Always On My Mind Read online

  Leah dug into the bowl of cookie dough with renewed energy, inhaling the rest of it—which was delicious. Gee, maybe she should do this for a living…

  Why hadn’t she left already?

  She hadn’t left because of Elsie, she reminded herself. In spite of her grandma’s assurances, Leah wasn’t at all sure that she could go back to handling the bakery by herself.

  And then there was the fact that Leah was all Elsie had.

  No, wait. That was backward. Elsie was all Leah had. Leah had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be with family, to be unconditionally loved…

  And that wasn’t all, a little voice inside her head reminded her. There was more holding her to Lucky Harbor, and she knew it.

  There was Jack. He was family too, in a very different way. Jack was…

  Everything.

  As if she’d conjured him up, he appeared at the back door looking superficially neutral. Letting himself in, his gaze settled on hers as he shut and locked the door behind him.

  He was in a T-shirt that said JUST DO IT and a pair of old Levi’s that lovingly contoured his body, intimately cupping parts of him that she missed. He smiled at the sight of her on the counter, bowl under one arm, wooden spoon in her other hand. But the smile didn’t meet his serious eyes.

  He’d seen the show.

  “I’m not going to talk about it,” she warned him. “So if that’s why you’re here, go away.”

  He didn’t respond to this.

  “I mean it, Jack. You said no big good-bye. You said it. It was your rule. I’m leaving tomorrow. Let’s just let it go.”

  He came closer, until his thighs bumped hers. He looked into the bowl and then ran a finger along the bowl’s edge and sucked it into his mouth.

  “Double fudge,” he said.

  “You’re good.”

  His eyes met hers, and the things she saw in them dried up her mouth. Because he was also bad. Perfectly, wonderfully bad. Not wanting to acknowledge the tightening in her gut—God, she hated knowing she’d let him down along with everyone else she knew—she licked the wooden spoon and said nothing.

  He leaned against the counter and waited her out. He always could.

  “Still not going to talk about it,” she finally said.

  He just looked at her.

  Dammit. “Listen, just being on that show was a big deal for me, okay? Who could have expected me to get as far as I did, much less win it?”

  More nothing from the big, bad, attitude-ridden firefighter, and this pissed her off. “Your expectations for me have always been too high,” she snapped.

  “You dropped the cake. You fucking dropped the cake.”

  “I know,” she said. “I was there.”

  “Leah, you could make a wedding cake when you were thirteen years old. I know it. I ate it. You’d carry it across my mom’s kitchen to the table with pride and grace. You never dropped it.”

  “Well I did this time.”

  He shook his head. “Why?”

  In the heavy silence, her breath caught audibly. “I don’t want to discuss it. I screwed it up, that’s all. I’m not going to be a star pastry chef and that’s that. Get over it.”

  He closed his eyes and dropped his head to his chest for a beat before looking at her again, his eyes filled with exasperation and frustration. “I don’t give a shit about what you do for a living, Leah. It’s not about that. It’s about you.”

  The storm that had been brewing inside her broke open. “I’m not perfect, all right? We both know it. So you, and everyone else who thinks I should be, need to back off. I’m only me.”

  “Well finally,” he said, his voice not quite as low and controlled as usual. “Something real out of your mouth.”

  She pointed her chocolate-covered spoon at the door. “Get out.”

  “Oh hell no. We’re just getting somewhere.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. She’d chosen to stay here in Lucky Harbor until the bitter end, so she had no one to blame for this confrontation but herself. She was going to own it. “I lost, okay? I’m not going to make excuses for not being the best.”

  “Are you going to make excuses for not letting yourself be happy? For thinking you don’t deserve it?”

  “I’m not going to open a pastry shop in New York City. Big deal. How many people get to do that anyway? I’ve got other stuff going on. I’m happy.”

  “If only you believed that,” he said very seriously. Way too seriously.

  “Don’t start with me, Jack. I am happy.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked around, and she followed his gaze, taking in everything he saw. Elsie’s favorite bowls stacked up along the counter. Elsie’s utensils and cookery. Elsie’s everything.

