Chapter 16
16
“Soooooo, how was your date?” Emma squeals basically the second I enter the bakery doors the following morning.
“You do remember the man who took me on said date is trying to destroy your entire livelihood, right?” I hang my coat—the weather has turned full fall and the mornings are chilly—on the rack near the back door and slip an apron over my head.
Our routine is well oiled at this point and, as I take my place at Emma’s side, we move with practiced motions around the kitchen, prepping the day’s muffins and breakfast pastries.
Emma nudges me with her hip, her hands covered in flour. “If Noah turns out to be your true love, I promise I won’t hold the destruction of my life’s dreams against him. Besides, if he is your true love, maybe you can convince him to drop the whole thing.”
I grimace. “I wouldn’t count on that, Em.”
“The true-love part or the him-dropping-it part?”
“Either.”
Emma’s head tilts to the side as she cracks a pile of eggs into a mixing bowl with one hand. “Did you write him off already?”
I sigh, taking the bowl and moving it into place on the stand mixer, turning the machine to low. “No, I haven’t written him off.”
“But?”
“But I don’t know if he’s the one.” I’m fairly certain he’s not the one, which is not really a thing I believe in anyway, but that’s a conversation I don’t think I want to have with Emma, who clearly not only believes in the one, but has found hers, even if neither of them will admit it.
“Well, are you going to go out with him again?”
“Yeah.” I wait for a spark of excitement at the thought of a second date with a hot, successful man, but it doesn’t come.
“So he’s already doing better than your first two blind dates. Usually it doesn’t take this long for Mimi to make a successful match. You must be a special case.” The teasing lilt in her voice takes away the sting of her words.
“Haha.” I take a tray of muffins from the cooling rack and head toward the front of the bakery. I have zero desire to continue talking about Noah and even less desire to be forced to examine my own feelings about the date.
I’m transferring the muffins to the display case when the door to the bakery opens. “We’re not actually open just yet,” I say without looking up from my tray.
“I’m not here for a muffin, though I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to slip me one on my way out.” Ben greets me with a sheepish smile, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans.
“Hi.” My chest flutters, and there’s that spark that I was looking for earlier.
Fuck .
“Hi.”
For a second, we just look at each other, until I finally clear my throat and pull my eyes from his. “What can I do for you?”
He takes a few tentative steps closer to the counter. “Mimi sent me to see how your date with Noah went.” He can’t hide the grimace, though his face looks like he’s trying to, scrunching up like he smelled something rank.
Ah Mimi. So transparent.
“That was nice of her.”
Ben’s smile is genuine, unlike my sentiment.
There’s another few seconds of silence.
“Do you actually want to know how my date with Noah went?”
“Do you want to tell me?”
“I don’t know what I want anymore, Ben.”
“Other than to go home?”
For the first time, the thought of returning to my old life isn’t as appealing as it once was. But I know I can’t stay in Heart Springs forever. This isn’t real life, and at some point, something has to give.
“I do still want to get home. And I did make a second date with Noah.” I soften my voice, as if that might stop him from hearing me.
“Good. That’s good.” His tone is flat and unreadable.
I shake out a bag and slip a muffin inside. “Thanks for checking in on me.”
Ben reaches for the bag and our hands brush. There’s another fucking spark, right where it shouldn’t be. “Just trying to be a good friend.” His eyes linger and neither of us moves to release the bag held trapped between our hands. He flashes me another small smile before finally breaking contact, heading out, the door thudding shut behind him.
“Oh, honey.”
I spin around at the sound of Emma’s sympathetic voice. I hadn’t realized she’d come out to the front of the store, didn’t know she was listening. Grabbing the empty tray, I push back into the kitchen, ignoring whatever she’s implying.
“Anything you want to talk about?” she asks, following me to the back.
“Nope.” I busy myself arranging a new tray of baked goods.
