Calico Hearts: Old Town Braverton Sweet Romance, #2

By Roxie Clarke

On the day Layla Franklin is promoted to manager of the Pinwheel Plant Shop, she discovers her first business meeting will be with her billionaire ex-boyfriend, ceramicist Bradley Marconi.

Five years prior, when Layla had to drop out of art school to support her disabled mom and her younger brother, Bradley broke off their relationship and broke her heart by saying they came from different worlds.

Layla doesn't mind helping everyone in her life, really, she thrives on being useful. She'll even help Bradley make sense of the debacle the Wavelength Pottery P & L statements have become. But she wants compensation for her time and reassurance from Bradley he is learning to manage his business himself and working toward being his own man.

When Bradley's overbearing mother demands he attend a dinner party at the family residence and that he brings a date, Layla insists that date be her. Not only does she want to encourage Bradley to stand up to his manipulative family, but Layla wants to prove to them she's found her own definition of success.

Inspired by the dinner party date and remembering what they loved about one another, Layla and Bradley give their relationship another try. 

Everything is going well, until one night when the past and present collide, leaving Layla with little hope for their future and Bradley doubting they were ever meant to be.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Write Free Press
• Release date: Nov 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393897156

Roxie Clarke

Roxie Clarke writes sweet romance featuring houseplants, hunky heroes, and happily ever afters. She lives outside Portland, OR with her husband and their five children. It is loud at her house.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

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1

Layla picked up the hem of her mint-green and white polka-dotted work apron and dabbed at her eyes, unable to find the words to express her feelings about being made manager of the Pinwheel Plant Shop—a place she’d been working since it had opened five years prior.

Those are happy tears, I hope, Avery, the owner of the Pinwheel, said.

They’d crammed themselves into the rear corner of the storage room at the back of the shop where Avery had set up her office.

There was space for a narrow desk from IKEA that held Avery’s laptop and little else, and two folding chairs they’d nicked from the meeting room where Layla led workshops almost every night of the week.

They are! Mostly, Layla said. I’m so happy for the both of us. That the Pinwheel is doing well enough for you to afford to promote me and that I’m worthy of the promotion.

Avery reached across the desk and patted Layla’s hand. You’ve always been worthy. If I could’ve made you the manager the first year we opened, I would’ve. You know this shop almost as well as I do.

Layla grinned. That is true.

What’s making them mostly happy tears, though? Avery asked.

You know that thing I was excited about last month, I told you I didn’t want to jinx? Layla asked.

Yes, Avery said. I assumed you’d met a guy. She frowned. Did he break up with you?

I wish it were something like that, Layla said. Failed love affairs are my specialty. Unfortunately, it’s about Mom. The private nursing home I thought she’d get a spot in rejected her for insufficient, guaranteed income. I got the email yesterday. I feel like such a terrible daughter.

What? Layla, you are hands down the best daughter ever, Avery said. You’ve been taking care of your mom for most of your twenties and have done nothing but sacrifice. No more of this nonsense about you being a terrible daughter. I won’t let you talk about my best friend that way.

Okay, Layla said, pulling a tissue from the sleeve of her red chunky knit funnel neck sweater and blowing her nose. The raise you’ve given me will help.

As soon as I’m able to pay you more, I will, Avery said. I’m sorry it can’t be now. I’m still getting a hold on the shop’s finances.

Layla waved the comment away. I know. You’re doing great. I love working here, you know that. If it was about money, I would’ve left a long time ago.

Avery laughed. The power of plant addiction is strong.

Truth. All right. Back to business. The only thing I think I haven’t done is meet with the non-plant vendors. Will that be part of my job?

Avery slid a piece of paper Layla’s way. I’ve written up a rough job description. I’m sure we’ll add and subtract stuff as we adjust to your new position, but, yes, as manager you’ll be meeting with the non-plant vendors. In fact, I’m supposed to meet with the rep from Wavelength Pottery, Eva, tomorrow morning.

Layla screwed up her mouth. She’d been afraid of this. So, you meet with the rep, not the actual owner, Bradley Marconi, right?

Yes, Avery said. I’ve never met Mr. Marconi, which is fine with me. I hear he’s a bit of a snob.

Layla snorted. Just a bit, she said. Although, you can’t hold it against him. His parents are ten times worse.

Avery raised an eyebrow. You know Bradley?

I do, she said, smoothing her apron over her wide-leg tan tweed trousers. We dated when we were in school at Oregon College of the Arts.

Briefly or full-on relationship? Avery asked.

Layla sighed. I thought it was a full-on relationship, but Bradley didn’t think so. When I had to drop out of school to take care of Mom and Tom, he broke things off, saying his parents didn’t think we had a future together because we came from different worlds.

Avery rolled her eyes. I had no idea about any of this, Layla. Why didn’t you say something? I’m fine with not renewing the contract we have with Wavelength if that would make you feel better.

Oh, no, we don’t have to do that, Layla said. Despite the man being a dud, his ceramics are gorgeous.

Avery wrapped her fingers around her lime-green Wavelength mug. If you’re sure, she said. I won’t hesitate to throw this mug against the brick wall and shatter it into a million pieces if it will help heal your heart.

No! Layla said, reaching out to stop Avery from destroying her favorite mug. You’ll only be hurting yourself.

And getting tea everywhere, Avery said, taking a sip. It’s my last cup of orange and cardamom, too. I shouldn’t waste it.

Layla grinned. I appreciate the show of solidarity, though.

Anytime, Avery said. She scooted her chair back all the way to the whitewashed brick wall, which was about four inches behind her, and squeezed out from behind the desk. Let’s go open the shop.

Layla stood and folded her chair up, preparing to take it back to the meeting room. Managers gotta manage, she said, enjoying how the title sounded coming out of her mouth.

How could you? Bradley’s sister, Kristen, yelled, her voice echoing throughout his office on speaker phone.

Bradley ran his hand through his sandy blond hair and leaned back in his ergonomic office chair until it touched the polished concrete wall behind him. How could I what? he asked. I don’t know what you’re getting at. He picked a bit of fuzz from his rust-colored cashmere sweater.

Dad’s sixtieth birthday party last night, Kristen said, seething. We had to make excuses for why you weren’t there. I left you a ton of messages which you obviously didn’t listen to.

Ah, that’s why you’re calling on the office line, Bradley said. He picked up his cell from the corner of his chrome and glass desk and noted that his sister had indeed left him a ton of messages. Twelve, to be exact. I’m sorry. I was working late and spaced it, and then I fell asleep in the studio. You know I turn my phone off when I’m working.

Mom was crying, Kristen said. She’d told Helena Granger you would be there, and Helena flew her daughter Cassandra in from San Francisco to meet you.

Bradley made a gagging face. Now I’m glad I didn’t show up. Mom’s matchmaking is getting out of control. I will find a girlfriend when I’m less busy here.

So, never then, Kristen said, her voice going