  “There’s nothing of you here,” he said.

  “It’s Grandma’s bakery. Not mine.”

  “I’ve been at the house. There’s nothing of you there either.”

  “Again,” she said. “Not my place.”

  “Yeah? Well then, where is your place, Leah?”

  “You know I don’t have one right now. I’ve been a little busy. And now I’m leaving anyway, so—”

  “Bullshit.” He caged her in with a hand on either side of her hips. “I’m calling bullshit, Leah.”

  “No, it’s true. I leave tomorrow night.”

  “Not that,” he said. “Yeah, you’re leaving. No one knows it better than me. I’m talking about you not letting anyone too close or they’ll see your flaws.”

  Her breath hitched. Dammit. He knew her far too well.

  He ducked a little to look into her eyes. “But I’ve always seen you, all of you, flaws and all. I know you, so I can say this. You’re not perfect. But you’re perfect for me. And it pisses me off that you won’t let that happen. Let us happen. I’m tired of watching you implode, Leah. Tired and done.”

  “Then get the hell out,” she said. “I’ve asked you twice now.”

  He did just that. He got the hell out.

  Leah covered her face and tried to tell herself he was an ass. A pushy, unforgiving ass. But she knew exactly who was at fault here.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Leah jerked and opened her eyes.

  Aubrey stood in the doorway holding a flask and a bag of potato chips. “Thought one of these might be of some help about now.”

  “Alcohol and chips?”

  “It’s my emergency ‘Just Fucked Up Again’ kit.”

  Leah sighed. “You heard.”

  “Everything,” Aubrey agreed. “Thin walls.” She came in and helped herself to two glasses. She poured a splash of something amber into each and then handed one to Leah, keeping the other for herself. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers?” Leah choked out.

  “You’re right,” Aubrey said. “How about…to fucking up? I mean, let’s face it, we’re both pretty good at that.”

  “What have you ever fucked up?”

  Aubrey laughed a little coldly, and yet somehow the sound held volumes of loneliness. “You grew up here. You know my rep.”

  “You have a rep for being unflappable and gorgeous.”

  Aubrey took another shot. “And…”

  “Okay,” Leah said. “And maybe a little untouchable.”

  “Bitchy,” Aubrey corrected. “Mean. Cold.”

  “I don’t think you’re mean or cold,” Leah said.

  Aubrey laughed again, this one much more real. “Just bitchy? Okay, I can live with that.”

  There was a soft knock, and Ali appeared at the doorway. She saw the glasses and immediately her mouth went into a pout. “Hey. I want to join.”

  “Can’t,” Aubrey said. “You aren’t a fuckup.”

  Ali paused a beat, taking this in, clearly thinking hard. “You’re wrong. I’ve been a fuckup before.”

  Aubrey smiled. “Is that the first time you’ve ever said fuck?”

  “Maybe,” Ali said. “Let me join the club and I’ll say it as m
uch as you want. Look— fuck, fuck, fuck—”

  “Stop,” Aubrey said on a laugh and got out a third glass, filling it with a few fingers straight up.

  Ali knocked it back, coughed, and swiped at her mouth. “So are we drinking to the Sweet Wars final or something else?” She divided a gaze between them, clearly assuming it could have been either of them equally to be the screwup.

  Leah raised her hand. “The finals. I’m this week’s idiot.”

  “No you’re not,” Ali said, loyal to the end, but she bit her lower lip because she loved Jack too. “It can’t be unfixable, it can’t. You both care so much about each other.”

  “And isn’t that just it,” Leah said softly and scrubbed her hands over her face. “How can you fall for the person who knows you better than anyone else?”

  “The question is,” Aubrey said just as quietly, “how can you not?”

  “He knows everything about me,” Leah said. “All my secrets. There’s no hiding with him, no holding back.” She stood up, restlessly turning in a circle before coming back around to stare at her friends. “Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to be laid bare before someone like that?”

