Starlight Grille: A Serenity Harbor Maine Collection

Reviews for the Starlight Grille Series

The Legacy of Parker’s Point

Starlight Grille Book 1

…a feel good story, full of love and romance and hope….no game playing, no lies, manipulation or underhanded deceit to win affection….just two strong people finding love, learning to trust, and trying to make it work.

The author depicts life in a small town with memorable characters and descriptive scenery. Lauralee and Grayson are two beautiful people inside and out. Their chemistry heats up the pages…. The secondary characters are well written and the next book in the series is about the piano player, Luke, at the Starlight Grille.

Dianamcc - Romance Junkies – Five Hearts

Set on the picturesque sea coast of Maine….a heartfelt tale of helping and healing…. a delightful, emotional read.

N, Goodreads Reader – Five Stars

…a wonderful story of learning to trust in love enough to put the past behind you….characters are smart, sexy and hopeful and make you feel great for having read their story.

HarborGirl, Goodreads Reader – Five Stars

The romance is done very well, with chemistry galore and a rich, beautiful world in Serenity Harbor. Definitely a keeper!

M, Goodreads Reader – Five Stars

This is a sweet story. The romance is a well-written small town story where two people learn to trust both each other and themselves. I highly recommend the story.

Mainer, Goodreads Reader – Four Stars

I appreciated how well-developed and fleshed out Delsora's characters are, despite this being a shorter story….Lauralee & Grayson grab hold of you from page one. I alternated between smiling over their cute interactions, to swooning over the steamier scenes (closed bedroom door).

Colleen, Goodreads Reader – Five Stars

…a lovely, heartwarming story which takes the reader back to a time when family name and honor took priority for power brokers masquerading as parents—and the effects those antiquated beliefs continue to have on the generations that follow….It's a winner.

Kat, Goodreads Reader – Five Stars

I loved this novella. The small, coastal Maine town was beautifully described. I really liked Gray and Lauralee right away. They connected quickly, and I loved their banter and flirtation.

Laurie, Goodreads Reader – Five Stars

Come Dance with Me

Starlight Grille Book 2

[Sam] is multi-layered, gorgeous and plays jazz like the super-star he is. Yet, something is eating at him. Then he meets Ashley Sullivan, the uptight high school teacher, riddled with fear and reluctance to join in. Sam doesn't give up on her and the push-pull of these two is charming. Give yourself a treat and read Come Dance With Me. It's a winner

Kat, Goodreads Reader – Five Stars

Moonlighting

Starlight Grille Book 3

This is the third book in the Starlight Grille series, and I was glad to see some old friends from the first books back in this story…. This is a nice story, a clean romance and a quick read.

Mainer, Goodreads Reader – Five Stars

Dear Reader,

Several years ago, I wrote The Legacy of Parkers Point, the first novella in this book, as part of a Maine-based anthology. The town Serenity Harbor, its mascot a sheep, was born out of the imagination of all its writers. We each chose our characters so that we would have a town full of people with different occupations and outlooks on life. What a fun adventure!

In my head, this town resembled the town where my daughter was married. Every town has its own favorite watering hole. And Serenity Harbor needed a special one. My hero Gray and his business partner Sam, envisioned a piano bar and restaurant where the summer visitors would feel special and where the locals would feel at home all year round. Gray sees this career and location switch as life-saving. Lauralee must save her aunt’s art gallery. Even though she won’t admit she may need help, Gray feels compelled to be her hero in more ways than one. Neither were looking for love. But…we all know how that ends.

Writing one book wasn’t enough. I wanted to tell Sam’s story and find the perfect woman for him in Come Dance With Me. Never in my imagination did I guess the perfect woman would be so different from Sam. Preparing a teen group of jazz musicians to play at the Christmas dance, brings the two together. I hope you enjoy getting to know Ashley and watch her blossom, while Sam learns that rescuing everyone around him isn’t always the answer.

