Chapter 25
DREW
It’s my parents’ bakery.
I’ll make it quick.
Inside is a whirlwind of families, children with powdered sugar, cream, and chocolate spread around their mouths.
It vaults me back to my childhood in here, hiding behind the counter and sneaking sweets until my mom found me.
Mom’s behind the counter, and she lights up when she sees me. It melts my heart a little bit.
Waving me around the back, I slip past the display case and give her a hug that has her swaying us side to side.
Nostalgia clogs my throat. Clearing it, I take a look around. “You’ve got some new items on the menu.”
“Oh, no. Just for today. It’s a special occasion.” Mom pins me to her side and gives me another squeeze. “You’ve done a great job with this. We’ve been busy nonstop since the tour started, which has made your father happy.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I think we’ll be able to afford that new oven after this.” Her grin is so big and genuine that I have to fight back tears, sharing her happiness with her.
She wanted me here during the holidays, but she hasn’t pressured me once to come back after Adam made me the job offer.
Dad will never be able to help himself. But I don’t see him.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Oh, putting in another round of gingerbread hazelnut tarts. We weren’t sure if they’d be popular, but they sold out by eleven if you can believe it.”
“One of your late-night creations?”
Mom’s delighted smile has me laughing. “Who else? Your father might have the technical skills, but the flavor is all your momma, and don’t you forget it.”
“I would never.”
We share another smile before she releases me to help get customer orders, and I get some waves and hellos from the people staying at the Lodge.
I boast about my mom, and my dad, and the hard work they’ve put in for this.
It’s nice to talk about the bakery with pride instead of resentment.
Maybe that means I am finally a full-fledged adult. It’s a nice change.
On my way out, I bump into a warm, broad chest and look up into Adam’s bright greens. His grin says it all. Caught you.
His arm comes around my waist in an instant, and I can’t help smiling up at him like a giddy teen. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Adam tucks loose strands of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering at the back of my jaw for a long moment.
Then his gaze lifts to the bakery. “How are your parents faring?”
“Good. Busy. Mom’s super excited by the turnout.”
“Good.” His attention returns to me. “And you’re finally enjoying the fruits of your labor?”
I snort. “Sometimes, you sound so old.”
He scoffs, but it doesn’t dim his good mood one bit. “Well, it’s good that’s your thing then. I was going to the Root Cellar. Join me?”
“Sure.”
Adam takes my hand in his and leads the way across the street to the farm-to-table restaurant—one of the new editions since I’ve been gone—and opens the door for me.
His touch never leaves me for more than a second.
The big, open space is full of diners eating full meals, but the bar is set up for the tour.
I can’t get over how much of a success this is turning out to be.
More than the people from the Lodge have driven in to try our local fare and prepare for the fun and games tonight.
Maybe this can be my real job someday.
If I’m able to make this a success.
Something that can sustain me full time.
The thoughts fade as Adam guides me to the spread.
Someone else I recognize from high school is standing behind the bar, Amy Green.
She’s got a pleasant smile plastered on her face. I haven’t seen her since she tried to pummel me with snowballs with her friends.
The ones Gabe saved me from.
And she must be thinking the same thing because she pointedly looks at where Adam’s arm is around my waist—a public claim that leaves no room for argument.
I sigh but put on my own polite smile.
“What have we got here?” Adam asks, and I’m glad he’s none the wiser. Or if he is, he’s good at ignoring the tension.
“First, we have a Fire Roasted Beet and Goat Cheese Crostini, drizzled with local honey and topped with microgreens sourced from the Wilsons’ farm.”
We both pick up the small piece of toast.
The crunch is perfection mixed with creamy cheese and firm beats.
I barely bite back a moan as I chew.
This time Amy’s smile turns a little more real. “Next is our Autumn Harvest Bites, roasted squash cubes with sage brown butter, apple chutney, and spiced pecans from Old Man Peters.”
This one is even better, flooding my mouth with saliva. I cover my mouth as I chew, delighted.
“And the last one is a Carrot-Ginger Soup Shooter, which we make all fall and winter long, always sourced locally.” It’s served in a shot glass, which is a great touch.
Shooting it back gives me a warm, silky vibrance that brings the rest of the flavors together.
“That’s a fine pairing,” Adam acknowledges.
I nod my agreement, not sure I can get out the complimentary words without any snark.
I’m still working on my reactions, and Amy does not bring the best out in me. I go with a simple, “Thank you, Amy.”
