by Cat Johnson
Perfect.
That’s what this day—this weekend—was going to be.
I even had a surprise planned for Brandon. I had a delivery to make to the Otesaga today. I thought it would be fun if we drove over together this afternoon.
Corny, maybe, but I loved the idea of us revisiting the scene of our first meeting together.
Laurel was going to die when she saw us together.
Brandon and I, together. I sighed, feeling the flutter in my chest. I pressed a hand against the sensation. If this was what love felt like, this feeling of butterfly wings, I think I could be open to it.
Good thing too, because at this point, I wasn’t sure I had a choice in the matter. I was falling for Brandon Webster hard, whether I wanted to or not.
My good mood lasted through the early morning rush, through Adele’s arrival and through my getting home to make sure the house—and I—were in perfect order for Brandon’s arrival.
That’s when the whole day fell like honey bun crumbs on Old Buck’s favorite shirt, and all it took was one phone call.
That’s how I came to be slumped in the chair, leaning on the kitchen table, while battling my disappointment.
“I am so sorry,” he said in my ear.
“It’s all right,” I replied, holding the cell as I pouted.
What else could I say?
“If it was anyone else except the governor I’d just reschedule.”
“No. I understand. Really.”
“I know you do but I want to explain. We were supposed to meet Monday morning. I was planning on leaving for Albany straight from Mudville. But now he can’t do Monday and asked if I could meet today instead.”
Today being Saturday.
I couldn’t really complain about that though. I worked weekends at my bakery. Red worked weekends at her shop. All the Morgans worked weekends on the farm and at the farm market. Even Harper tried to write every single day, weekends and holidays included.
Since it being Saturday didn’t mean much for most everyone I knew, including, apparently, the governor, why was I so upset that Brandon had to take a meeting today instead of coming to see me?
Maybe because I figured his dressing in a fancy suit and sitting in a big city office like Christian Grey meant he could do whatever he wanted. Or at least have weekends off.
I guess my billionaire boss fantasies all came from fiction. They didn’t hold up in the real world. Work was work, and he had to go when it called.
“It’s fine,” I repeated.
“I’m just mad I got such a late start this morning otherwise I would have been there with you already. We could have at least had a few hours together before I’d have to leave for Albany. But I ended up staying late at the office with Josh after our meeting last night. So I woke up late this morning. I was getting on the road when the governor’s office called and asked if I could meet today at one. It makes sense to head straight there.”
“Of course, it does.”
“But I promise . . . I don’t know how long today’s meeting will take but I’ll be in Mudville before dinner time. Okay?”
“Okay—”
“Shit!” His exclamation had by heart stopping.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Brandon . . . Tell me.”
He let out a sigh. “I wasn’t paying attention and almost cut off a tractor trailer.”
My eyes flew wide. His being late to see me paled in comparison to him dying in a crash on the highway because he was talking to me. “Jeepers. Brandon Webster, you hang up this phone right this minute.”
“You’re on speakerphone. It’s hands-free. I’m not breaking the law.”
“I don’t care. You need to focus on the road before you crash. And don’t you call me again unless you’re safely parked. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I heard the smile in his voice but I was still upset he’d risk his life just to call me. “I’m hanging up now.”
“Okay. See you later.”
As disappointed as I was, that promise still had my heart fluttering. “See you later. Bye.”
He said goodbye and I disconnected the call before he ran off the road trying to do it first.
Plans changed and I had to change with them.
I had the rest of the morning and the afternoon to myself. First order of business should probably be changing out of these new underwear.
Holy cow were they uncomfortable.
Who thought lace was a good fabric for a thong? It was like sandpaper up my butt crack. These might end up being my underwear for sexy times only. Good for looking, but definitely not good for walking, or anything else for that matter.
After changing into a pair of comfortable but not too embarrassingly ugly plain cotton undies, I headed back to the bakery.
It looked like I’d be making the drive to the Otesaga alone. I couldn’t risk waiting for Brandon to arrive. They needed the order for tonight.
There went my romantic surprise. But maybe we could drive back there in the morning for Sunday brunch. That could be romantic too.
Adapt and overcome. It was a good motto. In war. In life. In love.
And, apparently, in Mudville as well. “What the heck?” As I pulled up in front of Honey Buns, I saw the line of people outside the diner.
They were waiting to get inside, which must mean every table was already full. And this was only the unofficial opening.
Feeling a little bit sick, I pushed through the door of Honey Buns and saw we had zero customers inside.
“Did you see the line for the diner?” Adele asked.
“I did.” I drew in a breath.
Brandon’s job stole his time from me. His diner stole my business.
I was rapidly losing ground on all fronts of my life, both personal and professional.
I’d been in this profession for long enough I’d figure it out. But in the boyfriend department I felt completely out of my element. I had no clue what to do about that.
I glanced at the line across the street again.
