More Than Peaches: The Maple Leaf Series, #6

By Christine DePetrillo

Book Six in The Maple Leaf Series

 

Grady O'Donnell serves drinks to all who roam into his bar, The Clumsy Grasshopper. His heart had once been filled to the rim with love back home in Ireland, but the Universe shattered that bottle. He's started over in busy Boston, and he's happy to mix his business, his painting, and his lazy beagle, Cricket, into a life he can easily swallow. Most of the time.

 

Lena Clover brightens people's days in Boston with her natural wares at Clover's Fruit and Flower Shoppe. She's been so involved in running her farm and store that she's let her love life seriously wilt. The only love she gives out is to her silly dog, Snowy. Her business partner wants to help her cultivate that part of her life, but after her last relationship, she's still not ready to stop and smell the roses with anyone.

 

Until she meets Grady.

 

Brought together to work on wedding arrangements for Rachel and Harris, their mutual friends, Grady and Lena have to face the fact that maybe, just maybe, there is a little room to explore the instant attraction blooming between them.

 

If their plans don't get weedwhacked, that is.

 

The Maple Leaf Series, contemporary romance
"Fears, pride, love, passion ~ beautifully woven together with substance and depth."

 

Other Series by Christine DePetrillo

The One Kind Deed Series, contemporary romance
"The town, the people, the love story... a perfect romance."

The Warrior Wolves Series, paranormal romance
"Full of memorable characters with a solid plot and plenty of passion."

The Shielded Series, sci-fi romance
"Great world-building, excellent emotional depth, and a great ending..."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christine DePetrillo
• Release date: Apr 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524295042

Book preview

MORE THAN PEACHES

Book Six

The Maple Leaf Series – Boston Edition

by Christine DePetrillo

Copyright 2016 Christine DePetrillo

All Rights Reserved

Cover design by Dar Albert of

Wicked Smart Designs

www.wickedsmartdesigns.com

Edited by Janet Hitchcock

www.theproofisinthereading.wordpress.com

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owners except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

Author Contact:

Website and Newsletter Sign Up: www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/christinedepetrilloauthor

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Dedication

To everyone who has ever known

the satisfaction of growing—and eating—peaches...

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Books in the Maple Leaf Series

Books in the One Kind Deed Series

Books in the Warrior Wolves Series

Books in the Shielded Series

Other Available Titles by Christine DePetrillo

About the Author

Chapter One

I’ve said ‘no thank you’ about a billion times, lass. Grady O’Donnell shook his head as he hefted a bin of empty liquor bottles into the back room. The bin wasn’t heavy, but anytime he had to put extra weight onto his left knee, progress was slow... and painful.

Detective Rachel Lorenson followed him. Bless her heart, she didn’t ask him if he needed help. He hated when people took pity on him and his limp, but Rachel would never do that. She knew what had happened to cause the limp. She’d been there. She’d seen the blood. Seen his smashed knee. Had held his hand and told him everything was going to be all right.

She’d saved his life and earned herself free hot cocoa for eternity from Grady’s bar, The Clumsy Grasshopper.

I know you’ve declined, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up, Grady. Rachel scooted ahead of him and opened the back door of the bar into the dark alley behind it.

He stepped outside into the shadows, shooting a look down to the left then to the right as he always did. That alley gave him the creeps and that pissed him off. No reason a six-foot-two guy with a fair amount of muscle should be afraid of a dimly-lit Boston street. He wasn’t a pansy. He just had a mind that wouldn’t forget.

You should give up. I’m not interested. He dumped the bin of bottles, which made a loud clink-clang in the quiet alley. The too quiet alley. With another glance in both directions, he stepped back into the bar, secured the door, and stood in front of Rachel, her hands on her hips in that determined stance she had perfected over the years in the Boston Police Department. Besides, if I get a girlfriend, I might not have time to make you hot cocoa whenever you want it. He tapped her on the nose and scooched past her to go back out front with the bin.

Of course she followed. I’m actually willing to cut back on hot cocoa if you’ll agree to meet my friend Isabel. She’s gorgeous, smart, loves grasshoppers. Rachel waved a hand at the grasshopper paintings adorning the walls of the bar—paintings Grady himself had done.