  Both Ali and Aubrey were looking at her with eyes that assured her that they knew exactly, and she sighed. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

  “Jack wouldn’t hurt you,” Ali rushed to say. “He’d rip off his own arm first.”

  Leah nodded. She knew this, she did. “It’s just that I’ve never needed a man before to make my life complete. Never. But…”

  “But what?” Ali demanded when Leah trailed off, a little overwhelmed by her own epiphany. “But what?”

  “But…I need that man,” Leah said. “I need Jack.”

  Jack lost himself in his drug of choice—work. It was late, and he was off duty, and yet he was at his desk staring at his computer screen. Around him, the station was quiet and dark.

  Inside him, there was no quiet to be found as he picked up the phone.

  “Do you know what time it is?” Ronald grumbled.

  “And do you know that Mr. Rinaldi, that new developer in town, isn’t new at all?”

  Ronald blew out a long breath, sounding like he was struggling to come awake. “What are you talking about?”

  “He’s Max Fitzgerald’s brother.”

  “Well, hell,” Ronald said.

  “Yeah. Well, hell.”

  The next morning, Leah was surprised to find her grandma already up and dressed to go to work.

  “I’m baking with you this morning,” Elsie said. “Our last day. No sadness,” she said at the look on Leah’s face. “And anyway, yes it’s an ending, but it’s also a new beginning as well. I’m feeling great. Turns out, having a man’s better than Metamucil.”

  “I’d have to agree,” a man said, and to Leah’s utter shock, Mr. Lyons walked into the kitchen using his cane, looking as dapper and cheery as Elsie. He gave her a smacking kiss on the lips, winked at Leah, and then limped to the door. “I’ll see you soon, chickie,” he said to Elsie, and was gone.

  “Isn’t he the sweetest thing?” Elsie asked.

  Twenty minutes later, they were at the bakery. And Leah had a bitch of a headache, which she tried to ignore. It was her last day, and she was stressed. That was all.

  It had nothing to do with the hole in her damn heart.

  An hour passed and she was elbow deep into the early morning baking when it happened.

  The power flickered and went out.

  “Dammit,” Leah muttered. She had a searing hot poker of pain behind one eyeball. Her headache had upgraded to migraine level, and she was feeling lightheaded to boot.

  Not enough sleep.

  Dawn hadn’t quite broken, so she felt for the junk drawer and fumbled for the flashlight and some new fuses. “Grandma,” she called to the front room, where Elsie had been cleaning the display shelves for the new day’s goods. “Have a seat for a few minutes; I’ll get this.”

  “Already sitting,” Elsie called back. “I might have been a little overzealous on the knee.”

  “You shouldn’t be bending down and cleaning those displays.”

  “That’s not what I got overzealous about,” Elsie said.

  Leah winced and rubbed her temples. “TMI, Grandma.”

  Elsie laughed in delight. “Go. I’m fine.”

  Leah paused to flick the beam of light into the little glass window of the new oven.

  Her soufflé was going to be ruined. And hell if it hadn’t been one of the most amazing batches ever too. Frustrated, she left the heat of the kitchen and stepped outside, closing the door so she didn’t let out the bought air.

  Ali wasn’t in yet, and the bookstore was closed like always. Dawn was breaking, the light a brilliant kaleidoscope of oranges, reds, and purples. The air was chilly and seemed to clear her head. There was a tang of salt from the ocean and…

  She went still and sniffed again.

  Sulfur?

  In the alley, she turned in a slow circle, something crunching beneath her shoe.

  A scattering of cigarette butts.

  That was odd. Extremely odd. The only reason for anyone to be back here was if he belonged in one of the three shops that made up the building.

  But no one who did belong here smoked.

  She glanced at the back door to the bakery and at the glass window there. Right now, with the sun’s rays stabbing through the early morning, the reflection on the glass nearly blinded her, and she couldn’t see in. But as of only a few minutes ago, it would have still been dark outside. Inside the kitchen, she’d have been like a fish in a fishbowl to anyone in the alley, and knowing it, goose bumps rose on her skin.