Ashley’s longtime friend from her school days in South Boston needs to make a major change in her life. In book three, Moonlighting, Mary Beth moves to Serenity Harbor to teach beside her best friend, Ashley. She’s been looking for love forever. So when her high school crush ends up in the same town as she, she’s sure her love prayers have been answered. Now all she has to do is convince Tucker. With Tucker’s little girl as matchmaker, how can she lose? Unless the one little white lie of omission comes back to haunt her by pushing buttons she didn’t know Tucker had.

I also bring you a never before published special, short story. Once you read The Legacy of Parkers Point, you may guess who the hero will be in Welcome Home. But I am not giving away any secrets, except it is a Baby Boomer story of second chances, and the promise of a happily-ever-after.

Lastly, at the end of this collection, look for Gray’s special Reuben recipe that everyone at the Starlight Grille enjoys in Moonlighting.

Thanks for reading Starlight Grille. I hope to see you again later this year, as I launch my Colorado rancher series, The Cowboys of Mineral Springs!

Delsora

Contents

Reviews for Starlight Grille * Letter from the Author * Reuben Recipe from the Starlight Grille * Sign up for Delsora Lowe’s newsletter * About Delsora Lowe * Other Books by Delsora Lowe

The Legacy of Parkers Point

Dedication & Acknowledgments * About The Legacy of Parker’s Point

Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 * Chapter 15 * Epilogue

Welcome Home

Dedication & Acknowledgments * About Welcome Home

Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4

Come Dance With Me

Dedication & Acknowledgments * About Come Dance With Me

Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Epilogue

Moonlighting

Dedication * Acknowledgments * About Moonlighting

Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Epilogue

Copyright

The Legacy

of

Parkers Point

A Starlight Grille Book

Delsora Lowe

The Legacy of Parkers Point

Starlight Grille Book 1

Two lives, one legacy—the lure of Parkers Point

One runs from …

Inheriting his grandfather’s estate on the rocky point in Serenity Harbor, Maine is the perfect escape from the biggest professional disaster of Grayson Mann’s life. Will distance and space help Gray heal old family and professional wounds enough to open his heart to love?

One runs toward …

Lauralee Adler struggles to save the family art gallery as she watches her aunt succumb to Alzheimer’s. Returning to the small coastal town is payment for the kindness that saved her life and soul. Now she’s on a quest to find her father. Will this trip home help her learn to trust and finally convince her she can truly belong for the first time in her life?

Dedication

To Muffy Wallace, who from the beginning had faith that I could write a book, lit a fire under me time and again to keep my spirits up throughout the journey, read my manuscripts, and offered honest advice. I thank you for your friendship!

Acknowledgments

To my Maine Romance Writers group who as cheerleaders and friends kept me sane these last thirteen years. To my critique partners and confidants, Luanna Nau, Judi Phillips, and Susan Vaughan for their never ending editing and support. To my editor Jessa Slade, whose sage advice and insightful questions helped me see this story in a new light. To Nina Pierce, who not only formatted this book, but also provided endless advice and encouragement. To Susan Vaughan, who painstakingly looked at every word, comma, apostrophe, and…the list is endless. Your contribution, priceless.

To the authors of the anthology, Welcome to Serenity Harbor, who provided me the venue to first showcase Gray and Lee’s story. Thanks to Maggie Robinson for the idea to put together an anthology, Terri Brisbin for the introduction and technical support, and the other authors, Teagan Oliver, Kat Henry Doran, Luanna Stewart, Michelle Libby, April Canavan, Rose Morris and Meg Kassel. Thanks for the encouragement, providing an incredible learning experience, and giving me the courage to write this story (Book One), and Books Two and Three to follow, in the Starlight Grille series. I hope my readers will enjoy their trip to Serenity Harbor and the Starlight Grille on Ocean Avenue.

Chapter 1

Grayson Mann wiped down the bar, his arm sweeping over the smooth black wood, to bring up the shine. He glanced toward the bank of windows knee-high to ceiling across the front of the intimate restaurant. Layer upon layer of sheer curtains on the bottom half gave the room a shimmery, under-water appearance in daylight and cocooned customers at night. The top half, festooned with white twinkle lights, cast sparkles of light during the day and at night mimicked starlight.

