Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Elodie
The bakery is closed, but I’m sitting with Campbell in one of the booths, poring over ideas for a Christmas showcase she wants to throw for local crafters and vendors.
She brought it up at the baby shower last week, and I told her to swing by today.
When I close on Sundays, it’s time for my cleaning and baking frenzy for the week.
“Since the street fair cross-promo was such a hit,” she says, looking over my numbers from the event, “I could talk to them about doing it again. Or do you want me to wait until after the Taste of Springs event?”
There’s a lot I want to talk to Foster House about doing again. Mostly, there’s one man I want to do something with one more time—a lot more times—and it involves his tongue and that hard body. “I can reach out.”
“That would be to me.” She smiles.
I lift a brow. “You work for them? What about your family’s guest ranch?”
“I’m there too, but all the events are smaller scale than what I’ve done in the past—not as time-consuming. A lot of the wedding parties who’ve booked with us have their own planners, so I coordinate with them.” She props her elbows on the table. “Go ahead. Make me earn my wages.”
I snort. “I bet Durban does that.” Horrified, my eyes fly open. “I’m sorry—”
She’s too busy laughing to see how mortified I am. “Oh my gosh, Elodie, I’ve missed you.”
“What do you mean?”
She sobers. “Sorry, it’s just that you’ve been so subdued lately. Just, you know, different than when we were growing up.”
“You were always getting in my business.” She’s Clem’s age, and I’m a little older than Jamison.
“And you didn’t put up with it. Clem and I thought you were so cool.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“You are, and I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she says in a singsong voice. “Cruz kept trying to talk you up at the baby shower.”
“We’re just friends.” I duck my head and study the numbers in front of me.
What else can I talk about besides a tall man with a crooked smile who makes my insides melt?
Cruz did chat with me, but there were so many people there that we kept getting interrupted.
Campbell’s dad talked with all the Foster House owners like it was his job.
The man always had a gift for gab, and when he used to run across my dad at the farm supply store, we’d be stuck for an hour while they caught up in the middle of the aisle.
I haven’t gotten to visit that much with Mrs. Hawthorne, or Avery and Thea, because I’m always working.
I had a lot of fun at the shower, and I’m glad Clem and I could split the time helping our parents.
I’m also glad I had a chance to tell her that things had gone nowhere with Cruz, mostly.
I told her about running out on him. Not about the kiss with a friend I very much do not have friendly thoughts about.
The bakery saved me once from my mess of a personal life. It can do that again. “Actually, can I hire you for something that’s not quite an event but will take some coordinating?”
I told Cruz I didn’t have the money to pay Campbell, but I also need the cash this venture will bring in. I made July’s payment, but August is approaching. Dwayne and Damon won’t give up, and I know that making one payment only cemented me into a vicious cycle of blackmail.
I need Taste of Springs to be a success, and I need to figure out the fundraising. Then I’ll extract myself from my ex and his brother. Again.
Campbell’s eyes light up. “What can I do for you?”
I outline my fundraiser plan, and she’s vibrating by the time I’m done.
“That’s such a good idea.” Her grin is wide. “Everyone wants to support local and get a good product when they do. Do you have the pricing and how much in sales you can handle?”
“That’s the hard part.” I’d be fitting cookie dough prep into every spare minute of the day. “I’ll come up with some numbers, but it’ll be limited, and I need to be done before November when holiday orders surge.”
“Can you hire more people?” When I wince, she puts her hand on mine. “You realize you get the money first from the orders? So if you need to hire someone just temporarily, you’ll have the money up front.”
I slowly let out the breath I started holding at the thought of bringing on more people. “Really?”
She nods. “My professor for the marketing class I took used to complain about fundraisers all the time. He’d rant about how they were asking too much money and not offering much quality for a product.
Makes the sale harder.” She waves her hand like she’s afraid of getting too far off topic.
“Regardless, you can just hire a couple of people to help package and box, whatever. You have plenty of people who want to see you and this place succeed.”
My chest grows tight. I was cheered on so hard when I moved home to open the bakery. On my first day, I ran out of food. For the entire first week, I sold out. It took me forever to figure out how much to prepare because the whole town supported me. I’m a local girl, come home to make good.
If they found out I bought this place with money that wasn’t directly mine—but should’ve been—they’d all lose faith in me. I was too close to Dwayne when he stole from others, and worse, I knew about some of it. If that got out, I’d lose my precious business and distress my parents.
