Sweet Love

by Lauren Accardo

  “Thanks for coming all this way,” Mr. Romano said. He shook Jared’s hand in a tight grip and motioned to the door.

  “My pleasure,” Jared said.

  “You’ll hear from us soon. Jenny will walk you out.”

  Mr. Romano’s assistant, Jenny, ushered Jared out of the office and chatted amiably about all that Raleigh had to offer: mild winters, beautiful summers, professional sports, and a thriving craft beer scene. By the time he shook Jenny’s hand and found his car in the parking lot, he felt full to bursting with shiny nuggets about the City of Oaks. Jenny wasn’t the only one effusive with praise for Raleigh; everyone from the hotel concierge to the barista at the Starbucks he’d stopped at that morning touted the city’s myriad highlights.

  The appeal slid off his shoulders like butter on Teflon. Raleigh didn’t have Mila.

  He’d originally taken the interview so that he wouldn’t have a single regret, but after her speech in the barn, he’d kept it because he needed to know deep down in his heart that he wanted her above all else. He needed to be able to look her in the eye and honestly say, I don’t want anything as much as I want you. She could argue with a lot of things, but she couldn’t argue with the cold, hard truth.

  If he was honest with himself, though, he’d also kept the interview because he had an old debt to pay. If his mother had ever been right about anything, it was to give himself the opportunity for more. He needed to know he hadn’t stayed in Pine Ridge to continue old family patterns but because it was the best path for him.

  He’d tried to explain that to Mila, but she’d refused. For all the difficulties she’d had to circumvent in her own life, he’d have thought she would have given him the space he requested.

  When she said no, defiance flared up inside him. He took the interview for a lot of reasons. Maybe they weren’t all the right ones.

  As he pulled onto the highway, the voice mail icon popped up on his phone, and he hit the button to play it. Denny’s surfer dude voice blared through his car’s speakers as Jared’s car hit sixty miles per hour.

  “What’s up,” Denny said. “Gimme a call when you get this. I’ve got a question for you. Do you even check your voice mail? I never check mine. I’ll call again later.”

  Jared chuckled. The guy had been a welcome addition to the Pine Ridge crew, especially considering Sam’s impending nuptials. Next there would be kids, and he’d see his brother less than ever. He liked having Denny around to grab a beer or hit the gym with. Maybe Denny would hang out in town for a while after the contest ended. It’d be cool to have a new friend.

  That is, if Jared stayed. He cleared his throat and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Even his subconscious pushed him toward Pine Ridge.

  Miles passed and hours fell away. Jared crept passed Virginia, DC, and Pennsylvania, and by the time he reached the New York border, he’d settled into something resembling calm. His phone rang somewhere around Binghamton, a caller with a 984 area code.

  “Hello, this is Jared Kirkland.”

  “Jared.” Mr. Romano’s deep Southern drawl cut through the car as Jared navigated the dark, desolate thruway. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

  “No, sir,” Jared said. “Just about home, actually.”

  “Good. Jared, we’d like to offer you the position. I could play it coy like we’re interviewing a bunch of other prospects, but ‘coy’ is not really in my vocabulary. I think you’d be great on the team, and we want you to start as soon as possible, so I’m calling you now and emailing the offer as we speak. I wouldn’t normally hire someone at your level of experience, but you’re very bright, and I just got a real good feeling from you. I like to trust my gut, and my gut’s telling me you’d be a real asset to the team covering Bailey County.”

  A chill spread across Jared’s skin, prickling the back of his neck as if a ghost had materialized in the passenger seat. “What was that?”

  “Bailey County, Texas,” Mr. Romano said. “It’s the area we’re looking at for our next development. You’d be based here in Raleigh but traveling frequently to West Texas.”

  Jared’s mouth turned to dust. He’d never believed much in signs or omens, but this one was impossible to ignore. The name pierced his brain like a shot of adrenaline. Whatever calm he’d gained on the open road disappeared with her name.

  He ran his tongue over his lower lip. It should’ve been the offer to end all offers. His dream scenario. Leaving Pine Ridge, making twice the money in a company rife with perks, and setting out on a path to success of his own making. Independent. Free.

  But with one name, one single word, his decision became clear. New York, North Carolina, Texas. He’d never escape her.

  He didn’t want to.

  “Thank you so much, sir,” Jared said. “Once I’m off the road, I’ll check my email and take a look at the offer, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Of course. Take a good look at it and let me know if you have any questions.”

  Jared ended the call and turned his eyes back to the road. He checked his texts, just to see if anything had come through while he’d been on the phone.

