Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WILLOW
T he morning rush is finally slowing down, and the bakery smells like heaven—a mix of cinnamon, vanilla, and freshly brewed coffee. The last batch of croissants are cooling on the counter as June leans against it, sipping a latte I made for her.
“So,” she says, dragging out the word with a sly smile that tells me she’s about to dig for details. “How’s it going with Brock?”
I glance at the door to make sure we’re alone, then roll my eyes. “You already know how it’s going. You text me more about him than I do.”
“Not possible,” she says, waving me off. “But come on, I need updates. What’s he like? Is he sweet? Broody? Secretly a terrible kisser?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “He’s... sweet. Really sweet, actually. And definitely not a terrible kisser.”
June raises her eyebrows, intrigued. “Good to know. And what’s with the picture he posted last night? The one of you two at dinner, calling you his girlfriend. You’re officially Insta-official now, huh?”
My cheeks heat instantly. “He did what?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb. You saw it,” she teases, taking another sip of her latte. “He captioned it something like, ‘Dinner with my girl.’ It was disgustingly adorable.”
I bury my face in my hands, both flustered and... okay, maybe a little giddy. “I had no idea he posted that.”
“Well, he did,” June says, grinning. “And half the women in town are probably crying over it right now. You’ve got yourself quite the catch.”
I peek at her through my fingers, my heart doing an embarrassingly happy little flip. “I guess I kind of do.”
I laugh, shaking my head as I pipe frosting onto a tray of cupcakes. “He’s... amazing, June. Sweet, thoughtful, a little overprotective, but in a good way.”
“Overprotective?” she says, raising a brow. “Like how?”
“Like making sure I’ve eaten, worrying about how much sleep I’m getting, calling me baby in that deep voice of his...”
June claps a hand to her chest like she’s been personally attacked. “Baby? Oh my God, I love this for you.”
“Stop,” I say, laughing again, but my cheeks flush. “It’s just... it feels good, you know? Being with him. Like it’s easy, but still exciting.”
She leans forward, her expression softening. “I’m happy for you, Willow. You deserve this.”
“Thanks,” I say, my heart warming.
The bell above the door jingles, and I glance up, slipping back into my usual “welcome to Sweetly Yours” smile. But the sight of who’s standing there makes my stomach twist.
Tessa.
“Welcome in,” I say, my voice cautious as I set down the piping bag.
Tessa’s smile is wide and fake, her sharp blue eyes sweeping over the bakery like she’s cataloging every detail. She’s dressed in a sleek coat that looks more suited to a designer showroom than a small-town bakery, and her heels click against the floor as she walks up to the counter.
“These were so good, I had to come check it out,” she says, her tone dripping with exaggerated cheer.
I blink, trying to process her words. “Excuse me?”
“The desserts at Brock’s event,” she clarifies, gesturing vaguely. “I had one of those little strawberry cookies. Divine.”
Her compliment feels as fake as her smile, and something about the way she’s looking at me sets me on edge.
“Thanks,” I say slowly, trying to keep my tone neutral. “I’m glad you liked them.”
Tessa leans against the counter, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me. “So, you and Brock... you’re close?”
The question feels loaded, but I nod anyway. “We are.”
Her smile tightens, and she tilts her head. “He’s such a great guy. So thoughtful. Did you know he once drove two hours just to bring me soup when I was sick?”
My stomach twists, but I keep my expression calm. “That sounds like him,” I say evenly.
“Doesn’t it?” she says, her tone almost wistful. “We had such a... deep connection. It’s hard to find that, you know?”
June, who’s been quietly sipping her latte, sets her cup down with a little more force than necessary. “Willow, do you need me to grab something from the back?”
“No, I’m good,” I say, giving her a quick look.
Tessa’s gaze flickers to June, her smile turning icy. “Friend of yours?”
“Best friend,” June says, her tone sharp enough to cut.
Tessa hums, clearly unimpressed, and turns her attention back to me. “Well, I just wanted to stop by and see the place. It’s... quaint.”
“Thanks,” I say, my jaw tightening.
She straightens, brushing a strand of perfectly styled blonde hair behind her ear. “Maybe I’ll see you around. Tell Brock I said hi.” The she laughs, “Nevermind, I’ll just tell him myself.”
With that, she turns and walks out, her heels clicking against the floor until the door swings shut behind her.
As soon as she’s gone, June lets out a low whistle. “What the hell was that?”
I shake my head, trying to push down the knot of irritation and unease in my chest. “There’s something about her,” I mutter. “I don’t trust her.”
“Neither do I,” June says, narrowing her eyes at the door like she’s willing Tessa to walk back in so she can say something snarky. “She gives off major bad vibes.”
I nod, still gripping the edge of the counter. My mind replays the way Tessa spoke, how every word felt like it was meant to poke at something, to unsettle me. And it worked.
June tilts her head, studying me. “You should tell Brock.”
Her suggestion snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn to her, shaking my head quickly. “No. I’m not telling him.”
“What?” June asks, her brow furrowing. “Why not? He deserves to know she’s sniffing around.”
“Because I don’t want to make it a thing,” I say, my voice firmer than I expect. “Things are good between us right now, and I don’t want to ruin that. I don’t want him to think I’m... insecure or jealous.”
June arches a brow. “Willow, it’s not about jealousy. It’s about honesty. You don’t think he’d want to know that she came in here and tried to mess with your head?”
I hesitate, biting my lip. “I don’t know. Maybe. But what if he thinks I’m overreacting? What if it makes him feel like I don’t trust him?”
June lets out a groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re not overreacting. She’s clearly up to something. And trust isn’t the issue—it’s about protecting what you’ve got. Brock’s crazy about you, but that doesn’t mean Tessa won’t try to cause trouble. You need to get ahead of it.”
Her words hit home, but I still shake my head. “I just... I don’t want to stir up drama. Not right now.”
June sighs, her frustration evident, but she softens when she sees the worry in my eyes. “Alright,” she says, holding up her hands. “But if she pulls something else, you promise me you’ll tell him.”
I nod reluctantly. “I promise.”
June doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she doesn’t push it. “Just be careful, okay?”
“I will,” I say softly, but the knot in my stomach doesn’t ease.
As I turn back to the counter and busy myself with organizing trays, Tessa’s words echo in my mind: Tell Brock I said hi.
Something about her isn’t right, and I can’t shake the feeling that this won’t be the last time she tries to weasel her way into his life—or mine.