Batter Up (Bachelors of Buttermilk Falls Book 1) (12 page)

J
ason turned
his Jeep down the windy dirt path to the last plot on the land. The weather was unseasonably comfortable for Miami, even this late in the summer. Normally, he would have loved taking his Jeep out on this kind of day, but not today. He slowed down and parked. He’d only been to this cemetery once before. That day had broken him.

He shut off the engine and grabbed the beautiful white and yellow flowers from the passenger seat. He’d picked them up earlier from a florist on Lincoln Road. A place he hadn’t stepped in in over three years.

Since he returned to Miami, all he thought about was getting back to Buttermilk Falls and his future.

Today would be different. He needed to do what he should have done way before now. Spend the day with Emily. He owed it to his deceased fiancée.

He pulled out one of the flowers, rubbing his thumb up and down the long stem. Daisies had always been her favorite. He thought back to their first date where he had stood on her porch with one single daisy.

He’d picked her up that evening on his motorcycle. God, he loved that thing. She’d refused to ride it at first but finally succumbed to her adventurous side. He laughed . . . or maybe she’d been starving and wanted to get to the restaurant. He remembered her long arms wrapped around him as he flew down A1A. They’d spent a romantic candlelit evening at a small bistro on South Beach. That night was the start of their year-long relationship.

Emily had been an elementary school teacher in Ft. Lauderdale where she taught fourth grade. From the moment Jason laid eyes on her, the beautiful brunette had taken his breath away.

They had met under unorthodox and tragic circumstances when Jason covered a mass school shooting. Emily had been in the principal’s office when it happened and saw the whole thing.

She had been able to identify the perpetrator in a lineup, and after a short trial, the bastard was sent away for a long time.

From the beginning, Jason felt an inexplicable pull toward Emily. He wanted to be her protector. She had turned him down cold the first time he’d asked her out, but he didn’t give up. He never did when he wanted something. She finally agreed to have dinner with him, often joking that it was his dimples that wore her down.

He had loved everything about her: her charm, wit, and beauty. She also had a calmness that balanced out his chaotic reporter lifestyle. By the holidays, they were officially a couple, and that spring, Jason had proposed at the same restaurant that they’d had their first date.

As they were busy planning their happily ever after, what they didn’t know was that the bad guy whom Emily helped put away had a seedy father on the outside, wanting revenge.

Jason thought back to the night that he’d found his bride-to-be hunched over in her Volkswagen. The doctors said the bullet wound indicated she had died instantly.

That was three years ago. Since then, Jason had buried himself in his work. His editor had suggested moving him off the police beat, but Jason had threatened to quit if she did. He felt he owed it to Emily to continue covering crime stories.

He stood at her upright marble headstone. Flower pots had been placed on both sides and were filled with all kinds of bright-colored daisies. He suspected Emily’s parents kept up the grave. They lived in Pembroke Pines, not far away. He rarely kept in touch with the family. He’d tried in the beginning, even spent Thanksgiving that first year after Emily’s death with them. The pain was just too much. Emily’s mother called Jason every Christmas to check in on him.

Three years ago, he had stood alongside both her and her husband as their daughter’s casket was lowered into the ground. Consumed by both grief and an overwhelming guilt that he should have been there that night to protect Emily, he never could muster the courage to return to this spot.

Until today. Kneeling down, he laid the flowers in front of the headstone and stood. “My sweet, Emily.” His eyes started to water. How could he have been so selfish not to visit her all these years?

He ran his hand through his hair. “You’re probably wondering what took me so long. I can just see you shaking your head.” He smiled at the memory of her often showing her frustration at his procrastination. Whether it was in taking the trash out, doing his taxes, or waiting until the last minute to file a story, she’d known his tendencies to procrastinate all too well.

He laid the long stem flower on the grass in front of her stone, imagining her beautiful body resting peacefully underneath. “I’m so sorry that we didn’t get to have the life I promised. I want you to know that I will never forget what we had.” He touched his heart. “I’ll always hold you right here. You will always be a part of me.”