  Someone had stood right here in this spot, smoking and watching her.

  Hugging herself against the chill that raced down her spine, she reentered the kitchen and shut and locked the door. And then bolted it. “Grandma,” she called out. “Make sure the front door’s still locked, okay?” Her headache was killing her, and adding that to the exhaustion of not sleeping was making her dizzy. All this broken heart stuff was hell on her immune system, she thought, realizing she felt weak too. And…sick. Dammit. She sat. Just for a minute, she told herself, and set her head on her arms. Whew. She was seriously woozy. In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that her grandma had never responded to her.

  She heard footsteps. Not her grandma’s uneven, shuffling gait but someone with a more steady stride. A man, she thought. But her head was too heavy to lift, and her eyelids wouldn’t open…

  Chapter 27

  Jack was deeply asleep, dreaming of being smothered when someone started banging on his door. By the time he sat up and shoved Kevin off his chest, Ben had let himself in and stood in the doorway in a pair of unbuttoned jeans. “Get up,” he told Jack, shrugging into a shirt. “Now.”

  There was little that ever made Ben rush, and knowing it, Jack immediately rolled off the bed and reached for pants.

  “Luke called,” Ben said. “There’s a problem downtown.”

  Jack knew damn well that Luke wouldn’t call about just any problem. “What is it?”

  “The bakery. Someone called in a report of seeing an older woman unconscious inside the closed bakery. He didn’t know more; the call had just come in. Let’s go.”

  Jack was already out the door, calling dispatch while Ben drove. Emergency responders were just arriving on scene. Nothing to report yet.

  Jack ended the call and leaned forward in the passenger seat, like that could get them to the scene faster.

  “You think it’s Elsie?” Ben asked.

  “Don’t know.” Jack hit Leah’s number.

  No answer.

  If it was Elsie in trouble—and who else could it be—then he wondered what she’d been doing alone at the bakery. Where was Leah? Under different circumstances, she might have been in Jack’s bed, but he’d screwed that up pretty good.

  He tried her cell again but it still went straight to voice ma
il. “Leah,” he said. “Call me.” He disconnected and stared at the road. Had she avoided a good-bye altogether and left town early? He had to work on not having heart failure when Ben went straight instead of left at the pier. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Driving you to the bakery,” Ben said.

  “By way of Africa? Why the hell didn’t you turn on Harbor Boulevard?”

  “They’re tearing up Harbor. Repaving.”

  When they got caught at one of the only three stoplights in town, Jack could actually feel a stroke coming on and had to put a finger to his twitching eye. “There’s no one in the intersection. Go through it.”

  Ben didn’t move.

  “Ben.”

  “You already have a ticket this week.”

  “But you don’t!”

  The light turned green, so in the end Jack didn’t have to kill his cousin. And twenty-five hundred years later, Ben pulled up behind the ambulance and fire unit. Both men got out of the car and ran toward the scene.

  Luke stepped away from a group of uniforms and into Jack’s path. “Tim was driving by before dawn and saw the front light on in the bakery,” he told them. “He said he got excited that Leah had opened early and parked. But the door was locked, and through the window he could see Elsie slumped at a table. He knocked but got no response. He broke in and hauled her out. She’s come to briefly, but she’s woozy and confused. Incoherent. It’s a possible CO2 poisoning, so we’re testing for that now.”

  Carbon monoxide poisoning was known as a silent, viciously fast killer, and he got cold to the bone. “Leah?”

  Luke shook his head. “Haven’t seen her, but you’re literally only two minutes behind us. Still clearing the building.”

  Hunter and Cindy were rolling the gurney toward the ambulance, where an agitated Elsie struggled with Hunter, who was trying to fit her with an oxygen mask. Her hands were fluttering, her eyes wide with confusion and shock.

  “Shortness of breath and chest pains,” Hunter told Jack.

  Jack leaned over a confused Elsie, taking her hands in his. “You’re safe, Elsie.” Gently he placed the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. “Lie still a minute. Just breathe.”