“Aubrey.” She sounded as breathy as Marilyn Monroe in her JFK birthday serenade. It was totally unintentional and massively embarrassing.
A knowing grin spread across his face, all cocky and sexy as hell. Then she just about died when a dimple tucked into his left cheek. Note to self: Going without sex for a year makes you susceptible to gorgeous men with dimples.
“What are you having?” He cocked his head to one side and a lock of jet-black hair fell across his forehead. Her fingers itched to brush it away.
“Buzz Off.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed and jumped to clarify herself. “The blond ale. That’s the name—Buzz Off. I wasn’t telling you to leave or anything.”
And just like that, she made everything worse. Much, much worse.
“I’m relieved to hear that, because I’d like to buy you a drink.” His laughter, low and rumbly, spread through her like warm brandy, and she forgot to be embarrassed. “May I?”
That voice. That laugh. That dimple. Aubrey could only manage a nod as heat and awareness flooded her.
* * *
Landon’s eyes roamed over the striking woman in the Cookie Monster T-shirt, greedy to drink in as much of her as he could. The sight of her provided the perfect antidote to his frustrating day, which had been a parade of bad luck.
He’d enjoyed a thrilling ride into a ditch when his tire blew on the freeway, but that was tame compared to his trip to Weldon in the rustiest tow truck in existence. While Weldon’s auto shop/gas station/mini-mart was the closest business that could replace his tire, it was closed for the day at eleven thirty. In the morning. Don’t small-town folks need gas or some cherry slushy in the middle of the day? If he hadn’t had over three hours of driving left, he would’ve risked driving on a spare.
Instead, he’d checked in at Lola’s Trattoria and Inn and wandered through the pedestrian-friendly town, exploring the picturesque slice of Americana. An eclectic mix of stores filled the streets without a chain store in sight. That was quite a feat when he couldn’t even stroll the cobblestoned villages of Europe without passing a Starbucks or a McDonald’s.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked without a destination. There was no rush to be somewhere or to do something. The brief break from his hectic life had felt utterly foreign, and it had taken him half an hour to relax into it. As his steps became lighter and a smile tugged at his lips, a delectable smell wafted toward him. The aroma of freshly baked bread, butter, and sweet spices beckoned him to search for its source.
His nose led him to Comfort Zone, a bakery hidden between a barbershop and a pet store. The warmth and ease of the place ensconced him as soon as he stepped inside. It was lively without being loud and full of people without feeling crowded. Whether they were engrossed in a book or guffawing at someone’s joke, the customers looked completely at ease, like they were hanging out at their best friend’s house. Immersed in the atmosphere, he’d experienced a rare moment of peace, which was interrupted before he could properly savor it.
Landon was enjoying a cup of rich, dark coffee and a whole chocolate Bundt cake, the bakery’s special of the day—soaking in the sun from the bright outdoor seating—when he’d choked on a gummy worm hidden within the thick, clingy peanut butter filling. His eyes and nose running from his coughing fit, he dumped the cake in the trash bin and walked away. He’d escaped asphyxiation, but he was angry as hell.
There were plenty of inedible cakes in the world, but the bakery and the Bundt cake had brimmed with potential. The chocolate cake itself had been beautiful—light, moist, and perfectly bittersweet. The cream cheese and peanut butter filling had tasted improbably delicious.
The baker had talent, but throwing in the gummy worms exhibited arrogance and callousness. And showcasing the Bundt cake as the daily special without alerting the customers to the unusual filling? That was wrong. A rebellion without a cause. It was an unfortunate pitfall for some talented chefs. Was it frustration? Boredom? Whatever prompted the addition of the gummy worms, the cake shouldn’t have been served to a customer. Experiments should stay in the kitchen until they were perfected. Comfort Zone had used its customers, including him, as test subjects.
Landon had been on his way to review a three-starred Michelin restaurant in Mammoth, but his overnight stay in Weldon meant that well-laid plan wasn’t happening. He had to fly out the next afternoon for his monthlong assignment in East Asia, which meant he had to drive back to Santa Monica at the crack of dawn. He was counting on the auto shop/gas station/mini-mart to open at 6:00 A.M. as the sign promised.
It was unplanned and a bit impulsive, but Weldon’s very own Comfort Zone was going to be critiqued in California Coast Monthly. As aggravating as the experience had been, excitement stirred at the prospect of writing a review he was emotionally invested in.
“So what brings you to Weldon?” Aubrey said, licking off the foam mustache her blond ale left behind.
The flash of pink jerked Landon out of his thoughts, and he zeroed in on the alluring woman in front of him. “Bad luck.”
“That sounds ominous.”
When she smiled, her almond-shaped brown eyes tilted up in the corners, adding to her ethereal beauty. Her cropped black hair capped her delicate head, and her petite body dipped and flared in all the right places. He could imagine her as a mischievous woodland faerie, clothed in gossamer wings.
“Nothing that exciting. My car blew a tire, but the auto shop is closed till tomorrow morning, so here I am.”
“You’re right. Not exciting at all.” Aubrey munched on a pretzel, amusement curving her lips. “Next time, try throwing in a helicopter, some churning water, or an active volcano somewhere in your story.”
“Maybe I’ll add a femme fatale.”
The bridge of her nose crinkled as she laughed, and her cupid’s bow mouth curved in an impish smile. Regrettably, her tinkling laughter caught her friend’s attention, and Landon nearly cringed. The brewery had a large enough crowd to keep a single server more than busy, and Tara was bustling about like a woman possessed by a tornado. Every time she stopped by the bar, she threw a subtle glare his way, telegraphing a simple but effective message.
One false move and I drown you in a beer barrel.
She was one fierce cockblocker. Her loyalty to Aubrey was inexplicably endearing to him, but her concern was misplaced. Landon was all about consensual fun. He put on his best Boy Scout face to put her at ease, but the brewer’s eyes widened in alarm. He’d actually never been a Boy Scout. Perhaps he should’ve gone for a laid-back expression instead. Fuck it. Landon smiled and nodded politely to her, and then stood from his seat.
“Why don’t we find ourselves a table?” Well meaning or not, he wanted Aubrey to himself.
“I’d like that.” She smiled at her friend and tilted her head toward the dining area. “Tara, we’re gonna grab a table.”
“How’s this?” He’d chosen a small table at the back corner. When Aubrey nodded, he pulled out her chair and took a seat across from her.
Their proximity and relative privacy made the air between them hum with electricity. Their knees brushed every time either of them shifted in their seat, sending bolts of desire through him. A sharp intake of breath and a parting of her lips revealed Aubrey wasn’t immune to their magnetic attraction.