Be polite, you asshole. “You could come with us, if you want?”
His eyes lit up. “Sounds great.”
The rest of the contestants filtered through the community center and into Vin’s hallway, and before she knew it, nineteen other people surrounded Mila, all fidgeting nervously as they awaited the final results.
Within minutes, the results were in.
“Okay, everybody,” Vin said. “We’re going to bring you all in at once. Go ahead and stand in one line across the front of the room, and when the judges call your name, please step forward.”
With renewed anxiety, Mila followed the group into the main room. Her chest fluttered and her stomach gurgled. Too much Coke, not enough food.
Oh well. There’d be plenty of time for consolation eating after her name wasn’t called.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the mayor said after they’d all stopped in their designated place. “Thank you again for joining us. We know the Spring Festival is going to be a weekend to remember here in Pine Ridge, and the Indigo Hotels–sponsored bake-off will be the ultimate cherry on the sundae! Pun intended.”
The room let out a polite laugh, and Mila saw Nicole’s eyes roll from all the way in the back of the room.
“Now,” Mayor Sweeney said. “I’ll announce the ten finalists who will compete in the final bake-off in three weeks’ time. Good luck to all of you.”
Mila clasped her hands behind her in an effort to remain calm and appear poised, while she felt anything but. Her teeth clenched, and her knees buckled. Every ounce of energy went into standing upright and presenting a collected front.
“Our first finalist is . . . Mila Bailey!”
The room tilted in front of her, and she stepped forward on wobbly legs. She inhaled sharply as the space boomed with applause, and the loudest voice, shouting over everyone, was Jared’s.
He bounced up and down in the back of the room, and she wondered, for one hazy moment, if the idiot had brought a trampoline. She bit her lip to contain her laughter, and when Sam shoved Jared, momentarily pausing his elation, a single chuckle escaped her lips.
The other nine finalists—Sidecar Kim included—stepped forward and accepted the adulation of the crowd. The mayor asked everyone to wait for a moment to receive additional information on the dinner that weekend at Indigo Hotels Adirondack Park, and by the time he handed out thick black folders filled with paperwork and pamphlets, the room around Mila spun like she’d just stepped off the Tilt-A-Whirl.
She grabbed her coat and purse from the waiting room and made her way to the back of the community center, where scraps of pies, cakes, cookies, and breads sat discarded on empty platters, and her friends congregated in one big, buzzy group.
“Lee Lee!” Nicole shrieked, lunging and squeezing her in a swinging hug. “You talented bitch! I knew you could do it!”
Mila’s face heated, her skin on fire from her chest to her hairline, and the sensation cascaded through her limbs and out through her feet. Surrounding townspeople migrated toward the group, and some turned to her with expectant smiles. The attention, the praise, the eyes on her. She wished for an invisibility cloak or Alex Mack’s turn-into-a-silver-puddle thing.
Get me the hell out of here.
“Hey, let’s clear out. They probably want to start cleaning all this shit up.” Jared tucked his warm, strong hand into hers, and just like that, they slipped through the crowd like eels.
The cold air slapped her face as they stepped outside, and just as quickly, Jared draped her coat around her shoulders. She looked up, lips parted, momentarily stunned.
“Thank you,” she said.
He grinned. “You had a solid twenty minutes of gushing ahead of you. Figured you’d rather be dead.”
Every inch of her prickled, the goose bumps coating her skin like armor. God, Chloe was lucky. Lucky to have been cared for by Jared, to have been seen by him. To have been chosen.
And yet, she remembered them together. Biting remarks and sarcastic comments that often devolved into petty arguments and dramatic exits. She’d heard his guy friends grunting and joking about their wild sex life, but Jared had never mentioned it in front of Mila. Thank God.
Jared treated her with a kindness she’d never seen him employ with anyone else, save for a rare moment with his mother before she passed. Mila wondered if she was special.
Yeah, special like a sister.
