Only for You

Book 2: Sapphire Springs

by Barb Curtis

Genres: Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

Return to Sapphire Springs with this heartwarming romance where a small-town bakery owner finds herself in a fake relationship with the man she's always pined after. Will a fake relationship between two friends lead to true love? After having his heart broken on national television, Tim Fraser knows only one way to stop the gossip about his love life-a new girlfriend. The problem is, he's done with romance forever. A fake relationship with his friend and Sapphire Spring's sweetest baker, Emily Holland, seems the perfect solution to getting rid of his newfound fame, but their fleeting fauxmance is stirring up the kinds of feelings Tim has sworn off for good. Emily has secretly lusted after Tim for years, but pretending her feelings are all for show never factored into her fantasy. Still, her decades-long crush makes it impossible to say no to Tim's proposal. But with each date, the lines between pretend and reality blur, giving Tim and Emily a tantalizing taste of life outside the friend zone . . . if they can find the courage to give real love a chance.

Release date: June 29, 2021

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 352

Sample

Chapter One

Emily Holland had two simple New Year’s resolutions.

The first, reorganizing her life. She’d kick-started the day—and year—by cleaning her apartment and purging her closet of two bags of clothes for Goodwill. Then she’d monopolized both sets of washers and dryers in her building’s laundry room down the hall, which was the reason for the cut-off jean shorts and threadbare NSYNC tank top she currently wore.

With the holidays officially over and fad diets in full force, Tesoro, her patisserie in the strip of storefronts downstairs, would see a lull in walk-in traffic until business picked up again before Valentine’s Day. She could use the break to organize her work life, too.

Her second resolution? Well, he lit up her phone with his third text in an hour.

Tim Fraser—friend since high school, upstairs neighbor, fellow town council member, and secret object of her affection for longer than she cared to admit.

As recently elected town councilors, she and Tim had spent the last six weeks on the volunteer committee for Sapphire Springs’ Christmas festivities. They’d also collaborated on last night’s New Year’s Eve party, which Emily had secretly hoped would end with a lightbulb flickering on in his ridiculously gorgeous head, when he finally realized they were both single now and a perfect match. He’d kiss her at midnight on the rooftop of town hall, fireworks blasting behind them, and the rest would be history.

Too bad he’d bailed at ten p.m. without even saying goodbye. It had been the final straw, prompting her New Year’s resolution to kick her secret crush to the curb once and for all. All she had to do was stop hanging out with Tim all the time. From now on she’d put herself out there, meet other guys, and find the real Mr. Right—somebody who could look past the friend zone and see her as more than “the girl downstairs.”

With a nagging buzz, her phone announced another text.

Someone’s being persistent today.

Curiosity tempted her to read his texts and see what had prompted so many, but she knew she would then feel compelled to respond, and that would inevitably lead into one of their back-and-forth conversations that lasted an entire evening, until one of them either invited the other over to hang out or said they were going to bed.

Not today, Fraser. No way would she blow her resolution on day one. The clock was ticking, and watching her best friend, Leyna, fall in love with her soul mate and plan their wedding had Emily wondering if she’d ever get her own happily-ever-after. Determined to ignore him, she propped her bare feet on the coffee table and flicked on the television to channel surf as her phone vibrated again.

They’d established a routine back in the fall, watching TV together, or more often than not, watching the same show separately and texting each other the entire time. It had begun with a bunch of nineties teen flicks, like Clueless and She’s All That (her choices), then they’d spent a day on John Hughes classics and another bingeing Adam Sandler movies. Then the Christmas movies had begun. Emily loved the cheesy romances—in fact the cheesier, the better. Tim mostly teased her about it and always got even with a Tarantino flick or two.

In these last few months he’d really leaned on her. They’d gotten close—well, they’d always been sort of close, but now she’d kind of become his “person,” which both thrilled her and ignited an ache in her heart that she’d never survive if she kept squashing her emotions. She couldn’t do it anymore. It was like the tighter their bond, the further the possibility of them ever being more became.

