10. Chapter 10
Gigi
The Fourth of July parade in Honeysuckle Ridge is exactly what you’d expect from a small mountain town. Crowded and chaotic but charming.
I’m standing on the sidewalk in front of my bakery, wearing red shorts and a white tank top sprinkled with tiny blue stars, holding a basket of sugar cookies to hand out to parade-goers. It’s barely nine a.m. and already hot enough to melt butter on the pavement.
“You look disgustingly patriotic,” Ella says, appearing beside me with two iced coffees. “Like a Fourth of July Pinterest board threw up on you.”
“Says the woman wearing a headband with sparklers on it.”
“It’s festive.” She adjusts the jiggling plastic sparklers with pride. “Joe bought it for me.”
“And where is your husband this morning?”
“Helping set up the—” she squints toward the staging area “—high school football team’s float with Phoenix. They’ve been here since seven. Joe says Phoenix is excited to be involved in the community.”
My cheeks heat—and it has nothing to do with the July sun. “That’s... nice.”
“Mmm.” Ella gives me a look that’s way too knowing. “So, want to tell me why you texted last night asking for Phoenix’s address?”
Busted.
“I made a cake. I needed his opinion on the flavor profile.”
“You showed up at his house with cake?”
I suddenly find the cookie basket very interesting. “Maybe.”
Ella squeals—actually squeals—and grabs my arm. “Oh my gosh, you like him! You really like him!”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss, glancing around. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You absolutely do. You have that same look you had in high school when you were crushing on Tommy Henderson.”
“I did not have a crush on Tommy Henderson.”
“You drew hearts around his name in your planner for three months.”
Fine. Maybe I did. But that was different. Tommy Henderson played guitar and wrote poetry. He was a high school dreamboat. Phoenix is... complicated.
“It doesn’t matter,” I mutter. “He’s only here temporarily. Once he figures out what he wants to do next, he’ll be gone.”
“Will he?” Ella asks, raising a brow. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like he might have already figured it out.”
Before I can ask what she means, the high school marching band kicks off with a spirited but deeply off-key rendition of “Stars and Stripes Forever,” and the parade begins.
Veterans lead the way, proud in their pressed uniforms despite the sweltering heat. Then comes the float with Joe and Phoenix riding on the back, waving like hometown royalty. Phoenix catches my eye, and his grin widens. My stomach flips.
Get a grip, Gigi.
“He’s waving at you,” Ella sings.
“He’s waving at everyone,” I mutter. “It’s a parade.”
“Nope. That was a targeted wave. Oh—now he’s pointing.”
Sure enough, he’s pointing right at me, wearing a grin that should come with a warning label. I give him a little wave back, trying to play it cool. I’m ninety-nine percent sure I fail.
Joe cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Save us some cookies, Gigi!”
Phoenix says something I can’t catch, but Joe throws back his head and cackles like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
“Those two are trouble,” I say.
“The best kind,” Ella agrees. “Ooh—here comes the Honeysuckle Ridge Garden Club float. I supplied the flowers.”
The next hour is a blur of floats, music, and red-white-and-blue overload.
I hand out cookies to sticky-fingered kids and sunburned adults, collecting compliments like a Girl Scout selling Thin Mints.
The librarian says my sugar cookies remind her of her grandmother’s.
The mayor’s wife asks if I cater. Even Mr. Hendricks from the hardware store mutters that my chocolate chip cookies are “not terrible.”
High praise.
By the time the final float passes—a slightly lopsided Liberty Bell courtesy of the drama club—I’m hot, sweaty, and completely out of baked goods.
“Successful morning?” Phoenix asks, appearing beside me looking entirely too put-together for someone who just spent an hour on a parade float.
“Very. How was your first Honeysuckle Ridge parade?”
“Educational,” he says. “I learned that Mrs. Patterson has very strong opinions about flag protocol, and that Joe has no shame when it comes to public enthusiasm.”
I laugh. “That’s Joe. All the success, still the same guy who loves a small-town parade.”
Phoenix leans in slightly, his voice low. “Thanks again for last night. The cake was incredible.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“I more than liked it.” His gaze lingers, and the air between us goes still.
“Gigi, I need to tell you something—”
“There you are!” Joe booms, striding toward us with Ella in tow. Both of them look suspiciously pleased with themselves.
“We’ve been looking for you two,” Ella says.
“Why?” I ask, though I already know I won’t like the answer.
“Because,” Ella chirps, “we thought you might want to watch the fireworks with us tonight. Up at Miller’s Hill.”
Joe grins. “Best view in town. And I promised Phoenix a look at the stars.”
Phoenix gives him a flat look. “I don’t remember asking about stargazing.”
“Really? Huh.” Joe’s grin widens. “Could’ve sworn. Either way—you’re both invited.”
I glance at Ella, who is vibrating with matchmaking energy. Joe’s not even pretending this isn’t a setup. Then I look at Phoenix, who just raises his brows, waiting.
“What do you think?” he asks. “Want to watch some fireworks?”
And even though every rational cell in my body is yelling bad idea, I hear myself say, “Sure. That sounds fun.”
Joe and Ella exchange a look of smug triumph.
This is either going to be the best Fourth of July I’ve ever had… or a complete disaster.
At least there’ll be fireworks.