Secrets of Romantic Hearts

By I J N

Discover the enchanting "Secrets of Romantic Hearts," a contemporary romance novel by I. J. N. that will whisk you away into a world of love, laughter, and delightful surprises.

• Language: English
• Publisher: I J N
• Release date: Nov 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798868968747

Book preview

Chapter 1

You aren't what I expected.

That was quite an audacious claim from my seatmate. We arrived 45 minutes late, berated the waitstaff immediately upon arriving here, took two shots of the cheapest bourbon available, and ordered me steak without first asking what it would like to eat.

Oh? I indulge his attempt at conversation and allow it to progress further. Perhaps he isn't as bad as he seems - who knows?!? Stranger things have happened than this... Like when that guy picked me up for dinner on horse and buggy! How so? No idea. Can I come with you for dinner instead? Ok. How so? Where?

Cut your dessert into four evenly portioned bites and try to give off an expression that suggests vague interest, until he burps and then bursts out again into his fist, abandoning my attempts at expression.

He tells me I look prettier. His eyes dipped down to my neckline and rested there before continuing, I didn't realize you were hiding all that. With that twirled fork he gestures towards me with, saying: Your profile picture doesn't do you justice. It wasn't pleasant; so instead I shoveled another bite of passion fruit and coconut in my mouth and swallowed.

With all your baking efforts, no doubt? Your sweet treats make you thick in all the right places.

Yes, I own a bakery. My bakery sits tucked into a Christmas tree farm about forty miles west of here and I am also part owner. I spend my days mixing, plating, rolling and wrapping within an old tractor shed my business partner Stella and I converted into our bakery as soon as she bought the place - its big floor-to-ceiling windows, old oak wood floors and walls lined with cozy booths with throw pillows and blankets make it my very favorite spot in the world!

Everyday at Lovelight Farms is like living inside a snow globe for me - I turn on the lights and set out tables, creating the feeling of living inside an everlasting winter wonderland! Even during peak summer humidity when my hair begins curling due to sticky heat waves, working at Lovelight Farms remains my favourite part of each day; working alongside two of my closest friends at work adds an extra special sparkle.

Stella oversees business operations while Beckett oversees farming. They're both kind, lovely, beautiful people whose relationships make me wish I were theirs... even if their adorable relationships make me want to throw cakes over in an outrage of jealousy!

Dream romances exist between Bryce and I.

I didn't recognize him when he pulled up outside my house; our small town is hard enough to locate, with many passing it by on their way to the beach. At first I thought the car in my driveway belonged to Bryce; until he rolled down his window and shouted out HEY LAYLA. To my disbelief I got in.

I should have ended it then and there; after all, this guy had a hamster bobblehead on his dash; it would have been easy for someone with such an extreme agenda to kill me without hesitation.

For the entirety of our drive down to the coast I stared hard at his face... his profile picture could have easily been that of a tall brunette... yet something wasn't right there...

He runs his hand through his bottle-dyed blonde hair. Yet. He probably thinks that sitting there like that looks charming; lazily and loose in his seat with his knuckles beneath his chin he must think so charming. Unfortunately for him, at this moment in time I am more sexually attracted to my warm rum butter sauce cake than him!

I sigh and glance over his shoulder towards the bar, hoping to catch our distraught waitress' eye. We had shared a sympathetic glance earlier when he stared too long at the hem of her skirt - probably why she brought me this slice of boozy passion fruit cake I hadn't requested.

So, you work in Ellicott City?

I ask. To my relief, he nods before shoveling another piece of steak into his pinched mouth before chewing with open jaw and responding with bits of food flying out while speaking. I want plexiglass between us or an invisible wall between us to protect myself against what could potentially come next: That's where my dad's law offices are. And you work there? / With him?" he replies without stopping to finish his answer before continuing the conversation:

Well, didn't I just say that? Alright then. We lapse into another awkward silence as he bites down on his steak while I drag my fork against a thick layer of whipped cream. When asked where we were both from he replied with: he owned the law firm that organized pro bono work across Mid-Atlantic region (pronounced po-tay-to and po-tah-to) I shrug and slice more off my slice of cake to accommodate his request: whilst asking where are we both from?