“You still want to go eat?” Jared asked. His gaze had softened while she mulled over her best friend’s ex, and now he looked at her with pinched brows.
“Yeah,” she said. “Seems like it might be okay to celebrate just a little bit. Right?”
His lips parted, his teeth gleaming in the early-afternoon sunlight. “Yes, Mila. It’s okay to celebrate.”
Nicole, Sam, Sydney, and the rest of their group swarmed around her, and the whole team descended on Utz’s, demanding trays of nachos and something Nicole called “Lee Lee lemon drops.”
“Trust me,” Nicole said, peeling away her coat and settling into a chair at Utz’s biggest table. “Two Lee Lee lemon drops, and you’ll be dancing on the tables.”
“Nobody’s dancing on the tables without me.” The booming voice, the heavy footfall, the wide grins from those facing the door. Even without turning, Mila knew her father had walked in.
“Dad!” She bounded up from her chair, and his arms pulled her into a tight hug before she even caught a glimpse of his face. Cold air clung to his New York State Electric and Gas standard-issue nylon coat, the scent of pine and spring enveloping her as she buried herself in his chest.
“I am so sorry I missed the announcement.” He released her to remove his coat, and the face that looked down beamed with happiness. “I’m so freaking proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks hurt from the effort of keeping them neutral, the smile she wanted to give him straining at her mouth. But she had to be cool. Don’t jump the gun. Nothing to properly celebrate yet.
“Hey, Mr. Bailey!” Jared reached across the table to clap Lloyd’s hand between his own. “So glad you made it. Nicole said you might have to work.”
Mila’s father held tightly to Jared’s hands as if in solemn prayer. When Lloyd Bailey looked at you, he really looked at you. The warm eyes, the kind smile, the unwavering eye contact. She’d once heard Edith O’Hare call him a “Paul Newman type.”
“I didn’t think I’d be able to get my shift covered,” Lloyd said, “but at zero hour, a friend of mine called and said he could take it. I’m just sorry I didn’t get to taste the . . . what was it? Rosemary maple syrup Concord grape monstrosity?”
Mila bit her lip, suppressing a smile. “It was not a monstrosity, thank you very much.”
“It was insanely delicious, in fact. The judges went completely nuts.” Vin appeared at her side, and Mila rolled her eyes at the overindulgent compliment.
Sweeter than a Little Debbie oatmeal pie, and just as fake.
She wished Vin hadn’t tagged along. He didn’t fit into the warm, supportive circle around her.
“You want a beer?” Vin asked.
“This girl needs champagne!” Nicole bellowed.
From across the bar, Hank the bartender chuckled. “I don’t have champagne, girl. I got the champagne of beers. Will that do it for ya?”
“Ugh, this town,” Nicole said. “Fine, Hank. Just bring us a round of lemon drops, will you? We’re calling them Lee Lee lemon drops today. In honor of my best friend.”
Mila laughed, raising an eyebrow at Nicole. Since their phone call she’d been laying it on thicker than buttercream. But at least she was trying.
“I’m not drinking a lemon drop,” Sam grumbled.
Sydney pinched his earlobe. “You will if it’s to celebrate Mila.”
Sam shook his head, the matching grins spreading across their faces as th
ey stared at each other with googly eyes. Mila softened, the tension in her shoulders melting away. She wanted what they had. Simple love, pure love. Love that flourished without fanfare. Love that just seemed to happen.
Her attention drifted to where Vin chatted with Calvin. Love was certainly not in the cards for them, much less an all-consuming, world-changing love. She couldn’t force herself into spending time with Vin, no matter how logical it seemed that she should go out on a date with the new, single guy in town. She’d have to tell him soon. Having him around—especially with Jared in the room—felt like wearing an itchy wool sweater two sizes too small.
“Hey.” As Jared’s hand brushed hers, she nearly leaped out of her skin.
An audible yelp escaped her throat, and his lips screwed up.
