by Susan Hatler
“Yeah, that’s too bad. Bernie always seemed like a nice guy. He okay?”
“Oh, yes.” I pushed the second tray into the display case. “He’s remarried, kicking back, and enjoying retirement. But Melinda couldn’t stand to let this place go or have it sold to someone who didn’t love it as much as she did. So she found a way to buy it. And, well, the rest is history as they say.”
“That’s cool,” Marcus said.
“Totally awesome,” I agreed, before heading back into the kitchen to grab more pastries. As I accepted the tray of blueberry scones from Melinda, guilt crept through me. I really needed to find a place to live. It felt sneaky staying here without her knowing, but I didn’t want to stress her out. It wasn’t lost on me that even as I was taking a chance on female friendships again, this time I was the friend keeping a secret—but staying at the bakery until I found a place wasn’t anything like hooking up with my friend’s boyfriend. Keeping my expression blank, I headed out front, reassuring myself I’d be moving out soon.
“Melinda’s pretty young to own her own business,” Marcus said, wiping the crumbs off the counters behind the glass case.
I nodded, thinking twenty-nine was definitely young to own her own business. But I knew she’d received an inheritance when her dad passed away. I also knew how much it meant to her that her dad had been part of her dream. She’d loved him with all of her heart. I had no idea what it would be like to have a dad who was so close to me.
I shuddered, deciding to pour myself a cup of coffee. “Yes, I really admire Melinda for following through with her dream. Not everyone does that, you know?”
“You will,” Marcus said. “Once you figure out what that is.”
“Thanks, Marcus.” I smiled at him again. I was pretty sure he had a crush on me, either that or he was being dramatic—he was a theater major after all—but I appreciated his loyalty. And I hoped he was right.
Just because I hadn’t yet done amazing things with my life didn’t mean I didn’t want to.
“Wow, look at the line outside,” he said.
Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was two minutes before six, which was opening time. I couldn’t say the long line surprised me. The bakery had major popularity here in East Sacramento. Some of the customers said they craved our brownies, some were addicted to our scones, and some claimed they needed rehab for the way they consumed our donuts.
I unlocked the door a minute early, which was a bad precedent to set. But I couldn’t help it. Today, I needed a pick-me-up. I loved our regulars and how dedicated they were. Loyalty was huge in my book. They helped me forget my housing problem and the fact that I’d just been dumped and that I didn’t care as much as I thought I should.
The next few hours passed in a blur as we served and stocked and poured coffee drinks. Melinda remained in the kitchen, continuing the next batches of baking—cupcakes, pies, cakes and, of course, more brownies.
My phone buzzed around nine o’clock, but the pace in the dining room hadn’t slowed enough to take a break. So, I ignored the call. An hour and a half later, the morning rush slowed. While Marcus took over the register, I began the mid-morning cleaning and my phone buzzed again. When I saw that it was Bill, the manager of the Founding Friendships building, I answered the call right away.
“Hey, Bill, what’s up? Jill left a message last night, but I haven’t had a chance to call her back,” I said, feeling a wave of uncertainty rush through my veins. The homeless outreach program meant a lot to me and I hoped nothing was wrong.
Bill sighed. “I have some bad news.”
Alarms sounded in my head like loud sirens.
“What is it?” I asked. My mind began spinning out worst-case scenarios—something I excelled at. Maybe there had been a fire in the building and the residents had to evacuate. Or maybe a water pipe had burst, causing a massive flood. I knew that despite how much Founding Friendships had grown in the last couple years, there wasn’t extra money for emergencies. I braced myself for his response.
“We just got news that a property developer might be buying the residence building. If that’s the case we’re going to have to ask for all hands on deck to help with moving and everything else that’s going to come with that,” Bill said, sounding like he’d aged decades since I’d last talked to him three days ago.