He looked at the one to the left of the stone fireplace on the wall opposite the bar. It depicted a silly-looking grasshopper riding a unicycle and juggling fire. For some reason that one most reminded him of his grandfather. His grandmother had called his grandfather a clumsy grasshopper when he danced. Grady had seen his grandfather dance once at a wedding back in Ireland, and yes, he did look like an awkward, long-legged insect on crack. Still, that hadn’t stopped Grady from naming the bar in his honor. He liked to think his grandfather would have loved the bar, God rest him.     

I don’t have time for dating, Rachel. I’m too busy. That wasn’t a lie. He was busy. Running a bar was no easy task. He had a few employees he trusted, but for the most part, he ran the show. Open Tuesdays through Thursdays, noon to 11 p.m., Fridays and Saturdays, 11 a.m. to 1:30 a.m., and Sundays, noon to 7 p.m. He closed on Mondays, so he, his waitress, and his chef could take a breath.

No, Rachel said, leveling her cop eyes on him. It’s more than you’re too busy. You don’t have any confidence anymore. Ever since— She stopped when he held up his hand.

Don’t say ‘ever since that night,’ please. He grabbed the push broom and skirted around the bar to the main floor, using the broom to steady himself. He paused at one of the circular tables and pulled out the burgundy upholstered chairs so he could sweep beneath it. That night has nothing to do with why I don’t date.

Then why?

He turned to face her, and she sat on one of the bar stools. Why do you care so much?

Because I’m deliriously happy in love with Harris and I want you to be deliriously happy in love with someone too. Her cheeks pinked at the mention of her fiancé, Harris Wilder, who’d proposed two months earlier aboard his sailboat.

Truth be told, Grady had never seen Rachel glow the way she had since getting together with Harris. Well, technically she’d gotten back together with him, and this second chance of theirs appeared to be the real deal.

Did Grady want the real deal? Sure. Had he already had it? Yep. Were the chances good he’d have it again? Nope.

I’m happy, Rachel. I am. Honest. He held up his right hand and gave her his most serious face, hoping she bought what he was selling.

Bullshit. She crossed her arms, her dark eyes seeing right through him.

This is what I get for befriending a detective. Interrogations and bullying.

I’m not bullying you, honey. I love you. You’re the closest thing to family I’ve got. You know this. She picked up a rag and walked toward him. After swabbing off the table he’d swept under, she said, It’s not fair to us women if you keep yourself hidden away.

Nice tactic, but you’re out of luck. Grady leaned the broom stick against the closest chair and put his hands on her shoulders. I’m okay. Really. Aside from you and Harris, my favorite company is me. I’d rather not complicate things by adding some lass into the mix.

But—

Grady put a finger to her lips. Shouldn’t you be getting home to Harris? I’m sure he has a delectable dinner waiting for you. Want some hot cocoa for dessert?

Rachel’s shoulders slumped a little as she accepted defeat. For good this time, Grady hoped.

Have you ever known me to say no to hot cocoa?

I have not, even though it’s August and warm enough to boil cabbage outside. He pushed the broom back toward the bar and got behind it to make the cocoa.

Hot cocoa is always the right decision no matter the temperature. Antioxidants, flavonoids, brain-boosting abilities... the list is long. Rachel finished wiping down the rest of the tables and returned to the bar. You know, you should find yourself a lady now. My wedding is around the corner and you need a plus one.

I can go by myself. He poured her cocoa into a travel cup and stirred in some mint flavoring.

Technically, yes, but that’s no fun and you know it.

He didn’t see how having to get all dressed up would be fun regardless of whether or not he was accompanied by a woman. He much preferred jeans and his green T-shirts with The Clumsy Grasshopper logo on them. He always felt as if he didn’t quite belong in dress clothes.

You know what would be really fun? He slid the travel cup to her along with the money she always gave him as payment.

What? Her face took on this hopeful expression, her dark eyebrows raised over even darker eyes.

If you’d leave me be about the dating issue. That would be the most fun I could think of.

Jerk. But she said it with a smile as she picked up her cocoa. I’m not giving up, Grady. You know me. I have unlimited determination.

He sighed. I know.

She blew him a kiss and was out the front door a moment later.

Grady shuffled to the door and locked it. All three locks. Double checked them too. He didn’t fool around with that anymore. Busting into his bar to beat the crap out of him and steal his liquor was only going to happen once.

