He found his seat on the plane with his mother’s words ringing in his ears. He had achieved one of his dreams. A big one. He had worked hard. He’d put in the time. He’d taken advantage of every opportunity given to him.
But at what cost? He’d lost Amber, and he was certain he was about to lose Sophie too. Amber falling for his roommate hadn’t been Mont’s choice. But he could do something to salvage his relationship with Sophie.
He could choose her over acting.
If only the thought didn’t make his stomach sour and his throat tight.
He landed just before noon, found his car right where he’d left it, and drove to the beach. Because it was a week after Labor Day, he hoped maybe Sophie’s taco stand wouldn’t be too busy.
He couldn’t tell if it was open or not from the parking lot. There wasn’t a line, and he didn’t see Sophie’s car. He moved toward The Sandy Tortilla like he was simply going down to the water’s edge.
Two customers waited near the window, and he could see Sophie working the stand by herself. He stepped around the side and entered the stand, a zip of nervous energy stealing through him.
She turned, surprise etched in her eyebrows. “Mont.” The shy smile he loved skittered across her face.
“Hey,” he said, drinking her in. He’d missed her more than he’d realized. More than he should have for only a casual relationship. He’d been kidding himself if he thought this thing with her could end easily. Or at all.
“Need some help?”
“Not really.” She finished the dish she was making and stepped to the window. “Chips and salsa. Pork burrito.” The only two people waiting stepped forward. They took their food and meandered down the beach, leaving Sophie and Mont very much alone.
“Sophie,” he started, unsure of what to say or how to finish.
“Congratulations,” she said, finally turning to face him. He saw the raw emotion on her face. Fear, and sadness, and hope. “I know you’ve been working hard to get that part for a long time.” She embraced him, brushing her soft lips along his cheek.
Just as quickly, she moved back to her line and started cleaning. “Thanks for all your help this summer. You really saved me. I’m working at Lucy’s a couple of days a week. Lunch shift. The days I’m not there, I’m here. But it’s been slow.”
He ground his teeth together, wondering when she’d decided to treat him like an acquaintance rather than a friend, heck rather than someone she’d kissed—and quite passionately too.
“No problem,” he said. “I’m back in town for a few days to get all my stuff.”
She nodded, and nodded, and nodded. When she sniffed, he couldn’t stand there without her in his arms. He gathered her close, but she kept her back to him.
“Soph, I’m sorry. I’ll stay and help you as long as you need me.”
She stiffened. “No, you won’t. I knew you wouldn’t. I mean, no one chooses to stay in Redwood Bay.”
“You did.”
“And look where that’s gotten me.”
“Come on,” Mont said. “You have a great life here. A successful business. Friends. Your cousins. The sunsets.” He tried to smile, but it felt wrong.
She faced him, anger flowing through her eyes. “But I don’t have anyone worth staying here for.” She sighed. “Just forget it. You don’t understand.”
“Of course I do,” he said softly. “I absolutely do. I want to stay here with you, but…I just can’t.”
“I know you can’t,” she said. “I wouldn’t even want you to. I mean, I want you to, but what kind of person does that make me? I think we could be great together, but I’m tired of trying to reason through all the pieces and trying to make them line up. I’m tired of wondering if I’m doing the right thing, or if you are, or if we should both throw everything away and move to Miami.” A tear ran down her cheek, and she swiped it away.
He drew her into his chest, and this time she melted into his arms. “I don’t start filming until January. Lars wants me in LA, but he can fax or email anything I need. I can stay here with you until then.” The kernel of an idea that had been incubating in his mind suddenly hatched. “And you know, you don’t work in the winter. You could come with me to Spain. Hang out on the set. Walk with me down the Manzanares River in the evenings.” He rubbed her back and inhaled the intoxicating scent of pineapple in her hair. He closed his eyes, imagining his life with Sophie in it permanently. The vision both terrified and excited him.
“We could sleep late on the weekends, and take a train to Paris. I could hold you like this every night.” He wanted it more than he wanted an acting career. He also knew he wasn’t strong enough to walk away from the hundreds of thousands of dollars he’d earn from this role, because the truth was, his life wasn’t entirely his. His parents were depending on him, and he couldn’t let them down.
“And what happens when it’s time for me to open The Sandy Tortilla for the summer season?”
“Maybe we don’t need to know that,” Mont said. “Maybe we just take it one day at a time. Maybe you’ll be sick of me by then anyway.”
Sophie stepped away, wiping her eyes and straightening her shoulders. “I don’t think—I think its best—”
“Don’t shut me out before we even get started,” he said.
“I just think—”
“Yeah, I know.” He smiled at her, relieved when she seemed to deflate a little bit. “But we don’t need a plan. You can’t make a list for the way our relationship should go, or map out exactly how your life is going to be. If you do, you’ll always be disappointed.”
“I like lists,” she said, her wall coming up, and fast. “And maps, and plans, and I don’t know if I can do this without any of them.”
“You can,” he insisted. “Because you have me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sophie stood in her taco stand, wishing for the first time that she were somewhere else. She’d seen Lucy and Blaine start to work through some of the issues they had. She had hope for her friends, and in her eyes, she could see exactly what needed to happen.