Dusk had long been his favorite time of the day. On an early fall Friday afternoon, it was his respite between the languid hush of late lunches, easing him into happy hour when locals’ laughter bounced off celery-colored walls. The quiet settled him, between the times when his thoughts wandered to places they shouldn’t and moving into the rote activity of bartender. Soon he’d slam out drinks while picking up shards of conversations piercing his brain with details of his customer’s lives he wanted little to do with.

The wide slab of wood running the length of the back end of the restaurant served as his personal protective force. Bartender against the world.

Unless she wandered in before he got too busy to pay attention. The one person who made him want to listen and talk and care. After only two weeks.

Gray heard the footsteps before he heard the deep baritone of his best friend. His not-by-birth brother, the man who’d saved his life in more ways than one.

Evenin’, bro.

Partner, you ready for tonight? Gray shelved bar glasses fresh from the dishwasher.

Probably like any other Friday night, I’d say.

Full moon.

Lordy—think the crazies will be about?

Sure of it. Maybe tone down the music—always seems to tame the nuts.

Sure thing. I’ll tickle out some slow, sweet melodies and soft jazz.

Gray tossed his wadded-up, damp bar rag in the air, caught it and slam-dunked it in the bucket beneath the bar. Score.

When you going to learn to play real ball like the big boys?

Maybe when you get your ass off your piano stool and teach me what you and your brothers never did when we were kids.

Ha. You had privilege. We had ball. Truth is, if we’d a known then what we know now, we’d a let you scrimmage.

Gray released a smile he usually held close to the chest. Throwing me a bone?

Hey, man, you always been taut as a wire. You’d a let us see your smile more often instead of strutting your privilege, we could’ve been tighter as kids.

Gray shrugged and let go of the sentiment. Sam had been harping on the same ol’, same ol’ for years. Fact was, he and Samuel Johnson a.k.a. Cool Piano Hands Luke had been tight from the second they’d met. You’re so full of bull—always have been. Now look at me—reduced to lofting rags into bins.

"At least you’re hitting your target now, boss."

"You want me to let go of privilege, stop calling me boss. You have equal stake in this place. Why you keep insisting—"

"’Cause it gets your goat, partner. Every. Time." Sam’s deep belly laugh resonated off the walls.

Gray’s grin widened. You’re the devil, you know. A devil he’d let be his wingman for the rest of his days.

What they all say. Sam lumbered up the three steps to the small stage set in the back corner near the far end of the bar. He sat at the ol’ grand the two had rescued from a dusty back corner of a barn. Above his head, yards and yards of sheer material draped and billowed underneath more twinkles, like wispy clouds on a starry night—or so Gray’s decorator had explained as she transformed the once utilitarian space.

Gray scanned his dream—a business he and Sam could call their own—and realized this place wouldn’t exist without the sweat-equity the two had invested, along with the generous guidance of many in his adopted town far from the big city.

Sam paused after warming up the keys.

You miss the city? Gray spoke into the silence.

Sam flashed a wide-open smile. Nah. Nice to get back to the bustle and bright lights every now and again. But nah.

Thank god Sam had seen fit to encourage Gray’s dream to hightail it out of New York City. And thank god Sam wanted to escape the relentless drudgery stardom had brought to his doorstep. They both breathed easier in this tiny town on the coast of Maine.

This was what Gray needed. What he still needed after everything that happened.

Lauralee Adler clapped the dust from her palms before she swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. The last four hours spent moving boxed paintings, rearranging framing and art supplies, and wiping down shelves sent a spasm up her back as she straightened.

Not what she’d expected when she’d answered her Aunt Mindi’s call for help. It had been a few weeks since she’d moved back to Maine, in the nick of time, and studied the books and business of running the Ocean’s End gallery. Her aunt had deteriorated fast. She’d covered up her illness until it was almost too late.

A full-blown shudder shot down her spine to join the cramp now lodged in her side. What a mess. Auntie Mindi. This place. Her life. And now her future. How the hell was she going to handle all this?

The hard, physical work of the last hours had done nothing to purge the worries brought on by the morning’s mail containing another pile of bills. But those she would ignore. For now.

