Lighthouse Bay by Kimberley Freeman

Author:Kimberley Freeman [Freeman, Kimberley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women, Romance, Historical, 20th Century, General
ISBN: 9781451672800
Google: tVGKzn8WxgcC
Amazon: 1451672799
Publisher: Touchstone
Published: 2013-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

The Saturday morning breakfast rush meant the smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee. Juliet always hit the ground running on Saturdays. Taking orders, making orders, clearing plates away, welcoming new customers where the old ones were sitting just a few minutes before. Her breakfasts were famous in town, famous enough for her to hire four staff on Saturdays to cope with the demand.

She was making coffee when Scott Lacey came in, in civilian clothes. At first she barely paid attention. She presumed Melody would find him a table and take his usual order, but then it became apparent he was hanging about near the coffee machine, trying to get her attention.

“I’m super busy,” she said to him over the hiss of the milk steamer.

“I can wait.”

“Go sit down. I’ll bring you something. Cappuccino and raisin toast?”

“Take your time.”

She was curious, but busy enough to put it out of her mind. In the first lull, she took his breakfast over and sat with him.

“Thanks, Juliet,” he said, spooning three sugars into his coffee. A slanted beam of warm sunshine through the window lit up the gingery hairs on his knuckles.

“You’re always welcome, Scott. But what’s up?”

He shrugged. “I saw something you’re not going to like.”

A small, hot flick of adrenaline. “Really?”

He sipped his coffee, and it left a thin line of cocoa on his top lip. “I went past Libby’s place last night, as I’ve been doing since she called. And there was somebody there, so I got out to look.”

“Is she okay? She hasn’t returned my calls.”

“I think I know why. She was cuddling up with Tristan Catherwood.”

A coiling feeling in her stomach. “Cuddling up with . . . What do you mean by cuddling up?”

“I mean cuddling up. Kissing him. Passionately.”

“How does she even know him?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way away. Scott must surely be mistaken. It simply couldn’t be possible that her two biggest problems—Libby and Ashley-Harris—had somehow become entangled. This must be a bad dream. Scott considered her across the table, his green eyes steady and sad.

“I don’t understand,” Juliet said softly, helplessly.

“You don’t?” Scott asked. “She owns a property. And they need one.”

“But why . . .”

“I don’t know, Jules. You’d better ask her yourself.”

Juliet climbed to her feet. Rage flooded her hands and her stomach. She wanted to punch something, even if it meant breaking all her knuckles.

Scott grasped her wrist gently. “Hey, are you all right?”

“No,” she snapped, then realized she had said it too loudly. Several patrons had glanced up curiously. She drew the rage back into her body, into a hard ball under her ribs. “No, I’m not all right,” she said softly. “I’m an idiot. I should have known she’d never be any different.”

It was simple: Juliet would pretend she had no sister—then she couldn’t get hurt. Admittedly, this was difficult when Cheryl asked her, “Have you seen your sister again?” on the breakfast shift the next day, but Juliet found that responding with, “Can you please take this teapot to table six?” shut down the conversation swiftly.

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