Page 50 of Take This Heart (Windy Harbor #1)

COMING SOON

WHAT IT TAKES

Grand Opening

CAMDEN

Present

It’s a great day to be alive.

I’m completely stressed, running on fumes, and don’t see sleep in my future for a long time, but it’s the opening day of my new restaurant.

You only get that once.

My brain won’t shut off. I went to bed at 2:30 and woke up at 4:30, my thoughts a whirlwind. I’ve gone over every possible worst-case scenario in my mind and am hopefully equipped for whatever goes wrong.

Because something will definitely go wrong.

I moved back home to Minnesota recently.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever live here again, not because I don’t love it, but because I’d found my place in Colorado.

I opened a restaurant there, and it’s still thriving, but when I found out my dad had cancer and wanted my siblings and me to help him do a rehaul on the rundown resort next to our lake home, I got serious about making the move to be with my family.

He’s thinking about the legacy he wants to leave behind, and I’m thinking about being near him.

I don’t want to miss a single day with him.

Which is why, as soon as he texts his standard good morning to the family, I jump on it and pull up a separate thread with just the two of us.

Are you up for coffee this morning? Get our day started out right before the craziness begins?

Dad

I’m always up for coffee with you, son.

I’m at the restaurant already, but I can come back to the house. Or do you feel like getting out? I can have coffee ready at the restaurant in five minutes.

Dad

Choices, choices. Actually, I have a craving for one of Juju’s scones. You up for going to the Kitty-Korner Cafe?

I groan internally. Juliana Fair, best friend to my sister Goldie, and the sister of my best friend Jackson, knows how to get under my skin.

She owns the bakery in town and it’s excellent.

The girl has been a phenomenal baker since the day I met her as a kid and ate her homemade chocolate chip cookies.

As a chef, I’m particular about all things food, but Juju has only gotten more skilled as the years have gone by. No one can bake like her.

We may butt heads, but I know an amazing scone when I taste one.

And I can’t say no to my dad.

I’ll swing by to pick you up in twenty. Sound good?

Dad

Sounds perfect.

***

The Kitty-Corner Café is bustling when Dad and I walk in.

The place is great, a charming overload.

Juliana Fair stands behind the counter, looking all kinds of beautiful.

Yes, as much as she can annoy me, I still think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, which probably only serves to annoy me further.

Long, blonde hair, vivid green eyes, and pink lips, all a deceptive disguise of the venom this girl can spew.

At least when it comes to me.

There have been times over the course of our twenty-one-year history—we met when I was seven and she was five—that we’ve had a peace treaty between the two of us.

The first day was such an example. I saved the day by salvaging the cookies that had fallen, and she looked at me like I was her knight in shining armor.

It went downhill from there.

Today, she shoots me a withering glare and says, “I thought I wouldn’t have to see you for a few more hours.”

To which I say, “Today is your lucky day.”

She rolls her eyes and continues helping Sandy, one of the locals, who looks back at my dad with interest.

“Everett, how are you?” she says. “How is that hotdish I sent over this week?”

My dad swallows hard and makes a point of not looking at me because he knows if he does, it’s over. We won’t be able to keep a straight face.

“Thanks again for that hotdish, Sandy. So thoughtful of you.”

That hotdish is fucking awful. It’s hard to make Tater Tot hotdish taste bad, but Sandy succeeds every time.

She beams at Dad and I quietly chuckle next to him.

My dad, ever the diplomat. When it’s our turn at the counter, Juju gives Dad her warmest smile.

That’s the thing about her. I know she’s capable of being kind, friendly, and even sweet, but with me, ninety percent of the time, she pulls out the rotten.

We won’t think about the other ten percent.

I think she enjoys keeping me on a never-ending roller coaster.

“You’re looking great this morning, Everett,” she says. “What can I get for you?”

“And you’re looking lovely this morning, Miss Juliana,” he says. “I woke up thinking about your scones. And I’ll have your light roast as well.”

“Coming right up,” she says.

“Uh, I didn’t order yet,” I say when she walks off to get my dad’s order ready.

