MAGGIE

“I’m such a chicken.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Jax pours a piping hot mug of coffee and slides it across the counter to me. “What happened?”

I wrap my hands around the ceramic mug, admiring the handmade design of it, and sigh. “The guy staying on the second floor—business suit, you’ll see him—is an old boyfriend of mine. He wandered into the inn last night, and I acted like a moron. I couldn’t think of a thing to say back when he got all suave on me, and I probably just stared at him and drooled.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.” Jax raises an eyebrow, looking like the cover model for GQ. He’s the sort of man who always looks like he’s just rolled out of bed after having the best sex of his life. He’s got this blond-brown mix of ruffled hair and dark brown eyes that are warm and gooey like the chocolate cake he’s famous for baking. “You have to understand, Maggie, that it takes a lot to turn us guys off. He’s probably feeling flattered right now.”

“You’re no help. You never have to worry about these things.”

His eyes crinkle as he smiles, and he shakes his head. “You’re one to talk, Miss Maggie.”

I can’t help but smile back. Jax and I have a solidly business friendship that rarely crosses the line to personal chitchat. But, in times of dire need, I go to him for a male perspective.

Though he’s pretty to look at, Jax is also quite reserved and, unsurprisingly, fully invested in his work. As am I, which means the two of us get along well. I don’t mess with his kitchen, and he keeps the good food coming; it’s a match made in heaven.

“Don’t you have a cake for me to test?” I ask, leaning over the counter. “I smell chocolate.”

“Your nose is broken.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I pay your bills, mister—don’t hold out on me.”

“I bring business to your inn.” He sets down the towel he’s holding and leans over the counter, our eyes meeting in a staring match of wills. “You think they come here for the beds?” He shakes his head. “They come here for the food.”

I roll my eyes. “You know the women lunch here for a glimpse of your face; it has nothing to do with your food.”

To anyone walking by, it might look like we’re flirting—heads tilted together, eyes narrowed, hovering on the precipice between playful banter and serious discussion—but we both know better. I’m simply negotiating for cake. Jax is like a brother to me and Emily, and a doting uncle to Mila.

He backs away slowly, not quite admitting defeat. But he does disappear into the kitchen to retrieve a fluffy brown two-tier cake with chocolate ganache dripping down the sides. My mouth waters.

“Can I get it a la mode?” I beg. “I’ll be your slave forever.”

My heart thumps faster at the sight of cake. There’s simply nothing more fulfilling for breakfast in my mind. It’s good for the soul, it’s great with coffee, and it’s fresh from the oven.

I’m practically panting in anticipation. I’m not proud of it, but I’m even more uncomfortable when I look to the right and find Tyler Daniels standing there, watching the interaction.

He has a crooked grin frozen on his face, as if he were halfway on his way to a smug retort when he caught me salivating over a handsome man holding cake. I briefly wonder if he heard the part where I offered to be Jax’s slave for life.

Good, I think, narrowing my eyes at him. Tyler’s face unfreezes somewhat, and there’s a distinct look of annoyance in its place. Extra good, I think, since the last thing I want is for Tyler to think I’ve been waiting for him all these years—saving all my drool to salivate over him.

It’s a good thing Tyler can only see the glare on my face, however, because inside, my feelings for him are more complicated. I don’t want to be happy to see him, but my heart disagrees. It thumps just a little too loudly at the sight of his sleep-worn face, his complex, gray-blue eyes, and the smart-fitting suit that places him in the upper one percent as far as I’m concerned.

The microwave dings, and Jax pulls the cake slice out and artistically plops a generous serving of cinnamon ice cream to the side. “Voila,” he says, sliding the cake expertly down the counter so it lands in front of me.

This shakes me from my staring contest with Tyler as I react, throwing an arm out to catch the still-spinning plate. Except something goes utterly, horribly wrong. I’m so flustered that instead of catching the plate, I somehow manage to upend the whole thing and send the cake flying the rest of the way down the counter—without the plate.

The beautiful concoction of chocolate and ice cream lands with a splat inches from Tyler’s fingers which, I notice, are clutching the bar so tightly his knuckles are an unhealthy shade of white.

“Ooops,” I say, cowering under the wrath of Jax. “Five second rule?”

“Can I help you?” Jax snarls at Tyler. “Need something for breakfast? Or will you throw it on the floor, too?”

“It’s not on the floor,” I say, and slide down the counter to retrieve the cake. I pitifully scoop it all back onto my plate, finding myself tucked almost between Tyler’s arms as I do.

“Coffee—to go, please,” Tyler says, and his words sizzle over my skin.

He’s already showered this morning. His hair is still slightly damp, and I can practically taste the scent of him—all fresh and minty, with a hint of whatever expensive cologne men from New York use. I could lick him based on that scent alone. Theoretically.