“Ya all right, weirdo?” he asked.
“You scared me.” Her heart beat against her rib cage, reminding her that that was a reaction. That was worth getting out of bed for.
Or into bed for.
She cleared her throat, wishing she’d had that lemon drop already.
“Listen, are you into this guy?” Jared thumbed subtly over his shoulder to where Vin still talked to Calvin, whose brow pinched in what seemed to be agitation. “You don’t look super comfortable around him.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not uncomfortable around him.”
Lies lies lies.
His forehead wrinkled. “Why would you go out with somebody you’re not into?”
“I’m not.” She licked her lips. “Going out with him, I mean. Our one date was lackluster, so I’m not gonna do it again.”
His gaze deepened, the intensity of his eyes seeping into her skin like hot, melted butter. She had so much more to say to him: that she’d rather spend time with him than anybody else; that she itched to cross the friendship line; that all he had to do was say the word and they could find out together what else was out there for them. What greatness they were meant for.
“I support that,” Jared said.
She tucked her arms across the chest of her purple power sweater. Except she didn’t feel so powerful right now. She licked her lips. “Glad you approve.”
He paused, staring her down for another moment, something much more than his lukewarm sentiment playing across his face. But the moment passed as quickly as it began. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and forced a tight grin.
“I’m really proud of you,” he said.
“Don’t start.” She rolled her eyes, despite the warmth spreading across her chest. She didn’t want gushing praise from her family, but the tiniest bit of it from Jared made her year.
“All right,” he said, holding his hands up in front of him. “I won’t say how incredible you are or how delicious that weird pie was or how you basically blew every other dish out of the water. I’ll just be cool and say, ‘Good job.’ ”
Would he go on? She loved the praise, and all at once, her mother’s cynical voice sounded in her head, telling her she was jinxing the whole thing.
“Thanks for holding back,” she joked.
“Get a little hammered today, all right?” he said. “You deserve it.”
Hank delivered the shots, and after everyone—including Sam—had downed theirs, another round appeared, and the group moved past the bright wishes of congratulations and into easy conversation.
Mila glanced around the big round table at the faces she’d known most of her life and the new additions who fit right in. When her gaze landed on Vin, something sour stirred in her gut. He didn’t fit. Not here, not in Pine Ridge, and not in her life.
“That kid’s a clown,” Lloyd said.
Mila nearly choked on a sip of hard cider as her father slid into the chair next to her.
“Jared? I know, he always has been.”
“No,” Lloyd said. He leaned back in the chair, testing the integrity of the wood with his generous frame. He draped a long arm over the back of her chair and sipped his beer. “That kid.”
Mila followed the line of his raised eyebrows until she landed on Vin, who leaned much too close to Nicole and gestured with angry hands. Nicole’s disinterested stare and closed-off body language would steer most people toward giving up on the conversation, but Vin rambled on.
“You went out with him?” Lloyd asked.
Mila’s skin prickled, and she ran a hand over her arm as if to chase away the goose bumps. “Yeah. Once. Not many young, single guys pass through here, you know? I figured I should at least give him a shot. He’s not terrible. He just doesn’t do it for me.”
Lloyd’s eyes glittered, his trademark smile spreading across his face. Mila could see clear back to his molars when he smiled like that. He always seemed a little lighter when her mother wasn’t around. More himself.
“What?” she said. “Don’t give me that look.”
“I’m not looking any way.” He laughed. “I could’ve told you from ten feet away that’s not your kind of guy.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s my kind of guy?”
“Eh, you don’t want to hear about that from me.”
She shook her head. Just like him. Tease an opinion and then pull it back. A mouse in lion’s clothing. “Dad, sometimes I think you still look at me like a little girl.”
“Lee Lee, sometimes you act like a little girl.”
She turned to face him straight on. He took a long drink from his pint and faked an innocent expression.
“You want to man up and explain that one to me?” she said.
“Oh really now?” The smile still tugged at his lips. “Man up? Are you getting tough with me?”
