Brooke
Chapter
Twenty-Five
The festival for this weekend is in full swing, and the bakery is more popular than any other festival this season.
I glance across the bakery from the front door to Dutton, standing behind the register talking with Mrs. Buckley and Mrs. Vans. Whatever he’s saying to them has them both laughing. Mrs. Vans is even brave enough to reach out and grab his arms for a moment. It makes her blush, and it makes me laugh.
Who knew that redeeming his reputation and offering to help me out today so that I can simply just mingle and not use my hand would mean he’s the hit of the weekend?
Given the way this town has taken to him in the last month and a half, there’s no way his father won’t choose him to run the lodge.
I take a moment to look around the bakery.
Well, shit, this place is packed with women right now.
Dutton himself is like a walking advertisement as he steals another bite of the cookie he’s been eating.
I don’t normally just let my employees eat whatever they want on shift, but he’s not my employee and this isn’t your typical workday.
It’s a festival, and I want everyone to enjoy the day, so I’d set a plate of goodies on the back counter for employees to snack on.
I might start making it a regular thing for them.
“He’s basically a free advertisement for this place,” a soft voice says next to me. Wren is standing there, her long hair curled down her back. She’s wearing a cutoff top that exposes her entire stomach and a pair of leggings. It’s 100 percent something I would wear, and I love it.
“I should just have him eat breakfast out front once a week.”
Wren laughs. “He’d do it for you, if you ask him.”
I smile and sigh.
Yes, he would.
I’m learning very quickly that Dutton would do just about anything for me.
As if he knows his sister and I are speaking about him, he lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine. The sparkle in them leaves me blushing as I look away.
One look from him twists my insides in the best way, but not in a way that the public needs to witness.
“I’m happy that you two worked out whatever feud you had. I’ve been home for only a few days, but this might be my favorite version of my oldest brother.”
She rubs my back quickly and then walks out before I can think of a response. Maybe she didn’t need one.
I survey the inside of the bakery one more time, noting that everything is good, then move outside, where I've added tables for today.
The sun is bright, and the heat of the day feels good on my skin.
I step off the sidewalk to look at the front of the store.
Someday, I’ll replace the wood framing with a white and silver brick mix, and I’ll replace the single front door with a double one.
I’ll add bigger windows with flower trellises, and there will be tables that stay outside permanently, with lights strung from umbrella to umbrella.
My smile fades a little.
You know, the day when I can get a loan and this whole super shitty “Mom stole my identity” thing blows over.
I sigh. I just want to do the fun parts of the bakery stuff, not the office and business side. That part just brings me down.
“Books,” Dutton rushes outside. “What are you doing?”
Is something about to happen? I look side to side. I don’t see anything but the faces of those whose attention Dutton captured when he sprinted out the door.
“I’m daydreaming a little of what this place will look like one day. Do you need me inside?” I start to head inside, but he reaches a hand out, his palm flat to my belly as he pulls me close.
“No.” He lets out a breath. “I just didn't want you wandering around without me. There are a lot of people here today, and I …”
He doesn't have to finish that sentence. I can put it together.
I lift to my toes and press a kiss to his cheek.
“I won’t go anywhere without you today.”
He nods, his shoulders visibly relaxing.
Then he rubs the back of his neck. “Have you talked to your dad yet?”
Speaking of shitty parents, my father has been MIA since the whole Tony thing at the last festival. My texts to him go unanswered, and when those texts ask for updates on Tony, he tells me to call the station.
It hurts.
He’s my dad.
He’s the only family I have left here in this town, and now he’s slowly stepping away, too.
And each time I’ve called the station, there is no update on Tony either. Between Dutton punching him and learning my father is the sheriff, he clearly got the hint to leave town and not return.
Kimmy says that unless they find him or he’s arrested again, there is a high chance we will never see or hear from him again.
She told me that, oftentimes, people like Tony enjoy either the thrill or the stakes of stalking, and once their game is revealed, they stop.
I should always be aware of my surroundings, but I can breathe a little easier knowing the chances of me seeing or hearing from him again are extremely low.
That’s great, I guess.
Dutton gently reaches under my chin and forces me to look up and at him.
Right. He asked me a question.
I shake my head.
Instead of replying, he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.
“He’ll come around, Books. I can try to keep my distance in public if you think it might help.”
I pull back, keeping my hands on him. “No. I don’t want that.”
I'm not stupid. I know my dad is upset about me seeing Dutton, but this is crazy. To shut me out completely. It’s just wrong.
“I know, but I don’t want to be the reason he’s not speaking to you, and we both know I am.”
“And that right there is why my answer is still no.”
Like before, I push up to press my lips to his. The kiss lingers longer than the last as Dutton’s hands grip the hair on the back of my head and he slips his tongue inside of my mouth.
Someone whistles, and we pull apart.
Like most times when we kiss, I'd forgotten we aren't alone.
Dutton quickly kisses my forehead and disappears into the bakery. When I turn to clean off one of the tables that just became vacant, I glance up to see my father.
“Dad?” I say as if I’m not so sure he’s standing in front of me.
“You’re still seeing him?”
My heart sinks. That’s the first question he’s asked me in more than a week.
I nod. He clearly saw our kiss, and even if he didn’t, I wouldn't deny it.
“Goddamnit, Brooke. He punched a man right in front of you.”
“For me,” I add.
He turns to walk away, but I follow him.
“Dad, come on. You have to give him a chance.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” His steps grow faster.
“Are you really going to cut me off as your daughter until I break up with him?"
“Yes.”
I stop.
He really said yes.
He spins around to face me.
“He’s not good for you. I raised you better than this. That family is poisonous."
“You’ve never had a problem with Grace or Gavin or even Wren.”
I’m met with silence.
“Dad, he’s not the same person he was.”
He shakes his head, the disappointment in his eyes clear as day. “I’m not changing my mind.”
Then he storms off again toward the station.
“Dad,” I call out as he keeps walking. “Dad!”
He turns the corner, and I suck in a breath.
I’m about to break into tears, but the music from Hudson’s Bar grows louder.
There are too many people around right now, but that doesn't really matter to me.
I turn for the bakery, marching inside to find the one person I know will make me feel better.
He’s helping two little girls paint sugar cookies, but when he sees me, he stands.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
The two girls are happily drenching their cookies in sprinkles now.
“Nothing,” I say and join them. “Nothing.”
Because how can something be wrong when the one thing I’ve always wanted, someone to believe in me and believe in this place, is standing right in front of me?
Dutton Richford is everything I’ve been looking for.
I kneel next to him at the table, and he leans over to kiss my temple.
“Who thinks we should break the rules and decorate one more cookie each?” he asks.
I chuckle and the girls cheer.
Yes, he’s perfect.
And he’s mine.