At least he hoped so.

He made his way to the back door to check that it was locked while he finished his closing routine. Tonight was Thursday. The next two nights were his late nights, and he liked to have things set up and ready to go when he opened on those nights. That way he could leave his house for work at the last minute.  

Grady used to live in the apartment above the bar, but after the break-in and attack, he couldn’t sleep upstairs anymore. Not without reliving that terrible night in graphic detail. He’d wake up with a horrible ache in his left knee and slicing pains at the scars on his thigh. His throat would be sore because he must have called out during the nightmare, and he’d be soaked in sweat.

No, sir. He could work at the bar just fine, but he couldn’t live above the place that had nearly killed him. Instead, he’d gotten a nice colonial outside the city. A place with a view of the city out the windows on one side of the house and the woods out the other side. The best of both worlds and he lived sandwiched right in the middle. A perfect compromise.

A safe compromise.

And sure, Rachel had a point. His house would have been a nicer home if a lovely woman was there to share it, but Grady had already had his one true love back in Ireland. He’d had her and lost her. Love like that didn’t happen twice in a guy’s life.

The luck of the Irish wasn’t that powerful.

****

Lena Clover opened the oven door and pulled out what appeared to be her best peach cobbler yet. Cinnamon and brown sugar combined with the scent of warm, ripe peaches, making her mouth water.

What smells so freaking good in here? Jase Craymore, Lena’s business partner and right-hand man at her store, Clover’s Fruit and Flower Shoppe, opened the refrigerator in the store’s kitchen and grabbed a bottle of lemonade. He chugged about two thirds of it without stopping then walked over to her. 

Peach cobbler for my friends at Liberty Hill Nursing Home. She slapped away his hand as he made a move for a spoon and a sample.

Those old folks get all the good stuff. Jase gave her a rather adorable pout.

She gestured to the bottle still in his hand. Said the man guzzling my lemonade.

Aww, c’mon, Lena. He pointed through the window over the kitchen’s oversized sink.  "It’s hot enough to roast a man out there. And I’ve been out there all morning, making sure your flowers and plants don’t incinerate under that August sun."

She held up a finger and his brown eyes went a little crossed looking at it. Correct me if I’m wrong, but those flowers and plants provide you with a paycheck too, don’t they?

Yes, but this lemonade should be complimentary.

Or you could buy your own.

And miss this chance to interact with you? Never. He finished off the lemonade, turned around, and tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin across the room as if he were shooting a basketball. Yes!

Lena rolled her eyes. Juvenile.

Skilled. He picked up the spoon again, but Lena nudged him away with her hip.

In a quick move, he grabbed her around the waist and gave her a smile. The same smile he’d been giving her for a while now. A smile that said he wanted to hop over the line between coworkers-slash-friends and more than coworkers-slash-friends. She’d been putting him off with quick jokes and basic avoidance of thinking of Jase in That Way, but that wasn’t going to work for much longer. He was getting more obvious about his intentions.

Not going down that road.

Nope. She’d mixed business and pleasure once and gotten the shit squeezed out of her. She may have been young and stupid back then, but she wasn’t stupid now. She wouldn’t jeopardize the success of Clover’s Fruit and Flower Shoppe—a business she’d built from scratch—over something as silly as a relationship.

Jase stared down at her and opened his mouth to say something, but Snowy, Lena’s Husky-Portuguese Sheepdog mix, came running into the kitchen. Chippy, her stuffed chipmunk, dangled from her jaws as she skidded to a halt at Jase’s feet. Her tail wagged as she looked from Lena to Jase with one brown eye and one blue.

Lena was about to tell Jase to back up when Snowy rammed her head into Jase’s knees and wiggled the rest of her mid-sized doggy body between them. Chippy appeared to hang on to Snowy’s teeth by a thread, but the dog wasn’t dropping her toy. She wasn’t letting some guy touch her mommy either.

Subtle. Jase stumbled back a little and bent to rub his knee where Snowy’s skull had smashed. That dog needs to learn the pecking order.

Lena kneeled and let Snowy lick her face. Nah. I think she’s got it right.

Jase let out a sigh, studied Lena for a moment longer, then left the kitchen.

After a solid round of petting, Snowy placed Chippy in Lena’s lap and sat in front of her. She tilted her head to one side as if asking Lena to get that chipmunk in motion.