Ignoring the urge to vomit, I said, “I came to grab the Otesaga order but I’m thinking I’ll go across the street and ask Russ if he wants to increase this weekend’s delivery.”
“That’s a great idea,” Adele agreed.
I hoped so.
I drew in a breath. I could do this. We’d survive this.
Adapt and overcome.
THIRTY-TWO
Brandon
I walked out of the governor’s office and had the cell to my ear by the time I pushed through the door and into the warm Albany air on the Empire State Plaza.
“Holy fuck,” Josh answered the call without any generally approved social niceties. I couldn’t blame him.
I laughed as I agreed, “Holy fuck, is right.”
We’d gotten the contract. We’d be working directly with the governor and his reelection staff.
“This is going to take up a substantial amount of your time. And your plate is already filled with our current clients,” Josh reminded.
“I know.”
“You going to be okay with that?” he asked.
A month ago I wouldn’t have even questioned it.
Now—well the timing was poor but necessary. The November elections wouldn’t wait on my personal schedule. But elections also wouldn’t go on forever. And, though I hated to say it, it looked like our guy was within days of dropping out of the presidential race and conceding the nomination to the front runner, which would free up my time considerably.
Even so, it would be tough through November.
“I’ll make it work,” I promised.
The really good news was, a lot of my meetings would be in Albany, which was just an hour and a half from Mudville.
Having the excuse to see Bethany more made me happy, even if cancelling on her today had not.
“So please explain to me again how the governor knows you? Enough so that he’s de
manding you personally work on his campaign?” Josh asked.
I drew in a breath and let it out on a laugh. “Believe it or not, it’s from Mudville.”
He snorted. “I’m going to have to check this place out.”
“It’s all thanks to you. You forced me into taking that first weekend off when you took away my server access,” I reminded him.
“Yes, but what kept you going back there? Not me.”
“No. Not you,” I agreed.
“I somehow don’t believe it’s your newfound Mudville land baron status or your love of old as fuck buildings that has you taking days off to drive hours upstate every chance you get. So spill. Who is she?” he asked.
I smiled. Josh knew me too well. I should have known he’d guess. “She’s a baker who lives there.”
That didn’t even come close to describing Bethany. But to do her justice, to fully impart to Josh how amazing she was on so many levels, would take more time than I had. An hour and a half I’d be with her, which was far preferable to standing around talking about her to Josh.
“I’ll tell you all about her when I’m back in the office. Right now, I have to get on the road.”
“The road to Mudville?” he asked, humor in his voice. It sounded a bit like a good title for a campy Hollywood film, but he was right.
I smiled. “Exactly. Talk to you later.” Much later.
I disconnected and strode toward my Land Rover. Next stop, Mudville.
My excitement was tempered when, ninety minutes later, I slipped through the door of the bakery to surprise Bethany and found her assistant instead.
I approached the counter. Maybe she was at home, enjoying some much-deserved time off. I could surprise her there just as well as here.
“Hi. Do you happen to know where Bethany is?” I asked.
“I do.” She smiled at me with a knowing look that made me wonder what, if anything, she knew about Bethany and me. Then again, this was Mudville, home of the biggest gossip mill in New York State, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Could you maybe tell me where she is?” I asked.
“Sure. She’s at the Otesaga making a delivery.”
I smiled. That couldn’t have been more perfect.
“When did she leave?” I asked.
“Um, maybe an hour ago,” Adele told me.
“Okay, thanks.”
I had my phone out before I hit the street.
The number for the Otesaga was still in my call list from when I’d stayed there. I tapped the listing to connect the call.
When the main switchboard answered, I said, “Can you connect me with the bar, please?”
If I thought crossing my fingers would have helped, I would have done it as I held my breath through the ringing of the phone.
“Hello, this is Laurel.”
A smile spread across my face. “Laurel. This is Brandon Webster. We met a couple of months ago when I was staying there. I had dinner with Bethany.”
“Of course. I remember you.”
“Good. Great. Um, any chance Bethany is there with you right now?”
“Actually, she is.”
My heart raced as I glanced at the GPS built into the dash, already showing the Otesaga as one of my recent destinations. “This is a lot to ask, but do you think you could possibly keep her there for forty minutes or so until I get there? And not tell her I’m coming?”
“I think I can manage that,” Laurel said conspiratorially.
“Thanks. You’re the bee’s knees.” I smiled as I used Bethany’s expression.
“What a coincidence. That’s what we’re drinking.” She laughed. “See you soon.”
“Definitely.”
I might have to break a few speeding laws to get there but it would be worth it to see her face when I surprised her. It would be perfect.
THIRTY-THREE
Bethany
Laurel returned from answering the phone behind the bar. “Hey. Sorry.”
I waved away her concern. “Don’t be. You’re working. I’m the one sitting here distracting you.”
“It’s not like I’m all that busy.” She glanced around us.