Things should have been as simple with Mont, but they weren’t. Her natural instinct was to pull back, let things cool off and see how she felt.
Like snapping her fingers, everything became clear. Just like she could see what Blaine and Lucy needed to do to get their happily ever after, a window opened in her life, with the answer right in front of her.
If she wanted to keep Mont, she had to give up The Sandy Tortilla.
And that didn’t mean her dad would be right. She had made her taco stand successful. She’d kept it open and thriving for nine years. Selling it wasn’t admitting defeat. It wasn’t a concession.
She hadn’t been able to take this step with Clint, though he’d asked her to. Maybe that’s the difference, Sophie thought as she breathed in the tantalizing scent of Mont, who stood so close. He’s not asking me to. I want to.
And looking into the depths of Mont’s blue eyes—eyes that held love and pleading—she decided.
I will sell the taco stand.
She almost blurted out her thoughts, but bit them back quickly. She’d surprise him. In LA. At the red-carpet event. She hoped she could secure a sale by November.
“One day at a time. OK.”
“OK,” Mont echoed, leaning down to touch his mouth to hers briefly. “OK?” He kissed her for a bit longer, making her fears evaporate into the heat of his embrace. When he pulled away, she slipped her hands around his neck and kept him close. She leaned her forehead against his, their breath mingling.
When he didn’t kiss her again, she pressed her lips to his and held on.
“One day at a time,” she whispered, her plan to contact Shawn, her realtor, and put the taco stand up for sale fully forming as he nodded.
“Tell me about your brother,” he said later that night, after a somewhat frenzied dinner service. They sat on her porch, Sophie with her knees tucked to her chest, Mont with his fingers playing in
her loose hair.
“You never told me if you called him.”
“You were so busy with your new role, and flying home, and everything. I didn’t want to bother you.”
He frowned, and Sophie thought the man shouldn’t look so good with such negative emotions spilling from his eyes. “Soph, you never bother me.”
She wasn’t so sure, but she was trying to be brave, do things a different way. “I called him and we talked. It was nice. He doesn’t talk much, but then neither do I.”
“I’ll say,” Mont said. “I think that’s the longest I’ve heard you speak at once.”
“Shut up.” She nudged him with her shoulder. Hadn’t he listened to her tirade that afternoon? That had definitely been the most she’d ever spoken at once.
“Then what?”
“Then when we talked the second time, I asked him why he’d ignored me.” She watched Mont for his reaction.
His eyebrows rose the slightest bit. “And?”
“And he couldn’t explain.” Sophie sighed. “I get it. I hardly talk to my mom. It’s almost easier that way.” She cleared her throat. “He sent me a few emails this morning. Some pictures of him and his girlfriend. We’re reconnecting.” And while it was slow, and had a lot of moving pieces, it felt wonderful. Sophie finally felt like she belonged to her family, something she’d longed for without even knowing it. “And you?” she asked. “How’s your dad? Did your parents take the news well?”
“They were thrilled,” he said. “And Dad’s doing…well, he’s still alive. I won’t get the first payment until I sign the contract so we still have a few long months in front of us.”
Sophie heard the worry in his voice, though he’d tried to mask it under a layer of nonchalance.
“You know, I can help.” She really couldn’t, but with the sale of the taco stand, she’d surely be able to spare a few dollars for his dying father.
“No, you absolutely cannot.”
“Mont—”
“Sophie, no.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she leaned into his side. “I am not taking another dime from you.” He stood and stretched. “I need a drink. Do you mind if I go inside and get something?”
She leaped to her feet. “Sure. I have everything except coffee.”
“Why is that?” he asked as she opened the front door. “Coffee is the typical thing to have on hand.”
“Clint loved the stuff, and when he left, well, I swore off drinking it. Went straight tea.”
He slid her a glance that held a lot of interest. She readied herself for the questions.
“Why did Clint leave?” he asked. “What happened with you? Wait a second….” He stepped over to a pile of misshapen balloons. “What the—what is going on here?” He held up a deformed horse. “What happened to this poor thing?” He turned it to the left and then the right. “What even is it?”
She started laughing at the bewildered look on his face. He grinned too, a perfectly symmetrical smile that made her heart wilt. It also solidified her decision to sell her taco stand. If he’d look at her like that every day, in Spain….
Still, she had some pride. “Look,” she said snatching the almost-animal from him. “Not everyone is a genius with balloons. I had no idea it was so hard. Your tutorials make it look easy, but it is so not.”
His face blanched. “You watched my tutorials?”
She shrugged. “I wanted to make you, I don’t know, a farm or something as a homecoming present. I failed. Obviously.”
He picked up the blue whale that looked like it had been harpooned. “Is this a whale?”
“Supposed to be.”
“What kind of farm has whales?” He threw his head back and laughed, and she couldn’t help joining in. “Oh, honey, you don’t start with the hard ones.” Mont dropped the horribly wrong whale. “That one took me three hours to figure out.”
