Tara snorted and mouthedholy crapto Aubrey behind her hand. If her friend’s reaction was any indication, the dude must be up in the clouds on the hotness scale. Curiosity won, and Aubrey swiveled around on the stool to explain that Spank Me was the brewery’s überhoppy, gold-medal IPA.
“She didn’t mean that literally.” Her words and laughter scattered as dark brown eyes zeroed in on her face.
Aubrey couldn’t draw a proper breath with her pulse racing like an overcaffeinated squirrel’s. She never went drool-faced over a man, even a gorgeous specimen such as the tall, muscular stranger in front of her.
“It’s our award-winning IPA. My pride and joy,” her friend said, noting Aubrey’s sudden loss of speaking abilities with a barely suppressed laugh.
It had to be because she didn’t expect him to be Asian American. Tara and Aubrey were two of six Asian locals, and her friend’s family made up the other four. The odds of meeting a hot Asian American man on a weeknight—Tara’s two older brothers excepted—were slim to none in Weldon.
“Spank Me it is, then,” he replied to Tara as his eyes flickered to the name tag on her shirt. “Thank you, Tara.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, and turned away to fill his order with a playful wink at Aubrey.
“I’m Landon,” he said, turning his full attention to Aubrey. Her jaws went slack, and her tummy dipped and swerved at the appreciative gleam in his eyes. He took a seat semi-next to her, leaving a barstool between them. She fought down the smile tugging at her lips. Too many men invade a woman’s personal space without a thought. But not this one.Well done, Mr. Landon.
“Aubrey.” She sounded as breathy as Marilyn Monroe in her JFK birthday serenade. It was totally unintentional and massively embarrassing.
A knowing grin spread across his face, all cocky and sexy as hell. Then she just about died when a dimple tucked into his left cheek.Note to self: Going without sex for a year makes you susceptible to gorgeous men with dimples.
“What are you having?” He cocked his head to one side and a lock of jet-black hair fell across his forehead. Her fingers itched to brush it away.
“Buzz Off.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed and jumped to clarify herself. “The blond ale. That’s the name—Buzz Off. I wasn’t telling you to leave or anything.”
And just like that, she made everything worse. Much, much worse.
“I’m relieved to hear that, because I’d like to buy you a drink.” His laughter, low and rumbly, spread through her like warm brandy, and she forgot to be embarrassed. “May I?”
That voice. That laugh. That dimple. Aubrey could only manage a nod as heat and awareness flooded her.
Landon’s eyes roamed over the striking woman in the Cookie Monster T-shirt, greedy to drink in as much of her as he could. The sight of her provided the perfect antidote to his frustrating day, which had been a parade of bad luck.
He’d enjoyed a thrilling ride into a ditch when his tire blew on the freeway, but that was tame compared to his trip to Weldon in the rustiest tow truck in existence. While Weldon’s auto shop/gas station/mini-mart was the closest business that could replace his tire, it was closed for the day at eleven thirty. In the morning.Don’t small-town folks need gas or some cherry slushy in the middle of the day?If he hadn’t had over three hours of driving left, he would’ve risked driving on a spare.
Instead, he’d checked in at Lola’s Trattoria and Inn and wandered through the pedestrian-friendly town, exploring the picturesque slice of Americana. An eclectic mix of stores filled the streets without a chain store in sight. That was quite a feat when he couldn’t even stroll the cobblestoned villages of Europe without passing a Starbucks or a McDonald’s.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked without a destination. There was no rush tobesomewhere or todosomething. The brief break from his hectic life had felt utterly foreign, and it had taken him half an hour to relax into it. As hissteps became lighter and a smile tugged at his lips, a delectable smell wafted toward him. The aroma of freshly baked bread, butter, and sweet spices beckoned him to search for its source.
His nose led him to Comfort Zone, a bakery hidden between a barbershop and a pet store. The warmth and ease of the place ensconced him as soon as he stepped inside. It was lively without being loud and full of people without feeling crowded. Whether they were engrossed in a book or guffawing at someone’s joke, the customers looked completely at ease, like they were hanging out at their best friend’s house. Immersed in the atmosphere, he’d experienced a rare moment of peace, which was interrupted before he could properly savor it.
Landon was enjoying a cup of rich, dark coffee and a whole chocolate Bundt cake, the bakery’s special of the day—soaking in the sun from the bright outdoor seating—when he’d choked on a gummy worm hidden within the thick, clingy peanut butter filling. His eyes and nose running from his coughing fit, he dumped the cake in the trash bin and walked away. He’d escaped asphyxiation, but he was angry as hell.
There were plenty of inedible cakes in the world, but the bakery and the Bundt cake had brimmed with potential. The chocolate cake itself had been beautiful—light, moist, and perfectly bittersweet. The cream cheese and peanut butter filling had tasted improbably delicious.
The baker had talent, but throwing in the gummy worms exhibited arrogance and callousness. And showcasing the Bundt cake as the daily special without alerting the customers to the unusual filling? That was wrong. A rebellion without a cause. It was an unfortunate pitfall for some talented chefs. Was it frustration? Boredom? Whatever prompted the addition of the gummy worms, the cake shouldn’t have been served to a customer. Experiments should stay in the kitchen until theywere perfected. Comfort Zone had used its customers, including him, as test subjects.
Landon had been on his way to review a three-starred Michelin restaurant in Mammoth, but his overnight stay in Weldon meant that well-laid plan wasn’t happening. He had to fly out the next afternoon for his monthlong assignment in East Asia, which meant he had to drive back to Santa Monica at the crack of dawn. He was counting on the auto shop/gas station/mini-mart to open at 6:00A.M.as the sign promised.
It was unplanned and a bit impulsive, but Weldon’s very own Comfort Zone was going to be critiqued inCalifornia Coast Monthly.As aggravating as the experience had been, excitement stirred at the prospect of writing a review he was emotionally invested in.
“So what brings you to Weldon?” Aubrey said, licking off the foam mustache her blond ale left behind.
The flash of pink jerked Landon out of his thoughts, and he zeroed in on the alluring woman in front of him. “Bad luck.”
“That sounds ominous.”
When she smiled, her almond-shaped brown eyes tilted up in the corners, adding to her ethereal beauty. Her cropped black hair capped her delicate head, and her petite body dipped and flared in all the right places. He could imagine her as a mischievous woodland faerie, clothed in gossamer wings.
“Nothing that exciting. My car blew a tire, but the auto shop is closed till tomorrow morning, so here I am.”