A chill danced across her shoulders as the clicking of her thumb slowed. On a long sigh, Emily reached for the fluffy mauve blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it around her. She lowered the remote to the arm of the couch. Behind Closed Doors was airing a mid-season marathon.

The reality TV show revolved around four men and four women in their thirties sharing a mansion in L.A., and it starred Tim’s ex, Melissa. After three years together, not only had she cheated on him with one of her roommates, but she’d come to Sapphire Springs back in early September, flanked by her entourage, and dumped him while the cameras rolled.

Her phone lit up again.

Shit.

It was literally the only thing on TV right now, and she’d bet that Tim needed a distraction to stave off the temptation to watch. Emily tipped her head back, resting it on the couch, to stare at the ceiling medallion encircling the light fixture, willing the tiny bulbs to help her decide how to play this.

If the roles were reversed, she could count on him, no question. Take Todd, the hunky police officer she’d dated back in the summer. When Emily dumped him, Tim had shown up with a chocolate cake that had CONGRATULATIONS piped across it in pink frosting. They’d spent an entire Sunday watching reruns of Friends. She laughed even harder during the commercial breaks than she did during the show.

Tim was such a great guy. He hadn’t deserved to have his heart ripped out.

The ache in her heart throbbed a little harder.

Ugh. This was exactly the kind of thing that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She plucked her phone off the coffee table.

Six messages.

Happy New Year!

Mel’s show is on all day for the second day in a row. I keep landing on it and getting caught up, like an idiot.

Maybe I’ll go for a run.

And then the three most recent messages:

I’m back. What’re you up to?

There’s a “potty putter” infomercial coming on 😂.

Have you had dinner? I could throw something together.

Emily’s gaze rolled toward the kitchen, where a stainless steel pot of turkey soup simmered on the back burner. Damn it. She pushed off the couch and paused in front of the mirror over the fireplace to smooth a hand over her blond hair and rub away the remnants of last night’s smoky eyes. He’d seen her looking worse. Ugh, was she really caving on her resolution already?

But he needed her.

Her not-even-twelve-hours-old New Year’s resolution practically went adrift then and there, leaving her stranded on the shore. Just this one time, she vowed to herself.

Her thumbs tapped out a response.

I actually have a big pot of soup on the stove. Why don’t you come down?

He responded right away, and Emily changed the channel to the toilet golf infomercial. Then she went to the kitchen to busy herself until he knocked at the door.

“It’s open.”

When she glanced over her shoulder, six feet of lean muscle hidden by a faded Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt paused in the doorway, blocking the light from the hall. His shaggy blond hair curled on the ends, still damp from his shower.

“Hey, Shorty.”

“Hey.”

His blue eyes darted around the spotless kitchen as he closed the door behind him. “You cleaned. I cleaned my whole apartment today, too, like I haven’t cleaned since the Naval Academy.” His eyes fluttered as he drew a deep breath in through his nose. “That soup smells amazing.”

She got a couple of bowls out of the upper cabinet and rooted in the drawer for spoons. “It’s been simmering all afternoon, so it’s ready whenever you feel like eating.”

He crossed the kitchen and leaned on the counter, his triceps dipping in a mouth-watering little flex. “Did you have fun last night at the New Year’s bash?”

“Yeah, it was a great time,” she lied, placing a couple of napkins on the table. “What about you?”

He shrugged. “I got out of there pretty early, actually. Just wasn’t feeling it.”

His words weighed on her. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but instead she feigned surprise, like she’d been too busy being fabulous to notice him toss back his drink and head for the exit while the night was still young.

Quiet for a couple of seconds, he rubbed at the day-old scruff on his chin. “I know it’s completely toxic, but I could not stop pausing on that damn show all day yesterday and today.”

