Chapter 15
15
“I need to see your lease,” I say to Emma the moment I walk into the bakery the next morning. My determination to save the bakery and fall in love only intensified the more and more I thought on it last night. My desire to go home and put this whole experience behind me only intensified the more and more I thought about Ben last night. And so today, I’m putting my plan into action.
I spend the morning hours poring over every piece of paperwork Emma is able to dig up. Normally my associates and interns are tasked with highlighting and flagging and underlining, but today I do it all for myself, searching for the one clause that could possibly save this bakery from extinction.
Of course, the easiest way to save the bakery would be for Emma to buy the building herself, but one look at the business’s finances and I know that’s not happening.
My hours of searching bring me little hope. The lease—which Emma informed me she signed without consulting a lawyer of her own—seems to be entirely weighted in the owner’s favor. We had a nice, calm discussion about signing things without understanding them and without legal representation and I’m fairly certain she’ll never make that mistake again.
It does leave me scrambling, but I didn’t make partner at thirty-four by staying down after a couple of solid punches. This fight is nowhere near knockout level just yet and by the end of the first fruitless day, I’m only more determined to find a way to win.
When I arrive back at my cottage after work, I don’t even spare a glance in Ben’s direction, even though I can feel his presence, sitting on the porch. He wants me to put all my focus and attention on completing my tasks and getting us both home, then that’s what I’ll do. No more fake friendship required.
I hop in the shower, spend some time doing my own hair and makeup for once, and carefully select a burgundy fitted sweater dress and knee-high brown boots. When there’s a knock at the door at seven o’clock on the dot, I’m date-night ready.
Sucking in a long, calming breath, I remind myself that Noah Crenshaw is my last option. If I want to get out of here, I have to let myself fall in love. And I have to do it fast. I open the door with a smile on my face. “Hi.”
Noah’s eyes sweep me from head to toe, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Hello.” He hands me a bottle of wine. “You look absolutely stunning.”
The compliment brings a blush to my cheeks. “Thank you.” I accept the wine, grateful he brought me something useful instead of flowers—the ones from my last date are dead and wilting and yet I can’t be bothered to throw them away. “Did you want to open this now?”
Noah leans casually against the doorframe, posing like he’s being photographed for GQ . He’s in another sharp suit and I can’t deny how good he looks. If we were back in the real world, I would’ve happily accepted his dinner invitation, though I don’t know that we would’ve made it to the dinner, wink wink .
“We have a reservation, so maybe we should save the wine for after dinner,” Noah says with an actual wink.
I roll my eyes like I don’t find the move charming and stash the wine in the fridge to chill. “Shall we?”
Noah heads down the front path, opening the gate while I lock the door behind me. I turn to follow him, but my steps halt when my eyes find Ben’s.
He’s sitting in one of his gorgeous chairs, a beer in hand and a look on his face that makes me want to forget all my plans for the evening and wrap him in a big hug. The shift in seasons has brought on an early evening darkness, but Ben has hung strands of bistro lights on the patio, illuminating the space. He gives me a sad smile, but I don’t know how to return it.
“We don’t want to be late, Ms. Andrews,” Noah reminds me, though his tone is gentle and not at all scolding.
I tear my gaze away from Ben and march down the front path.
Noah walks us to a restaurant on Main Street that I’ve somehow never seen before. I wasn’t aware there was anything more than diner dining in the town of Heart Springs, but the restaurant he brings me to is all crisp linens and fine china and expensive wine. It’s the kind of place I would visit at home, and it should be a good sign that Noah knew exactly where to bring me.
“Cheers.” Noah holds up his wineglass. “To keeping our business and personal lives separate.”
I raise one eyebrow but clink my glass against his. “Do you really think that’s possible?” I ask after taking a sip of the smoothest wine I’ve had in a long time.
“Anything is possible if you want it badly enough.”
That might have been my own personal motto before I woke up in Heart Springs, but this one similarity between us doesn’t mean anything.
“So, Noah, what do you like to do when you aren’t crushing the dreams of hardworking small business owners?”
“I feel like I could ask you the same, Ms. Andrews.” He sips his wine, watching me over the rim of his glass.
I fidget with the napkin draped over my lap. “I enjoy working out.” It’s not the total truth since I haven’t bothered to keep up with my regimen since being trapped here, but I figure it’s something besides work that we might have in common.
“As do I.” He passes me the breadbasket.
I take a piece, which is something I never would do back at home. But calories don’t seem to matter here. All my clothes still fit despite the absence of my regular morning workout and the abundance of baked goods. “Do you like to travel?” I never have, personally, never wanting to be away from the office for more than a day or two, but it’s a popular hobby and might be something Noah is into. Plus, maybe if he travels, he knows a way to get out of here that I haven’t been able to figure out yet.
“I find I don’t like to be away from my office for more than a day or two at a time.”
Well then. I dip a piece of bread in olive oil and shove it in my mouth. Damn that’s good.
Noah folds his arms and leans on the table. There wasn’t a lot of space separating us to begin with and now we’re close enough that I can see the flecks of crystal in the center of his dark blue irises. “You have to admit, Ms. Andrews, we have more in common than you might want to think.”
“My name is Cam.”
“Cam.”
“Tell me what you want, Cam.” His lip curls up in a smirk.
The undeniably sexual words and his voice and that smile should send a wave of heat through me. Emphasis on the should .
“I want to save Emma’s bakery.” I lean back in my seat and drink half of my glass of wine in one gulp.
Noah chuckles. “I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
“You still think you’re going to win?”
“I know I’m going to win. I always get what I want, Cam. And right now, I want only two things.”
“What’s that?”
“That bakery. And you.” He refills both our wineglasses and raises his for another toast.
His confidence is something I normally would find attractive, and I try to give myself over to it. Across the table is a gorgeous man, an intelligent and driven man who wants to fall in love with me. I need to snap the fuck out of it and play the game so I can go home.
I raise my own glass. “To getting what we want.”
—
Luckily, my neighbor’s porch is empty when Noah walks me to my front door at the end of our date. This is the point when I would normally invite him in for a glass of wine and a fuck fest, but I need this relationship to be about more than just sex. I tell myself that feeling’s not relief coursing through me. Because if I let myself really think about it, I’m not all that sure I actually want to have sex with Noah. Which is fine. It’s only the first date. Surely the spark will grow.
I spin around in front of the door, making it clear that no man, no matter how hot and confident and on paper perfect, is going to be entering tonight. “I had a nice time tonight. Thank you for dinner.” Platitudes that I mean, but platitudes nonetheless.
Noah gives me a wolfish smile and leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. He smells like fancy cologne, and the scent sticks in my throat. “When can I see you again?”
It’s barely a question, but I know how I have to answer. “When do you want to see me again?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
I chuckle, impressed with his brazenness despite myself. “Maybe. How about this weekend?”
“Saturday night it is.” He squeezes my hand and heads down my front path, walking backward as if he can’t tear his eyes away from me. “Good night, Cam.”
“Good night.”
I open my front door, slipping in quickly before I’m tempted to let my eyes drift next door.