When life gives you lemons, use them for lemonade or let them sour your life. Clara Tildon, a cancer survivor, has no time for defeatism. She's opened up the Cute as a Button B & B in Bridgewater, Indiana, and along with her guinea pig, is embracing the lemonade lifestyle. It was always how she wanted to live. Everything is perfect, except for the nagging sensation that she would still like to fall in love.
Jake Yates has returned to Bridgewater, the town he grew up in, for his friend's wedding and he's not happy about it. He got out once and coming back, even for a visit, is not on his agenda. The people of Bridgewater can keep their small town life, it's in his past and that's where he intends it to stay. Even loneliness can't make him reconsider his decisions.
A chance meeting. A fleeting kiss. Suddenly two polar opposites get a unique chance at love. But can Clara give up living in the moment long enough to see Jake as an opportunity she needs to plan for? Can Jake alter his well-laid plans to fit Clara in his life? Or will they both let love get away?
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EXCERPT
She held up a hand, palm outward. "Let me finish. However long I have, I have, okay? I intend to live that time to the fullest. If you can't deal with this fact, you need to go. I'm full up on pity." How would he react? Would he indeed leave, feeling rebuffed and reprimanded? Her stomach churned. This was one of the things she hated about being sick. The wondering, the reworking of relationships because you never knew why people were being nice to you.
"That'll be a little hard to do." He fiddled with a few hollowed out lemon halves, refusing to meet her gaze.
"Why?" He'd caught her off guard. She burned with curiosity to know what he meant. The detritus from making lemonade still lay scattered on the tabletop. Needing something to occupy her hands, she whisked the pitcher away, carrying it to the faucet and began to add cold water to the lemon juice and sugar already inside.
"I've cleared my schedule for the rest of the week. You'd better let me know if you're planning on tossing me out. If you are, I'm temporarily homeless."
Surprised at his announcement, she shut off the water, spinning around with the pitcher still clutched in her fingers, and crashed right into Jake's chest. Lemonade sloshed all over him, her and the floor. Everything smelled like a lemon grove. "You did what?" She brushed a bit of peel from the front of his red sweatshirt. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. I said I wanted to taste the famous lemonade. You interpreted that as bathing me in it. No big deal but I'd much rather share a soak in a bathtub with you instead."
Tiny fires licked at her insides as her chest tightened from his teasing. No words sprang to mind to answer him.
"Listen, Clara." He stepped into her flight path. Sincerity and humor lit his eyes. "I'm taking the week off. To stay here -- with you." Gently, he tugged the empty pitcher from her and dropped it into the sink where it bounced against the stainless steel with a clatter.
"Why?" She could hardly think when her heart raced so fast. A drop of lemonade clung heroically from his chin.
Jake shrugged. "A lot of reasons but mainly you and this town have a hold on me I can't shake. It's best I investigate the reason, don't you think, unless you want me to clear out so you can have your house all to yourself again?"
"Uh, no. Please stay." Oh my God, wishing on the star worked! Now what do I do? Pinned between him and the sink, she ducked out of his grasp and gathered the used lemon halves. She couldn't very well leap across the room and hug him, right? Well, I could but I'd look even crazier than I already do. She bit the inside of her lip. Crud. The trouble with living life in the moment was sometimes, you either needed more than that one moment or you became trapped in it. There wasn't an easy escape and she didn't know if she wanted to run from what hovered on the outskirts. Might as well make the best of it and see what happens. "Actually, I'm glad because you're not ready to go back to the big city. You're not a cynic at heart, I think." Before he could say anything, she lobbed a lemon shell at him, snorting when it bounced off his shoulder.
His expression went from sincere to downright mischievous in the blink of an eye. "Is that right?" Darting to the table, he scooped up a few rinds and chucked them her way in rapid precision.
Clara screeched, taking cover behind a small, wheeled work cart. "That's not fair!" She threw another shell. This one missed him to plop in the lemonade lake on the floor.
"Nothing's fair when there's a kitchen war." He hurled a new rind. This one glanced off the top of her head.
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