“Okay.” She returns to the prep station, measuring a scoop of flour and dumping it into a mixing bowl, but I can hear everything unsaid in her one-word response.
And I should maybe talk to her about it. She might be the only one I actually could talk to about it. But talking about it would make it real, and if I continue to ignore whatever the hell is happening with my neighbor-slash-keeper, then I can keep pretending that it’s all in my head.
I can convince myself to fall in love with Noah. I can dedicate my life to being the best baker’s assistant to ever grace the kitchens of Heart Springs. I can get myself home and get Ben home. Once I do that, it’ll be easy to put distance between us and I won’t have to deal with phantom feelings for Dr. Ben Loving ever again.
—
My second date with Noah goes much like the first. As does the third, and the fourth. And while pretending the two of us have fallen into madly blissful love would be a huge and total lie, I can at least admit he’s growing on me. At least on the “pleasure” side of things.
When it comes to our business, I can’t help but hate the man. Not because of anything he’s done—beyond the obvious—but because I can’t seem to find a way to beat him. And nothing is more infuriating than losing. I refuse to lose.
And yet, it’s been three weeks since Emma first received that threatening letter and I’m no closer to finding her a solution.
While I’m not willing to admit total defeat just yet, the legal front is not looking promising in our quest to save the bakery. Which means it might be time to take things in a different direction. “What if we planned a big fundraiser?” I finally throw the suggestion out a week after it first popped into my head.
Emma frowns, kneading the bread dough in front of her a little kneadier. “I don’t want to take people’s money, Cam. I don’t want to be some charity case.”
Having expected this exact response, I have my rebuttal ready. “It’s not charity, Em. The people of Heart Springs love you and they love this bakery. They don’t want to see some corporate monstrosity move in to this space. Where is everyone going to get their muffins and birthday cakes and holiday cookies? Trust me, the people have very selfish reasons for wanting to save the bakery, it hardly has anything to do with you personally.” Lie, but I do know how upset everyone would be were they to lose Emma’s baked goods from their daily lives.
“I don’t know. That seems like a lot of work, and it probably wouldn’t even raise enough money anyway.”
It’s not a flat-out no, so I keep pushing. “You won’t have to do any of the work, I will handle everything.”
She raises one eyebrow and the disbelieving look she gives me is only mildly insulting. “You are going to plan a huge fundraiser all by yourself? This coming from the woman who has barely managed a few hours of community service?”
“Wow, Emma, don’t hold back, I’m only offering to save your life’s work here.” I pull myself up to my full height. “I’ll have you know I planned the firm’s annual holiday gala for the past five years and have helped raise millions of dollars for charity.” Anything for a tax write-off, am I right?
Emma’s eyes widen. “Millions of dollars?”
“Yup.” I rush to temper her beliefs. “We can’t really expect that from this one, obviously. Our firm’s clients are some of the wealthiest people in Manhattan. No one in Heart Springs can come close to their giving power.”
Her newly found optimism is crushed. “Then what’s the point?”
“We don’t need millions of dollars. I’m confident we can earn enough for a down payment on the building, at the very least.”
She eyes me skeptically. “And you’ll do all the work? And keep up with your bakery shifts?”
My smile falters. “I was hoping that I could use some of my bakery hours to work on the fundraiser.”
She opens her mouth, but I don’t let her get a word in.
“But if that’s what it takes to get you to agree, then sure, I’ll plan the fundraiser in my off hours.”
Good lord, what am I getting myself into?
It will be worth it, though, when we sign the contracts and shove our victory right in Noah’s face.
“All right. If you think it can work, then I’m in.”
I clap my hands together, sending a pouf of flour up in the air.
We both dissolve into a pile of laughter and something warm bursts in my chest. For a second, I think I might be having a heart attack or something, unsure what this foreign experience could be.
But then I realize it’s just happiness. The realization sends another burst through my chest, and when Emma grabs me in a hug, jumping around in a happy and hopeful circle, I join in without a second’s hesitation.