He asked, then: Where are we both from?. I replied that my home state.

Annapolis, I reply instead of Hell. My mind wanders to thoughts of taking action against those who lie online or treat service industry workers badly; anything seems more appealing than being stuck here with Bryce for another minute or two.

"This is my third first date this month and I am thoroughly exhausted by men who are entitled, small-minded, and generally disappointing. What spirit have I offended to bring such disappointing dates upon me? I pay my taxes; don't leave my popcorn bucket stuffed under the seat at the cinema; obey traffic laws and donate to that one three-legged goat charity Beckett keeps talking about.

Why can't I find anyone I connect with? My criteria aren't too stringent: I want someone who makes me laugh, someone who cares about what I do and say and think. My ideal scenario would involve sitting together on the couch while enjoying blissful and perfect silence--with pizza on the coffee table, my feet tucked beneath their thigh, pizza delivered right onto our couch from Dominoes...and someone giving me their newspaper so they can read headlines while handing me the recipe section while reading headlines-- sharing all my small, silly moments- and someone giving me butterflies...

I watch as Bryce-who-lied-about-everything but-his-name picks at something in his teeth with his thumbnail, seemingly unaware that I don't exist anymore.

"Did You Go To College? His question lacks any trace of curiosity or respect and instead provokes feelings of insecurity that cause my stomach to tighten in response.

I went to Salisbury.

He laughs as though I have made a joke before reaching across the table with his fork for a bite of my cake - almost reaching for it himself - though my dessert is sacred! Suddenly it all makes sense: Aha, party school! That makes perfect sense."

What causes my teeth to crack? Nothing, is my reply.

Bakers don't require attending traditional universities to become successful bakers; circus schools could probably provide just as effective an education. You probably could have received your diploma there and been just fine baking delicious treats every day! Little treats. Oops. Too funny.

As it takes me a second to gather my bearings, my voice speaks with an audible mix of fatigue and fury when responding. I am so exhausted!

"I graduated with honors with dual degrees in mathematics and engineering; however, this should not matter at all. As a baker and small business owner myself, I bet I do more in an hour than you can possibly accomplish in one day!

"He scoffed.

I placed my fork back down on the table. This evening has gone straight into my Worst Dates Ever list - even more shocking that I put on my green dress just for this. Such an awful waste. I think you should go grab the check."

Wait, don't be so sensitive. I didn't mean to upset you. He holds up both hands in greeting.

I ignore him and take another bite of coconut from my plate - the rum sauce really is life-changing! After we are finished here, maybe I can convince the chef to share his recipe; surely that would make for better company than Bryce?

He makes no attempt to give me my check as requested. When this occurs, I take swift action by whipping off my napkin and placing it on the table - telling him That's fine; I'll pay at the bar instead. To his displeasure, his expression softens: he rolls his eyes and says: You needn't be so rude about it.

Now I'm being rude. Alright. So let's just go ahead with it: I pushed back my chair and headed towards the bar at the edge of the sea. Normally I wouldn't come this far out for dates, but Bryce insisted on trying a new tiki bar right on the coast with low hanging string lights, large round fire pits burning, tide rolling in behind old wine barrels filled with bottles, bartenders moving back and forth behind an upturned rowboat that has been converted into bench seating - perfect!

My date, however, has proven an absolute nightmare. Our waitress Celia looks on in sympathy from behind the bar while handing me my bill immediately - asking Did the dessert help at least? before handing it over.

That was the best part of my evening.

She offers another one. When I decline, she makes a short but pointed sound: That guy's an idiot - you deserve better.