She bows her head and moves on to the next patron seeking a taste of our small town.
Before we can make it out the door to try something else, locals step up to shake Adam’s hand and congratulate him on the success of this event.
The way he gestures to me as the mastermind has me flip-flopping from pride and embarrassment.
It happens again as we reach the entrance, then again on the sidewalk.
People don’t pay me this kind of attention.
Not without Adam beside me.
His arm stays firmly around me, like he’s not afraid for others to know about us. It’s so different from what I’m used to.
Next, he steers me into the bookstore—one of my favorite spots in Pinebrook—and it’s just as I remember.
Stacks of books, the warm scent of leather and paper, and the well-polished counter where an old school metal register sits.
I love the way it clinks and chings when an order is wrung up.
As a teen, I spent all of my time here when I wasn’t at school, the bakery, or playing sports. Gabe used to bring me in the summers, and it kept me out of trouble when Gabe was away at college.
“Bringing back old memories?” Adam’s whisper in my ear has me spinning half toward him. His grin prods a smile out of me.
“Yes. This was one of my favorite places…” Before I left.
“Well, let’s have a look around and see what’s changed.”
“They don’t often open the connecting door to the antiques shop, even though they’re in the same family.” The Tate Sisters have owned both since I was a baby.
I like how it looks with the center doors open, they’re sliding doors, so it’s almost like the opening appeared out of nowhere.
A makeshift martini and wine bar is set up between them, and I make my way there.
The bookshop side isn’t as crowded as the antique side, and I can’t say I’m surprised or unhappy about that.
Antiques have never been that interesting to me. Leave me all the books.
I could never be a writer, but I’ve always loved to fall into other worlds. I blame my parents for that one, the same way I blame them for Gabe being my best friend.
We each order a drink, and Adam slips a twenty on the counter with a wink.
I don’t wait for him, perusing my favorite shelves, touching spines of new and old books intermingled together. Adam hovers behind me, and I enjoy the protected feeling that gives me. And our silent perusal is nice.
Once we make our round of the shelves, we slip into the antique shop, and I see a lot of familiar faces from the Lodge.
Adam’s touch lingers as he’s approached, but I leave him to his business talk to check in with people on the tour.
It feels good that everyone’s having a good time, so when Adam reappears with a kiss on my cheek, I don’t feel as exposed as I might have before.
“I’ve got to run. I’ll see you at the festival tonight?”
I nod and smile, surprised when he slips a hand to the back of my neck and plants a solid but PG kiss on my mouth.
His wink guarantees I’m blushing before I make my own escape.
After floating alone amongst the vacationers, I check on the progress for the Christmas festival, which will open in a couple of hours. It’s been coming together all week and will span the weekend.
I didn’t have to do much for planning it. It’s already a tradition, but I did help bring in a few more games for the families and kids.
I might have also upped the decorations and made the layout more efficient.
The town gave me some push back, but when I explained it to Greyson, he explained it to everyone else—he’s been in charge of the physical set up, the real logistics—and now, it looks so good.
Better than I remember it. I hope everyone ends up liking it.
Gabe finds me as I watch Alice Wardorf tinkering under her privacy sheet, wondering what the reveal is going to be like.
He takes up my hand in both of his and brushes his touch over my knuckles, the back of my hand, my wrist, looking at me with this new layer of truth between us.
I’ve seen him naked. Tasted him. Felt him between my thighs.
It’s new, but it’s still Gabe.
Still, the small touches have become much more intense.
“You here to check up on me?” My teasing has its intended effect. The corner of his mouth quirks up.
“Helping Greyson.”
“Which means helping the town set up their booths and tents.”
He nods, and I laugh.
“Your favorite thing.” Which is funny. His job is people forward, even though he’s the silent but stable type.
“I like being useful.” Those golden eyes twinkle at me before he kisses my hand and purses his lips. “Mrs. Wilson is struggling with her bags. I better go help.”
I watch him go because it’s a perfectly Gabe thing to do.
After the festival starts, I let myself relax and enjoy it, fixing problems as they come but not worrying over them.
And I actually get to have some fun.
I don’t hear the whispers anymore.
So maybe this has finally passed.
Maybe, this is it. Maybe, I can really come home again.
“Drew Bennett?” A pretty thirty-something blonde approaches. The way she’s dressed reminds me of the city. And her face is familiar…
Oh shit. Every one of my muscles seizes. I’m frozen in place.
“Remember me? You had an affair with my husband.”