HOOKED ON YOU (Paradise Cove)
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Authors: Patrice Wilton
HOOKED ON YOU
Patrice Wilton
This riveting romance is the second book in the Paradise Cove series set in the Florida Keys. Three high-spirited sisters inherit Paradise Cove Cottages, and each story is a stand alone. Taylor Holmes has a lot on her plate—running a family owned resort, planning a wedding for her sister, and now the added worry as she opens her dream cafe. Throw in a hurricane and a sexy boat captain who doesn’t take no for an answer, and this book will keep you glued to your Kindle. Romance, passion, danger, and hot, hot nights guarantee reading pleasure.
Copyright © 2016 by Patrice Wilton
Published by Dreamscape Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION
A huge thank-you to the amazing Tammie Gurgiola for her research help with this book. Not only did this terrific lady invite myself and Traci Hall, my wonderful editor, fellow writer, and great friend, to Islamorada for a sail fishing tournament but also arranged for us to go out on a 53 foot boat. Thank you so much Captain Scott Feltman and his charming crew—Angler, Jamie Roberts, and the two mates, Cody and Colby. We had a great day on The Floridian. I highly recommend you look up Captain Scott if you’re ever down in the Keys and want a great day game fishing.
CHAPTER ONE
“Opening day and not one customer has come in!” Taylor Holmes said by way of greeting as Juanita Hernandez entered the kitchen through the back door of the cafe.
“No problem.” Juanita’s round face broke into a big smile. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun and she wore a cheery yellow sundress. “It’s early yet. You’ve been open what? Half an hour?”
Taylor rotated her neck, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders. She had a quiche warming in the oven, and two blends of coffee made. What if nobody showed? “I’m a worry wart. And impatient too.”
“What’s that?” Juanita reached for Taylor’s hand, inspecting her palm. “You have warts?”
“No!” Taylor pulled her hand free and laughed with affection for this kind woman who had come to them in the most unusual way. “Just worries.”
Juanita and her husband Miguel had fled Cuba last year with their son Raul. Her English was remarkably better than when their bedraggled bodies had shown up in Paradise Cove, but they’d never understand all of the quirky American expressions.
“
Si. Si
. Plenty of worries. Me?” Juanita shook her head. “No more since we are here with you.” She tied an apron around her ample waist. “What can I do to help?”
“Drum up some customers,” Taylor answered, then seeing Juanita’s puzzled expression, she smiled and patted a chair. The compact kitchen only had room for a round bistro table, two chairs and a stool by the bar counter. “Never mind. You can sit down and enjoy a good cup of coffee. Dark roast, or hazelnut?”
“Hazelnut.”
Taylor poured them each a fragrant mug, her third cup of the day, and perched on the stool so she could see the front door while talking. “How’s Merica this morning? Did she fuss when you left her?”
“No. She loves your mom. Anna was bouncing Merica on her knee, singing ‘itsy-bitsy spider’ to her.” Juanita’s face glowed. “My sweet baby was trying to catch your mother’s fingers.” She touched her heart, her dark brown eyes misty. “
Precioso
.”
Taylor could easily imagine the scene. “Mom’s never been happier than in the past few months—since you all returned to us. She’s been dying for grandchildren, and loves Raul and Merica like her own.”
“They love her too.” She stirred cream into her cup with a plastic teaspoon instead of using the fine new cutlery. “Anna is a big-hearted woman, taking us all in like
familia
.”
“You are part of
our
family now.” Taylor sipped her coffee, remembering the morning that they’d been rescued at sea by her sister Kayla’s fiancé. Luckily he’d been out on his boat and had spotted them clinging to a few planks of wood. Their home-made raft had broken apart a half-mile before safely reaching the Florida Keys. Juanita had been seven months pregnant, and so the women had offered them a cottage until the baby was born. After that the Cuban Refugee center stepped in—reuniting them with Miguel’s cousin in Miami, who had grudgingly made room for the Hernandez family.
They’d stayed in touch through her youngest sister Brittany, who now lived in Miami and worked with a dance company. When Taylor heard that Miguel got laid off from his construction job, she’d convinced the whole family to come back to Paradise Cove and work at the resort.
Within three months, Miguel had built Taylor her dream cafe and accepted a full-time position as Paradise Cove’s gardener and handyman. Juanita split her time between the resort and the café, and Raul was already registered for sixth grade at Marathon’s middle school.
Juanita sniffed and pointed her mug toward the industrial oven. “Smells good. What did you make?”
“Cheese and mushroom quiche and orange pecan French toast.” Taylor pushed aside her coffee mug, eyes watching the door. She could feel a worried frown pinching between her brows and stroked it lightly.
What if she’d made a huge mistake?
She had a lot riding on this side venture, and had no idea how she’d repay the bank loan if things didn’t work out.