Saturday afternoon when the weather was nice wasn’t a hot time for the bar crowd. Everyone was outside enjoying the lake or the golf course. There was a sum total of three women seated at a table by the window and they looked as if they were finishing up their mimosas and about to leave.
“Well, that’s good. I’d hate to think I was bothering you,” I said.
“You never bother me. I love when you visit. You don’t do it nearly enough.”
“I agree.” I ran a fingertip up the condensation on the champagne glass that contained the champagne version of Laurel’s reinvention of the Bee’s Knees cocktail and sighed.
“What’s going on with you?” Laurel asked. “You sound kind of down in the dumps.”
“I’m fine.” I shook my head.
I was happy Brandon was going to be here tonight, but I couldn’t shake the disappointment our time together this weekend was cut even shorter than it had already been. And, of course, I couldn’t shake the memory of that line at the diner.
She squinted at me. “All right. But I do know one thing that might cheer you up.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need cheering up.” But curiosity won out and I added, “But if I did, what did you have in mind?”
She grinned wide. “Stay right here.”
Sprinting toward the kitchen with more energy than I had, Laurel left me again.
That was okay. I was very happy with my drink for company. In fact, when I finished that one, I might let her make me another.
As it turned out, I did end up letting her pour me another, a few minutes later after she’d delivered a plate of pancakes to me.
“Is this for the brunch?” I asked as I stared at the pancake offerings on the plate in front of me.
“Nope. We’re adding breakfast-for-dinner to the regular menu.”
“Wow.” I ignored my newly filled glass in favor of picking up my fork as I decided which one to try first.
They all looked amazing. Apple-cinnamon. Triple berry. Bananas Foster. Each one of the three was arranged artfully on the plate, each with a different fruit inside and also a different sauce on top.
Identifying the flavors kept me occupied through the second drink. By the time I noticed she’d already poured me the third it was too late to stop her.
I eyed the glass. “You know, you get me drunk and not only won’t I be able to drive home, I’ll never be able to figure out that flavor in the triple berry.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to leave. Ever think of that?” she asked, before she continued. “Besides, it’s only champagne and it’s cut with orange juice so you’ll be fine. And the flavor in the berries in Chambord.”
“Aw. Spoiler alert!” I frowned at her ruining my game of name that ingredient.
She grinned. “Sorry. I thought you wanted to know.”
“I did.” Still, I pouted. Another sigh escaped me.
Laurel planted her hand on her hips. “Okay, I’ve done my best. Pancakes. Drinks. Now I demand you tell me why you look so down in the dumps.”
I pursed my lips together but the alcohol had made them too loose to control. “I’m kind of, I guess, dating—I think—that guy I had dinner with here.”
Her eyes widened. “Yeah? Do tell.”
I let out a short laugh. “Don’t get too excited.”
“Why not? He’s adorable. And nice. He seemed really into you that day. And he’s a really good tipper.”
I laughed. “He’s all those things but I’m afraid there’s no way this can work out.”
“Why not?”
“He lives in the city. And, more importantly, he works there. And it’s like a really demanding job. I mean how can I see us together for the long term when we’re separated by all that distance?”
“You visit him. He visits you. Simple.” She shrugged.
“I can’t leave Honey Buns for more than a day or two. And he gets called in for work emergencies on weekends all the time.” I remembered how he told me that was what happened the day after we met. And it had happened again today.
“You like him though, right?” Laurel asked.
“Yes. A lot.” The truth was I much more than liked him.
“Then you’ll figure it out.” She shrugged.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m afraid the distance and our jobs are going to be a problem.” And that made me afraid I was going to end up hurt. Badly.
“I don’t know. I’m pretty good at solving problems.” At the sound of Brandon’s voice behind me, I nearly fell off my barstool.
I flailed my arms as I tipped backwards, catching the edge of the bar with just my fingertips. Finally steady, though my heart was pounding, I turned to face him.
Making eye contact was harder than it should be thanks to my shame. He’d caught me talking about him to Laurel. Or complaining, was more accurate.
I hit rewind in my mind as I tried to remember the exact words I’d used. What he might have heard and how badly I should feel about it.
When I couldn’t remember, I just said, “Brandon, I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Come on. Let’s go sit and talk.”
Talking could be bad. He could be about to dump me. But he couldn’t if we weren’t alone. I looked to Laurel to save me.
All she did was slide my glass closer. “Don’t forget your drink.”
Brandon turned to her and said, “Thank you.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
He took my drink and my elbow and steered me toward a sofa near the window. Setting my drink down on the cocktail table he swept his hand toward the sofa. “Sit. Please.”
I swallowed and did as told.
My cheeks burned as I scrambled to talk before he did. “I’m being selfish. Of course you have to work. And so do I—”
“Shh.” He sat and took both of my hands in his. “You didn’t say anything I haven’t thought myself. My job being in the city does make things hard. And right now, because of the nature of my business, it’s more demanding than usual. But we can make it work.”
