Chapter 15 Violet #2
We make it through the morning rush, and there’s a lull in the flow of people coming in, giving us time for a little break.
I glance over at him, taking in the way he looks relaxed here. “You’re good with the customers,” I say.
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not Rhett, living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere because I don’t know how to talk to people.”
“No, I know,” I tell him. “It’s just… I don’t know. It must be hard to get to know people well with all the traveling you do, but you’re still good at small talk and everything.”
He shrugs. “Sure, but that’s surface level stuff.
It’s easy to chat with some old lady about what her grandkids want for Christmas.
And besides, being friendly with the customers gets you better tips.
” He points to the jar on the counter that is much fuller now than it usually is by this time of the morning.
“I get that, but still, don’t you miss the connection of sticking around sometimes? Getting to know people on a deeper level.”
He lifts one shoulder again. “I miss some people, the ones I already know I can trust,” he says, giving me a little smile.
“But other than that, it’s not as bad as you’d think.
Not getting close to people means I don’t have any expectations of them, and that means they can’t let me down. It’s just easier that way.”
There’s something in his voice that lets me know he’s speaking from experience. Someone has let him down, and probably pretty badly. With everything I’ve seen these last couple of days, I have to wonder if he’s talking about his brothers.
There’s so much there that I still don’t know about it, and it bothers me that it bothers all of them so much. I want to ask about it, but it seems like it would be rude to just start prying into something that’s clearly painful for all of them.
But still.
“I have an idea,” I tell him.
“Uh oh. Let’s hear it.”
“I feel like there’s a lot about you I don’t know these days. And I want to fix that. So why don’t we play a game of twenty questions.”
He raises an eyebrow and folds his arms. “I get to ask you things too?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Okay then. Deal.”
I grin, pleased with the success. “Okay, tell me about your travels.”
“That’s not a question,” he points out.
I stick my tongue out at him. “What’s the most interesting place you’ve ever been to?”
He takes a moment to think about it. “Interesting is a hard one to pin down. Like, there are all sorts of places overseas that are interesting because it’s a different culture and everything is so different from what I knew.
But I think the place that had the most impact on me was the Grand Canyon.
There was something about standing there, looking down into that big-ass hole in the ground that made me feel really small.
It was uncomfortable, but kind of profound in a way too? I don’t know how to explain it well.”
“No,” I say. “I think I understand. I feel that way when I look at the stars on a really clear night. Small but also lost in the wonder of it.”
He nods, giving me a little smile. “Yeah, exactly. And now it’s my turn. Why a bakery?”
I snort, gesturing to myself. “Isn’t it obvious?” It’s the sort of thing my mom would say, that I started the bakery because I can’t help myself around food, especially sweets. Sawyer doesn’t look like he’s satisfied with that answer, though.
“Be serious, Vi.”
I take a breath and nod. “I’ve always liked baking,” I explain.
“It’s always been soothing to me. I used to do it with my grandmother sometimes, and those were my favorite memories.
And then I realized that when you make someone something, something that takes time and effort and precision to make, you’re giving them a gift.
You’re showing them that they’re worth the time and effort you put into it.
I liked the idea of spreading that kind of good feeling to other people. ”
Sawyer looks at me for a long moment, and I start to feel self-conscious, like I said something weird. But he smiles at me a beat later.
“That’s a really nice way to look at it.
And I can tell from how your customers are that they’re happy to get the gifts you’re giving them.
Even if they have to pay for them.” He reaches over and ruffles my hair, startling a laugh out of me.
“I’m impressed, you know. I remember when you were just a kid, and now you’re a business owner. ”
“A small business owner. A struggling business owner.”
“Still, struggling means you’re not giving up.”
I blush a little, embarrassed but pleased by his praise. “Well, thanks. I’m doing my best. My turn?”
“Go for it.”
I shuffle through the questions in my head. “What’s the worst place you’ve ever been?”
“Music festival in the middle of the desert,” he answers immediately. “Too many people, most of them high or drunk or both, and port-a-potties as far as the eye can see. And as far as the nose can smell too.”