No matter what, she wasn’t about to spiral into a pity party. Stripping off the charcoal apron, she strode through the narrow hallway, between closed storage cabinets, into the sun-lit gallery. A ball of orange fire hovered over the mountain, its rays sparkling off the dust motes she’d stirred up and arrowing streaks of setting sun to spotlight the paintings.

One more chore—feather dust the entire gallery.

Her stomach rumbled. Breakfast had been eons ago. So engrossed in putting the gallery to rights, and blocking tears from memories of good times with Aunt Mindi, she’d forgotten lunch. Half hour to closing. Nothing in the till to count. Why bother staying open?

With a weariness she’d tried to tamp down over the last month, she plodded toward the door and the coveted closed sign. A shadow crossed the threshold and the door shoved open. She swallowed a groan.

Lauralee?

Surprised, she nodded.

Why, you’re a sight for sore eyes. You look so much like your mama. The accent, an exact replica of her aunt’s, and she assumed her mama’s, floated over her as if on a soft spring breeze tickling wisps of her hair. South Carolina, without a doubt.

Wiping her palms against her jeans, Lauralee held out her hand. Like Pavlov’s dog, she’d been trained to mind her manners when she heard a southern accent. Yes, ma’am. So everyone tells me. With only a few photos and her aunt’s memories, since she’d never met her mother, the stranger’s words filled her with a sense of place, belonging. Something she rarely felt.

PattiSue Tuttle. The woman cradled Lauralee’s hand in her own two. Mindi and Missy and I spent summers together here. We called your mama Missy. She always hated Melissa. Y’all know how teens can be—hatin’ everything.

Lauralee nodded as she removed her hand from PattiSue’s grip. Now thrust into the twilight zone of a life lived long before she was born, she couldn’t utter a word.

Mindi told me she’d finally convinced you to come back and help her. I promised I’d stop by soon as I stepped into town and settled in on Parkers Point. Is she here? I ’spect she’s headed home to put up her feet. Why I didn’t think to stop at her bungalow first. Before Lauralee could explain about Mindi, PattiSue plowed on. You tell Mindi I stopped by, you hear. I should’ve been in touch all summer, but time flies with all Roy’s work obligations. Lordy, I hope he retires soon. I’ll have you up for some sweet tea and talk before we head south.

With a wave, PattiSue floated out the door and disappeared into a waiting sleek, black Jaguar.

Could mama’s life have been so different from her own convoluted upbringing? Lauralee could not conceive of mixing in with people of PattiSue’s economic status. But then, Mindi had never answered her questions about her mom’s childhood, or about a grandfather she’d never met. All the things that made her feel as if she’d never fit in…anywhere.

Time she found out. Having sweet tea with PattiSue might help quash some of Lauralee’s uncertainties.

Chapter 2

With only a soft glow left in the western sky, Lauralee stepped off the curb. The blast of an angry horn and screeching brakes pulled her out of her cloud.

Stopping dead in her tracks, opposite the Starlight Grille, she endured the driver’s angry and deserved tirade. Once he moved on, she stood still, shaking from the near miss and trying to get her head on straight. Truthfully, it hadn’t been on straight most of her life. Aunt Mindi had referred to it as the wandering mind of a creative. A natural for a girl of your talents.

She’d give anything to hear Mindi speak of those times when she and Auntie used to paint side-by-side. But these days Auntie was lost in her own world robbed of recent memories, as she reverted more and more into the world of her childhood.

Enough maudlin thoughts and inattention.

Lauralee concentrated on crossing the street to the Starlight Grille, alive, to enjoy a light supper. And, she hoped, to chat it up with the bartender. She looked both ways—more than once—down the empty street.

She prayed the place would be quiet this early. As she pushed through the door, his voice resonated off the sparsely decorated walls. Hey, Lee. Great timing.

How many times over the last two weeks had she protested being called Lee? In reality, her heart jumped each time he did.  Lee, her mama’s middle name tacked on to her grandmother’s name, Laura, she carried both names into the next generation, having never known either woman.

No one had ever cared enough to give her a nickname. She liked the way Lee rolled off Gray’s tongue, his voice deep and throaty. Like verbal foreplay.

