Chapter 22
MAE
Knocking on Beck’s door after a night of very little sleep was not something I relished doing. But it was five after eight, and he hadn’t made a peep yet this morning. Probably because he was as mortified and utterly confused as me.
We hadn’t just kissed.
That was, as my mind continued to replay it over and over, an experience.
Lying on my bed last night, part of me wanted to reverse time and have a do-over where I went to sleep the first time. A do-over that didn’t jeopardize our friendship. But another part of me, a bigger one if I were being honest, actually wanted just the opposite.
To kiss him again.
The door opened. A smiling, freshly showered Beck, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, stood in the same spot as the scene of the crime. Was it me, or had he gotten even hotter since last night?
“Morning, Mae.”
“Good morning.”
“Ready to rock and roll?”
“I am.”
“Cool.” He reached out, taking my overnight bag from my shoulder.
“You don’t have to do that.”
Beck headed to the bed, popped his toiletry bag inside his own duffle, and slung it on his shoulder. “Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?”
“Who says you’re a gentleman?”
“Ouch. You don’t play fair.”
And just like that, as we headed downstairs, we fell right back into our old pattern of busting each other’s asses and being…
well… normal. Except, nothing was normal about this morning at all.
Apparently we weren’t going to talk about the kiss.
I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up. What the hell would I say?
Soooo, about that kiss?
We had a pleasant enough breakfast, Ellie introducing us to her husband and another couple who were already eating breakfast when we got down there.
The only exception? When we both reached for the pepper at the same time and our fingers touched, at which point I pulled quickly away.
I promised to follow up with Ellie when I got home, and just like that, the day started without any fanfare.
On the short drive to the festival grounds, we discussed preparations.
We tried to predict when we would run out of pastries…
I said after the lunch crowd, Beck predicted earlier.
One thing we didn’t talk about?
The kiss.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Was Beck seriously going to pretend it didn’t happen? Just as he was firing up the grill, I leaned against the table beside it, crossed my arms, and waited.
“Nice day for a festival,” he mused, pulling an apron over his head.
“You’re seriously going to talk about the weather?”
Beck’s laugh always had a way of wiggling itself into my soul. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Mae. Just taking your lead.”
“Well, it feels like something we should talk about.”
“Agreed.”
He wasn’t making this easy.
“Or…” He was about to say something cheeky. I could just tell. “We could just do it again, instead.”
I swatted him on the arm with the rag I was holding as the fry guy across from us approached.
“Morning, guys. All ready for another nice day?”
He was around my dad’s age, maybe a little older. Didn’t have a brick and mortar but worked festivals and loved it. Apparently “life on the road” was for him. He looked like a cross between Larry David and a weathered rock star, all wiry energy and mischievous grin.
“I can’t imagine doing this year-round,” I said, shaking my head as I wrung out the rag. “You must really love deep fryers and porta-potties.”
“What’s not to love?”
Beck snorted as the two of them traded barbs. Two peas in a pod. But really, Beck could get along with just about anyone. I watched as they talked, realizing it really was a strength of his, making everyone around him comfortable.
He was the perfect person to take over Dad’s bar. I had no doubt O’Malley’s would thrive with Beck at the helm. I had to talk to him on the way back about why he was so hesitant about it.
That wasn’t the only thing we had to talk about on the way home, but it was clear our “kiss” conversation would have to wait.
After fry guy, one of the event organizers stopped by, along with the owner of a local restaurant looking for partners for a fall festival he was planning.
Apparently my tarte tatin was making the rounds.
“Mae O’Malley,” a cheerful voice called from behind my current customer.
“Thayle,” I exclaimed as she waved excitedly. Standing beside her husband, one of the owners of Grado Valley Vineyards, my long-time friend finally made it to the counter.
“You remember Neo?”
“Of course,” I said. “How’s GVV doing?” I asked them both, grateful there was nobody behind them yet.
“Couldn’t be better,” he said. Neo was the winemaker for the vineyard he and his siblings owned. I’d met Thayle over email first. She was a long-time customer, and I’d contacted her with a question about the wine club which she ran. When we finally met in person, we hit it off immediately.
“You have to come down one of these days now that you’re back in town. Is it for good?”
I hadn’t spoken to her in person in over a year. “Lots has happened since we talked last. Long story. But I’m back from France for good. Just not sure about next steps. Working for Dad until I figure things out.”
“I saw the sign and wondered if it was the same O’Malley’s.” Two teen girls got in line behind her. “Let’s catch up when you have time. Actually, we’re having a girls’ night next Thursday. Come down and bring some friends. I’ll see if we have an empty cottage.”
“Actually,” Neo said, “I know we do. Remember Brooke telling us the bachelorette party cancelled. They were coming Thursday to Saturday and had three booked.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I’ll make sure one stays empty if you promise to come.”