“Haven’t you asked enough of me today?” she snaps.

I shake my head. “Really, Juju? Are we really gonna do this?”

She slams the plate down and the scone almost falls off as she moves to pour my dad a cup of coffee.

“I don’t know, Camden. I’m surprised you want any of my baked goods for your perfect restaurant when it wasn’t that long ago that you said Caribou’s coffee is better.”

I groan. “This again? Your specialty is baked goods. You don’t have to have coffee down too.”

She slides the coffee toward my dad and crosses her arms as she stares at me.

“My coffee is freaking delicious,” she says, “and you know it.”

“Well, I would prefer to deal with your bear claws, since that’s all you seem to show me anyway.”

She sputters and I think maybe she growls too. I grin. I’d forgotten how fun she is to turn sideways.

She puts a bear claw on a plate and slams it in front of me.

“And a cup of your light roast too, please.”

If fumes could come out of her head, I think they would be right now.

“Unbelievable,” she snaps.

My dad is chuckling when we sit at the corner table.

“Why do you have to pick on that girl?” he says. “She’s like family to us and she has idolized you since the day you met.”

I frown. “Juju. You’re talking about Juliana? You’re mistaken. We are like fire and ice. She hates me.”

“Ah, son, for someone so smart, you sure can be dumb sometimes. Besides that, this little attitude you have when she’s around, it’s like you’re a different person. As Goldie says, you’re the nice one in the family.”

I chuckle. “I don’t know where Goldie gets that.”

“She gets that because until she met Milo, she was also the sweet one, but he seemed to bring out the worst in her, the way Juju brings out the worst in you. I wonder what that’s about. And look at where Goldie and Milo ended up.” His grin widens.

“Don’t start,” I groan. “I haven’t been in Windy Harbor a month and you’re already matchmaking. You and Mom always had so much to say about me and Juju.”

We both smile wistfully, thinking about my mom. I miss her every damn day.

I clear my throat. “Juju and I are not gonna happen. Did you see the way she flung that bear claw at me? She wished it was my balls on that plate.”

I hear a gasp next to us and Beverly and Carol are staring at us with wide eyes.

“Pardon my language,” I say apologetically.

Beverly titters, and my dad is trying not to laugh when I look at him again.

“See what I mean?” he says under his breath. “Tully and Dylan…and even Noah, wouldn’t have apologized.”

I laugh. “Just because they’re assholes doesn’t make me the nice one.”

He just looks at me like come on now and I grin as I enjoy my bear claw.

It’s a fucking spectacular bear claw.

Before we leave, I tap on the counter and Juju jumps. Her expression quickly turns from pleasant to volcanic.

“Please be on time with the desserts, Juliana. Today’s a big day for me.”

“I run my own business, Camden. I know how to be a professional.”

I tilt my head and smile. “Great. Shouldn’t be a problem then.”

***

A few hours later, everything is in place. The tables are set. The sauces are ready. Everything is primed, and the staff are all in place. There’s a level of high anticipation in the air.

But I’m waiting on one thing.

Or rather, one person.

Juliana fucking Fair.

“She was supposed to be here half an hour ago,” I mutter, stalking past the kitchen doors. “I should’ve known she’d try to sabotage this.”

Bobby, my new sous chef, looks at me in surprise. “Sabotage? Like she’d want to bring you down?”

“No,” I admit. “She wouldn’t go that far. She just really likes to irritate me.”

And I seem to fall for it every time. I revert to my teenage years, when Juju and I started this bickering that is our new normal.

That’s easier to deal with than the soft Juju that feels like my friend, because almost always, she turns on me.

A couple of weeks ago, when I asked her if she could make desserts for the restaurant until I could hire a new pastry chef, her eyes softened.

“I’d be honored,” she said. “You know that I’m really proud of you, Camden…right? I think what you’ve done with the restaurant in Colorado is epic, and I know this new restaurant will knock it out of the park too.”

“Thanks, Juju,” I said, surprised.

Her mouth parted slightly and I stepped toward her. I heard her breath hitch and could see the rise and fall of her chest..