“I’ll help out in any way I can,” I said, stunned that a property developer could be so cold and heartless. Didn’t they realize those residents had been homeless not long ago? I had previous experience in that area and remembered the fear over survival that had gripped my heart. “Anything you need from me, Bill.”
“Thanks, Avery. I’ll be in touch,” Bill said, his voice choked up.
After we hung up, I dropped into a chair at the nearest table. How could this be happening? Founding Friendships had worked so hard to build their program. The residents were happy and making great strides toward independence. They were rebuilding their lives with those beautiful vegetable gardens and taking pride in their work. The thought of the gardens brought tears to my eyes. You couldn’t just move vegetable gardens.
The bell chimed above the door and new customers rushed in. Time to get back to work.
I pushed the panicky feelings deep down into my stomach and rose to my feet. Just as I hurried back behind the counter, I noticed a red Ferrari pull up to the curb out front and park there. A woman in front of me turned to stare and my gaze followed as a man stepped out of the flashy sports car.
The man’s dark hair swept across his forehead and sunglasses covered his eyes. As he shut the driver’s side door, a ripple of appreciation rushed through me at the way his t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, and how his jeans hugged his muscular thighs just right. Wowzers. The guy was definitely not hard to look at.
I continued to watch the man as he removed his sunglasses and slipped them around the back of his neck. Then he jogged across the sidewalk and held the bakery door open for an older woman with a cane who was approaching Bernie’s Bakery.
Little goosebumps prickled up and down my arms. Gorgeous and thoughtful. Quite the potent combination. I could barely tear my eyes away and almost walked smack into the display case. I shook my head. Get a grip, Avery.
I took my place at the counter as the man sauntered in behind the older woman. Marcus took the woman’s order as the guy came up to the counter, his gaze fixed on the brownies displayed beneath the glass.
“May I help you?” I asked.
“Yes, I . . .” He glanced up at me and paused as if he’d seen something shocking. I went through a rapid-fire mental checklist. Did I eat something that might’ve gotten stuck in my teeth? Was there a smear of chocolate on my chin? Icing in my hair?
Seconds later, his blue eyes glinted and his mouth curved into a sexy smile that sent zips of electricity to all my nerve endings.
“Would you like a brownie?” I asked, my voice coming out as a squeak. I cleared my throat, wanting to kick myself for sounding like some lovestruck girl. So the guy was hot. Whoopdee doo. I needed to take his order so he could move on. “If you have any questions, I can help you.”
“Great,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “What’s your name?”
“You need my name to order a pastry?” I raised a brow. Okay, that was a bit sarcastic. But my heart rate had kicked up a notch and I was determined not to let it show.
If he was annoyed by my sarcasm, there was no indication. “You have a great bakery here.”
“Oh, it’s not mine,” I said, waving my hand. “I’m just the manager.”
“I meant that you manage the place very well,” he said, his voice sincere. “Judging from the way the tables are filled mid-morning, I think it’s safe to assume that you manage the bakery extremely well.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “Well, thank you . . .”
“I’m Jason,” he said, extending his hand.
“Avery,” I said, shaking his hand, which felt warm
and firm and way too good in mine. My belly even did a little flip. He held onto my hand longer than necessary and the person who had come up behind him in line cleared his throat.
I pulled my hand back. “So, Jason, what can I get for you?”
“What do you recommend?” he asked, his gaze fixed on mine.
“Well, if you want my opinion? Try the brownies. They’re amazing.”
“Do you put a secret ingredient in them?” he asked, the corner of his mouth tipping up.
“If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you what it is,” I said, my tone teasing.
Wait, was I flirting? I didn’t flirt. And, hello? I was at work. So what if he opened a door for an old woman? I was practically giggling and twirling my hair.
Plus, more people had come in and the line was starting to back up. I glanced toward the door as the little bell tinkled again. Then I caught sight of his car on the curb and a memory sent a piercing sensation into my chest. The last guy I knew who drove a car like that only cared about what money could buy. Not that I could judge all men by my stepdad, but the comparison didn’t help.