Yes, you are correct. Unfortunately for me, no other dating websites I pay an exorbitant monthly membership to have offered better men; Bryce seems pretty typical of them all. Any suggestions as to where we could look? "

Her eyes wandered back over my shoulder as she pulled a thick evergreen cloth out of her back pocket, using it to polish the edge of a tumbler. Her face changed into something sparkling with appreciation as she tilted her head behind me: That looks like an excellent place to begin.

Chapter 2

I complete signing the check and follow her gaze toward a man easily maneuvering amongst the tables clustered together on the beach. Not my date? Of course not; Bryce is as unremarkable to me as crumpled up gum wrapper that's found its way into my purse.

No one approaching us was tall - easily over six feet with brown, glowing, gorgeous skin that I don't get a good glimpse of as they were too busy looking over his shoulder at the group from which he just wandered away while shouting out something funny with a laugh. His colorful Hawaiian shirt should have been ridiculous but with three buttons undone I only see his collarbones, arms, fabric stretched too tight there like it can't contain him properly.

I find my attention wandering towards the dancing pineapples on his broad chest, distracted. They draw my eyes as he walks directly up to my bar table and places both hands flat on its surface; his forearms flex with strength as his hand moves closer, prompting my own palms to drop onto both sides of my face involuntarily - what's with all these forearms anyway?! J-E-S-U.

Please could I have another pina colada; my friend is getting impatient. Celia seems more than willing to oblige and I hide my smile behind my fingertips before taking a quick glance at his face, only to almost gasp in surprise at what I see there.

Caleb?

For five years now, I have encountered Caleb Alvarez at least twice every week without giving him much thought when it comes to his chest. He comes in every Monday, Wednesday and Friday ordering exactly one croissant and coffee (with cream). Now Caleb is far away from us in a beach bar in Mexico.

Underneath his nearly unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt swivels a man wearing what looks to me like an indecently unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, I find myself watching as his deep rich brown eyes widen, warming to reveal a ring of amber around his iris - I never in my life had noticed the color of this man's eyes; never in all my life did I take note of them until now! His hair ruffled by ocean breezes floats freely alongside his warm olive skin all on display - leaving me wanting more before smiling sneaking up corner of his mouth kicks up corners before forcing me three times straight, I can no longer take in all this beauty before having to swallow three times straight for fear it might otherwise take my breath.

He calls out my name with surprise and delight, just as he always does but it sounds different with all the salt and sand in my mouth. Layla, he exclaims in surprise before quickly repeating it with excitement as though my lips have dried out from too much sunbathing. My mouth becomes dry.

Hey, Caleb. I gesture towards one of the pineapples surrounded by bright orange flowers on his chest and am completely transfixed by three tiny buttons tacked to his shirt. My mind goes blank completely as they speak their truthful thoughts: Nice shirt.

Caleb has worn a crewneck sweatshirt a couple of times. He's worn jeans with ankle-lace boots; in summer months he wore T-shirts instead. I never had an issue over any of it - yet here he is, smoothing his hand down the buttons with his pink cheeks glowing beneath his hand and saying, Well Alex insisted.

Caleb raises his chin over the tables, drawing my attention towards Alex Alvarez--our quiet, unassuming small town bookstore owner--dancing some drunken version of salsa with a beautiful redhead dressed in Hawaiian shirts.

This has become tradition, Caleb declares, and it quickly became evident that this celebration must go on without fail.

He prefers bold patterns with cohesive themes.

That seems reasonable enough. Alex's window displays have always had an eye-catching element, while there was even an online petition about graphic interpretations of The Rocky Horror Picture Show last Halloween. I recall Caleb's shirt when thinking back on this.

That much is true, Celia stated as she smiled warmly towards Caleb. Caleb curls his hand around his glass as Celia handed it back and gave a grateful nod before giving Caleb another thankful nod of thanks before sighing again in unison.

