Chapter 24
Lauralee
New York is larger than life. The buildings disappear into the clouds. The sidewalks hold more people than I’ve ever seen in my life. The pace is fast. Everything stands in stark contrast to Peachtree Pass.
As I sit on a barstool at the tiny window counter of a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint two blocks down from his apartment, my shoulder still tingles from almost being taken off by some man who refused to change his path on the way here.
The place can’t hold more than ten people, but it gets the job done and serves a great slice as big as my head.
I still managed to devour it. Swiveling, I bump my knees into Baylor’s, catching a smile sneaking onto his face, and ask, “Is this the kind of pizza you want to bring to Peachtree Pass?” I sneak another peek at the bustling street.
I’ve never seen so many people in one place.
If only the shop had this kind of foot traffic.
“Because I’m going to be dreaming about it when I’m back in Texas. ”
“I think a pizzeria.” He glances around the place, his eyes sharpening on the details before he turns back t o me.
“A full sit-down restaurant with some counter stools for a quick lunch would be a good addition. What do you think would work to draw in more visitors and business to the downtown area?”
“I’ve been looking to expand the café portion of the shop.” With my elbow rested on the counter, I tilt my head onto my hand. “More light fare—salads, more sandwiches, quiche, that kind of thing—since it’s mainly me doing all the cooking and preparing.”
“You want to expand?”
“Business is steady.” I shrug, but I don’t know why. I’m usually proud of what my mom and I have accomplished. But I was never in the situation of begging for money before either. “My mom established the shop years before I took ownership.”
“But you’ve grown it. I don’t remember it being such a destination when I was younger.”
“From ice cream and peach-themed ceramics to a small café and full gift shop. We even have a fruit and veggie stand from your family’s farm on the sidewalk out front on the fourth weekend of the month all summer and fall.
” Reaching over, I rub his leg because I want to be as close and touching him as I can, and I can do it openly without anyone here caring or even noticing. “Everyone loves peaches.”
His hand covers my hip and leans forward to give me a kiss.
“Not me. I prefer shortcake.” A thrill zips up my spine like it does every time he’s near.
Reaching down, he takes hold of the metal stool and pulls me closer, not giving a damn about the screech it makes against the floor.
Lifting one side of his lips, he smirks. “It’s my favorite flavor.”
I lift my hand to run across the back of his neck. I don’t have anything clever or sexy to say in return. I ju st like how freeing this feels to be here with him. I still give a lame shot. “Luckily, I brought you some.”
“Can’t wait for dessert later.”
It’s tempting to talk him into returning to the apartment, specifically to the bedroom, but we haven’t continued our conversation from earlier, and it’s still weighing on me until we get it settled, one way or the other.
I set my crumpled napkin on the pizza plate when a commotion on the other side of the window grabs our attention.
I glance at Baylor, who rubs my lower back in reassurance.
“Nothing to worry about.” He’s right regarding the argument, and they move along.
But my heart is still burdened. “Can we talk?”
“Always, Shortcake.”
I honestly didn’t know what he thought about me asking him to marry him earlier, so I breathe a sigh of relief hearing him so open to the conversation.
“The leasing agent said the new owners will be offering bonuses to new tenants.” I swivel on the barstool to face the window again, wanting to drop my head in my hands in frustration as my blood begins to boil.
I turn my gaze outside and start traveling the height of the building across the street instead of seeing him study my expression as I work through the part that stings most. “Such an insult to me and Cathy down at the clothing outlet.”
The tip of his finger presses under my chin, angling me to face him.
When I do, the warmth of his palm caresses my cheek.
It’s not a showy gesture, but it’s intimate, comforting, his eyes engaging as I stare into them.
The bond that started back home in Texas feels stronger than ever.
Even if he turns me down, I feel less alone in this battle.
“Forget him,” he says. There’s a ribbon of anger in his tone that I’m not used to but I appreciate.
“H e’ll get what’s coming. Focus on the shop.
Peaches Sundries & More is the anchor of our downtown area.
It’s what has kept Peachtree Pass alive all these years.