I make a face at the description. “That sounds gross, honestly. What made you want to go there?”
“Is that a second question?”
“No, it’s a follow up. That’s allowed.”
“Let me see the rule book.” He holds out a hand.
“You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Hm, I guess I can do that. I went because I’d never been before. It was one of those things my friends and I used to talk about doing when I was in high school, but it never happened for any number of reasons. I finally had the money and the time to do it, so I figured why the hell not, right?”
“Something to cross of the list, at least.”
“Exactly. One and done, and now I know I don’t like them.”
He asks me a question about the name of the bakery, and I tell him about how my grandmother used to hum the song Blackbird all the time when she baked, and how that’s always stuck with me.
“When I was looking for a name for this place, it just seemed to fit.”
There’s a smile on his face, a little wistful around the edges, and I wonder if he’s thinking about his own family. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I chicken out, going to a safer question.
“What made you want to start traveling?”
“I get itchy feet,” he says easily. “You know what I mean? Like if I stay in one place for too long, I get restless and just need to go somewhere.”
“I remember you were like that when we were younger,” I tell him. “You were always running around doing something. Being reckless. Like that time when you climbed the water tower in the dark.”
He smiles nostalgically. “I made it to the top too.”
“And broke your ankle on the way down.”
Sawyer flaps a hand, unconcerned. “It was worth it for the thrill of it. We had to make our own fun in a town this small. When I didn’t have anything tying me here anymore, it made sense to just start moving around. To see all the shit I was never going to see if I stayed here.”
I want to ask him why all his ties were severed, but it’s not my turn yet.
His next question to me is about my favorite treat that I make, and I grin as a timer goes off in the kitchen. “One second.”
I come back with a tray of peach turnovers, glistening and sweet. The crust is flaky and perfectly golden brown, sprinkled with turbinado sugar for a nice, sweet crunch.
“I love these things,” I tell him. “Most people make them with apples, but I think peaches just add the perfect amount of sweet and tart and juicy.”
Sawyer inhales deeply, a thoughtful look on his face. “This explains why you always smell so good. You smell like this.” He shoots me a smile. “I’m going to start calling you Peaches.”
My stomach flutters at the casual way he says that. “I thought you said you think nicknames are stupid.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “I do. Or I did, but since my brothers are going to come up with pet names for you, I should have one too. For the ruse and all.”
I nod, my heart beating a little bit faster as our eyes catch and hold. “Of course. For the ruse.”
It’s like time stops around us, freezing the moment. Sawyer’s gaze bores into mine, and my heart thumps so loudly that I’m almost sure he can hear it.
He takes a step closer to me, and my mouth goes suddenly dry with it. There’s so much tension all of a sudden, and it makes it hard to breathe. I don’t know what Sawyer’s next move will be, but I wait for it either way.
“You’ve got some…” He trails off, lifting a hand to brush at a smear of flour on my cheek.
His fingers are warm where they touch my skin, and he lingers for a lot longer than necessary to just wipe it away.
It makes my cheek tingle, and there’s the urge to press more into his hand, to deepen this moment.
I lick my lips, looking up at him, and he looks right back at me. His lips part, like he’s going to say something, and he leans in just the slightest bit.
Is he going to kiss me?
My heart slams against my ribcage. All at once I don’t know if I want him to or not, but I can’t get the idea out of my head. Should I lean in?
Before I can make a decision either way, the bell jingles above the door and a customer comes walking in.
Sawyer steps away, putting distance between us, and that throws a bucket of cold water on the moment. A feeling like disappointment fills me, quickly followed by embarrassment for getting too wrapped up in it.
Because of course, Sawyer doesn’t really want to be seen with me like that. Not so close in such a public place. We might have sold our families a lie, but none of them are here right now to perform for.
I take a breath and force a smile, turning to deal with the man standing by the counter. Once he has his order and is heading out the door, I tell Sawyer I’m taking a break and slip into the kitchen, needing a moment to myself.