.

“I want you, too,” she murmured before she could think if that was wise or not. And then more truth tumbled out. “But I’m not on any birth control, and it’s not like I came prepared.”

She hated to be practical. In a perfect world they would both suddenly be na**d, maybe on a private beach somewhere or on a bed in the forest. They would make love with no awkward bits or consequences. Only life wasn’t that tidy.

He held her gaze for a handful of heartbeats, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom.

“Oh.” She blinked. “Either you’re a careful planner or we have to talk about your lifestyle.” Because being with a man who always hoped to get lucky wasn’t her idea of a good time.

“I’ve been a careful planner since my second week in town. And only around you,” he added. “It wasn’t an assumption. It was wishful thinking.” He touched her cheek. “About you, Patience. No one else.”

She felt any stern resolve melt away. “You mean you don’t have a thing for Mayor Marsha?”

“Sorry, no.”

“I’m not sure that’s something you need to apologize for,” she said, leaning into him.

He pulled her against him and lowered his head. Their mouths brushed once, twice, before he settled in for a good long kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and gave herself over to the sensation of being seduced by him.

His mouth was gentle yet determined. He claimed her with an intensity that left her breathless. Just when she was wishing he would start touching her in other places, he began easing her backward, toward the storeroom.

Not a bad idea, she thought, realizing the main part of the store had windows that faced one of Fool’s Gold’s primary streets. Perhaps getting na**d in front of traffic and pedestrians wasn’t the best plan.

She pulled back as she realized doing “it” surrounded by boxes and packing crates wasn’t, either.

“There’s no real place,” she began as she stepped away from him and moved toward the doorway. “It’s not like I keep a pile of blankets around or a cot. We don’t even have stairs. I’ve seen people have sex on stairs in the movies. It looks really uncomfortable. Besides, I’m not very bendy and I haven’t done it in a while...”