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She falls back against her pillow. “Tell me what?”
“Dad wants to wait to announce it in some grandiose fashion but…Everton is going to be moving in a sustainable direction. And I’m going to be the one running the estate. I’m staying here, Isla. I’m staying in Magnolia Bay.”
Isla’s eyes pop. She claps her hands together. The she launches herself at me, breasts bouncing as she pounces, flattening me on my back.
“Caden!” she shrieks. “You’re staying? You’re going to run—this is amazing! When do you start? When is the announcement? I can’t believe your father—when did you—ahhhh, this is incredible! You’re staying! Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Well, we kind of weren’t speaking,” I remind her as she leaves a trail of kisses down my neck. Her head pops up and she frowns.
“Oh right.”
“But,” I say, pulling her in for a kiss, “I would love to tell you the whole story. Maybe over dinner. Osteria Fortuna?”
Her eyes go wide, and she licks her lips. “Spaghetti vongole.”
“Caprese salad?”
“Grilled artichokes,” she says.
“Okay, now I’m starving.”
She giggles and presses her mouth against mine. Our lips part, her tongue playful and teasing. Her hand slides down my chest and latches onto my hip bone as she presses herself against me. I feel myself start to stiffen again.
“We aren’t going anywhere if you keep doing that,” I growl.
“Osteria is open till ten,” she reminds me.
I glance at the clock on her nightstand. “We’ve got time.”
Then I whirl her over on her back and crush her mouth with mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ISLA
My alarm goes off the next morning at five am and I peel my eyes open.
For a moment, I’m in that strange space between waking and dreaming where nothing feels quite real. Then someone shifts on my bed beside me. Reality hits me like a sunrise. A smile breaks across my face. Caden is here. Caden is staying.
I quickly shut off my alarm and turn to look at him. He’s got one eye open, narrowed in a slit. When he sees me, he throws his arm over his face.
“So early,” he says, his voice muffled.
I chuckle and kiss his wrist. “The life of a baker,” I say. “Can you handle it?”
“Let me think,” Caden says. Then his other arm darts out and scoops around my waist, pulling me into him. “Yes,” he murmurs, kissing me. “I can handle it. But I’m going to get you an automated coffeemaker. So at least I’ll have caffeine ready and waiting for us.”
I can’t stop the thrill that runs through me at his words, from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes.Us.
“I’ll get the water boiling,” I say.
“Wait,” Caden says. “Let’s go to Everton instead.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “We have an espresso machine, you know. I can make you a latte.”
“Now you’re just showing off,” I tell him. But a latte does sound amazing. And we need to get the things from his freezer anyway.
I take a quick shower then throw on a pair of old jeans and a Joan Jett tee. I grab a small duffel and pack a cute sundress with a cherry print and a pair of red strappy sandals. I’ll change for the festival at the Thorn once I’ve finished baking.
“Walk of shaming it to your house at five o’clock in the morning was not something I had on my summer bingo card,” I admit.