Small Town Girl

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It had been eight years since Aubrey Allyn had stepped foot in Willow Cove, a town that prided itself on lobster rolls and community. The people took care of their own, but the problem was she wasn’t one of them. She’d just happened to fall in love with one.

But that was a long time ago, and if her job wasn’t on the line, she wouldn’t be driving past the ice cream parlor shaped like a sundae to convince a man she never met to let her use his custom designed pieces on the cover of Coastal Living Today.

As Creative Director of the magazine, it was her job to bring her boss’s visions to life—a particularly hard task when her boss didn’t like anything or anyone. Except for the repurposed lobster trap coffee table and wine rack she’d stumbled upon while away for a long weekend. Now, Aubrey had to convince the man who created the pieces to agree to do a spread in their magazine.

Normally, most people would kill for the opportunity, but her boss in not so many words told her he was not a normal guy. He had no desire to be featured, which was just ridiculous. Clearly the guy didn’t understand the benefits of what their magazine could do for a career. But it was okay. She was here to tell him. Once he knew all the details, he’d be begging to sign on the dotted line.

She hoped he wasn’t someone she knew, or someone who knew of her. She wasn’t exactly well liked in these parts. All she needed was to get in, get out, and secure her job for another month. She’d been doing it for three years and hadn’t failed yet.

The residential houses gave way to multi-colored buildings that lined the main strip. Flowers of every color sat in baskets lining the sidewalks along with benches. Flags and signs hung above doorways and cobblestone streets led down alleyways filled with more shops. Lobster traps were piled high down a row of docks that sat at the end of the streets and jutted out into the water. Buoys covered buildings, completely engulfing the structures in their bright vibrant colors.

Once upon a time, this was her most favorite place in the world. Now, it was home to memories she’d rather not remember. She ignored the red lobster sign pointing to Joe’s Lobster House and especially the less stated Lobster Shack across the boardwalk and kept driving until the commercial landscape warped into residential houses again.

Her GPS told her to turn right in a thousand feet, so she eased off the gas and put her blinker on. She thought she’d been all over this town, but this area was unfamiliar. Boats of all sizes sat on either side of the street. Large buildings surrounded by traps, anchors, and whatever boat equipment one could imagine sat on either side of her. The water shimmered far in the distance. She followed the road until her GPS informed her she had reached her destination.

She looked around, trying to figure out where she actually was. This was supposed to be the guy’s house, but all that was in front of her was another large building. She pulled into a spot and climbed out of her four-door rental.

Salt hung in the air, and the humidity wrapped around her like an unwelcomed hug. Ten years ago, she would have stripped down to her underwear and ran full-speed to the water, jumping in with no regard. She’d learned from her reckless days that everything has a consequence, no matter how innocent she thought it was.

She ran a hand down her shirt, making sure it was perfectly tucked into place, and headed toward the building. She found a door at the front and knocked. There was absolutely no movement inside from what she could tell through the one pane of glass. She checked the knob and smiled. Unlike the city, no one locked their doors in Willow Cove.

With a gentle push, she was inside. The large space smelled of sea, wood, and polyurethane. She looked around, her eyes immediately catching on the small workspace at the back. Broken pieces of lobster traps and wood shavings littered the floor around a work bench.

All types of tools and nails scattered across the top of the bench, and beside it stood a beautiful club chair made out of the very traps it was surrounded by. It was stained dark and had netting around the back. Aubrey stepped closer to give it a better look.

Her mind started envisioning all the ways it could be staged for a photo. It would be perfect for a bar area of a home or even for a sunroom. She snapped a quick picture of it with her phone and sent it to her photographer for ideas for the spread.

She tucked her phone in her pocket. “Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone here?” When no one answered, she made her way toward a side door and peered out. On her left was a staircase that led to another door, but her eye caught on the mailbox that sat perched to the right.

That must be where the guy lived. Her boss said his name was Mark and managed to weasel his address out of some poor unsuspecting bystander, she was sure. She didn’t remember any Marks, so it put her mind at ease.

She made her way up the stairs and knocked, plastering on her friendly smile. When no one answered, she knocked again, this time louder. She wasn’t leaving until she made a deal, and she didn’t care if she had to camp out on this very staircase until this Mark character showed his face.