She stood stock still by the door. Eyed the man behind the bar, tall, broad-shouldered, a lock of dark hair falling over his brow. His sapphire blue eyes dragged her under his spell. She liked him. A little too much for only knowing him a few weeks. Like maybe he could be more than a friendly face behind a wide bar.

What the hell was she thinking? She had no time or energy for fantasies. She wouldn’t be in Serenity Harbor long. Besides, she and Gray couldn’t possibly have anything in common. His cultured voice spoke of experiences she’d never have. He tried to blend in, but she saw through the flannel shirts she suspected replaced a life of suits and ties and casual khakis and polos.

Gray stared at her, as she pulled her head out of the clouds.

Good timing, you said?

He poured shots into a shaker as she sat. Experimenting before the crowds roll in.

Turning on her stool, she scanned the room as she did every time she entered, amazed at the intimacy of the spot. The cool green walls, soft as a tropical sea, and the bold blue glass of a November sky in the rectangular boxed sconces all along the wall, were the only color, except for the silver metallic rim topping the glass tables and gracing the arms of the black chairs. Lauralee wondered who had designed this study in ocean and sky.

I really do like this atmosphere—understated.

Gray paused, the shaker midair above the fluted stemware. Wasn’t what I was going for.

Yeah, it is. Calm, cocooning people away from their rushed worlds. The creative use of colors in the fixtures, the drape of materials, the lighting. This place inspires me to…anyway, it’s the ambiance I would’ve gone for.

He set down the shaker and turned. Inspire you to do what?

Lowering her gaze, she reached for the frosted martini glass Gray plunked in front of her and sipped.

Lee, inspire you to do what?

Nothing. Anything. Create something, like you do with…. What’s in this?

You tell me. His voice sizzled with underlying anticipation.

She held high the light, frothy pink concoction, twirling the stem in her fingers, then lifted it to her nose. Mint?

He shook his head. Take another sip.

She let the cool, refreshing liquid slip down her throat. Another image of foreplay had her shaking her head.

You don’t like it.

I do. Trying to figure out— Basil? And….

And? The tiny dimple at the corner of his mouth appeared. Goosebumps tripped up her forearm.

Subtle. Watermelon and…I don’t know. She took another sip. Citrus? And...a bit of bitter—enough to make it interesting, and…. Help me out here.

He leaned against the bar, his citrus and pepper scent mixing in with the flavors of the cocktail,

Close. Watermelon and cucumber infused vodka with a splash of simple syrup steeped with basil and a touch of orange rind.

Again, she lifted the glass high. It’s lovely. Refreshing. Praying for a cool ocean breeze on a hot day.

Poetic.

Yeah, not. Self-deprecation laced her words. Her childhood, spent with people who cared little, had taught her to doubt herself.

We’ll call it Ocean Breezes.

Her stomach tumbled again. We’ll call it….

She should be so lucky to find a man who wanted her as a part of we.

You ready for dinner? Chef’s experimenting. You don’t mind an on-the-house meal. He grinned, full-faced this time. She loved the way his smile radiated from his eyes. Teasing. Like a friend. He’s trying a new dish for the menu.

Really? Like I’d mind being the guinea pig. And a real meal instead of an inexpensive appetizer. Huge help to her pocket book.

Good, you never eat much.

She looked straight at him. Is this a pity meal? She couldn’t bear the thought.

No way—there’s a catch though.

"What?" Did she want to know? After all the asshole men she’d known in her life, the wary-dar reared its ugly head.

The truth about this dish. It’s all on you, babe. You like it, it goes on the menu.

So, no pressure. She crossed her heart, then raised two fingers to counteract her sarcasm.

Ah, a Girl Scout. He backed toward the kitchen.

She shook her head. Brownies only.

Again, the dimple, barely there, as if it showed only for her. Too much a rebel for the scouts.

It wasn’t a question. In a few short weeks, an hour here, an hour there, Gray seemed to know her better than anyone, except Auntie. As if an unseen thread connected their life paths. She hadn’t a clue about his past, nor he hers. Still, the thread shimmered between them, almost invisible but sturdy as a spider’s silken strand silhouetted in sunlight.