“Soon people will come.” Juanita stood up and rested her hands on Taylor’s tensed shoulders. “You wait and see.”
Taylor slipped off the bar stool and wiped her damp palms on her flowered cotton print skirt. She sighed, and shot another quick glance out the window. “Maybe I was optimistic, but I’d hoped people would be eager to try out my new place.” She’d spent the past week putting flyers up everywhere and had paid for advertising in the Reporter, a local newspaper in Tavernier.
The three sisters and their mother had inherited the small guest resort, Paradise Cove Cottages, just over a year ago, and they’d already taken out a hefty loan to update the grounds and cabins. With the addition of her cafe, they were walking a tightrope. She couldn’t allow her dream to destroy her family’s business.
“Did you see the sign when you came in?” Taylor walked out of the kitchen. “It didn’t get blown away in last night’s wind, did it?”
Juanita’s dark brown eyes lit up with humor. “No.
It’s plain as day
.” She giggled as if proud of her American slang.
“Good one, Juanita.” Opening the front door that led out to a dirt parking strip, she saw the large neon sign hanging overhead glaringly clear. Taylor’s Cafe at Paradise Cove. And on the door a smaller sign.
Now Open
. At night the pink and green sign with a flamingo on the side flickered on and off. Not too tacky, but eye catching enough for travelers from the north to spot from the road while visiting the Keys.
The cafe was nestled among some raggedy old pines next to the street. Long and narrow, it fronted the Overseas Highway, the only road to and from Key West. People had to drive right past her door if they wanted to go farther south than Islamorada—although she couldn’t figure out why anyone would. It really was paradise, right here.
Taylor shut the door and faced the kitchen, pride warring with fear as she surveyed her domain.
Inside along the window were rows of wooden tables that sat four, and across an aisle were matching tables for two. The interior was painted ocean blue, and she’d kept to a nautical theme with fishnet hanging from the ceiling, and ceramic crabs climbing the walls. A giant tin rendition of a Sailfish hung behind the counter where her customers would order their meals.
It seated twenty-four people, but in the back was an additional outdoor area with a thatched roof and picnic tables covered in red and white plastic cloths. Little jars of fresh flowers anchored the cheap tablecloths down. The purpose for this extra seating was to entice travelers looking for free internet service along with a cup of coffee and a slice of pie.
Her stomach gurgled. She’d been up at five to bake her goodies for the morning crowd and had skipped breakfast with too much caffeine. Her nervous stomach was dancing around like a cricket on speed.
The front door opened with a clang of a bell and Taylor whirled around to see a friendly familiar face. She couldn’t be happier to see anybody in her life.
“Colt!” Colt Travis ran a small charter business in Islamorada, one of the fishing capitals of the world. However, charters were extremely competitive especially during the hot summers in the tropical Keys. Things picked up during tourist season—late October through April. “Please tell me you’re here for my fabulous breakfast? Being the very first customer, yours is free.”
“Naw. I just came for a cup of java.” He hugged Juanita. “How’s my favorite girl?”
Juanita slapped his hand with a dishtowel and giggled. “Taylor’s your favorite girl.”
He turned his wicked smile on her. “No. She won’t have me, so I’m hanging around, hoping to lure you away from Miguel.”
“You are a bad boy,” Juanita told him. “So, you’re here for breakfast? No?”
“
Si
.” He winked at Taylor. “Of course I am. I just dropped Jamie and Raul off at baseball camp, and I came to see how you’re making out.” He faced the counter and glanced at the chalkboard menu hanging on the wall. “So, what’s good?”
“You are,” Juanita answered. “Very good to Raul. He loves baseball and practices very hard.”
“He’s a natural. And Jamie likes to have him around.” His eyes swept over to Taylor, who waited with her hand on her hip, anxious for him to order. “What do you recommend?”
“Everything.” She couldn’t stop smiling. He’d just brightened her day. But then, he usually did. Easy-going, Colt had long shaggy blond hair, the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, a body that was shamefully hunky, and dimples to drool over. On the negative side, he was a babe magnet. Recently divorced, she’d watched him strut around town with a bevy of pretty women. Several months ago, he’d tried sniffing around her back door, but when she wouldn’t go out with him, he’d quickly moved on.
Her stomach rumbled again and she laughed, putting her palm to her belly.
“Sounds like you should eat too,” he said with a wink. “So what are
we
having?”
Suddenly she was starving. “I made fresh croissants this morning—good with sausage and eggs, or I have orange pecan French toast, or a cheese and mushroom quiche. Any of those appeal to you?”
“My mouth is watering already. How about the French toast? But only if you two ladies will join me.”
He’d gone for the sweet dish instead of the healthier choice, Taylor noticed. But then he and his son probably ate lean at home. “I guess we could—unless someone else shows up.”