CHAPTER 23
Aiden
It’s her dream car. I picked her dream car for her. I could bloody dance on a table top right now. Hell, I’m so smiley right now I’d probably annoy Benedict.
I don’t understand this feeling but it’ll pass. Probably.
I bought Marion plenty of gifts. Jewelry, trinkets, an obscenely priced handbag at one point. Things I think she wanted her friends to see her wearing. She was excited about them, but giving them, seeing her receive it all, it never felt like this. Like…triumph?
I didn’t even get to see Harper’s reaction. With any of the gifts. Or the meals. All the different ways I’ve tried to make her life a little easier, her load a little lighter. I assume it’s not all good.
She’s been shocked, probably. And still angry with me about the town. I get the feeling she’s generally confused about me, a feeling I understand about myself as of late.
Still.
It’s her dream car. And yes, I googled and researched and asked the chat bots, but I knew the questions to ask. I described Harper, apparently very well, and asked what kind of car she would love. Not something dependable and useful for a bakery. A car she would love.
Irritation with me aside, deep down, she had to be thrilled. She probably fought a smile. I bet she hopped a little bit like I’ve seen her do when a new customer places a large order.
And the thought that I did that, it has me more excited than the text I got earlier.
Which should maybe concern me, as it’s a message I’ve waited to hear, basically my entire life. I pull out my phone and look at it again.
Dad: Heard the Rockfords are starting to lose it over your recent numbers. Nicely done.
I tap back and down to the other message I keep staring at.
Aiden: Will I see you in the morning?
Harper: YES! Yes. Just stop.
I smile again, almost annoying myself at this point. Finally. Finally! After days of her dodging me, tomorrow morning I will ask the wanna-be California Girl out on a date.
_____
“Could you tell Harper I’m here?” I ask Madison.
“Um, she…”
“Otherwise there’s a new house with Stuart’s name on it,” I say, a bit louder.
Harper pops out from her office, saying, I’m here! Chill! with her wide eyes.
She stands at the counter and waits.
“How’s the oven working?” I ask quietly, though all the usuals are here, listening in.
“Great,” she says. She looks down and blushes a bit. I’ll take it as a thank you.
“And your dream car?” I ask sounding like the smug bastard I am. Her face pops up, irritated and not at all shy anymore. Beautiful.
“Fine,” she says. She crosses her arms and asks me if I’m going to order with her eyebrows.
I fight a smirk as I order, “I’ll take a box of cinnamon buns and a box of the bacon sandwiches, please.”
She nods and gets busy assembling the food. Keeping her back to me.
“Harper,” I say.
“Hmm?” She hums without turning.
I widen my stance at the register and cross my arms. She’s going to have to hand me those boxes. I can wait. Finally, after much faffing on her part with extra forks and napkins and whatever she can find, the moment arrives.
She places the boxes in front of me and I reach out to put a hand over hers.
“Have dinner with me,” I say.
Someone squeaks at a table behind my back.
I simply do not care anymore. I am so close to the goal, eavesdroppers be damned.
Harper cares though, she frowns, looks past me, then back to me.
She blushes but she glances up, defiant, and I can read her face clearly. You’re commanding me like I’m the dog.
“I, I mean, will you go to dinner with me?” I ask the question but it still sounds like a command.
“No,” she says.
“No?”
“Have a good one,” she tries to flee but I grab her wrist. At that her eyes explode wide and shit, shit, shit, now I’m committing assault.
“Damn it, sorry, I…I am very used to getting what I want and it has become clear to me,” I lower my voice, “and probably everyone in town, what I want is, well, you.”
I look up and Harper snorts.
I think? Did she just snort at me?
“Well, lucky me!”
“I…this isn’t coming out right at all, I—”
She starts to back away, “But I’m not a pot of land.”
Plot, Sweetheart, it’s plot.
…Again with the Sweetheart?!
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts and embarrassment, and this whole entire conversation.
“Right, of course not, I just…will you? Go to dinner with me? Please?”
“No,” she says again.
“No? But…”
She gives me a small smile. Like…like she’s pitying me? The hell? I’m Aiden Vanderwell.
“I’ll negotiate,” I try, feeling my ears turn pink at the edges.
I’m blushing? Bloody embarrassing!
“I’m not a business deal either. Thank you, but, I, really, um, I have a buzzer going off,” she lies. There’s no buzzer.
“You don’t want one night off? A break from taking care of this whole town, your father. A nice meal where someone else takes care of you? You won’t have to think, cook, plan, clean up, you—”
She’s turning away, shaking her head, trying to flee.
“With a, just a friend, then?” I call out, sounding desperate and hating myself for every syllable.
Her voice is squeaky as she basically runs to the kitchen, murmuring a quiet, “No, thank you.”
What.
The.
Hell.
I breathe for a moment through, what is this? Mortification? My first time to have an offer flat-rejected to my face. First time I’ve been in this position, helpless, no levers to pull, no room for negotiation. And, I remember as I turn with my box of baked goods, with an audience.
Fantastic.
I start to step away from…this entire shitshow, when Steven calls out.
“You forgot to pay, Aid!”
“Yeah, no friends and family discount remember,” Maxine says, not bothering to hide her glee.
I clear my throat, “Right.”
In an unusual moment of absolute silence, save the soft acoustic cafe music playing overhead, I take out my wallet, card facing out. I tap.
BEEP!
I almost jump at the sound from the iPad. I quickly tuck my wallet away and walk slowly, head high, out of the store. I may have just been humiliated but I needn’t act like it.
“Good day, all,” I say, willing my voice to sound normal.
The DING of the door is also eighty-five times louder than normal. I open the Mercedes, the picture of calm confidence. I set down the food, start it, reverse, and take longer than normal to drive away from the large front windows of the bakery. I turn a corner and finally, I’m free.
I floor it.
I curse under my breath, releasing a litany of phrases that probably shouldn’t be said aloud. I slap the steering wheel and honk the horn at no one.
No.
She said no.
She’s attracted to me, it’s obvious. She sneaks glances at my body, my arms, sometimes my hair. The two times I’ve almost kissed her, she was entranced, just like I was. Caught up in this pull between us.
And we’ve had a text rapport going, an actual friendship.
And she. Said. No!?
Fine.
FINE.
“Fine!” I yell at the pastries in the passenger seat.
She doesn’t want me? She doesn’t see I want to help her, give her some fun? A reprieve from her backbreaking days and exhausting nights?
Then I don’t want her either. Not anymore. And, truly, not at all. Not in any deep way. She was a challenge. A puzzle to figure out. This town and it’s faux ooey-gooey goodness crap just…got into my psyche for a bit.
That’s done. I’m done. She and this ridiculous town can meet their demise, which I will stay to watch with deep satisfaction, then I’m on a plane and headed far, far away from here.