Jax, bless his soul, has returned to cut another slice of cake. He places this one in front of me, removing the pile of mush and dumping it into the trash with a grimace. He hates wasting food, and I don’t blame him. When he spends hours on a cake, every crumb costs a pretty penny.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize again as Jax reaches for the ice cream. I eye the chocolate mess on the counter. “Can you toss me the wash cloth?”

Jax rinses the cloth under the water and throws it in my direction. Somehow, however, I get distracted in the two seconds since I’ve asked him, and my reflexes aren’t fast enough to recover. I reach for the flying washcloth, but I’m too slow. It sails right over my shoulder and hits Tyler Daniels straight in the forehead.

“Oh, my God,” I murmur, staring in horror at the damp cloth now dripping water over Tyler’s face. “Your hair! I’m so sorry.”

Tyler merely pauses for a moment, raises a hand, and peels the damp—and thankfully clean—washrag from his head. My fingers reach up of their own accord, smoothing his hair down, patting his face with my sleeve in a clumsy attempt to dry him off.

“Coffee’s on me, mate,” Jax says, placing an extra-large Styrofoam cup on the counter, shooting Tyler an apologetic smile. “Sorry our girl can’t catch.”

“Our girl?” Tyler murmurs into my ear, a sardonic smile landing on his face as his eyes turn to steel.

To my surprise, he seems more concerned with Jax’s statement than he does his flattened hair.

“Um,” I flounder. “It’s nothing. I’m so sorry about your hair.” Reaching up, I once again attempt to fluff Tyler’s hair into the ruffled look he had going before. “I hope you’re not running late for something.”

“Don’t.” Tyler’s hand snakes out and catches my wrist. His eyes land on mine with absolutely no give to them. No sign of friendship or light banter this time around. “Thanks, but you’ve done enough.”

My gut sinks a few notches as Tyler reaches around me, carefully avoiding physical contact, and retrieves his coffee. He raises it in a nod of thanks to Jax, and then turns and strolls from the dining room without looking back.

“Remember...” I turn to Jax slowly, unable to even glance at the new piece of cake sitting before me, and wrinkle my nose. “When I told you about feeling like a chicken because I made a fool of myself in front of my old flame?”

A light blinks on in Jax’s eyes. “That’s him.”

“Yep.”

“What’d you do that’s more embarrassing than this?”

“Well, yesterday when he walked into the inn, we had this little tiff. He was all smooth and cool, and I looked like a moron.” I sigh, my face flaming with the memory. “Of course, I thought of all these super funny retorts while I was in the shower, and I wanted to use them on him. I almost knocked on his door.”

“Aw, Maggie.”

“Seriously,” I say with a dissatisfied nod. “I paced up and down the hallway for like fifteen minutes before I decided to give up on it.”

“Fine. You’re a chicken. Is that what you want to hear?”

I’m sure even my ears are red by now. “I just had this great image in my mind—you know, where Tyler opened the door, and I hit him with all the witty things I should’ve said in the moment.”

“And you chickened out.”

“No, I simply realized that wouldn’t be very professional of me. He’s staying at my inn; I owe him professionalism.”

“Right. Which is why you were so professional just now.”

“I was flustered.”

“Who is he to you, anyway? Why’s this bothering you so much?”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can do so, Emily calls me to the front desk. “You’ve gotta see this, Maggie.”

My appetite has somewhat recovered by now, and if I don’t get a move on, my ice cream will melt before I get a taste of it. So, I grab my plate of cake and my mug, and I meet Emily at the front desk. “What is it?”

“Oh, thanks.” Emily steals the plate and slides it in front of her. She’s halfway through the slice before I can tell her it’s mine.

I note the concerned pout of Emily’s face between bites of my cake. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m annoyed! What just happened with you and Jax?”

“Uh, nothing? Morning chitchat over coffee?”

Emily looks up, her eyes narrowed on mine. “Well, whatever happened, it scared Tyler away, and we lost about three months of business.”

“What are you talking about?” I pause, trying to let this sink in further, but it doesn’t get very far. “I don’t understand.”

“Tyler registered for a three month stay. Said he’s here for business or whatever and couldn’t bear to stay with his mother.”

I roll my eyes. Mrs. Daniels is not hard to get along with, but Tyler could never handle living at home, so I’m not surprised. “And?”

“And he just cancelled as he stormed out of here!” Emily pummels the cake more furiously into her mouth. “He announced all stiff and quiet that he’d be checking out early.”

“How early?”

“After the weekend.”

“So what? Let him go. We’re not hurting for business.”

“We don’t want to make a habit of running away well-paying clients. He booked the most expensive room in the house.”

“We’ll get someone else to fill it.”

Emily narrows her eyes at me. “That’s not the point. We all know you and Jax are just friends...except Tyler, apparently. If that’s the reason he’s checking out early, maybe you can correct his thoughts on it.”

“Why does it matter to Tyler who Jax is to me?”

“Seems to me like Tyler got jealous back there and doesn’t want to see you fawning over someone that’s not him for the next three months.”

“I’m not fawning over anyone, except that slice of cake you stole from me.”

