Taryn rinsed off the paintbrush and placed it in a bucket. She stood in front of the part Garrett worked on yesterday. He’d not only added the supports but also drilled holes for the miniature white lights. With a stick of chalk, she drew outlines of leaves to paint in a lighter shade of green later.
As the sun cleared the horizon, birds sang.
Their song brought a smile and a rush of gratitude. Despite the competition from Summit Ridge, she had plenty to be thankful for.
She stared at the sky, full of hope. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
“It already is.”
Garrett’s voice startled her. She glanced over her shoulder.
He wore shorts and a T-shirt. Both were nice enough to be from a designer’s collection. Whisker stubble covered his face. The scruff gave him an edgier look. She shouldn’t find him so attractive, but…
Her heart thudded.
No, it bumped.
A little one.
Nothing major.
Friend. Friend. Friend.
With the mantra looping through her mind, she forced a smile. “Good morning.”
He came closer, moving with the grace of an athlete. Not that she was watching him that closely. She swallowed.
He studied the board. “You’ve accomplished a lot already.”
Taryn shrugged. “I’m trying to keep from having another late night.”
“Smart plan.”
She nodded, but something bugged her. She glanced at the time on her phone. “Didn’t you have a call?”
“It was postponed.” Garrett wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“Did you cancel?”
“I pushed it off, so I could help you.”
Her heart melted. Or perhaps appreciation for him gave her the warm fuzzies. “Thank you, but after last night, we’re ahead of schedule.”
“I want us to stay that way.”
Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
“If something important pops up, I’ll deal with it, but this wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait.” He walked to the trees she’d painted. “Now, I see what you meant.”
“I’ll be nice and not say I told you so,” she teased. “I made a coffee cake if you’re hungry.”
He grinned. “Excellent because I haven’t had breakfast.”
“There’s coffee in the pot, too. Give me a minute.”
“Keep drawing.” He headed to the house. “I can get it myself. Need anything?”
“Not right now.” The way he fit right in, making himself at home, should be weirder. It might be if they hadn’t spent those two weeks hanging out here in December. They’d held hands and kissed, but they hadn’t labeled themselves as friends or anything else.
But she preferred friends. That was…safer.
And she needed that.
Taryn returned to drawing leaves. After she finished the last one, she grabbed the can of light green paint and a smaller brush. Soon the leaves and vines took shape against the darker forest color.
A sharp sound split the silence.
Hammer against a nail.
She glanced over.
Garrett was adding two-by-ones to construct a frame around the sign. Sweat gleamed on his skin, and his face was flushed.
Staring, she lowered her paintbrush. “Did you eat?”
He nodded. “Loved the coffee cake. I’ll want another slice later. You were so focused on painting I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Taryn hadn’t heard him. “How did you know what to do next?”
“Your list. The frame was the next thing.”
Her heart swelled with gratitude. “Thanks.”
“Things are still in pieces, but once it’s all put together, the booth will look great.”
“It will.” It wouldn’t be precisely the same as the original, but that was okay now that she’d gotten over herself. They were doing the best they could under the circumstances, which was all they could do.
He wiped his forehead with his arm. “It’s getting hotter.”
No kidding. The guy was smokin’.
Would his whiskers scratch her fingertips or cheek?
Not that she would ever find out. “It’s almost lunchtime. Let’s have a sandwich and cool off inside.”
He brushed his hands against his shorts. “Second best offer I’ve had all day.”
“What was the first?”
“The coffee cake.”
With a grin, Taryn rinsed off her paintbrush and headed into the house. The cool air surrounded her.
A quick wash of her hands, while Garrett used the hall bathroom, and she prepared sandwiches and filled large glasses with ice cubes and tea.
As they ate, neither spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
She placed cookies on a small plate. “Here’s dessert.”
He took one and bit into it. “So good. Thanks to you, Margot, and Callie, I’ll have to hit the gym every day when I get home.”
“You’re burning off the calories working in the heat.”
Garrett winked before taking another cookie. “Then I need more.”
“That was easy.”
“It’s not a hard choice.”
He had a point. She took one. “Not bad.”
His eyebrows creased. “Didn’t you make them?”
“No idea,” she admitted. “They’re leftovers from the bakery. Employees take home goodie bags when stuff doesn’t sell.”
“Quite the perk.” He finished the second cookie. “Do you get two bags as the owner?”
“One like everyone else. My dad owns the bakery. I’m just an employee.”
Garrett studied her with an intense gaze. “Not just. You run the place.”
“For now.” She bit into her cookie.
Lines formed on his forehead. He leaned forward. “You never mentioned this before. What do you mean for now?”
Oops. Taryn hadn’t meant to say that. Nor did she want to discuss it. She wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“Taryn?” His voice sharpened.
The bakery’s ownership wasn’t a secret in town. But Taryn hadn’t told anyone, including Jayden, everything because she didn’t want to jinx herself and the bakery. Superstitious, maybe? She would rather be safe than sorry with so much at stake, but a part of her wanted to tell someone to keep it from bottling up inside her. Garrett wasn’t from around here. Plus, he was an attorney. Weren’t they good at keeping secrets?