  Nothing.

  He tried to tell himself Mila was probably prepping for the bake-off tomorrow. Maybe she was already in bed. Visions of her long legs danced in his mind. Her soft, freckled skin brushing against his as she dreamed, her lips parted in a world beyond her conscious mind.

  He ached to be back there. To be with her. Where he always should’ve been in the first place.

  * * *

  * * *

  You look gorgeous.” Nicole wrapped loving arms around Mila’s shoulders and squeezed. Caryl and Lloyd looked on, timid smiles on both their faces. The parental support she’d long sought, embracing her on all sides. A rare but divine moment in the Bailey family.

  Indigo Hotels Adirondack Park’s sweeping ballroom hummed with anticipation, eager contestants and their friends and families surrounded by the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked pastries, breads, and cakes. Weak but welcome sunshine filtered in through the soaring windows, which featured a glittering view of the lake beyond.

  Mila’s throat clogged as she imagined working here. Would she fit in? Indigo would be hard pressed to find another pastry apprentice who’d work harder than she would.

  She’d gone to great lengths getting herself ready today. Curled lashes, raspberry lipstick, shimmering blush on the apples of her cheeks. The balmy spring weather afforded her an opportunity to wear a peach-flowered dress that skimmed her ankles and hugged her ribs with a dip at the cleavage.

  Today might be her moment. Today might change everything. She had to be ready for anything.

  For anyone.

  Nicole pulled back, biting her lip to tamp down her smile.

  “Quit hanging on her,” Caryl scolded. “She’s probably nervous enough as it is.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes but gave Mila a few inches of space. Truth was, Mila craved touch. Her bones begged for it. But it wasn’t Nicole’s hands she needed now.

  Where was he? She knew he’d show up. She’d heard rumors he’d gone to North Carolina for an interview. The thought of him driving toward his future, thousands of miles away from her, turned her stomach inside out. But then she imagined his smile. Driving away from her but toward a successful existence outside Pine Ridge. Outside the town that had always held him back.

  “There she is!” Sydney’s voice carried over Mila’s shoulder, and Mila turned in time for Sydney’s tight embrace to knock her backward. “Good luck today, Mila. We’re all pulling for you.”

  Mila grinned at her as she pulled away and Sam joined. Her friends. Her family. What more could she ask for?

  A pang of loneliness hit her square in the ribs. What else? Just everything.

  “He’s on his way.” Sam’s eyes glittered, but he wouldn’t go so far as a smil
e.

  “He better be.”

  The group all turned surprised looks on Mila. She summoned every last shred of courage she possessed, dug deep down past her ribs, into the depths of scary places she hadn’t dared to touch since that night in the hotel. Since Aunt Georgie gave her a shot. Since everything changed.

  She wouldn’t shrink down anymore. Jared owed her something. If she knew him as well as she thought she did, he’d deliver.

  “Mila?” Vin interrupted her protective bubble, and her parents stepped aside to let him through. “They’re ready to start.”

  The cavernous ballroom grew three sizes as she separated from her safe little world and followed Vin to the front, where the bake-off contestants waited on risers. She filled her lungs with cool, cinnamon-scented air, forced it out again, and put one foot in front of the other as Vin’s broad shoulders led the way.

  A strong, warm hand gripped her elbow. She turned sharply, her face open and expectant.

  Jared.

  The crowd around her slowed and stilled until it was nothing but an oil painting, background for the scene playing out between them. His eyes widened and blinked, his lips parted in a moment of hesitation. A soft, light blue button-down shirt hung open at his neck, exposing a stretch of lightly tanned skin at his clavicle that she had the sudden desire to run her tongue across.

  “Just wanted to wish you good luck.” His hand slid from her elbow to her hand, and with one reassuring squeeze, she was safe.

  Her brain froze. She heard herself say, “It’s a bacon pie.”

  His lips curled into a grin. “Bold.”

  She swallowed her fears and forced her spine straighter. “I’ll see you after?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  She traced her thumb across his palm before reluctantly dropping his hand and hurrying to the front of the ballroom. Whatever had happened between them, wherever they stood now, he’d showed up for her. Just like he always had.

  Mila climbed onto the risers and stood next to Sidecar Kim. The tiny redhead flashed Mila her widest smile, sending a flutter through Mila’s stomach.

  Mila steeled herself, scanning the eager face of each finalist. Whatever happened, it wouldn’t break her. She wouldn’t let it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” Mayor Sweeney’s voice boomed through the ballroom, a shrill moment of feedback silencing the crowd. “Whoopsie, sorry about that.”