Jason sat down and stared at the gravestone. He wasn’t sure what to say next, so he just started talking. The hours ticked by as he talked about everything and anything. He filled her in on the newspaper stories he’d written over the last couple of years and vacations taken with Brandon, including the Las Vegas bachelorette party they’d stumbled upon. Three hours passed, one for each year that he’d stayed away.

Toward the end of the third hour, he let out a slow breath. He knew what he wanted to talk about next. This wouldn’t be easy, but he needed to tell her.

“I met someone,” he said with a nervous laugh. “But you know that, don’t you? You’d like her. Her name is Emma, and she’s smart and feisty . . .” He looked up at the blue sky and then brought his gaze back to the stone. “And funny . . . I don’t think she means to be, but you can’t help but laugh at some of her actions. And she knows how to put me in my place.” He thought back to the hot sauce she had mixed into the cupcake batter and chuckled.

He cracked his knuckles, knowing what he had to admit. “I liked her from the beginning, but man, she did not care for me.” He smiled. “I’m pretty sure my dimples wore her down, too.”

“I think I’m falling in love again. But I can’t do this without your permission. I need to know you’re okay with this.”

He touched the headstone. Logic, reason, and hard facts had always been staples of his life. Yet, this summer, his dead fiancée had found a way to communicate with him. The question: would his past give him permission to write a new future with another woman? He sat there for a while longer and waited for a sign, hoping for some reassurance from Emily.

“
N
o
, I’m not doing it.” Emma stood her ground behind the Sugar Spoon counter, arms crossed. It was Monday night and a special request had just been made. A ridiculous one as far as she was concerned, and hell would freeze over before she’d grant it. “No way. No how.”

“Come on, love.” Brandon gave her a toothy grin and touched her hand, letting his linger far too long on hers. “Do it for Jason’s best friend. He’d want you to.”

“First, the name is Emma, not love.” She yanked her hand away and grabbed a wash

cloth from underneath the counter. “Second, I know you’re expecting to see Caitlin’s name in the batter. What if you don’t? Then it’s all my fault.” She put her hands on her hips. “Third, how do I know you won’t run off and write a story for your silly west coast newspaper?”

“Um . . . that silly paper circulates close to a million daily.”

“My point exactly.” Emma began to wipe down the counter. She’d already said way too

much. What she should have done was asked one of her bachelors to throw Brandon’s ass out the minute she realized he was in her bakeshop.

She studied him. The weasel had snuck in, blending with the other bachelors. Best friend to Jason or not, she didn’t owe this arrogant jerk anything. There was no way she’d do the spell in front of him, let alone
on
him.

All of Buttermilk Falls had been abuzz about Caitlin’s new boyfriend, a reporter for the
Los Angeles Times
who was even hotter than Jason. Apparently, he liked to take long jogs around town with his shirt off. Emma couldn’t stomach the gossip. Who cared whom Caitlin was banging? Hot or not, Brandon didn’t hold a candle to her handsome reporter in looks or manner.

She sighed and turned, wiping her wet hands on a paper towel. Her handsome reporter wasn’t exactly hers. Did Brandon know how Jason was doing or when he’d be back? It had been just over a week since she’d virtually kidnapped Abby and stopped her uncle’s motorboat in the middle of Buttermilk Lake in a lame attempt to protect her heart from breaking any more than it already had.

Abby had forgiven her for the stunt. The pain Emma felt that day hadn’t let up. The sadness over Michael leaving all those months ago didn’t come close to the heartache Jason’s departure caused.

Emma squared her shoulders. Right now, she needed to get Brandon out of her bakeshop. He’d already gotten an earful, with the bakery filled with twenty single guys, and the buzz about the latest bachelor chickening out. Besides, she suspected he already knew what happens here on Monday nights. Even if Jason hadn’t told his best friend about Batter Up, Brandon’s bed companion probably did.

Dressed “incognito” in jeans, black T-shirt, and a NY Yankees baseball cap, Brandon had sauntered in and blended easily with the other bachelors. It was only after the selected bachelor got a case of cold feet and bolted did Brandon make himself known and pipe up that he wanted to be the last-minute replacement.

“So, what do you say? Make me the next bachelor?” Brandon waggled his eyebrows. “You know you want to.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Come on. I’ll pay you fifty dollars.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet, slapping a crisp bill on the counter.