“Girls’ night at a winery. Cottage on the lake. You drive a hard bargain.”
Thayle laughed. “Gotta look out for my girls. I’m counting you in. How about two burgers and one of your pastries, obviously?”
“Obviously,” Neo quipped beside her.
I called the burger order to Beck, realizing this could be a blessing in disguise. If anyone was perfectly positioned to help me navigate the Beck situation, it was Thayle Burke.
“On the house,” I said as Neo pulled out his wallet. I handed the pastry to Thayle who stepped aside, letting the girls order.
Beck slid two burgers to them as I handed back change to the girls as I pushed aside thoughts of the kiss that crept into my head.
“Do you remember Thayle and Neo from Grado Valley?” I asked him. We’d been there more than once together with a few other people, the last time about two summers ago.
“Of course.” He grabbed a rag, wiped his hands, and stuck out his right one to one of them at a time. “Good to see you again. Hope you’re enjoying the festival.”
“I had to pull him kicking and screaming away from the vineyard,” Thayle said. “The downside of owning your own business.”
“Funny you should say that.” I gave Beck a sidelong gaze.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “You’re the one who got a new client this weekend.”
“Client? What?” Thayle asked. “You’ll have to tell me all about it Thursday. Go ahead, we don’t want to keep you from your customers.”
“I’ll see you soon,” I said, blowing her a kiss and waving to Neo.
They stayed and talked to Beck while I took care of the girls, and then another couple, and before long I couldn’t think about anything, even Beck’s kiss, for long as the lunch crowd picked up.
As he predicted, the tarte tatin sold out before one o’clock which really did surprise me based on our estimates from the organizers’ numbers.
Every so often, I’d glance back at Beck, who was either cooking or peeking at me. We kept things light, professional, all afternoon, and it was actually less awkward than I expected.
Until it wasn’t.
I couldn’t remember having been this distracted in my life, thoughts of our kiss intruding on bits of normalcy.
Dinner was actually less crazy than lunch, just the opposite of yesterday. With less than an hour to go, I’d even begun to start packing up a bit when I saw her.
It wasn’t someone I recognized, but the woman was just Beck’s type. Legs for days. Extremely pretty. And most of all, staring at him from the back side of the grill as if he were the next coming of Adonis.
I could have been wrong, but it seemed as if they knew each other. Which, since this was Beck, meant they “knew each other” in a very intimate way. Pretending to put away napkins in a big Tupperware bin, I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
Confirming the fact that they weren’t strangers, the woman reached down to the table beside Beck’s grill and grabbed his phone. She brought it to hers, tapped, smiled like she won the lottery, and put it back down.
I couldn’t watch anymore.
Heading back to the counter, I saw a new customer.
Anything to take my attention away from what just happened.
Less than twenty-four hours after Beck kissed me he was re-connecting with an ex, or a fuck buddy, or whatever.
I didn’t know if that or me being wrong and Beck giving his number to a stranger was worse.
Actually, it didn’t matter.
“Can I help you?”
“I was here yesterday with my wife who asked me to grab two more of your pastries to bring home.” He pointed up to town. “Just closed my hardware shop for the night and figured I’d come down and see if you have any left.”
“Unfortunately we are out of them.”
I snuck a glance at Beck just as his “friend” was walking away. He turned to me and smiled.
Ugh.
I gave my attention back to the customer.
“Damn.” He looked up at the sign. “Where is O’Malley’s, anyway?”
“Cedar Falls,” I said with a smile, hoping it looked genuine since I was suddenly not in a mood to smile. Or socialize. Or be near Beck.
Truth was, for half a second, I had actually thought hard about Beck’s “people change” and “friendship isn’t a bad way to start” comments. Coupled with the revelation that one of their bachelor pact rules had been made for him, for us, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander.
Guess Mathieu wasn’t enough of a life lesson for me. I could kick myself.
“I don’t suppose you have them on the menu?”
It took me a second to re-focus on what we were talking about. Right. Tarte tatin.
Thinking back to Beck’s suggestion about getting them on there for a special, I put away my wounded woman hat and put the businesswoman one on instead.
“As a matter of fact, we’re going to have them on as a special for the next few weeks. You should stop by with your wife. Cedar Falls isn’t that far away.”
“It’s not,” he said. “I think we’ll take a day trip next weekend. Get someone to work for a rare day off. Thanks for the tip.”
“My pleasure.”
I should have been pleased with myself.
O’Malley’s food tent was a success. My pastries, which I loved making, were a hit. I had a client, as Beck kept calling her, which I supposed Ellie was. And more of a purpose than I had two days ago.
Except… him.
Angrily packing up, I tried, unsuccessfully, to cool my jets. Remind myself Beck and I weren’t a “thing.” It was just a kiss.
Except it wasn’t just any guy.
It was Beck.
And that made all the difference.