Campbell adopts a secretive smile. “I know one man who’ll be the first in line to roll his sleeves up.”
“Sleeves up, pants off?” I snort-chuckle, but my blood starts to heat. Cruz is a nice distraction from my problems, but he deserves more than that. He deserves a woman without a seedy ex who somehow still fucks with her life from prison.
“I won’t tell the health inspector.” She covers her mouth like she’s hiding what she’s saying but we’re the only ones here. “The tasting room has seen some action. But we clean up after ourselves.”
“Oh my god, TMI.” My laughter spills out like a dam broke.
“It’s not TMI, but more of a . . . recommendation.” She winks.
I laugh harder, but the flush of heat returns. I recommend sitting on the counter in the back with my legs wrapped around Cruz too. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
When did I last have this kind of girl talk? I instinctively kept Dwayne away from my parents and Clem. I missed out on family time and girl talk. I’ve pushed Cruz away more than once. Dwayne took so much more from me than I thought.
Maybe it’s time to get that back.
Campbell’s expression turns calculating, but her smile remains in place. “I think Cruz is working the tasting room tonight.”
Cruz
The last customer left ten minutes ago, and I have most of the closing duties done. I leave the door unlocked while I’m in the storeroom. If anyone comes in, I can still talk to them, but I can’t serve them.
I grab a new bottle of our juneberry vodka and the newest whiskey that Haven bottled. Durban’s our flavor profile mastermind, but the rest of us still throw out ideas too and make batches. The rye whiskey is cask strength for extra bite, and it’s a popular sampler.
Whistling to myself, I start back. The bell above the bar tinkles.
“Hey there,” I call. “We’re closed, but—” I stop dead at the end of the hall.
Elodie’s standing just inside the door, looking as skittish as a newborn foal that’s found its legs.
She’s in her usual bakery garb of loose shirt and baggy pants with her hair in a messy bun.
A dark tendril curls around the base of her neck, and I’d like to trace the path with my tongue.
“Hi,” she says, like she’s practiced this a million times and thinks she got it wrong at the last second.
“Hey.” I set the bottles down behind the bar. “Come on in.”
“I know you’re closed.” She takes a few hesitant steps, sucks in a breath, then weaves through the tables. “But I won’t be long.”
That won’t do at all. “You have to stay for a taste now that you’re here.”
“No, I couldn’t. I still have some cinnamon rolls to prep for a funeral tomorrow.” She stops by a stool at the bar counter. “It’s also my breakfast prep. I cook some sausage links so I can chew those cold while I chow down on a roll. It’s about the only noncarb I have these days.”
“Breakfast of champions.” I cross to the door and throw the dead bolt. Whatever Elodie came here for, I’m not letting anyone interrupt. When I return, I pat the seat of the stool closest to her. “Take a seat. Just a quick taste. It won’t do more than coat your tongue.”
“I don’t want to make more work for you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” I grab a tasting glass for her and open the bottle of Haven’s whiskey. I splash enough whiskey in to cover the bottom. “Haven named this Haven’s Rye because he wanted to see his name on a label.”
She smiles. “I can’t blame him.”
“We have to stay away from using the Hennessy last name so no one confuses our products with the cognac.”
“Better safe than sorry.” I don’t have to give her any directions.
She swirls the glass, lifting it to her nose.
Her eyelids flutter closed when she inhales.
“I almost smell the caramel I make for cupcake filling. Mmm . . .” That sound goes right to my dick.
“It’s spicy, but also sweet.” She takes a sip and rolls it around.
“Yes. I can taste it all. Ooh, smoky. I like that.” She opens her eyes and I’m captured in her thoughtful gaze.
The brown of her hazel eyes matches the drink in her glass.
“It’ll go well with a fruity confection.
Peaches. Cherry? No, I’ve got it. With a plain poppy seed batter—no almond extract.
Nothing but smoky caramel and poppy seeds. ”
“This bottle is yours.”
She blinks. “No, I can’t.”
“You can, and you’re going to make me those muffins. What are you going to call them?” I ask before she can reject my idea.
She studies the label. “Poppy seed cruisers.”
My grin spreads wide and my manly pride surges. “Cruisers has Cruz in it.”
“I know.”
“You’d name them after me when it’s Haven’s name on the bottle?”