Tim had gone under the radar for a few weeks after the breakup, embarrassed and, though he’d never admit it, heartbroken. People whispered about how lost he’d seemed, but he’d perked up during the Christmas festivities, and everyone assumed he was doing better. She chewed the inside of her cheek before broaching the looming question. “Has the breakup episode aired?”

His shoulders rounded when he blew out a breath. “Tonight. This mid-season marathon is all building up to the new episode. Mel called this afternoon to warn me.”

The ladle Emily started to dip into the soup came to a halt. “Melissa’s still contacting you?” She forced a relaxed tone and resumed serving the soup. “This is new information.”

He took the bowl she passed him and carried it to the small kitchen table. “Until this morning, she hadn’t made any attempts in months, but I guess she wanted to give a head’s-up or something. I should just block her.”

“Damn right, you should.”

His mouth parted into a grin as he sunk onto the chair—the first sign of humor since he’d arrived. “Ooh, Shorty. You’ve got a feisty streak.”

Emily chose the chair opposite him. “Do not watch it. There’s no good reason to put yourself through that.” She pointed a finger at him. “And stay off social media, too. Seriously.” The show had a big following. There was even a ribbon running across the bottom of the screen with live commentary from social media followers.

He removed his ball cap and hung it on the corner of his chair. “I won’t. From here on out I’m all about self-preservation. So anyway…” He stirred his spoon around the bowl, unleashing a cloud of steam. “Any New Year’s resolutions?”

“Two, actually.” She pulled apart a dinner roll and smeared butter on it while explaining her goal to get organized. “I’ve already started. My bills are all paid ahead of schedule, meals are prepped for the week. I bought a super-cute planner before the holidays, and I’m going to schedule every aspect of my life.”

“That’s great. I survive on scheduling and to-do lists.” He paused to taste the soup, and his lips drew into a smile. “Mmmm. This is exactly the soul food I needed today.”

The compliment warmed her like a hug. At least her cooking could brighten his day. “After it cools, I’ll fix you up with a container for lunch tomorrow.”

“You’re the best, Shorty.” He plucked a roll from the bowl sitting between them. “So what’s your other resolution?”

She should’ve known that question was coming. Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut? To stall, she went to the fridge to fetch them each a can of carbonated water. “I’ve only got plain—no lime—you good with that?”

“Sure.” He cracked open the can she passed him. “So what’s resolution number two?”

Damn it. She opened her can and gulped. “Um, well…to find the perfect guy.”

“Ah, come on, really?” Tim set his can down and peered at her. “That’s a lot of pressure. You know there’s no such thing as the perfect guy, right?”

Maybe not perfect, but Tim Fraser came pretty damn close. The only thing he lacked was actually clueing in to how great they were together. “Okay, correction, the perfect guy for me. I fully believe somebody is going to come along who will check off all the boxes.”

He peered at her across the table. “You’ve mentioned these boxes before. Elaborate, please.”

She braced her feet on the rung around the bottom of her chair. “Well, for one, he needs to be self-sufficient, because this girl is not looking after anyone.”

Tim snorted, amusement lighting up his eyes. “Valid. Go on.”

“Two, he has to be family oriented and ready to settle down.” She put her spoon down and reached for her water.

“And three?” he prompted.

Emily let the cool liquid buzz around her mouth, considering. “Romantic, fun, spontaneous…” Too bad she wanted these things with the one person she couldn’t have.

He wiggled the tab on the top of his can back and forth until it snapped off. “Take it from me, the more perfect you think someone is, the greater their ability to hurt and disappoint you in the end.”

“Pfft…Not true,” she countered, furrowing her brows and shaking her head.

“It is true. Truer words have never been spoken.”

She blinked rapidly and beckoned with her fingers. “Gimme back the soup.”

“What?” His spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “I’ve already eaten half of it.”

“Gimme.”

“No.” Without breaking eye contact, he guarded the bowl with his arm and shoveled soup into his mouth a little faster.