“Well, the tutorial is only four minutes long, and you make it look so freaking easy!”
“Where’d you get the supplies?” He glanced around her living room, his gaze falling on his tool belt. “You broke into my studio?” He didn’t sound mad, but maybe like her breaking and entering was the hottest thing she’d done.
She held up her hand. “First, I did not break in. I grew up with your landlord, and he let me in with a key. Second, you’re really hard to impress. Third, I had no idea what you’d like for a homecoming gift. I was doing the best I could.”
He took a step toward her, his eyes crackling with heat. “I’m hard to impress?”
She took a shuddering breath, a little from embarrassment at him finding her balloon creations, but mostly from the smoldering way he continued to watch her as he advanced into the kitchen. “You’re—” Her voice broke. “You’re good at everything you do. You’re, like, perfect.”
“Perfect?”
She hated that he seemed so calm. When she saw the thrumming pulse in his neck, she felt like maybe they were on equal ground. “Practically.” She shrugged like he had a lot of faults she just didn’t want to list.
He reached for her, sliding his fingers up the side of her face and tucking her hair behind her ear. “Soph, you’re the only homecoming present I need.” His voice came out hoarse, just the kind of sexy she loved. His gaze raked her body, and she stood straighter under his scrutiny.
He kissed her cheek, moved closer to her mouth and kissed her again. By the time his lips met hers, her blood was on fire and the room was spinning.
“You’re not getting out of telling me about Clint,” he whispered as he trailed kisses from her throat to her ear. “But I’m willing to let it slide for a few minutes.”
She gripped his shoulders as he covered her mouth with his. She wouldn’t even know where to start with Clint. She’d blocked everything from her memory, and the way Mont kissed her, held her, said her name, buried it further.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I’m not coming back down to LA for a while.” Mont said it three times before Lars had taken him seriously. “I have email, a phone, access to a fax machine. I don’t need to be there.”
“You’ll need to be down here for—”
“I know my schedule,” Mont said. “I’ll be where I need to be. I’ll pay for my own tickets to the auditions.”
Lars huffed. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t,” Mont said. “You fly your clients all over. It’s—”
“Part of the business,” they said together.
Lars chuckled. “So who is she?”
Mont knew exactly who he was talking about, but said, “She who?”
“OK,” Lars said. “If that’s how you want to play it.”
“That’s how I want to play it.” Though Lars was one of Mont’s closest friends—heck, one of his only friends—he wasn’t ready to talk about Sophie yet. Probably because he couldn’t articulate his feelings for her. He cared about her, her welfare, her taco stand. He wanted her to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make her happy.
He loved kissing her, holding her, smelling the softness in her skin and hair. He liked that she made lists, and he enjoyed watching her squirm when things didn’t go according to her plans. At the same time, watching her in her element when things went her way was exhilarating. The way she moved a knife through an onion always brought a smile to his face. And dang, the woman could cook.
While Lars rambled on about the promising email he’d gotten from Louis, Mont realized he was in love with Sophie Newton.
“I need to go,” he blurted, hanging up before Lars could protest. He stood, staring at the lighthouse. He felt compelled to visit it frequently, and tonight, after leaving Sophie’s house, was no different.
“Is that why you brought me here? So I could fall in love?” He spoke barely loud enough to hear himself. “Can you tell Sophie, please?”
He’d left her house frustrated after she’d said she needed to make an important phone call. What could possibly be so important at ten o’clock
at night? He’d asked; she’d shooed him out the door with a snappy, “Mind your own business, Monty.”
At least she hadn’t said Francis.
She seemed to like kissing him. In fact, her bones lost their ability to hold her upright when he kissed her. But she still did not seem interested in doing much more than that.
Mont wasn’t one to rush into a relationship either, especially not one that had started as temporary but now felt much more permanent. But he and Sophie had spent countless hours together. He’d kissed her until neither one of them could breathe. He’d shared a lot about himself; she knew his real name; she’d told him Clint had accused her of being married to her taco stand. She’d admitted she wasn’t willing to leave The Sandy Tortilla behind.
Mont’s chest squeezed now, like it had an hour ago when she’d said it.
She seemed on-board with the one-day-at-a-time thing. Sure, it wasn’t ideal for her, what with her lists and plans and schedules. The only other option was to break up, and Mont didn’t want to do that. He didn’t think Sophie did either.
He walked around the lighthouse, his hands buried in his jacket pockets. When he reached the farthest point, he turned inland again. “Please tell Sophie,” he said into the wind, hoping it would fly to her window and tell her that she could love him, if she’d only put “fall in love” on her to-do list.
“Hey.” Mont met Sophie in the lobby of Lucy’s diner. “How’d you sleep?” He slipped his fingers through hers, displaying their togetherness in the biggest gossip circle in town. He didn’t care, and she didn’t seem to either.
“Hey.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. When she settled back to her feet, she smiled shyly. Mont liked this version of Sophie, the one who wore her admiration of him on her face and in her touch. She spent so much time trying to bury how she felt behind her sharp tongue—which he also liked. Heck, he liked everything about Sophie.