Chapter 3
3
HAILEY
I t’s not a date.
I changed clothes three times, and that was a lot considering I’d only brought four tops and two bottoms.
It’s not a date.
I stood in front of the mirror, perfecting my hair and makeup for a good twenty minutes. Finally, I stepped back and took in the burgundy sweater and matching lipstick.
It’s not a date.
Once I was ready, I spent a half hour setting the table and rearranging the place settings. Finally, around the time I set the big bowl of salad in the center of the table, I had to admit my body thought it was a date. No matter what I told myself, I was nervous about having my neighbor over for dinner.
Three loud knocks had me gasping and jumping. This cabin had a doorbell, but maybe Sawyer was so used to not having one, he didn’t look for that. Or maybe he left the doorbell off his house on purpose, and he had something against them.
I was all the way to the door before I remembered I still wore my apron. I quickly untied it and whipped it over my head, folding it neatly and carrying it in my left hand as I pulled open the door.
“Hi,” I said, giving him my brightest smile.
Sawyer stood on the porch, awkwardly holding a six-pack in his left hand. “I didn’t have wine. I should have driven down to Adairsville to pick up some.”
I shook my head. “I’m a beer drinker.”
Did he happen to have a six-pack on hand? Maybe he drove to get one.
No, this wasn’t a date, but I sure was overthinking things like it was.
“Come on in,” I said.
I stepped back and took a deep breath to slow my heart as he walked in. I should probably offer to take the six-pack, but I was worried I’d drop it, with as much as my hands were trembling. So instead, I led him into the cabin and toward the kitchen.
“Smells great,” he said.
“The lasagna’s been resting for about twenty minutes, so it should be ready. I’ll get some glasses.”
All that time I’d spent setting the table, I hadn’t even thought about glasses. Or what I’d offer him to drink. Good thing he’d brought beer, because all I had was diet soda and bottled water.
“No glass needed for me,” Sawyer said.
I turned to look at him and noticed he’d pulled back a chair but didn’t move to sit in it. The six pack was next to the bowl of salad. He reached forward and grabbed one of the beers, uncapping it and setting it next to my plate, which was directly across from his.
“So, you’re a baker?” he asked.
I settled my apron on the island, then grabbed the potholders to pick up the lasagna and carry it over to the table. I’d already set a towel out in the center to avoid damaging the wood.
“I want to be,” I said. “I guess you could call me a hobbyist right now. I’d been working at a bakery in Billings since I graduated high school, but they shut down a couple of months ago, so I’m between jobs. It’s now or never.”
He’d uncapped a beer and took a big sip, but I couldn’t help but notice he was still standing. He was waiting for me to sit first. A true gentleman.
“This Seduction Summit place—” He hesitated, and I’d swear his mouth twitched a little in a hint of amusement. Then he continued. “This Seduction Summit place is where you want to go to be a baker?”
I shook my head. “That’s just where the competition is being held this year. But the winner gets fifty-thousand dollars and help with starting a bakery in whatever town we want.”
“A town like Seduction Summit?”
“A town like Hope Peak,” I said, taking a deep breath. “It’d probably be small, but I figured the storefronts aren’t as expensive in a place like this, and the competition’s much lower. I don’t have to worry about the big chains, at least.”
Sawyer watched while I scooped a generous helping of lasagna onto my plate and reached for his. It seemed to take him a second to realize why I had my hand out like that.
Finally, he grabbed his plate and held it out to me. I gave him an even bigger helping of lasagna than I’d taken.
“The salad,” I gasped, realizing I’d forgotten to put any utensils in the bowl.
I turned and rushed back to the utensil drawer, returning to set them in the bowl before pulling back my chair and sitting down. Only then did it hit me how exhausted I was. Lasagna was a time-intensive process, and I’d been on my feet for the better part of three hours.
He hesitated a moment before pulling his chair back and sitting. “Thank you for doing all of this.”
“Thank you for getting my oven up and working.”
He looked over my shoulder toward the kitchen. “I forgot to ask. I guess everything’s running okay?”
I nodded. “Couldn’t be better. I don’t know what you did, but you’re a life saver.”
“More like a cookie saver.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “So, what about you? I’ve been so rude, talking about myself all day.”
All day might be an exaggeration. He’d been here all of a half hour, after all. But he’d know what I meant.
“This is it,” he said.
He watched as I scooped some salad into the bowl I’d set next to my plate. Then I grabbed the only salad dressing I had, vinaigrette, and sprinkled it over the top.
“I take care of my yard and the cabin.” He shrugged. “I bought it when I moved here after my discharge.”
Discharge. I keyed in on that word.
“You’re a vet,” I said. “You mentioned that earlier.”
“Eight years Army. Got shot in the hip. Friendly fire, but it was enough to get me an honorable discharge. I live a pretty simple life, and I have enough socked away to take care of my expenses, but I might eventually do something. Maybe I’ll work as a handyman, take some odd jobs around town just for something to do.”
“Fixing ovens for people?” I asked.
“Exactly. Think you could vouch for me?”
Our eyes met then, and I felt something. I told myself I was imagining things. I probably annoyed him more than anything. But he didn’t look away immediately.
Eventually, though, he pulled his gaze away and lowered it to his plate. He picked up his fork and dug into the lasagna, slicing off a bite so big I was sure there was no way he could fit it in his mouth.