Emily’s gaze fell on his US Navy tattoo, the arm of the anchor drawing her eyes down his forearm. She gulped her water again.

Tim ate his last bite and pushed his bowl away. “I think we all need to stop looking for the one, the happily-ever-after, and just enjoy the here and now. Real life does not breed happy endings. People will just end up hurting you if you let them get too close.”

“You’re just jaded right now.”

“I’ve come to my senses.”

She shrugged. “I don’t buy it. Obviously you’ve just never met the right person.”

“You can say that again. And I’m not planning to, either. I am so done with relationships.”

A declaration she’d heard about thirty-seven times in the past four months. “Right. Because they’re not a part of your rules.” If she had a dollar for every time he brought up his damn rules.

“Exactly.” Oblivious to her disinterest, he held up a finger. “Casual dating only…”

She tuned him out as he ticked off rule numbers two and three. No opening up, no getting close. Blah, blah, blah. She could list them in her sleep.

“And most important of all,” he was saying, “no developing feelings.”

Emily waited a few seconds to make sure he hadn’t added anything else. It was a growing list, after all. “Rules are overrated.”

Tim shook his head and grinned. “Not my rules.”

When he didn’t say anything more, she leaned back in her chair and stretched. “So any resolutions for you?”

“Nah, you know me. I don’t like to make those kinds of commitments.” His eyes fell on a stack of broken-down boxes, propped up against the door of the coat closet. “When is the move into the new apartment?”

The guy at the end of the hall was finally moving out. For years, Emily had been on a waiting list for one of those apartments. They spanned the whole width of the building, getting the morning sun from the harbor and the afternoon light coming across town square. She picked at a thread on her jean shorts. “He should be out by the end of the month. I’m going to get a head start packing things I never use. New Year’s resolution, and all that.” She winked.

“If you need help moving some of your heavy stuff, I’ll give you a hand. Just say the word.” His phone chimed, but he ignored it. “And I’ll have plenty of boxes at the shop, if you need more.”

“Sure, that would be great. I don’t have much stuff, but I’ll keep you posted.”

He flashed his teeth, and they practically sparkled like a 1950s toothpaste commercial. He held her gaze a second, then cleared his throat. “What do you think Fuzzy has in store for us at next week’s council meeting?”

“Holiday recap and spring event planning, probably, which I hope he spares me on. I’m exhausted from the Christmas events, and I could use the break to prep for wedding season. I’ve already gotten ten cake orders, including Leyna and Jay’s.”

Because her life wasn’t complicated enough already, she and Tim were none other than maid of honor and best man at their friends’ upcoming wedding in May.

His phone chimed again and he pulled it out of his pocket. “My mom. She wants me to come over and put an Ikea cabinet together.” He got up and gathered their dishes. “Cute shirt, by the way.” He pointed to a young Justin Timberlake before carrying the dishes to the sink. “I tried frosted tips back in the day.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Shit. Did she just say that out loud? Why not admit she remembered the exact brand of jeans he wore back then too. Gap.

Her phone rang, thank God. “I, um…It’s Nana,” she stammered.

He put his ball cap back on and backed toward the door. “I’ve gotta get going anyway. Thanks for the soup. And for distracting me.”

With her thumb hovering over the Answer button, she stuck her head out the door as Tim retreated down the dim carpeted hallway. “Don’t watch the show.”

He spun back around. “I won’t, Shorty. Bye bye bye.”

As the door clicked shut, Emily answered the call, mustering her most bubbly voice. Her grandmother hadn’t been herself through the holidays. She’d been quiet and mopey—a rough contrast to her usual energetic self.

“Happy New Year, Nana.”

“Happy New Year, Emmy. How was the party last night?”

Pinching her lip, she turned her head toward the window, where soft flurries collected on the fire escape. “All right.” But I left at eleven thirty so I didn’t have to bear the humiliation of having no one to kiss at midnight. Again.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about my birthday party. We should book soon.”