Emma stared down at Ulysses S. Grant. She could use the money. After buying Abby a new phone, she was flat broke. “One hundred,” she countered.

He grinned and pulled out a second fifty dollar bill. “Quite the negotiator. I like you, Emmy Stevens.”

“It’s Emma,” she said through gritted teeth. In the history of bad ideas, this was a bad idea. Her instincts were screaming it. However, two Ulysses S. Grants were better than one. One hundred dollars would fill her gas tank, buy her groceries, and probably leave her with just enough to go see a movie or enjoy happy hour with Bridget and Abby later in the week.

“Fine,” she conceded, motioning to an empty stool. “Sit down and promise me that what you see doesn’t leave this bakery.”

He raised three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Abby slid into the stool next to Brandon and rolled her eyes. “You’re not seriously going to predict his future bride, are you, Emma?”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You know this guy?” She grabbed her mixing bowl from underneath the counter and began to add the ingredients. Oh, right. She’d sent Brandon to the Sugar Spoon for muffins last Monday.

She sighed. Had it really been only a week since that amazing night with Jason? A slight shiver went up her spine as she flashed back to them tearing clothes off one another in the back office. If only she knew a spell to go back in time to that one awesome moment.

Abby’s shrill voice knocked that thought to the back corner of her mind. “We played pool last night at the Buttermilk Tavern. I kicked his butt.” She turned to Emma. “He’s not very good.”

“I heard that. I let you win,” Brandon insisted. “It was the gentlemanly thing to do.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Maybe if you had pried your hands off your

skank, you would have beaten me.”

“Hey,” Brandon interrupted. “I’m going to marry that sk—woman.”

“Good luck with that,” Abby shot back. “You two deserve each other.”

Emma stepped in to referee. “Enough, do I need to separate you both?”

“I have a great idea.” Abby smiled sweetly. “Emma, why don’t you make Brandon one of those extra special cupcakes like the one you made for Jason. I’m sure he’d love it just as much as Jason did. Could make one for Caitlin, too.”

“Hey, if it was good for my buddy, it’s good enough for me,” Brandon agreed, oblivious to the joke and the hot sauce Emma had poured into the batter that time. “So, Emma, are you going to kidnap my best friend tonight?”

Emma set down her measuring cup and blinked. “Jason’s back?”

“He will be.” Brandon looked down at his watch. “His plane should be landing any minute.”

“Who’s picking him up?”

“Caitlin.”

“Oh.” She gazed down into her bowl as the butterflies began to swarm around inside her stomach. Jason was coming back.

Of course he was. The note he’d written said he’d return in a week. Still, when he left that day, she felt like she’d never see him again.

Would he stop by the bakery or her cottage tonight? More importantly, was she ready to see him? She’d thought about what she’d say. How sorry she was for casting the spell and then reacting like she did.

But he’d left that night without a word. He hadn’t even tried to explain.

Earlier this week, she’d thought about giving this Emily woman a run for her money. Last week, she’d all but convinced herself that she wasn’t giving Jason up without a fight. However, with each passing day, doubt had crept in and squashed pretty much any hope she had.

Emma reached underneath for her grandmother’s mixing spoon and quietly went to work on the batter while Brandon continued to goad Abby.

“So, Red, how is your boy toy?” Brandon asked. “Did you pay big bucks for him, too?”

“It’s summer fling, you idiot.” She swatted him. “And yes, he was worth every penny.”

Emma laughed inside. Her cousin seemed to be holding her own with Jason’s best friend. That didn’t surprise Emma, though she knew Abby was putting up a front regarding her summer fling.

Last week, Carter had informed Abby that his work with the animal shelter finished up earlier than originally expected, and he’d be moving back to Indianapolis immediately. Abby seemed to be okay with it. She’d declared that her fling was over, and she needed a break from the dating scene. Emma knew her cousin well. She’d be back in the game in no time.

She tried to think of a bachelor she could set Abby up with. Too bad Lance was now taken. That fireman certainly knew how to kiss. Emma laughed at the memory of how determined she had been to make Jason jealous that day in the kissing booth. How Jason had come inches from kissing her for the first time . . .