N I N E
- Avery -
I was fantasizing about wrestling Oliver Harrington when Noah’s voice broke through my reverie.
“I don’t know if I’m more happy or relieved,” he said, glancing up at the stage where Grace was standing behind her fancy apple pie amongst the other festival finalists.
“It’s okay to be both,” I said, noticing the warmth in his eyes as he admired her from afar.
“It would be a relief if she won,” he said. “She wants this so bad.”
Grace looked extra short from so far away. Then again, everyone on the stage looked short next to Oliver, who was conversing with the other judges near the band. He was wearing a petrol-blue suit for the occasion and looked like a sexy storm cloud floating in a sea of pink.
“Sixth place is nothing to sneeze at, though,” Noah said, elbowing me gently.
I smiled. “It’s not the silver star I wanted to score for The Café’s window, but I was in the top three for charitable donations.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Well, I will be once Oliver Harrington makes good on his promise to match what I collected.”
“Interesting.”
There was something about his tone that made me turn towards him. “What?”
“Seems like an odd thing to do,” he said, his eyes narrowing as they met mine. “Play favorites like that?”
“It’s for charity, Noah.”
“Perhaps.” He leaned back in his chair. “Or maybe the brownie bitch has a secret admirer.”
I hid my delight at his words. No way was I going to admit that I spent the last two days wondering what his motivation was. I mean, I knew he hadn’t extended the offer to the tables flanking mine, but that didn’t mean it was a clever excuse to give me his card. “Doubtful. I’m sure the man only has eyes for himself.”
“He does seem insufferable,” he said. “At least based on the articles Grace showed me.”
“Well, it was a nice thing to do even if he is a monster.”
“And it can’t hurt his reputation, which is probably the only reason he agreed to this gig.”
“Right,” I said, averting my eyes towards the stage and wondering what was taking so long.
We were quiet for a while, and I spent the slowly passing minutes indulging in a fantasy about Mr. Harrington tying me up and feeding me chocolate lava cake.
“I can practically hear the cavities forming,” Noah said. “I’m not sure if this event should be illegal or if my association should be sponsoring it.”
“Are you looking forward to your trip?” I asked, happy Grace had a man in her life who’d gladly wheel her luggage while she strolled along the Seine like she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Of course.”
“What are you most excited about?” When he didn’t answer, I turned towards him and scowled at the smug cat-who-got-the-cream look on his face. What hope was there for me if even good guys like Noah were disgusting? “What about second most?”
“I’m looking forward to taking Grace to some fancy bakeries,” he said, his heart-shaped eyes finding her on the stage. She was standing at attention with her shoulders back like an obedient kid who longs to be elected hall monitor. “It will be fun to see how overloaded her senses get.”
“Just don’t elope or anything,” I said. “I can’t run the bakery without her.”
He laughed. “She’d never go for that anyway.”
The words tumbled out so casually it surprised me, as if the idea of eloping with her had crossed his mind.
“What’s your dating deal lately?” he said. “Grace told me you uninstalled Tinder.”
“I’m no longer dating offensively,” I said, not exactly thrilled at the prospect of discussing my flatlining love life with my bestie’s loved-up boyfriend.
He leaned away from me, looking visibly confused. “Does that mean you’re on defense?”
I nodded.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means my default position for dating right now is no thank you.”
He scoffed. “Let me know how that goes for you.”
“It’s going great, actually,” I said. “Never been happier.”
“Shame.”
I lifted a brow in his direction.
“My roommate is fiending for a nice girl like you.”
“I’m not a nice girl.”
“I was just saying that to be polite,” Noah said. “You’re perfect for each other.”
“I’m not interested in dating Colin.”
“Why not?” he asked. “He’s a great guy.”
“I’m sure he is, but you’re only trying to slough him off on me so you and Grace have more alone time.”
His guilty expression proved my accusation wasn’t completely unwarranted.
“Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to date a lonely child.”
“I think you mean only.”
I shot him a look. “I know what I said.”
“Harsh, Avery. Colin is a grown-up.”
“I know,” I said. “He told me as much… along with everyone else in shouting distance at his lake house last summer after nearly breaking his neck doing a keg stand.”
Noah’s lips crumpled in defeat. “So maybe he’s not the one.”
“I appreciate your interest in the cobwebs growing over my cold, defensive heart, but I’m mildly offended by your pathetic attempt to marry me off.”
“Take it as a compliment,” he said. “If I didn’t think you were cool, I wouldn’t try and set you up with my best friend.”
Damn. Right when I thought I’d finally caught Noah being a selfish jerk, he reveals himself to be the nice guy he plays on TV. Ugh.
“So what are you looking for?” he asked. “Since it’s not handsome dentists with sick lake houses?”
“Are you wearing a wire?” I asked, leaning away from him. “Is Colin here right now?” I pretended to look around even though I knew the demographic profile of this festival was far from his scene.
“I’m being serious.”
For the first time all weekend, I actually wished someone would grab the mic and say more about baked goods. “I want someone who needs me but isn’t needy.” It just came out and the truth of it shook me to my core.
“Wow.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m fucked.”
“I blame your parents.”
“Me too,” I joked, thinking it would lighten the mood. After all, Noah didn’t know that dating was a depressing subject for me lately. But deep down, I wondered if what I said was true. Was that what I wanted? Someone who wasn’t needy to need me? It sounded about right, and yet, it felt all wrong. Not to mention impossible. Why had I blurted that? Why couldn’t I keep my crazy to myself?
I was about to take it all back when the round judge with the helmet of mouse-brown curls took the mic and started shushing the jittery crowd in the noisy tent. Noah and I faced forward again, giving me a perfect opportunity to admire Oliver Harrington’s bone structure and… God, what I’d give to be a morsel melting on his sharp tongue.
Was he flirting with me the other day? It was hard to tell, especially after Noah pointed out that he probably wasn’t here out of the goodness of his heart. I’d hate to convince myself he wanted to get in my pants when his kindness was purely PR related.
I straightened up in my chair, pretending to be completely preoccupied by the Cake Café’s last chance to win a much-coveted Star Baker award, but my mind kept wandering toward the tall, dark, and devilish judge at the edge of the stage. I mean, hypothetically, if he did want to get in my pants, would I consider letting him in there?
I bet he was the one guy whose dirty talk wouldn’t make me laugh out loud.
Then again, I’d been doing such a good job respecting my unspoken vow to stop jumping into bed with jerks.
But that was the problem.
My attraction to him had absolutely nothing to do with respect. Not for him and certainly not for me. If I had my way, we could enthusiastically degrade each other in a delicious, no-strings-attached kind of way, and he’d never need to breathe a word to anyone about his visit to Avery’s Box Spring Café.
But my active imagination was a liability. Most likely, the guy played an asshole on TV because he truly was one. So no matter what happened when I called him—strictly on behalf of the needy kids at Hudson House—I would play it cool.
Like the cucumber I bet he was hiding in his pants.
No, Avery, Christ! Get a grip.
As I was saying, I would play it cool. Because I didn’t want to put myself in a situation where there was no question who was the cat and who was the mouse. And I could tell by the set of his jaw that that man would crush me under his big paw just for sport.
So I wasn’t even going to play the game.
I was going to be a good little barista, bake the breads I was told to bake, and not burn the bakery down.
And under no circumstance would I bring my box spring into this.