“I hate to rush you,” I tipped my head in the direction of the growing number of people behind him, “but I kind of need to keep the line moving along.”
“I’ll order as soon as I get your phone number.” His tone was flirty.
“Wait—what?” I blinked, unable to believe he’d had the nerve to ask for my phone number all of two minutes after meeting me. I felt even more annoyed that I wanted to give it to him. When he still stood there, giving me a charming smile, I frowned. “This is awkward, Jason. But I’ll be direct. You aren’t my type,” I said, instantly wondering if maybe he could be my type for a few dates.
“I’ll have the brownie for now then,” he said, seemingly undaunted by my rejection. It couldn’t be because he was used to being rejected. Who in their right mind would reject him?
Which meant I was not, in fact, in my right mind.
I scooped a brownie out of the case with a pair of tongs and I could feel his gaze on me the entire time, making my belly warm. Not good. Not good at all. I placed the treat on a plate, so ready to move on from this flirtation that was way too distracting.
“Marcus will check you out at the register.” My face heated when I realized how that sounded. “I mean, Marcus will charge you for the brownie.”
Oh, wow. That sounded even worse. To glorify my embarrassment, the man behind Jason had the gall to chuckle. I gave the new guy a long, hard stare. Thanks a lot, dude.
“Great to meet you, Avery,” Jason said, giving me one last look that pretty much turned my brain to mush no matter how I fought to hide it.
“Uh-huh,” I said, turning to the next person in line, who happened to be the guy who’d laughed at my inability to form a coherent sentence. “May I help you?”
After Jason moved down the counter, I could breathe easier. I still couldn’t believe he’d just asked me out like that, or that I’d wanted to say yes. I mean, please. The last thing I needed in my life right now was a new man, especially one as cute as Jason, but those facts still couldn’t seem to stop me from thinking about him.
* * *
Even though the brief encounter with Jason still lingered in my mind, it was better that he’d left so I could focus on the business at hand. As I continued helping guests select their treats, my nerves became steady again and I began to feel the rhythm of my normal routine.
I helped an elderly lady select a pastry that wouldn’t stick to her dentures—she opted for a slice of soft lemon cake—and then my mind flew back to Bill’s phone call from earlier about Founding Friendships and the trouble the program was in. The words “property developer” kept circling my brain, stressing me out. The residents had been through enough problems and didn’t need to move because some rich person wanted to build another shopping mall, or whatever.
I handed three chocolate croissants to a woman with two children, and noticed the rush had finally lulled. I let Marcus take over while I wiped down the counter, pushing the crumbs into a neat pile before dumping them into the garbage. Then I glanced up to find someone staring at me from across the counter. Blue eyes. Dark hair. Sexy smile.
“You’re still here?” I blurted to Jason.
“Yep.” He approached the counter, the corners of his mouth curving upward. My pulse fluttered. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a small leather-bound notebook, and opened it. The paper was cream-colored, thick, and had to be expensive.
“How about giving me your number, so I can take you to dinner?” he asked, his voice radiating a confidence that made me wonder if he asked out women everywhere he went.
What irked me even more than his ridiculous confidence was how much I wanted to say yes. I really, super-duper did. But he was too flashy and way too forward, which wasn’t my type. I had to turn him down for my own emotional well-being. “No, sorry. I really can’t.”
Just then, I heard a gasp from behind me. I spun around as Melinda flew by me, her eyes wide. My heart stopped. Was she upset with me? Had she found evidence that I’d been living here? I knew I should’ve told her. . .
“Everything okay?” I asked, pretty sure my heart had stopped.
Instead of answering me, her face broke into a huge smile. “Jason!” she said, galloping to the other side of the counter and throwing her arms around the guy who had just asked me out. “Is that your car outside? What are you doing here? The wedding isn’t for two weeks.”