There she went again—drifting into a poetic and absurd fantasy land. The imagination had gotten her in so much trouble in school. And still did. Case in point—almost being splattered on the pavement half an hour earlier while daydreaming about Gray.

When she looked up, he’d disappeared, the kitchen door swinging lazily in his wake. Soft strands of piano filtered through the quiet dining room to reach the bar—not a melody, but discordant notes. A soft plunk here. A soft plunk there. When she glanced at the stage, Cool Piano Hands Luke lifted his hat—fedora style—reminding her of smoky, southern, downtown bars at the turn of the century. Like the rundown relics she’d been drawn to, where she lurked in corners to catch tunes when she’d told her adoptive parents she was at friends. Music. Art. Her escape from reality.

His black skin, and the black of the piano, was a study in contrast to the billowing whites of the layered material over his head.

She waved. He winked. She smiled.

The piano man tickled the keys, his warm-up morphing into soft melody. She turned to watch him.

Soon his meaty hands hammered on the piano, as he upped his stride across the keys, leaning into the music, feeling each note. She wondered what brought him to this now-sleepy northern town. He’d fit in with the summer tourists long gone home, but still he played with the same passion he’d played with for the sophisticated and wealthy palettes a few weeks earlier. The owner knew his stuff, keeping this man on through the long, dark winter to warm the hearts and souls of the locals. He was a performer, his huge personality filling the intimate restaurant and bar.

As if on cue, the door swung open to welcome two fishermen, in from the docks. They were bundled against the cold ocean winds blowing in, as dusk descended on an Indian summer day. Sun down. Cold invaded. A lot to get used to—her blood running thin and slow as a lazy southern river.

Several women tripped in wearing pumps and suits. One she recognized from the insurance agency down the street. Soon after, more folks drifted in to get a start on their weekend. Lauralee sipped her martini and watched the crowd grow.

As the noise rose around her, she regretted agreeing to be guinea pig on a Friday night.  Chatting it up with Gray time was over. He glanced her way a time or two, as he slammed out drinks, as if he too regretted the interruption.

Minutes later, the waitress delivered a plate piled high with color and texture. Already, she could give a thumbs up for presentation. Scents drifted, her stomach rumbled, her mouth watered, but her brain said no way you’re eating all this.

The nausea roiled up like a tidal wave accosting a serene beach, bringing with it the voices from her youth—the ones still haunting her. You’re too fat. You don’t need so much food. You’ll never amount to much, waddling through life.

Warm hands covered hers. She opened her eyes to see Gray’s, the same deep, bright blue as the wall sconces, staring at her. You all right?

She nodded. Pulling her hands from under his, she shoved the plate away. I can’t eat this.

That bad?

The tease in his voice was meant to calm. She relaxed the press of her lips. I meant, it’s a huge helping. It’s lovely.

You say lovely about everything, you know.

She dropped her hands to her lap and cocked her head. "The plate is lovely. Tempts the palate, and the scents—"

Then why aren’t you eating? He cut a bite from the thinly sliced beef, cooked to a perfect pink, and lifted the fork to her mouth. The glint in his eyes enticed her to take one decadent bite.

Damn. More foreplay.

She planned to eat part of the mammoth portion. She owed him an honest assessment. Scents of garlic, tarragon, shallot, and reduced red wine hit her before she latched onto the bite. Ooh, this is good. There’s a secret though. She listed the ingredients she thought she smelled. But another flavor teased her tongue. Black pepper?

Gray nodded. Yes. And.

You gonna’ to do this all night? She wanted to ask, will you do this the rest of my life?

His dimple flickered as if he’d read the meaning in her question. If you’ll let me.

Gray. Order up!

The dimple disappeared as he glanced toward the kitchen. Grab it for me, will ya?

He forked a mound of the pale yellow mashed potato swirled on her plate with a pastry tube and lightly browned on top, and handed it to her. Now try this.

The flavor burst on her tongue. Golden sweet potato cut with rich cream. Again the voices. Fattening. But she couldn’t stop. She took another bite and sighed.

Good? Gray’s lips parted like he wanted a taste too. She ached to offer up her lips. Instead she shoved her fork into the potatoes and lifted it to his mouth.

