Forever Summer - Melody Grace Page 0,51

really,” she lied. “I’m just so busy with the inn. There’s a million things to keep track of, getting it ready to open.”

“I’ll bet. Still, you know what they say about all work and no play,” Mackenzie said. “You need to make time for fun, too. Making new friends. Dating …”

Was that a meaningful glint in her eye?

“Have you thought about it?” Mackenzie continued, taking a seat at the table and adding some sugar to her coffee. She took a sip, gazing at Evie over the rim of her mug. “Sweetbriar Cove can be a great place to meet someone new. Or get closer to someone you’ve already met …”

Yup, definitely meaningful.

Evie felt herself blush harder. She knew Mackenzie was fishing for information, but what was she supposed to say? Actually, I just spent the night having torrid, mind-blowing sex with your cousin?

Nope. Absolutely not.

Evie looked around, hoping to change the subject. “Oh look, there’s Cassie,” she said, relieved to see another familiar face. “I was going to talk to her about sconces. Excuse me!”

She leapt up and hurried across the room. Cassie was lingering by the counter, deliberating over the pastry display. “Do you think it’s too early for cake?” she asked Evie as she approached.

“Not if you call it a muffin,” Evie replied.

Cassie laughed. “Smart thinking. I’ll take one of the banana-caramel,” she told the girl behind the counter before turning back to Evie. “How are things at the inn? Cooper said they’re almost done with the renovations. I’m waiting to steal him away for a project for a client of mine,” she added.

“He’ll be all yours soon,” Evie said. “Which means the hard part’s just starting for me: getting the place designed and decorated so my guests aren’t staring at blank walls and empty rooms. I don’t suppose you have any room on your schedule for that shopping trip we talked about?” she asked hopefully—and not just because she wanted to avoid Mackenzie’s questions about her love life. Evie had lists upon lists of the things she needed to buy for the inn, everything from dressers and dining tables all the way down to sugar spoons.

“How about today?” Cassie suggested. “I’m just on my way to go hit up my favorite vintage stores for another client. I’ve got my bargain-hunting shoes on and everything.” She waggled her hot-pink sneakers.

“Very stylish.” Evie smiled. “And I’d love to come along!”

“Oh, are you leaving already?” Mackenzie appeared behind them. “What a shame—we were just getting to know each other!”

Evie gave her a smile, hiding her relief. “We’ll have to do it another time.”

Mackenzie looked amused. “Count on it.”

Evie got a ride with Cassie, and they headed out, driving up the coast to Provincetown. “Most of the antique stores in the area are full of overpriced junk,” Cassie confided, finding a parking spot on an empty street on the outskirts of town. “But there are a couple of gems. I’m going to have to swear you to secrecy, though. If everybody knows my hotspots, there’ll be no bargains left for me!”

“My lips are sealed,” Evie promised, trying to tear her thoughts away from Noah. If she was going to have any hope of getting it ready in time, she needed to focus on the inn—not on the man she’d been christening the bedrooms with. She looked around. She’d been expecting a chic store or bustling market, but they were on a windswept corner with nobody around. “So, where do we start?”

“Right here!”

Cassie led her down a back alley into what looked like a junkyard. There were old bicycle frames strewn around, a couch half-stripped with its springs showing, and piles of discarded sports gear, old tires, and other garbage.

Evie gulped, gingerly stepping around a crumbling statue of Mickey Mouse. “Don’t worry,” Cassie said, seeing her expression. “They keep the good stuff back for me. Mickey!” she bellowed.

Evie looked at the statue, and Cassie laughed. “Not him, him,” she said, nodding to the gangly teenager who emerged from an open garage door. He was built like a beanpole and couldn’t have been more than seventeen, but he was wearing a curiously formal outfit, with a tweed jacket, pocket square, and shiny, polished dress shoes.

“Cassie.” He lit up. “I haven’t seen you for weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said, greeting him with a hug. “My last client had a thing for snooty European antiques—with the price tags to match. This is Evie,” she added, introducing them. “We’re shopping for her B&B. Bedroom furniture,