What are the odds? He leans one elbow up on the bartop and gives me a slow smile with dimples visible on both cheeks. Now THAT is something I definitely hadn't noticed in all the bars I frequent! Of all the bars.

Yeah, I respond, still slightly distracted. My brain is trying to match this version of Caleb with what's in my head - something which isn't working too well.

What kind of magic is this Hawaiian shirt?"

His eyes linger briefly over my green dress before melting into an honest smile with deep pink cheeks that deepen into a rich, ruby red tone. You look stunning.

Thank you, I respond, holding back from clearing my throat. Bryce didn't tell me once that I looked good tonight beyond his comment about how my profile picture didn't do justice to how pretty I actually am - yet what an extraordinary compliment that was.

Tonight I made an effort to look my best. I wore my mint green dress with thin straps and an upslit in the side up to my thigh slit to try to look nice for Bryce but ended up spending it all on him instead.

Are you here with Stella and Beckett?

For a moment, my thoughts drift to Beckett, our resident grumpier head farmer, frowning while sipping from his coconut drink. But soon afterwards I let out an annoyed sigh, glancing back towards where I abandoned a table: Well, technically speaking... yes.

Nobody seems to be around but Bryce. Our table is empty, some silverware has gone missing and even my dessert plate appears to have vanished! And who could blame me when our table has no one sitting at it! Awful.

Caleb looks confused. Why am I here?

I reply that it wasn't with myself but with someone called Big Ol' Turd who dines and dashes; as soon as they leave I know there will be an expensive Lyft ride back home from here. Caleb finally responds: Oh wait. He picked me up for dinner.

He left? Caleb's face darkens into an angry stormcloud; jaw clench and dimples dissolving as quickly as they appeared.

Trust me, I reassure Bryce. This is an improvement. I cannot imagine sitting in his car for thirty-minute drive back to Inglewild while gazing wistfully upon its hamster bobblehead on the dash - Bryce may play Ace of Base or, even worse, Nickelback instead!

He shouldn't have left you, is all Caleb says, staring blankly at the empty table and staring intently into Caleb's eyes. It looks as though he might storm out into the parking lot to exact vigilante justice - an idea which somehow feels appealing.

Don't worry; I'll take a Lyft home. I glance back towards Celia who still stood behind the bar with her eyes darting between Caleb and me. I think I'll take an extra slice to go.

Caleb wraps his fingers gently around my elbow and squeezes once, his touch soft and his palm warm. Just give me a minute, he promises. I'll drive you home.

No problem. As I glance over to Alex being teased by his dancing partner and their mutual laughter filling the bar, I realize their table is surrounded by people in Hawaiian shirts matching those being worn by Alex's family and cousin Benjamin who wears his tied high around his waist like some sort of crop top turban. I smile warmly: Don't leave, it's your brother's birthday.

Is that Charlie? Caleb looks away without responding; instead he replies without even bothering to follow my stare: Oh yeah. Yeah.

Stella's half-brother danced around, holding both drinks. I asked Caleb who promised that Alex wouldn't remember anything from an hour ago. Caleb kept his hand on my shoulder and kept eye contact as we drove home together - Let me drop off your drink then. (Alex had one left). Once finished with it we could leave together.)

How will he get home? Of course they did; Caleb gives me another bashful look as his blush deepens further and says: He really enjoys tropical themes. I smile as my lips roll against one another to form my own smile: Will we be stealing this bus then?

He looks startled. No, He is taken aback and panics. I drove separately. When asked if they hate Jimmy Buffett a little bit (someone always does!), his eyes brighten with surprise:

Caleb Alvarez smiled wide. I was taken aback at how quickly his bright smile burst forth, so sudden and beautiful that I had to remind myself to breathe. Dimples slowly returned in his cheeks; lucky for him that he'd just held on. With one thumb rub against my elbow--an unplanned, unthinking touch--Caleb tilted his head forward while dark hair fell loose over his forehead--I began asking myself when did Caleb Alvarez become so attractive! When did Caleb Alvarez get so hot?