Better find out.
“Between us?” she asked.
He nodded, coming even closer to her.
Her pulse sped up. But that was likely the situation, not him. At least she hoped so.
Taryn took a breath.
“My dad was thirty when his father signed over the bakery to him. He’d only managed it for a year. I’m thirty-two, and I’ve run ours without him for three years.”
“Why is he waiting?”
A bead of moisture dripped down her glass. She wiped it away with her fingertip. “He doesn’t believe I’m capable of running the bakery on my own. Even though he’s not there every day, he reviews the books and what I’m doing.”
Garrett’s lips pressed together. “You were doing fine in December. Has he told you why he feels this way?”
“Not really. Once I took over, profits increased each month until the Summit Ridge Bakery opened in March. At first, he said I wasn’t ready to be fully in charge, which I accepted. Now, he’s implied I’m not capable.”
“Making a profit says you are.”
The fact Garrett agreed with her made her sit taller. “I thought so, too, but there must be more to it than that. If I knew what, I could address or fix it.”
“His reason might have nothing to do with you.”
“I wish I believed that was the case.” Snippets from her conversations with her dad swirled in her brain with the force of a hurricane. She shuddered, wanting to shake those words off. “He hates the changes I’ve made, which is strange because he did t
he same thing after he took over from his dad. He put his own touch on Lawson’s, which is all I want to do, too. At its core, the bakery is the same as it’s been for the past fifty years, but I have remodeling plans and more menu ideas to implement. But now…”
“What?”
“He’s threatened to sell the bakery.”
Garrett’s eyes darkened before he sipped his iced tea. “Do you think your dad will?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been hoping he was joking or trying to stop me making changes, but before he left on his cruise, he said the Summit Ridge people might be better suited to run Lawson’s than me.”
Garrett’s lips parted. “What did you say?”
“Honestly?” Taryn half laughed, but that was only to hide the ache in her heart. “I was too stunned to reply. But what could I say? The bakery belongs to him. He’s free to do what he wants with it.”
“Yet, you’re killing yourself to create a winning booth for this weekend’s fair and must have spent hours building the new patio.” He rubbed his chin. “Why?”
“That’s part of running a business. I know I can make the bakery more profitable. But my dad hates the patio. He called it an enormous waste of time and money and scheduled a cruise to fall during the grand opening. But it’s the only thing bringing in sales right now. I hope to use the patio and winning the booth competition to turn things around before my parents get home. All I’ve ever wanted was to run Lawson’s Bakery, and I’ve worked my entire life to do that. I’m not giving up.”
“Don’t. Is there anything I can do?” His tone was warm and caring.
Flutters erupted in her stomach. “You’re doing plenty by helping with the booth, but thanks for asking.”
“Happy to help.” Garrett reached toward her before he pulled back his hand. “You’re the queen of organization and planning, but do you know what you’ll do if he sells the bakery?”
“I only know how to bake and run a bakery.” Saying the words left her feeling hollowed out, but she forced herself not to slouch. “I guess I’d try to get a job with whoever bought Lawson’s.”
“You’d want to do that?”
Her stomach tightened. “It makes the most sense, but the reality might be harder to live with.”
“Try impossible.”
He was probably right.
She drank, hoping to wash the dryness from her throat. “The other option is to start my own bakery, but a town the size of Silver Falls couldn’t support two with a third one a short drive away. I’ve prayed each night it won’t come to that.”
He stared over the lip of his glass, keeping the eye contact steady. “I hope it doesn’t.”
“I’m trying to stay positive about it and don’t want to spoil the fun today. At least I’ve had fun.”
“Me, too. We should get back out there.” He pushed away from the table. “Finishing isn’t only about winning the competition. This is for you, too. So you can show your dad he’s wrong.”
Joy and gratitude overflowed. He got it. Sure, she had Jayden, but that was at work. Here, now, she didn’t feel so all alone. Maybe with Garrett’s help, her run of bad luck was about to change.
She crossed her fingers. “T-thank you.”
Chapter Nine
The afternoon sun beat down. Garrett had drunk half a case of water today. Possibly more. A shower sounded like heaven, but he wasn’t leaving Taryn’s backyard. As he sat on a tarp, he held a box cutter in one hand and a pool noodle in the other.
“Looking good.” The front panel could easily be used on stage during A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but he also meant her.
“Thanks.” Taryn’s face was flushed. Her skin glowed from a layer of sweat. A streak of green paint was on her right cheek, and there were streaks on her hands and T-shirt, too.
He’d never seen her look more beautiful. But it was more than physical.
She pushed sweat-damp strands of hair off her face. “I’m almost finished.”
“Me, too.”