I suppose I owe you. Lena picked up the moist stuffed toy and passed it from hand to hand.

Snowy followed the movement, all her focus trained on that barely recognizable chipmunk. It was the only stuffed toy to have survived the wrath of the dog’s chewing. Most stuffed toys were in shreds within moments of being given to Snowy, but Chippy had somehow survived and earned favorite status.

Lena threw the chipmunk across the kitchen a few times, much to Snowy’s delight. When the dog started panting, Lena gave it one more toss and the dog sunk to the floor with her baby resting on her front paws.

Good girl, Lena said.

Snowy replied with one slap of her tail to the floor.

Turning back to her cobbler, Lena put a layer of aluminum foil on the baking dish and set it into a foil-lined box for transport. Boxes of fruit and bouquets of flowers were already loaded into her delivery van and ready for their trip to Liberty Hill Nursing Home. She made this visit every few months to bring a little cheer to the residents and see her friend, Shaylee Keene, who was now Shaylee Wilder, having married a super wonderful detective.

Lena had gone to high school with Shaylee and the two had kept in touch all these years, sometimes with phone calls and texts, other times in person. She was looking forward to seeing her friend today and getting a little time away from Jase who was always around.

Always.

His job was to be around, of course, but there was being around and being around. He was excelling at the latter more recently. Lena didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but they just weren’t going to happen.

Want to go for a ride, Snowbaby? Lena called over her shoulder to the dog.

At the word ride, Snowy got to all fours, Chippy firmly gripped in her mouth, and trotted over to Lena. Grabbing the cobbler, Lena led the way out of the store’s kitchen and to the side parking lot where her van waited with the side door opened. She secured the still hot dish on the back seat and let Snowy into the passenger seat where the dog immediately sat and dropped Chippy on the dashboard.

With a chuckle at her silly dog, Lena made her way to the driver side and slid into the seat. Off we go. She started the van, waved to Jase who was harvesting some peaches, and drove down the gravel driveway off her property. She glanced in the rearview window to see Jase staring at her tire tracks before he shook his head and went back to his task.

Pluck, pluck. She ignored the effect his forlorn expression had on her heartstrings.

Stay strong. She turned onto the main road and took a cleansing breath. It’d be easy to start something with Jase. He was there. He was interested. He was tall. But it’d be a mistake. Besides, she had to stay focused on her business. Had to. People, herself and Jase included, depended on the success of Clover’s Fruit and Flower Shoppe. Lena wasn’t in the habit of letting people down.

After a twenty-minute drive, she pulled the van into a parking spot at the back of Liberty Hill. Shaylee’s coworker and friend, Charles, appeared, a big, goofy smile on his face.

Hey, beautiful! he said. What did you bring today , and can I have a taste right now?

What is it with men and wanting samples?

We can’t help ourselves. He held his arms out for the box Lena was unloading.

Well, the patients get first dibs.

Darn it.

I thought you were dating a chef? Can’t he make you some treats?

Charles rolled his eyes. That was so last week, Lena. I’ve moved on to an author. He’s very Edgar Allen Poe with an Abercrombie model’s body.

Score.

No doubt. He led the way into the nursing home after Lena loaded him up with more boxes. What about you, sweetie? Shagging anyone interesting?

She snorted, hefting her own load. You’re awful, Charles.

I’ll take that as a no then?

Take it however you want. We’re not discussing this. She followed him to the elevator.

Definitely no shagging. Charles pursed his lips and shook his head. You’re too gorgeous not to share yourself with some lovely guy. I mean, your red hair alone is at the top of most men’s Do Me lists. Want me to hook you up? I’m gay, but I know tons of straight, available men that would be perfect for you.

Lena hesitated for a second. A second to consider Charles’s offer—one he made every time she saw him. A set-up might not be too terrible.

Oh, oh, oh. Charles danced onto the elevator. Someone’s thinking about it. C’mon. I’d love to play matchmaker.

She stepped onto the elevator, the peach cobbler pan warming her hands through the box she carried it in. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Charles, but thank you.

His shoulders slumped. You almost said yes this time. What changed your mind?

She shrugged one shoulder in reply, and Charles let the issue drop as the elevator ascended. If she had let him set her up, maybe Jase would lay off. Or maybe he’d turn the pressure on even more.

