That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(7)

Yeah, “the rush.” I’m sure that’s the last thing on my lovestruck brother’s mind. Of all the Knightly brothers, Brig is the hopeless romantic. He’s relentless and thinks he’s going to find love in some off-chance way when he’s least expecting it.

And yet he’s still single, still looking for “the girl” and driving us crazy while he searches.

“You’re such a liar.” Jen finishes up with the fudge; its arrangement is rainbow inspired today, the colors all flowing together, beautiful and appealing.

For how old the shop is, it really has its charm, partly because of the displays my mom so carefully designed and partly because my parents have restored every historical piece of architecture in the joint while keeping everything up to code. Wood-beamed ceilings, bay windows at the front, original hardwood floors, and white shiplap bordering the walls, giving the entire space a light, coastal feel.

Brig smiles like a fool. “Hey, I can’t help if I think I saw my soul mate last night. Red hair, big brown eyes, freckles for days . . . she was stunning, just sitting there, looking like a goddamn fiery angel.”

“Why do you keep going after tourists?” Jen asks.

“Because you never know when you can turn a tourist into a lifer.” Brig wiggles his eyebrows like an idiot before growing serious. “And no one local will even give me the time of day.”

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Jen eyes me from where she’s making coffee. “And what about you, Griff? Any tourists who’ve caught your eye lately?” Brig’s comment doesn’t escape me; I know full well what he’s talking about, why not one single local girl will even consider going on a date with him, but Jen refuses to acknowledge our “beliefs.”

Keeping my head down, I make a noncommittal sound and focus on showcasing the pastries. Raspberry scones, blueberry scones with lemon icing, and apple-cinnamon-chip scones. Just keep focusing on the scones.

“Griffin, I’m talking to you.”

“And I’m ignoring you,” I answer honestly, not wanting to get into another one of her “you have to get back out there” conversations.

“It’s been two years.”

I’m well aware of how long it’s been, believe me. Every day I wake up to an empty bed, a wifeless home. No pink slippers flopping around the house; no You’re Foxy mug being sipped from in the morning and at night; no sweet, addictive laughter bouncing off the walls of my home during a late-night Scrabble match.

Instead I face empty silence, growing lonelier and lonelier with each passing day.

“I know,” I mumble, the dull ache in my chest, which I live with on a constant basis, growing.

“Why won’t you at least let me set you up with Jessica, the head of the PTA? She’s been very vocal about her interest in you. She’s asked me multiple times to set up a blind date—and you know how unusual that is in this town. Besides, you would like her, Griff. She has two kids, both darlings, nothing like my demonic spawn, and she’s really good at yoga, which means she’s flexible.”

I shake my head. “Not interested.”

“Griffin, I hate seeing you so alone. It hurts my heart.”

Taking a deep breath, I plaster on a fake smile. “I’m not alone; I have you fools.” I clear my throat and put an end to the conversation. “Now, come on, we still have some work to do before we open.”

Jen doesn’t move right away; instead, I can feel her gaze stuck on me. “I talked to Kathy the other day, you know.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep breath, not wanting to get into this with Jen again, not wanting to hear the lecture that follows after, the one where Jen tells me that even though my wife died, her mom didn’t, and I should still talk to her.

“Jen,” I warn.

“She worries about you, Griff.”

“Tell her I’m fine. Now let’s move the fuck along.”

And that puts an end to the conversation. Thankfully.

I put the finishing touches on the bakery case, Jen preps the coffee and hot water, and Brig tests the fudge—the guy eats everything he sees and sets out to be more of a barnacle than a helper.

From the already bustling streets outside, I’m guessing this is going to be a very long and busy day. My only hope of catching a break—from both the workday and Jen’s concern—is if I’m somehow called in to the station.

Here’s hoping there’s a cat stuck in a tree somewhere.





CHAPTER TWO





REN


“Are you sure you’re okay?”

A heavy sigh escapes me. I keep two hands on the steering wheel, my mom’s worried voice booming through my car’s speaker as I drive down the windy back roads of my new home state.

Maine is a far cry from the arid, dry landscape of Southern California. Instead of tumbleweeds and palm trees lining the road, giant conifers stretch high in the sky, the bottom half of their trunks devoid of branches. Gorgeous scenery is visible through every window of my car, luscious green plants and cute split rail fences separating open fields from the worn-out asphalt of the weary road.

This place is everything I dreamed of and more.

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“And your car works okay? I don’t like that you bought a used car without your father checking it out.”