Taryn had impressed him in December with her dedication to the bakery. He’d assumed she was the owner. Not that he’d asked. But she hadn’t blown off her responsibilities to spend time with him, even if that would have made seeing her easier. But his respect shot even higher today, after learning what she’d been going through with her father and not giving up. If anything, she worked harder. The man had to be blind not to realize his daughter’s work ethic and loyalty to the bakery and him.
Garrett couldn’t imagine many kids—no matter what age—putting up with that kind of treatment from their fathers. He’d been there himself and hadn’t returned to his father’s law firm for another summer internship. That, however, was in his past. The situation with the bakery was Taryn’s present and future.
“There’s not much left to do,” he said. “What if we grab dinner while the pieces dry?”
“As long as I can shower first.” She held up her hands, palms facing him. “I have paint on my paint spots.”
“I could use one, too.” He tried to remember the restaurants in town. “Margot likes the Fall Café.”
“I like that place, but I’m in the mood for pizza.”
That wasn’t what he expected her to say, but if that was what she wanted, he would buy her pizza. “A pizza parlor or Italian restaurant?”
“There’s a place on Main Street called Luigi’s. It’s my favorite.”
“Are reservations required?”
Her grin brightened her face. “Only if you’re a baseball, softball, or soccer team. Luigi’s is your typical family pizza parlor with sticky tables you wipe yourself and pinball machines older than we are. But the food is to die for.”
“Got it. No reservations needed.”
She nodded. “If we hadn’t been outside all day, I’d suggest taking the food to the park for a picnic, but I’m ready for air-conditioning.”
“Me, too.” That gave Garrett an idea. “How about we save the picnic for another…time?” He’d almost said date but caught himself.
“Oh, yes. We should do that. I love picnics.”
“That’s how we’ll celebrate finishing the booth.”
“Perfect.” Her eyes twinkled. “I have a basket and a red-and-white-checked blanket.”
“I’m not surprised.”
Taryn held up her brush. “The setting is as important as the food.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
She started to say something before studying the board. “I have a few touch-ups to go.”
He sliced the length of the green pool noodle so it would fit around the tent’s legs. “This is done, so I’ll head to Margot’s. Meet you at Luigi’s in a half hour.”
“Whoever gets there first can grab a table. And so we don’t get into an argument there, this is my treat.”
He stiffened. “Dinner was my idea.”
“You’re helping me with the booth, so that’s that.” She returned to painting.
His entire body seemed to smile. Taryn Lawson was one of a kind. He didn’t know why a woman like her didn’t have a boyfriend or a husband. Brandt hadn’t lived in Silver Lake when he met Callie, but Garrett remembered his sister saying she had dated little after moving to town. That begged the question…
What was wrong with the single men in town when there were such amazing women to date?
In Taryn’s case, their loss was Garrett’s gain.
Friends, yes.
But he would make the most of it while he was in Silver Falls.
*
At Luigi’s, Garrett enjoyed the supreme combo pizza almost as much as Taryn’s company. His stomach was full, and his mouth hurt from all the smiling. He’d laughed more tonight than he had in weeks. They never ran out of topics to discuss, though neither of them mentioned the booth or the bakery. It was as if the calendar had rewound to December. Only people wore fewer clothes, and nothing was decorated with red and green.
“Do you come here a lot?” he asked.
�
��Not as much as when I was younger. Now, I order takeout and watch TV at home.” She patted the cardboard box filled with the leftovers. “I love having an extra meal for later.”
The place was as she’d described—a casual, friendly restaurant where reservations weren’t required. Booths with red vinyl seats lined the far wall, and they’d snagged one. Long tables with benches filled the rest of the place. No one appeared to mind sharing.
The only thing he’d change?
The noise level.
A soccer team of little girls, who called themselves the Silver Falls Angels, raced up and down the aisle, screeching and squealing about winning a game. Each had on the same blue and white uniform and matching socks. No halos, but several wore ponytails or headbands.
The volume hadn’t reached eardrum-shattering levels yet, but the night was young, and a baseball team had arrived five minutes ago. Guys belched and swore as if they’d entered a bar full of salty patrons, not a pizza parlor overflowing with kids.
Taryn laughed. “But who needs TV when entertainment and air-conditioning come with dinner here?”
He grinned. “Aren’t I entertaining enough?”
“Yes.” She winked. “I’ve tried but never been able to make a crust this good, so I like to figure out the secret. I asked Luigi to share the recipe, but he told me his mama would haunt him from her grave if he gave it to me.”
“You’ll have to make me a pizza so I can compare crusts.”
“After the fair.”
Yes! Another date. Except he’d better not say that aloud.
“Sounds good.” Garrett wasn’t only talking about the pizza. He enjoyed spending time with Taryn and wouldn’t mind watching her cook. But tonight, more painting and decorating were on the agenda. They should probably go, so they weren’t up too late again. “Are you ready to head home?”
“Let me finish my soda first.” As she took a sip, a toddler ran past, chased by an older child. “I wonder if Callie and Brandt will bring their children here.”
A Slice of Summer Page 8