But he did exactly that. He shoved it in and closed his eyes. I held my breath, fearful for a long second that he hated it. Or maybe he’d taken a bite too soon, and it wasn’t cool enough. Oh God, did he burn his tongue? I’d be mortified if I injured my hunky neighbor with my cooking.
As I waited for him to chew and swallow, I uncapped my beer and took a big swig. Just that one swallow immediately relaxed me. So I took another one. This was about as much alcohol as I could handle. I was a lightweight when it came to drinking, but it did calm my nerves a little.
Sawyer opened his eyes and picked up the conversation where we’d left off. “Anyway, that wasn’t my goal. I didn’t count on it being so…”
“Boring?” I asked.
He thought about that a long moment and shook his head. “Actually, I’m comfortable with the slower pace. I grew up in the suburbs of D.C. Suburban life was not really my thing.”
“Mine either.”
I was surprised at my own words. I’d never really said them out loud before. The dream was to live somewhere like this. Picturesque, beautiful, and full of kind people. Or even grumpy ones who would come over and fix your oven when you needed it.
“I enjoyed my teen years in the suburbs, though,” I said. “Well, as much as anyone can.”
“Let me guess.” He set down his fork and studied me a long moment, his eyes narrowing. “You were a cheerleader. Most popular girl in school.”
I laughed. “Hardly. My graduating class was seven hundred.”
His brow furrowed. “You had to be the hottest girl in school, even in that crowd.”
I felt myself blushing. “I developed too soon. And I had a little more weight on me than the popular girls, but I didn’t care. All that stuff seemed shallow. I was probably a lot happier than they were.”
“So, what were you into back then? Baking?”
“I didn’t really start baking seriously until I got the job in the bakery the summer after high school. It’s always been my hobby, but in high school, I was kind of a dork. Traditionally, anyway. I was in the band. Played the flute. We won competitions and stuff. Some of the best people were in band with me.”
“I’m sure you dated a lot,” he said.
My movements froze at that comment. How did I answer that? I could go with honesty, but would he judge me? I could lie, but what would be the point of that?
I decided to stick with the truth. “No, not at all, but I’m grateful for that. I have my whole life to fall in love and get married and have kids. My younger years were all about spending time with friends and learning what I needed to know to open my own business someday.”
Okay, so that might be an exaggeration. School gave me the basics, but most of my classes didn’t focus on building and growing a successful business. I was learning that now, thanks to books, podcasts, and online courses.
“You didn’t date at all?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Never dated. To this day. I guess I need to get out more. Once this competition’s out of the way, I can focus on that, but…”
I hesitated, looking at him. I wasn’t being completely honest. The truth was more complicated than that.
“My friends say I’m too picky, but it’s not like there are hot guys like you all over Billings. Most suburban guys are…”
I struggled for a word to finish that sentence. I didn’t want to badmouth the men I’d met over the years, and I’d certainly had plenty of chances to date. I just couldn’t summon an interest in any of those guys.
“Boring?” he guessed. “Full of themselves?”
“Pussies,” I blurted before I could stop myself, then I grimaced. “Sorry. That’s probably a bit strong.”
He shook his head, and I’d swear I saw a hint of a smile on that face of his. “I didn’t do all that well in high school. My senior year, I took advantage of the co-op program and only went half days. The rest of the time I spent working for a local homebuilder. It was hard work, but it got me outdoors, which was exactly where I wanted to be.”
“That’s definitely the kind of guy I would’ve gone out with in high school,” I said, looking off to the side as I slid some lettuce into my mouth and chewed.
“What about now?” he asked.
I shifted my stare back to him, not sure what he was asking. “What do you mean?”
“You said I’m the type of guy you would’ve gone out with in high school. What about now?”
Oh, crap. I’d stuck my foot in it that time. Heck yes, I’d go out with him. In a heartbeat. In fact, I’d love to call what we were doing right now a date.
I decided to take a lighthearted approach. “I mean, look at you. Any woman would have you at the top of her list.”
List? What list? No wonder I never dated. I was goofing this up in a big way.
He stopped chewing and stared at me. Then he swallowed and said, “I don’t care about any woman. I’m talking about you specifically.”
Was I hearing right? Was this guy asking if I wanted to go out with him?
“Maybe this counts as a date,” I blurted before I could chicken out.
In the silence that followed, I was sure he could hear the pounding of my heart. Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom . I was doing my best to play it cool, but I’d stopped breathing as I stared at him, waiting for him to answer.
He shook his head. “No way.”
My heart sank. Yeah, it had been a little silly for me to assume he’d want to go out with me. I was so out of practice with this stuff. Forget out of practice—I’d never started practicing in the first place.
But just as I lowered my eyes to my plate, he spoke again. His words lifted my head.
“Our first date will be my treat,” he said. “I’ll take you to dinner at the ski lodge. Fanciest restaurant in town.”
I couldn’t stop the smile that spread over my face as I accepted his offer. But my spirits started to sink as something hit me. I was leaving town in a couple of days, and I didn’t have plans beyond that. If I won the competition, I planned to rent a place in town somewhere while I worked at starting my business. But if I lost, my only choice would be to return home to the bonus room above my parents’ garage.
I’d put every extra dime I had into staying here and traveling to the competition, plus buying all the supplies I needed. My future was riding on winning that prize money.
But now I wanted, more than anything, for my future to be here in Hope Peak. I didn’t want to walk away from this guy and never see him again.