“Would it kill you to set the record straight with him?”

“I don’t owe him an explanation!” My voice raises, and it takes me a second to cool down. “It’s not like he ever explained himself to me.”

“Is that what this is about?”

“No.” I sulk. “I’m over the past.”

“Right. Which is why you’re reacting completely logically over this.” Emily punches a few things into the computer before she stands and sighs. “Please talk to him.”

I cross my arms, feeling like a petulant child. I want to stomp my foot, but that’s Mila’s job. However, since she’s off at school, I figure I can absorb a little of the whiny attitude that appears when she doesn’t get her way. “If he doesn’t want to stay here, I’m not going to force him to keep his room booked.”

“Honey, this inn isn’t your business, alone,” Emily says. “It’s our business, and Claire’s. So, put your emotions aside and act in the best interest of the stakeholders.”

There’s a tingling at the back of my neck that has me wondering if there’s more to the story than Emily’s letting on. I size her up more thoroughly and decide she’s holding out on me. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing,” Emily says, but her eyes flash away. “I just think we should work on retaining customers, not running them away.”

“Fine!” I raise my hands. “I’ll mention something to him before the weekend.”

“I’ve arranged for chocolates on his bed and warm lavender hand towels to be delivered to his room,” Emily says. “Maybe you can deliver the towels tonight...personally. With an apology.”

“I think I’ve thrown enough towels in his face for one day.”

Emily’s mouth cracks open. “Okay, what?”

“It was Jax’s fault.”

“Was not,” Jax calls back. “I tossed the rag to Maggie and she ducked. Ducked!”

“I don’t see why it’s so important, anyway,” I tell her, leaning against the front desk. “He’s just a warm body sleeping here and paying us money. Any other warm body is one and the same. If it’s not him, it’ll be someone else.”

“I think you’re being irrational.” Emily crooks an eyebrow up. “I think you can’t resist Tyler Daniels’s warm body, which makes you scared. You’re going to let him run away so you don’t end up sleeping with him.”

She hisses the last part, and I visibly recoil. “Sleeping with Tyler? No. He’s not on my To-Do list.”

“Admit it, you just thought about it.”

I open my mouth to argue, but it’s true. The thought of Tyler Daniels with no shirt on, possibly holding a piece of chocolate cake, is the sexiest thing I can imagine. “That’s exactly why it’s best for him to not stay here.”

“Would it be so bad?” Emily asks. “I mean, you’re clearly still crazy about the guy. And you haven’t had sex in what... six years?”

At this, Jax’s eyes widen, and I feel the color returning to my cheeks. Loudly, I hiss at him, “This is none of your business. Go back to cooking.”

Emily coughs. “I think—”

“Enough of what you think.” I reach over Emily to answer the phone that’s just begun to ring. “Hello, Lilac Inn this is Maggie.” I hesitate a moment, hearing a familiar voice that I can’t quite place over the line. “Wait, my Mila?” My pulse freezes as the secretary from Mila’s school announces herself along with some alarming news. “No, that can’t be right...sure, I’ll be right there.”

As I set the phone down, I feel my brow furrow in confusion. Emily, like the brilliant friend that she is, forgets all about the inn and immediately turns her concern to Mila. “What’s wrong? Is she okay? Why do you look so confused?”

“Mila’s fine,” I say slowly. “I think.”

Emily blinks. “Then why are you looking like a ghost?”

“The principal’s secretary called to tell me that Mila’s been in a fight.”

“Like, a fist fight?” Emily asks. “That’s impossible. Mila’s the sweetest thing this inn has ever seen. And we have cake.”

Emily holds up her empty plate, and Jax sees it as a sign for a refill. Despite his faux-annoyance at feeding us, I secretly believe he enjoys nothing more than the insatiable appetites of Emily and myself. But this time, even Jax looks concerned.

“Did you say Mila was in a fight?” he asks, strolling over to join us. “That’s impossible.”

“That’s what I said!” I agreed. “But the principal needs me to come down there and deal with it—whatever that means.”

“Did she win?” Jax asks. “I bet she won. She’s a sweet thing, but she can hold her own.”

“That’s not important.” I glare at him. “What’s important is that Mila was allegedly in a fight! I mean, who would fight with my baby? Someone else had to have started it.”

“I bet she won,” Emily agrees over my shoulder with Jax. “The girl is an athletic marvel, and she’s only six.”

Jax nods proudly. “I taught her how to throw a punch.”

“Why would you ever do that?” I ask, turning to him. “She’s cut off from you. All of you.”

“I’m kidding,” Jax says. “Though I did teach her how to throw a football.”

“Go,” Emily says, steering me toward the door. “We’ll hold the fort down. And remember to breathe. I’m sure it’s fine—it’s probably all a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding,” I say, thinking of Mila, and Jax, and Tyler. “A morning of misunderstandings.”

“Mila first, then Tyler,” Emily says. “We’ll sort this all out.”