“Nana, your birthday is five months away.” Not that she was judging. Emily had planned her last birthday party six months in advance.

“Damn straight. It’s not every day a gal turns eighty-three.”

That’s right, eighty-three. Not a particularly celebratory number like eighty, or eighty-five. Reserving a few tables for her grandmother’s birthday wouldn’t be a problem, though. Not when her best friend Leyna owned the most popular restaurant in town. “What did you have in mind?”

From the rattling in the background, Emily knew Nana was digging into her trusty bag of pink peppermints. She’d been hooked on them for years.

“I want a classy little soirée on a boat, beginning at sunset and lasting until after dark, with warm little lights strung everywhere. I’m thinking smoked salmon for an appetizer and sparkling wine. Mini cheesecakes for dessert. I’m sure it’ll be no problem for you to pull together something great with Leyna for the food and Tim for the boat tour.”

The woman had it all figured out. Emily put her phone on speaker and padded into the living room to relax on the couch. She picked up the remote to scroll through the guide. “Why a boat, though? The new rooftop patio at town hall is pretty swanky, if you want a change of scenery from Rosalia’s.” And it didn’t involve coordinating with the guy she’d just sworn off.

“Uh-uh. At my age, who knows how many parties I have left. I want a nice little boat cruise, like when your grandfather and I got married. That was the most romantic night of my life, you know.”

Well, shit. How could any other option compete with that? “Okay, leave it all to me. Just don’t forget I have to help organize Leyna and Jay’s wedding, too, which is the week after your birthday.” Priorities and all that.

Nana continued to chat, changing the topic to the new book she’d started. Half listening, Emily selected the channel airing Behind Closed Doors and lowered the volume. She may have told Tim not to watch tonight’s episode, but she damn well would.

She picked her nail file off the coffee table and ran it along her thumbnail. The live feed already ran across the bottom of the screen with commentary. The show reminded Emily of a real-life soap opera, with cattier fights and real booze flowing freely. Viewers seemed to embrace Melissa and Dak, and to be glad she’d decided to break up with her boyfriend.

When a glammed-up Melissa drove by the WELCOME TO SAPPHIRE SPRINGS sign, the lake beyond glistening in the September sun, Emily tossed the nail file and tapped her phone off of speaker. She interrupted midway through her grandmother’s latest book club gossip. “I have to let you go, Nana. Sorry. I’ll keep you posted about the party planning.”

Her hand trembled as she ended the call. Why was she so nervous? She already knew, more or less, how the episode played out.

Emily’s breath hitched when the camera panned the boats bobbing along the dock and then moved along to the group of bold-colored clapboard buildings nicknamed Crayola Row before framing in on Tim’s shop. She and Leyna had been in the kitchen at Tesoro the day the footage was shot, and they’d spied through the window as it all went down. It was innocent enough at the time, but this…This felt almost voyeuristic, somehow.

Had Melissa really needed to break up with him at work, so the whole world could google him and the town where he lived?

There on her TV screen, Tim stepped out of the shop and closed the door behind him. He looked amazing—still tanned from the summer, wearing faded jeans and a dark green shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He flashed a big, genuine smile before hesitating at the sight of the cameras. Then he hugged Melissa, his greeting muffled by the microphone on her denim jacket.

As always, Melissa looked gorgeous, her caramel-colored hair falling in long waves. Just seeing her again made Emily feel out of Tim’s league.

The comments on the bottom caught Emily’s eye. Abort mission, this guy is hot!!!

Emily’s jaw turned to stone.

Tim clasped hands with Melissa and glanced over her shoulder at the camera and then back at her. “This is a nice surprise. I’m so glad you’re here. How are you?”

She mumbled something about how she’d been better.

“Can you come inside, away from these guys?”

When it cut to Melissa, she was shaking her head. “I can’t. What I came to say won’t take long, anyway.”

He let go of her hands.

Melissa made a show of wiping a tear and breaking eye contact with him before . . .