Bleck. She didn’t want to think about stuff like this. She had better things to do with her time.

The elevator doors opened, and Shaylee was waiting at the nurses’ station with her other friend and coworker, Josie. She let out a little squeal and raced to Lena with her arms opened.

I’m so happy to see you! Shaylee sang as she waited for Lena to set the cobbler down and accept her embrace.

Lena hugged her friend then took a little step back. You’re pregnant.

Josie barked out a laugh from behind the nurses’ station. Looks like we owe Shaylee dinner, Chucky.

Wow. Charles slid the boxes he carried onto the desk beside the cobbler. That was impressive. How did you know?

I told you she’d know, Shaylee said. They didn’t believe me.

She’s hardly showing yet, Josie said to Lena.

Lena smiled. I have a sense about these things. She winked at Shaylee. Besides, look at her. She’s positively glowing.

She’s been glowing since Detective Handsome set foot in this nursing home, Charles said, earning him a shove from Shaylee.

Have not, she said.

Have so, Charles and Josie said together.

Shaylee let out a little huff. Ignore them.

How far along are you? Lena asked, giving her friend a more thorough study.

Three months.

Well, congrats to you and Dax. You’re going to be wonderful parents. Lena found herself surrounded in another hug.

Oh, thank you for saying that! Shaylee backed up, tears in her eyes. I hope you’re right.

I am right. I can tell. You know that sight runs in my family. Lena thought of her great-great-great grandmother, Natalie Clover, who was something of a psychic in her day. Townspeople used to consult Natalie on everything from how their crops would fare to when they would find true love. She lived as a bit of a recluse because of her supposed powers, and Lena kept any residual psychic abilities of her own from taking over her life. She was a florist and a fruit farmer. Not a witch or a mystic or a prophet.

But still... she often knew things.

And she wasn’t above brewing potions from the herbs she grew. Did that make her a witch? Maybe. Probably not.

Shall we get this to our friends? Shaylee gestured to the boxes and the cobbler.

Lena helped distribute flowers and fruits and conversation to Liberty Hill patients. She spent a little extra time with one of them, having a strong sense the patient’s time to pass was around the corner. Sensing new life was a blessing. Sensing the ending of an old life? Not so wonderful, but Lena couldn’t always pick and choose what she tapped into.

Unfortunately.

That was probably what kept her from dating Jase. She had a sense about him too, and it wasn’t necessarily warm or fuzzy. He went out with a lot of women. A lot. And usually not more than a handful of times. Something about him wasn’t made to stick, and if Lena were to get involved with a man, she wanted him to stick. She didn’t want to be a distraction, a one-night romp, a hot body on a cold night.

She wanted more.

Or nothing at all.    

Chapter Two

I don’t know, Cricket. Grady stepped back from the canvas in front of him and looked down at his beagle, lazing in a rectangle of sun on the wood floor of his home studio. It still doesn’t look as if the sailboat is in motion. He tilted his head at the painting he couldn’t seem to get right. He’d never finish it in time to give to Rachel and Harris as a wedding present.

Cricket stretched out his little front legs, made an old man harrumph noise, and rose to all fours. He trotted over to Grady and sat on his bare foot. The dog’s body was sun-warmed and soft.

Thanks for the support, lad. Grady crouched and scratched the dog’s head.

Within seconds, Cricket was a heap of fur on Grady’s foot, tummy exposed for a super duper round of belly rubbing. When Grady stopped petting, the dog let out a little bark and shook out his whole body. He got to his hind legs and sniffed at the table where Grady had his paints and brushes. Not finding anything interesting—or being able to reach anything interesting—Cricket slugged back to the spot of sun, circled three times, and hunkered down for what Grady was sure would be a sizable nap. As far as low-key dogs went, Cricket was king.

Dogs have the best life.

Grady’s cell phone rang from beside his palette, littered with colors that still had not achieved the exact shade of summertime water in Boston Harbor. Happy for a distraction, he picked up the phone and swiped the screen.

Hello, Rachel, he said after seeing her number come up.

Hi, handsome, she said. What are you doing?

Cocaine. Are you going to arrest me?

Not funny, Grady. And if I ever find out you’re seriously doing cocaine, you’re going to wish you were dead? Got it?

"Got it, but you know me. I don’t get