If You Are Certain, I murmured softly. At this point, my mind was sufficiently blown by Caleb's strong biceps and shirt with rotating palm trees that I have no idea. What secrets will Caleb reveal next? Can he play the harmonica? Does he also possess some strange animal bobblehead on his dashboard of his car? Will I learn whether he drives silently or dislikes music? No one could really predict. At least not at this stage - my mind had been opened wide by his strong biceps.

I'm certain. His voice was firm as he uncurled his fingers from my arm and picked up the fruity concoction in front of him. I watched as his shirt stretched across his chest with great interest; suddenly this unassuming gentleman who came into my bakery regularly with almost military precision seemed like an exotic dreamboat in an Hawaiian shirt. Just give me a minute, he reassured, and we'll start.

He ambles past, crossing between tables without seeming ridiculous, as I watch. Every woman and few men in the establishment watch him leave as well, including myself and Celia (I didn't even realize she was still standing there), whistle low as she says: That was quick work of that. Don't look so daft! she warns him with an exasperated air:

Caleb attempts to break Alex out of his awkward salsa routine; Alex attempts an evasive maneuver while Charlie fist-pumps aggressively in response. Caleb tells Alex We live in the same town. I know him, while Charlie murmurs I'd like to get to know him better, before she murmurs under her breath:

Don't hold back on me, I responded with both eyebrows raised. But she waved her hand dismissively: Nah. I sensed vibes.

He was just an extremely nice guy,sait I've known him to be, and have seen him help old ladies cross the street, volunteer every year at Dig Day at our farm, when town residents help prep our fields for new season, order butter croissants from local businesses he supports or just because they make him smile - Stella once called him chronically kind; sweet and funny too he always made time to help load seven 50-pound bags of sugar into my hatchback without complaint!

Dane, our town Sheriff, fired one of his deputies four months ago for being too nice. According to what I hear, they accepted too many payments in the form of IOU's written on old receipts; according to Matty at the pizza shop some were quite explicit.

Alex began sub-teaching at the high school shortly thereafter and has been making up classes since. All the people gathered around my table cheer as Alex attempts to dip his older brother. I smile, thinking: he seems like such an awesome guy.

No problem. Celia set down the glass she'd been polishing for fifteen minutes to the side and picked up another. She decided she'd make two slices to go.

Caleb finally managed to put Alex into a stationary position, and I watched as they both had their heads together huddled close. Caleb said something that made Alex brighten; after which, Alex tried climbing back onto the table while shielding his eyes with one hand even though the sun had set hours ago. Once he saw me by the bar he began yelling with all his might: LAAAAAAAAYLA!

Caleb looks mortified. To prevent further projectile attacks on the beach bar, I quickly move towards the table before he has time to launch any more projectiles across. Once close enough, Caleb makes an impressive swan dive off of the top of the table and lands near my feet; wrapping both arms around my legs before making another spectacular dive off again!

He began by warbling my name Laylaaaaa, while invoking his best Eric Clapton impression: Thanks for coming to my birthday party! You came! he exclaimed excitedly.

Layla, Charlie breathed deeply, his large face pressing against my shoulder. I attempted to help lift him with my arms but we were blocked by an enormous six-foot five wall of muscle that suddenly appeared between us both. Charlie smelled strongly of alcohol as we kissed goodbye - his big, drunken mouth pressing into mine in full embrace, his drunken face pressing against my shoulder as I pulled up beside him. Layla, He exclaimed near tears "It's so great to be back.

He saw me last weekend; you brute! I press my palm against his forehead and push him away from me.

Stella and Luka hosted dinner, and I had the distinct pleasure of witnessing my best friends swoon over one another. Charlie left within 15 minutes citing stomach cramps; as for myself, my evening ended perfectly with a bottle of sauvignon blanc and homemade peanut butter fudge cookies that made up my date night!

