A smile lifted her lips as she imagined a miniature version of herself. Then the smile faded. Her baby plans had been put on hold. That’s where they would stay. At least until the salon and day spa started turning a hefty profit.
IVF, her last hope for having a child, didn’t come cheap.
It was too bad insemination couldn’t be fun rather than so…clinical. Then again, anything other than clinical would be kind of creepy.
Last night with Adam had been pleasant. Actually, more than pleasant. But she reminded herself, the time for fun was over. She needed to get down to business.
In less than thirty minutes, she was dressed and ready to head out the door. Her mother might call her high maintenance, but Charlotte was an expert at getting herself ready for the day with little wasted effort.
For now, the salon remained closed. David Chapin, Marigold’s stepbrother and an award-winning architect, had drawn up the renovation plans gratis. Kyle Kendrick, who along with his father ran a multinational construction firm, had a small crew on-site daily.
Since Kyle and David were business partners, he’d given her and Marigold a good price on the renovation.
Charlotte decided to walk to the salon and check on the progress. Last night had energized her, and she was ready to get moving.
As the sun shone warm today, she’d donned a pair of cropped pants and a sleeveless white top with just enough eyelets to make it interesting. Her skin had a hint of a tan, and the white provided a pleasing contrast.
Though there was no one she wanted to impress, she made it a point not to leave home without looking her best. She even took time to apply red to her lips.
She glanced at her wedge sandals. They would be comfortable enough for a walk to the salon. Heck, she’d be comfortable wearing heels. But she’d already noticed that not many women here wore heels with cropped pants.
Her goal was to fit in, not stand out.
She hesitated when she reached the main floor, tempted by the enticing aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Answering the siren call, she entered the bakery.
The young woman behind the counter glanced in her direction and flashed a bright smile. “How may I help you?”
Charlotte glanced at the glass bake case. “I was going to get a cinnamon roll, but that…” She pointed to a pastry with flaky buttery layers inside and caramelized burnt sugar on the outside. “Looks intriguing.”
“That’s a kouign amann,” the girl told her as the bells over the door jingled. “It’s very popular. Think of it as sort of a cross between a croissant and a palmier.”
“Decisions. Decisions.” Charlotte tapped a finger against her mouth, conscious of a line forming behind her.
“You could get one of each.” The girl offered a hopeful smile and slid open the back of the bake case, prepared for Charlotte’s decision.
“Good thought.” Charlotte pulled out her wallet. “Put them in separate sacks, please.”
“Absolutely.”
In a matter of minutes, Charlotte was out the door with two white bakery bags in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other. She wasn’t sure which pastry she would eat once she got to the salon, but she knew she couldn’t go wrong with either one.
She decided to cut across the town square. Unlike Marigold’s current salon, which commanded a prime spot on Main Street, Golden Door sat several streets off the beaten path.
Charlotte didn’t mind the walk, but as she crossed Main, she realized the booths she’d seen from her window weren’t from last night’s celebration. Most of these held fruits and vegetables.
Some showcased jewelry and other trinkets, but the majority of booths held produce. She saw tomatoes, peppers, potatoes. There were baskets of sweet corn and one booth devoted totally to herbs.
“Charlotte.”
The sound of her name had a shiver traveling down her spine. She turned and locked eyes with the man who’d murmured her name over and over last night in a sexy rasp.
Adam stood beside the chair of an older man, who had a weathered face and kind eyes, in a booth labeled Pure Orgasmic.
She blinked at the sign, reading it correctly this time. Pure Organic.
With lips twisted in a wry smile, Charlotte sauntered over. This, she reminded herself, was why she never went out without looking her best. You never knew who you might run into.
Adam didn’t look like he’d spent half the night in her bed getting very little sleep. He was freshly shaven, and his dark wavy hair gleamed in the sunshine. The smile he flashed was warm and friendly.
“Hard at work already.” She kept her tone light and friendly. “I’m impressed.”
“Traffic will pick up in an hour or so,” the older man said. “That’s when the after-church crowd will descend and pick us clean.” He rose from the chair with great effort, but steadied once he was on his feet. He extended his hand. “I’m Stan Vogele, Adam’s father. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“I thought—” Adam began.
“Charlotte McCray. It’s nice to meet you.” She closed her hand around the older man’s and glanced in Adam’s direction. “I’ve heard only good things.”
Stan glanced at her bakery bags. “Looks like you’ve already done some shopping.”
“Sweet treats for two sweet guys.” Charlotte set both bags on the counter behind the vegetables. “You’re going to have to decide who gets the cinnamon roll and who gets the kouign amann. Both look like winners to me.”
“You don’t have to give us your pastries,” Adam protested, though the spark of pleasure in his eyes sent a rush of warmth through her.
“I feel certain your father taught you how to receive a gift gracefully.” Charlotte shot Stan a wink.
He grinned and looked at his son. “I like her.”
Only then did Charlotte realize this interaction was at risk of heading down a dangerous track. Befriending Adam’s dad wasn’t exactly no-strings behavior.
It shouldn’t matter if Stan liked her.
It shouldn’t matter if Adam liked her.
The fact that it did matter was distressing.
“I’d love to stay and get better acquainted, but you need to work and so do I. It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Vogele.”
“Stan. Please call me Stan.”
“I hope you have a very productive day, Stan.” Charlotte smiled at Adam, wiggled her fingers and turned to leave.
Slipping swiftly from the restraining hand Adam moved to place on her arm, Charlotte began walking away. Behind her, she heard Adam call to his father as he hurried to catch up.
“I’ll be right back, Dad.”
“Take your time.”
“I enjoyed spending time with you last night,” he said as he fell into step beside her.
She slowed and turned. His brown eyes were warm and, given the chance, capable of piercing the ice shield she’d built around her heart.
“When can I see you again?” he asked.
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”
Obviously not the response he’d been expecting as surprise skittered across his face. “Why not?”
Charlotte stopped and placed a hand flat against his chest. A mistake she realized immediately. Touching him brought too many memories surging forth. She dropped her hand. For good measure, she took a step back. “I want to be direct with you.”