Knock knock.

“Holy s**t. I’m coming!” she heard from the other side of the door and though it was muffled it sounded very familiar. “What?” he said as the door flung open.

Breath escaped her. The act of breathing became as foreign as the tools that were sitting on that bench downstairs. Words vanished into the crevices of her mind, leaving her speechless.

Her eyes immediately snapped downward, but that was a bad idea since he was standing there in nothing more than a white towel tied precariously at his perfectly sculpted waist.

“Can I help you?” he asked, and she slowly lifted her head past the beautiful curves to the two dark eyes she had gazed into so many times. Realization was instant as his eyes widened, and he stepped back as if she’d sucker punched him.

Life always had a cruel way with her, but this may very well take the cake. Five years ago, he’d walked out of her life for the final time, and neither of them ever looked back. Now, if she wanted to keep her job, she had to swallow her pride and their history.

She forced a smile and shrugged. “Hi Marco.”

***

With a dad in jail for d**g trafficking, a dead mother, and a sister who fell in love with the f*******n guy across the boardwalk, not much surprised Marco Moretti. But answering the door to find Aubrey, the once love of his life standing there looking more beautiful than ever, completely gob-smacked him.

The last time she showed up unannounced she had run away from home. That was eight years ago. The last time he saw her face was five years ago when he realized that no matter how much he loved her, it would never be enough.

They came from two very different worlds, and every time they tried to make it work it backfired. “It’s been more than two years,” he said. Ever since they met it seemed every two years they’d fall back into each other’s arms. They could count on it as much as the seasons, but something between them broke. Two years passed, and then another two, and he thought he’d never see her again.

Her brown eyes dropped, and she let out a breath before meeting his gaze head on. “I’m not here for personal reasons,” she said, holding her head up high. “I’m here on business.”

His eyebrow arched at her declaration. “What kind of business could you possibly have with me?”

“My boss met you a few weeks ago and fell in love with your furniture.”

He ran a hand through his still-wet hair and sighed as he rested his elbow against the doorframe. “Not that annoying old broad with the bangs.”

“That would be the one.”

“When the hell did you start working for her?” The last time he saw her was in Boston, and she was interning at a small publisher.

“When did you start making furniture?” she asked, eyes focusing on his.

He shifted from one foot to the other and let his hand drop to his side. Pure satisfaction filled him when her eyes followed the move of his hand straight down his towel.

“When did you start dressing like your mother?” he asked, his gaze drifting over the white button-down shirt that was neatly tucked into a tailored pair of navy-blue slacks.

Her lips parted and then she snapped them shut. She inhaled deeply. “I’m not here to go tit for tat with you. I just want you to agree to have your furniture featured in our magazine.”

“Just like I told your boss, no.”

“Why?” she asked. “Your pieces are beautiful, Marco, and this feature could open doors for you that you couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

“And why is that?” he asked, feeling a familiar jab. There had always been a social and economic divide between their families, and it was something they could never escape. It tied an anchor to the ankles of their relationship and dragged them to the bottom of the ocean floor until the sunlight faded and they were surrounded in darkness.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Is it?”

She let out a perturbed breath. “Can you stop being stubborn for once in your life and see how great of an opportunity this is for you? This feature could put you on the map. Make you a well-known name in the business.”

“Maybe I don’t want that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone wants that.”

“Not me.” Back resting against the doorframe, he crossed his arms over his chest, unwilling to succumb to that determined glint in her eye.

“Why not?”

“Let’s see,” he said, pushing off the door. “Why wouldn’t I want to be a well-known name? Maybe because my name has been dragged through the dirt one too many times thanks to your parents. Maybe I don’t want people to know I have a criminal record. Funny thing about that is once people find out you have a record, it doesn’t really matter how talented you are.”

Her brown eyes filled with guilt and remorse. “Marco.” She reached out to him, and he stepped back. He’d fallen under her spell one too many times, and he’d be damned if he did it again. As far as he was concerned, Aubrey was his past and would never be his future. There was no use in pretending otherwise.

“So, while it’s been great to see you, Aubs,” he said, forcing a smile, “my answer is no.”

Without giving her a second glance, he shut the door, knowing if he didn’t, history was bound to repeat itself.