“Yes, congratulations,” he said, pulling her into such a tight hug that her feet lifted all the way off the ground. “I’m so happy for you and Nate.”
I watched them, totally confused. “You two know each other?”
Melinda nodded, releasing him. “Seriously, what a surprise!”
“I’m in town on business,” he said, slipping his notebook into his back pocket again. “But I figured a little extra time with my favorite cousin couldn’t hurt, right?”
My eyes bulged. Did he say cousin?
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled, turning to me. “Avery, have you met my baby cousin yet?”
“Baby cousin?” he said, his tone teasing. “I’m only three days younger than you.”
“You’ll always be a baby to me,” Melinda said, her voice as playful as his. They were clearly close and adored each other, which just felt . . . weird.
I mean, her cousin had just asked me out? Bizarre.
And yet part of me still wanted to say yes to him.
“Jason and I met.” I forced a smile, as my brain tried to reconcile that the handsome, almost arrogant guy with the sports car was the same guy grinning at my friend and boss.
“Let me freshen up and I’ll take you out to a full breakfast. Eggs. Hash browns. Bacon. The works.” When he gave Melinda a thumb’s up, she squeezed his arm before walking around the counter and heading toward the office. My stomach knotted. Had I left something else out besides my toothpaste? I hadn’t meant to leave anything out, but I felt bone-tired and my memory wasn’t in tip-top shape.
Two weeks spent sleeping on a lumpy couch could do that to a person.
Jason trailed after her. “Where’s your restroom?”
“There’s a customer restroom over there,” I said, gesturing toward the back end of the bakery.
“Jason is family. He can use the private restroom back here,” Melinda said, laughing as she practically skipped away. I’d never seen her this happy and suspected she was radiating on an engagement high.
“And she’s gone . . .” Jason turned to me, raising a brow. “Where can I wash my hands? You were right that the brownie was delicious, but you didn’t tell me it was sticky.”
The corners of my mouth twitched. “The private restroom is down the hall on the right.”
“Thanks.” He winked at me before heading off, and I had to wonder if they bottled and sold whatever it was about this guy that made him so appealing.
Melinda returned
a minute later, wearing a happy grin. “I’m so glad Jason’s in town. I love spending time with him. In some ways, he’s like the brother I never had. You should hang out with us, too. You’ll love Jason. Everyone does.”
“He seems great,” I said with a half-hearted smile, wondering if he’d tell her that he’d asked me out and I’d turned him down. If I had to guess, I’d say women didn’t turn him down often—no matter how well he took it when I did. Maybe I wasn’t worth getting upset over?
But if that were true then why did he insist on trying again?
Before I could say anything else, Marcus turned from the register and called Melinda over with a customer question he couldn’t answer. Her smile remained as she chatted away.
I loved watching her work and did so with admiration. She just seemed so happy to do what she did. In fact, I was so distracted that I barely noticed Jason come around the corner with something in his hand.
I gasped when I caught sight of what he was carrying. In his hands, Jason held my toothbrush and robe—and there was no way to mistake that robe as anyone else’s since my name was embroidered in fancy hot pink lettering on the front pocket. It had been a gift from a girls’ spa day I’d attended with Melinda and our friends Sarah and Mary Ann. Why-oh-why had we embroidered our names? Panic flooded my chest. I must’ve left my toothbrush and robe in the private restroom this morning. Stupid, stupid me. My gaze darted to Melinda to make sure she wasn’t seeing the objects he held.
Jason’s brows came together as he glanced down at the items and then at me again. My cheeks heated, going up in flames when I saw the concern register in his expression as he put two and two together and concluded that I was staying here.
I strode over to him. “Please don’t say anything to Melinda.”
His eyebrows rose. “Are you sleeping at the bakery?”
“Sort of . . . it’s a long story. I won’t be here long or anything.”
“Why don’t you tell Melinda? I’m sure she’d understand. Or offer to let you stay with her.”