Nothing is going to happen to it. I’ll make sure of it.
” I’m not sure how he can help other than the way already presented, but hearing his strength when I feel weak gives me hope, not only for the business but for us.
He’s standing with me, beside me, and giving me the support I need. No questions asked.
I’m loved. Even though the words haven’t crossed his lips, I can see it in his eyes when he looks into mine.
It makes me feel bad for peddling marriage like it’s one of those conning street games.
It’s a big deal and a bigger commitment.
It’s supposed to be between soulmates, between people who love each other endlessly.
Our relationship is just starting, and though I feel closer to him than anyone else, are we ready to take on that responsibility?
It’s a business arrangement. That’s it. If I forget the purpose or fail to focus, I will lose everything.
My shoulders soften when I look at him, though.
My feelings for him are deeper than I’m used to, new in unfamiliar ways, but what I had always thought love would feel like.
So would it really be a purely professional arrangement if we got married? My heart knows the truth.
He says, “Let’s get out of here. I want to take you to this park about ten minutes from here.”
We toss our trash and hit the pavement. I’m still blown away by the level of noise—from people in every direction to the cars jamming together on the streets.
My head feels like the stool, swiveling on my neck to take in everything I can.
And though it’s already seven, we’re no closer to sunset despite the street being shaded by the skyscrapers. I always love the longer summer days.
Baylor takes my han d, keeping his eyes ahead as his thoughts seem to hoard his attention.
The silence stretching between us hasn’t made it uncomfortable, but I’m starting to miss the sound of his voice.
I grin at the ridiculousness of that. We were just talking not five minutes ago at the pizza place.
I think I would be officially classified as an addict to this man.
I squeeze his hand, needing a fix, which brings his gaze back to me. He grins that same one I was greeted with upon arrival, like the world can start spinning again, making me fall even harder for him.
He asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I’ve been too nervous to broach the idea again even though it’s mine to begin with. Getting food in my stomach has helped. My thoughts feel clearer, and I don’t know, less worried about how this will end. He’s giving me that comfort to speak freely. “I’d like to.”
“You don’t need to be worried. Whatever is decided, things will work out. You’re not losing the shop.”
I stop walking. He stops and turns to look back with our arms stretched between us. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I won’t let you lose it.” I’m granted a smile that tries to reach his eyes but fails just shy of its target. “I have money, Lauralee.”
I know he has money, and if the rumors are right, a lot of it.
Would he give me a loan with interest . .
. better interest than the bank, so I can actually afford the rent?
I have no doubt. Should I accept it? “I can’t take your money.
There’s no way I’d ever feel right about that, especially on such a risky investment.
” I step closer, resting my hand on his chest. “This arrangement needs to benefit both of us.”
The warmth of his smile keeps me calm, knowing I’ve got an ally. “Since I know you, I’m assuming you alrea dy have a plan. You want to lay it out for me?”
I laugh because he really does know me well. “So,” I start, happy to get into the details. “We leave for the Hamptons on Saturday. Since I was already playing the lead role of the lady in your life, I was thinking . . . Well, you said your bosses have this family values image they want to uphold.”
“I think project works better knowing their history of philandering.”
I cringe. “Yikes.”
“Yikes is right. That’s why the suggestion that my being single doesn’t look good for the company is preposterous.”
I can’t say this makes me want to meet them now.
But a free vacay to the Hamptons is worth it because I’ll be with Baylor.
“What if I come as your wife?” I stare at his eyes as his gaze shifts to the left of me, his thoughts darkening the blues.
I continue by saying, “I know this is an off-the-wall plan. It doesn’t have to stick, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention it as an option to help both of us out of our predicaments.
You can get your promotion. I get my shop. Life is perfect again.”
Angling his head, he asks, “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”
I’m not sure if it’s rhetorical, though, as he processes the plan. “Day and night. I can barely sleep.”
“It’s a different approach.” He pauses as if expecting me to interrupt. For once, we’re on the same page, so I stay quiet. “Is getting married what you really want ?”