His hand covered hers—the one holding the utensil barely shy of his mouth. The fork his lips now barely touched as he pulled the smooth potato concoction deep into his mouth. His tongue swept across his lower lip.

Watching him eat—her imagination played havoc on her again.

He swallowed the bite on a groan. Oh yeah. This is going on the menu.

Three more people sidled up to the bar, and a waitress stood at the station calling out orders. Back to work.

Lauralee released an audible sigh and took another bite, then another. With a small dent in her plate, she shoved the plate toward the opposite edge of the bar.

Eat, Gray instructed as he ran by balancing a handful of cocktail glasses. He finally stopped and pushed the plate back in front of her. You eat lunch?

She glanced toward Luke, as the townies called him, and his piano and the people gathered around him. I’m full.

Strong fingers gripped her chin. Look at me.

When she did, concern radiated from Gray’s eyes, darkening the blue with silver-grey flecks.

You need to keep up your strength—for your aunt, the gallery, the— He waved his hand as if he wasn’t sure what to add. Fact was, she hadn’t told him much. Why would he want to hear about pathetic moments of her past, a litany of unfortunate circumstance and missteps? Put some meat on those bones.

"This was a pity meal."

My word is solid. If nothing else, know that about me. No pity.

Vowing to give trust a chance, she forked another bite of sirloin. The secret ingredient—pepper—not black. Not jalapeno.

"You are good. Want a job?"

She laughed. Yeah, right. Now tell me the flavor.

Poblano pepper. Eat.

You going to hover all night?

If that’s what it takes.

Such a charmer. She cut each slice of beef into smaller pieces. Moved them around her plate, and finally speared two beans. Happy now?

He ignored her question. About the job. I’m serious. I need someone two nights a week to schlep food. Monday and Tuesday. Slow nights. Tips are usually decent.

You don’t even know me. I could be a complete klutz. The only food service I know is Buster’s Chicken Palace.

His brow lifted. You made up the name.

Nuh-uh. Fast food at its finest.

You can handle this job. What do you say? I’m desperate.

You’d have to be. Besides, I’m dragging at the end of the day.

He leaned in, biceps flexed as his arms crossed against the top of the bar. His black Polo molded his chest. He’d never been so close—the bar always a barrier between them.

I have Wednesdays and Sundays off. I’ll come in and help you declutter your back room. Take off some of the pressure.

Again she shoved the plate toward him. I’m exhausted. Thanks for dinner. She pulled a five from her pocket, placed it on the bar, and slipped off the stool.

Once outside she sucked in a breath. She’d thought she could do this—make friends with Gray and maybe more.

Chapter 3

Gray stood inside the Ocean’s End Gallery door. His position provided a clear shot through the storage hallway to the workroom. He watched Lee swipe her forearm across her forehead, then the back of her hand up her cheeks and across her eyes. She wasn’t only wiping away sweat, but tears.

Damn. What was it about this woman? Made him want to protect her with all his being. His mom a surgeon, his dad an attorney, both had taught him from an early age to hold in emotion, not depend on other people, and do whatever it took to get ahead.

Wanting to help someone meant getting close. Getting close meant depending on them and letting them depend on you. A cold shiver zipped down his spine in warning. Don’t do it. But his feet moved him toward Lee.

This woman, wiping tears and grit off her cheeks pulled him in. He had no choice. Rescuing people coursed through his blood and genes. Only he’d ditched the detached professionalism and the god-like rescuing of his parents. He wanted to believe he rescued with heart. Lee wouldn’t go for the knight in shining armor bit. She had to rescue herself. And he had to figure out a way to help.

Lee. He sauntered across the scuffed, wide-planked wooden floor, stopping to look at someone’s idea of a vivid landscape to give Lee time to compose herself. Studying the painting, he picked out a distorted pearl-gray gull soaring against a fuchsia sky hovering over crashing emerald waves against purple rocks. Probably some secret, metaphorical meaning he had no clue how to decipher.

Told you I’d show up for a little back-breaking labor. Put me to work.

By the time he moseyed through the storage hall, she’d pulled forth the stoic control. Looked at him as if to say she had enough shit going on without him prying into her problems. She hadn’t