Charlie murmures to himself. His big blue eyes widen as he pulls back, wearing a coconut bra with an attached flower behind his ear and an over-sized coconut shell ring in front of it - looking ridiculous. Wanna take a shot? Yes! Charlie replies in unison.

Alex makes that high pitched screech again, prompting everyone in Alvarez group to begin taking shots one after another. I feel two strong hands gently guiding my away from drunk love bugs who surround me.

Caleb murmures to himself maybe we shouldn't have said goodbye, as one of his uncles attempts to give him a shot glass with two small shots in it. Caleb makes an expression and shakes his head before looking overtop of my head before adding, "Christ, it seems Charlie is encouraging people to take body shots off him.

I'll take your word for it, I replied, not wanting to look. When he extended his hand with palm up, I clasp my fingers through his and began sprinting forward with him across the sand dunes.

Chapter 3

Caleb was relieved to find that his car did not contain any suspicious objects on its dash.

Stella started selling pine tree air fresheners with the Lovelight logo at her farm recently, as well as old newspapers wedged between the console and driver's seat - with boxes from my bakery quickly disguising themselves behind a seat when I enter his Jeep.

As Caleb settled himself into his seat, I observed him adjust the air vents so they blew on my legs rather than my face. As usual, he checked his rear view and side mirrors; and I smiled knowing that Caleb does this every time he gets in. And surely he knows his tire pressure too?

Did you get a haircut? He brushes his fingers through his locks self-consciously before replying, No. Finally, I asked whether he had grown taller - an answer which made me even more restless. Does that mean I should get one too? I wondered aloud.

I haven't grown an inch since turning eighteen. His eyes narrow in response. When I asked why, he looked offended at my question of a nose job or hip replacement:

He laughs it off. No. What's up?

Caleb keeps fiddling with his driver settings as though we're about to launch into space, sporting his Hawaiian shirt for good measure. I settle back into my seat, watching as Caleb makes adjustments in preparation of our journey ahead. Regardless, his Hawaiian shirt plays its part.

I'm taken aback.

He gives me an uncertain look in the corner of his eye before taking me home in his car. It seems as if he may regret offering me a ride home. By what? I ask.

That you didn't want to take the Margaritaville bus.

Caleb laughs loudly again. I find his smiles contagious but his laughter rarely heard; when it did come through I relaxed into my seat with relief at its sound; its warmth making my seat warmer still. Nah. The lights give me headaches plus, since I got out late from school today, I missed the bus.

There's irony in that statement. How are things with teaching? Good, different and I'm learning. Thank goodness Katie Metzler decided to go on her soul searching trip in Florida Keys!

School was in need of Spanish teachers during their summer session, and they didn't care that I essentially had no qualifications whatsoever. So while filling in temporarily I am currently getting certified to become part of staff come fall. All things considered it couldn't have gone any better!

Did Dane fire you? Caleb gives an amused shrug before replying, Not at all; we both knew being a deputy wasn't the right fit anymore and he only fired me to collect my severance package. At first he seems somewhat dismayed by this news but afterwards appears relieved as a teacher with more people to help than ever before! He glances over at me briefly before replying. Maybe I should have been upset, but instead was more relieved as I can help more students.

Caleb focused more on keeping Ms. Beatrice from using her car as a battering ram outside her coffee shop than on stopping major crimes - I am confident Dane handles everything himself.

Alex keeps telling me I should ditch the certification requirements and simply show my children old episodes of Corazon Salvaje telenovela that my grandmother always made us watch. She never missed an episode!

Wild Heart? She nodded. I nodded back. It's an interesting thought. Whilst on our walk around town with his grandma, they would often come home calling him Wild Heart because he towered over her and would usually carry their groceries for her. When I first asked about their name they replied with Wild Heart before adding that it wasn't such a bad idea to name their child after her. I nodded back after some discussion That could work.

The school board might have something to say about that, I mutter under my breath as I