Hometown Valentine

“Well, by that time I was old enough to help out quite a bit, which made things a bit easier.” For Mom. Not so much for Lily.

“How old were you when they were born?”

“Nine. And then she had two more after them.”

He paused, clearly doing the math in his head. “So...that’s five kids?”

“Yep. My youngest sister, Laura, is a senior in high school.”

“Wow. Five.” He shook his head. “I can barely handle one.”

“Well, the twins are now in college, so we lived.”

The buzzer sounded, signaling the arrival of a customer. Lily turned and saw Mrs. De Marco, one of her mom’s cleaning clients, enter the store. Mrs. De Marco was clad in a sturdy-looking raincoat, and had a plastic rain hat covering her silver-gray hair. She carried several shopping bags in her gnarled hands.

Lily rushed forward. “Here, Mrs. De Marco, let me help you with those.”

“Oh, bless you, Lily.” She handed one of the bags over. “I thought I could handle them, but as usual, I’ve overestimated my ability to actually be able to get my treasures to my car.”

Lily put one bag on a nearby table, then took the other one from Mrs. De Marco. “No problem. I’m strong.”

“You take after your mother, then,” Mrs. De Marco said, removing her rain hat. “She’s a hard worker and does a wonderful job cleaning my house. Even the hard jobs like scrubbing floors.”

Lily put the other bag down, wondering what Mrs. De Marco had purchased. Bricks, maybe? “Yes, she definitely works hard.” A widow with five kids had little choice.

Mrs. De Marco toddled to the counter. “Well, hello, young man.”

Blake inclined his head. “Good afternoon, Mrs. De Marco. Your usual?”

“Yes, please.”

“Double low-fat latte, heavy on the whipped cream and caramel, coming right up.” Blake went to work behind the counter.

Lily stepped back to stand beside Mrs. De Marco. “Why don’t I help you get your bags to your car?”

“Oh, dear, would you?”

“Of course.”

“That would be wonderful. With this rain, my packages would be soaked by the time I managed to get them in the trunk.”

“Would you like some coffee?” Blake asked Lily.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Lily replied. Actually, a warm drink sounded good, but coffee drinks weren’t in her budget.

“Oh, pshaw,” Mrs. De Marco said, waving a hand. “It’s cold and rainy out. You need something to warm you up.”

Lily shook her head. “No, it’s fine, really.”

“Well, I’m getting you a drink, on me.”

“I don’t know...” Lily said. Her mother had instilled in her a strong desire to provide for herself.

“I insist, my dear.” Mrs. De Marco looked at Blake. “She’ll have what I’m having, to go, of course.”

Lily gave up the fight. Clearly Mrs. De Marco had it in her head to treat Lily to coffee. And, actually, a steamy, rich coffee concoction sounded lovely; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a store-bought drink, much less one with whipped cream on top. How decadent!

Mrs. De Marco paid, and then she and Lily sat at a nearby table. While they waited for their drinks, Lily did her best not to stare at Blake as he worked with quiet efficiency behind the counter making the coffees.

The more she saw him in action, though, the more she decided he was one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen. Something about the combination of his dark hair and blue eyes, maybe? Or perhaps it was his broad shoulders and lean waist? Or maybe his sculpted cheeks and firm jawline, which, she’d noticed, was whisker-shadowed in the most appealing way? Add to that the fact that he’d taken in his orphaned niece and was willingly raising her, and yes, he was definitely attractive.

“Lily, dear, our drinks are ready,” Mrs. De Marco said as she stood. “This weather has made my hip cranky, and now that I’ve sat down, I’d just as soon wait by the door. Would you mind getting them?”

“Oh, um, yes,” Lily said, thankful Mrs. De Marco had pulled Lily’s thoughts away from the owner of the store. She went over to the front counter to pick up their drinks, very studiously keeping her gaze off Blake. Nothing but trouble there. She needed to get out of there.

Just as her hands touched the drinks and she was about to make her getaway, he caught her eye with a wave and lift of his chin.

She stopped, her hands falling to her sides, her heart giving a little hiccup.

He came over, a towel slung across one broad shoulder. “Thank you so much for your help with Peyton today,” he said, a light smile gracing his face, magically transforming him from haggardly handsome to flat-out drop-dead gorgeous.

Wow. As if he needed to get any better looking.

He went on. “Even a little break was great, and I’ll definitely be using your swing technique.”

She swallowed and tried not to gawk. “You’re welcome,” she managed, somehow sounding completely unaffected by him. When had she become such a good fake-out artist?

Blake flipped the towel down and began wiping the counter in front of her, bending just a tad closer. “Again, if the kid I hired doesn’t work out, I’ll call.”

She picked up the drinks, glad they had lids. “Okay, sounds great.” She lifted one drink-laden hand. “Bye.”

With that she turned and headed to the front door, where Mrs. De Marco waited, sure she would never hear from Blake Stonely ever again.

And given her unwanted reaction to him, that was probably for the best.

* * *

Blake covertly watched Lily and Mrs. De Marco as they walked away. After a brief discussion, Lily grabbed her umbrella from the holder by the door with her free hand and then followed Mrs. De Marco out. Before the door could even close, Lily had the umbrella up and over the elderly woman to keep her from getting wet.

Blake watched them walk left, presumably toward Mrs. De Marco’s car. He couldn’t help but be impressed by Lily Rogers. She’d jumped in to help him out, and had also been quick in assisting Mrs. De Marco. He liked her. From afar, of course. And there was no harm in that.

Once the ladies were out of view, he turned and began putting clean coffee mugs in their place. But his thoughts remained on Lily. She’d looked younger than his own age of thirty-one, but she had to be close to that age to have brothers in college who were nine years younger than she. He’d noticed that she was tall and slender with long chestnut-hued hair and a pale, smooth complexion devoid of much makeup. Very pretty, in a natural, girl-next-door kind of way.

What a refreshing change after Amy, who’d spent a good hour in the morning getting ready for work and was always shopping for the latest makeup products and clothes in Manhattan, where they’d both lived and worked. He’d guess she spent a good portion of her lawyer’s paycheck on makeup, her expensive car and clothes every month.

Just the thought of his former fiancée had Blake’s hackles rising. He let out a breath, searching for calm. Had he really lived that high-flying lifestyle once? It seemed five lifetimes ago, though in reality he’d left New York just under a year and a half ago.

Left New York. The burn of failure spread through him, hollowing out his gut as it always did. He couldn’t bomb out again.