She’d confronted Nicole. Could she confront her father, too? All the nerves in her body buzzed, telling her to cut the conversation short.
“Maybe you’re the one who needs to man up.” He tugged on a strand of her curly hair, and with the release, sent it bouncing against her cheek. “Don’t shuffle meekly through life like I did, all right?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Shuffle meekly through life?”
“You heard what I said.”
Maybe they were finally getting to the meat of it. She inched her chair closer. “Is that how you see yourself?”
He shrugged, the smile all but fading as he gazed around the table. Confidence and ease oozed from his limbs. “You’re the quiet one, Lee. Like me. Your sisters were always so independent. It’s how eldest kids usually are. But you were the baby, and you got saddled with a lot. Especially when it came to Georgie.”
Tension wound through her scalp, tightening around her temples and threatening a mind-numbing headache. “I didn’t get saddled with anything,” she said. “I helped out.”
“That was more than helping out.” He ran a hand over his mouth, his weathered, handsome face growing somber. “You’ve been the rock for a lot of people. Still are. But we don’t need you the way we used to.”
“Oh, you don’t, do you?” She nudged his solid arm with her elbow and coaxed half a grin from his lips.
“Listen,” her father said. “Maybe you don’t want my advice. What do I know anyway? I haven’t done everything right.”
“Dad.” Mila’s voice filled with warmth. She recognized her father’s flaws, but his virtues stood out just as clearly. His humility, his kindness, his generosity. Every resident of Pine Ridge would describe him exactly the same way.
“I’m not looking for pity,” he said. “I just want you to know that I let things pass me by. I had a lot of responsibilities when I was a kid, too, and I never stopped feeling responsible. For my parents, then for your mother and you and your sisters, and then for Aunt Georgie. I don’t want you to let your sense of responsibility give you an excuse to back away from the things that you want. You hear me?”
A trickle of fear descended in her chest. “Are you talking about something specific? Beca
use Aunt Georgie already forced me into this bake-off. I’m not letting that pass me by, no matter how much I’d like to.”
“Georgie always got her way, didn’t she? One way or the other.” Lloyd laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m not talking about the bake-off. Although that’s a step in the right direction.”
“Well, what, then? Quit speaking in code.”
A shrill, prolonged squeak created by wood on wood punctuated the room as Jared stood up from the table and walked over to Mila and Lloyd, a quiet smile on his lips and an empty pint glass in his hand. He clapped his free hand on Lloyd’s shoulder.
“You owe me eighteen holes, old man. As soon as the snow melts, it’s on.”
“You cheat,” Lloyd said. “I’m not playing with you.”
“Cheat?” Jared’s voice jumped an octave. “Nice try. First your shoes don’t fit properly, now I’m cheating? Every excuse in the book.”
Lloyd clapped a hand to his chest, the full smile lighting his face up again. “All right, all right. I’ll give you another shot. And this time I’m breaking in my shoes before we play.”
Jared grinned and squeezed Lloyd’s shoulder before resting his eyes on Mila. His face shifted, his shoulders lowered. Every inch of air space in the room filled with tension.
“You guys need anything?” he asked.
Mila’s throat suddenly closed up. She shook her head.
“I’ve gotta head out after this one,” Lloyd said. “But thank you, Jared.”
She watched him walk to the bar, and by the time she turned back to her father, the old man had resumed his glittery-eyed stare.
“What now, Dad?”
“You know what, Lee Lee.” Lloyd swallowed the last of his pint and stood up, looming over his daughter. “Don’t let the good stuff pass you by.”
chapter ten
Mila tucked the cordless phone between her jaw and her shoulder and continued stirring the batter. Like she had time to make banana bread on top of everything else. But Dad requested it, and so she baked.
“Everybody else has turned me down.” Mila groaned, hoping her desperate tone would convince Nicole to accompany her to dinner.
Sweet Love Page 12