“What is it?” I whispered.

“It’s been a long time since you called me Juju,” she whispered back.

“I always call you Juju in my head,” I confessed.

We stared at each other for a long, weighty pause, and I could’ve sworn she wanted me to kiss her.

And then her brother walked in and we both took a step away from each other.

“My two favorite people. I’m shocked you’re alone and not throwing dough at each other.” Jackson laughed.

“Give it time and we’ll be back at it,” I teased, grinning at Juju.

Her jaw tightened and the warmth left her eyes.

I fucking hated to see it go.

But this was us, a seesaw that never balanced.

The door flings open and Juju rushes in.

Her hair is up, her cheeks flushed either from the cold or because she knows I’ll be ticked. She’s pushing a cart loaded down with desserts.

“You’re late.”

“I’m here,” she sings. “And I brought the pies and cheesecakes you wanted…plus mousse cakes and bread pudding that I thought would fit nicely with your menu.”

“I didn’t ask for the mousse cakes or bread pudding. I asked you to be on time.”

She stares at me indignantly. “I was doing something nice for you.”

I exhale slowly. “I didn’t ask you to be nice or to bring extra food that I may or may not be able to sell.”

Her cheeks burn brighter. “You’ll be glad you have them, you arrogant control freak.”

“It’s not about control, it’s about not having waste, and doing what you say you’ll do,” I say between gritted teeth.

“Trust me, if you let the good people of Windy Harbor know that my mousse cake or bread pudding is a surprise dessert for this evening, they will sell faster than you can plate them.”

“That’s not how restaurants work, Juliana. I’ve already printed the menu.”

“So tell them it’s a special that isn’t on the menu,” she snaps. “Should I have brought store-bought cheesecakes instead?”

I take a step toward her. She does the same thing.

“Why are you always pushing?” I ask. “It’s like you find a nerve and just poke, poke, poke.”

“I can’t help it that you’re an uptight, bossy, overly sensitive, emotionally constipated man who—”

“I’m the uptight, bossy, overly sensitive, emotionally constipated one?” I yell back. “You don’t want to go there with me, Juliana. If I remember correctly, you were the one who—”

“What is going on back here?” Goldie comes in, her eyes wide.

“I should’ve known better than to bring desserts for you!” Juju shouts as she walks toward the door. “You can find someone else to do your bidding, Camden Whitman!”

She says something to Goldie under her breath and I laugh.

“Call a spade a spade, Juliana, and a jackass a jackass.”

“Okay, jackass,” she mutters and leaves the kitchen.

Goldie rips me a new one when Juju leaves, but my sister never stays mad at me too long. One of the many things I love about her. And with this being opening night, she probably has more mercy on me than I deserve.

***

The night is a success.

Even more than I’d hoped it would be.

I had my family surrounding me, my best friend Jackson, and even my favorite players from the Colorado Mustangs team—Weston, Henley, Rhodes, Bowie, and Penn—along with their wives.

I couldn’t believe they all made the trip to Minnesota.

My sister was thrilled to have her college roommate, Addy, who’s married to Penn, by her side.

And of course, Juju was there, looking like a bombshell in a blue dress.

Speaking of the bombshell, she’s lingering after everyone leaves for the night. It’s so late that I didn’t expect anyone to be here still, but she’s in the kitchen, gathering her pans when I walk in.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize for being a bastard earlier, when she says, “Are the rest of the desserts tucked away somewhere, or did you get rid of them all like I said you would?”

I growl, which delights her.

“You wouldn’t be asking that question if you didn’t already know the answer,” I say.

“Oh, I know the answer. I knew the answer when I left them here. Too bad I won’t be making any desserts for you again.”

She carries her pans to the door and I call after her.

“Juju, wait. Let’s not—”

She whirls around. “Let’s not what? Be civil to one another? Have the common courtesy to say thank you?” Her voice cracks and I feel like the biggest jerk. “You’ve got it. Let’s not…ever again.”

She leaves and I slump against the island, every earlier feeling of victory squashed with her words.