  The hundreds of people crammed into the space looked forward, each shining face eager for the results and the announcement that would kick off an evening of celebration. Mila heard her own heart beating, her blood racing through her veins like it had somewhere to be.

  As Vin joined the mayor onstage to welcome everyone to the big event, Mila’s gaze drifted to where Jared stood, next to the massive stone fireplace in the middle of the room, alone, hands casually slipped in the pockets of his slim-fitting black pants.

  Her mouth dried up. His eyebrows lowered, but they didn’t dim the fire in his eyes. He watched her intensely, the beam of his gaze lighting her up with otherworldly promise, as if everything ahead of them could be communicated through his stare.

  “And now.” Mayor Sweeney’s voice cut through her fantasy. “Without further ado, our top three finalists for this year’s Pine Ridge Spring Bake-Off!”

  Mila clasped her hands behind her back to stop the trembling. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, that everything she could possibly gain from this competition she’d already won. The money would be nice. But that apprenticeship. God, she wanted that apprenticeship. Going back to the diner to wipe down counters and pour coffee seemed like the ultimate insult after all this.

  “In third place, Kim Plotzky from Buffalo, New York, with her cranberry pretzel bread!”

  Polite applause tittered through the crowd, with a big boisterous redheaded group in the back of the room making up for the lack of rowdiness. Kim pressed her red-painted lips together, waved toward the group in the back, and accepted a purple prize ribbon from Mayor Sweeney.

  Mila bit down on her lower lip, physically willing her hand away from her mouth. She’d never wanted to chew her thumbnail so badly.

  She met Jared’s gaze again. This time a smile played on his lips, and he winked. A tidal wave of emotion rolled through her, buckling her knees and testing her balance.

  “In second place,” Mayor Sweeney said. He checked his cards. “Mila Bailey from our own Pine Ridge, New York, with her caramel apple bacon pie!”

  For one brief moment, everything stopped. Every sound muffled, from the low murmurs of the crowd to the crackle and pop of the fireplace, as if someone had put a bag over her head.

  She blinked once.

  Twice.

  Her eyelids closed and opened in slow motion, and she pressed her lips into a smile.

  “Congratulations, Mila.” Mayor Sweeney shook her hand, his mouth smiling but his eyes creased in disappointment. It would have been good for the town, too, if she’d won. And now . . .

  She took the red ribbon and, in a haze of confusion, joined Kim.

  Arthur Allen, grandpa of the group, took first place with his savory barbecue pork bread, and before Mila could center herself, the entire competition ended as abruptly as it began. Arthur Allen posed for photographs with the judges, the contestants returned to their respective groups, and Mila stood still among the chaos, wishing she could be anywhere but here.

  Jared approached first, leading her to a vacant corner of the ballroom with his eyebrows raised in subtle concern.

  “You okay?” he said.

  She swallowed down her disappointment. How could she be honest with this person she needed more than anything, who knew her better than anyone, but who didn’t want to commit? His strong hands held her arms, demanding her attention and tugging sadness from deep in her chest.

  “Um, yeah,” she said. “Disappointed. But I’ll be okay.”

  “You want to run away? Get in my car and disappear for a while before you have to face everyone?”

  A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “No. I have to talk to them sometime, right?”

  He sniffed, his gaze settling on her mouth. “Second place, Lee. Maybe you didn’t win the whole shebang, but you finally did it. You nailed a bacon pie. Caramel apple bacon pie. And that’s a personal victory if I ever saw one.”

  A genuine smile finally found her. “Ever the optimist, huh?”

  “Not always.” Seriousness settled over his brow. “Listen, I know maybe this isn’t the time, but . . .”

  “Mila?”

  Mila turned over her shoulder to find Chef Constance, looking as polished as she’d ever seen the woman, in a crisp white button-down shirt and a sharp tweed blazer. Chef Constance glanced from Jared to Mila and back again.

  “Hello,” she said. “Chef Constance Hathaway.”

  “Jared Kirkland,” he said. “You guys made a huge mistake.”

  Mila’s heart hiccupped in her chest. “Jared!”

  His lips stretched into a winning smile. Chef Constance matched it.

  “Let’s just say not all the judges were on the same page.” She dropped Jared’s hand and turned her attention back to Mila. “Do you have a moment?”

  Jared touched Mila’s wrist, the simple brush of his skin on hers sending sparks up her arm. “I’ll wait for you in the back.”

  I’ll wait for you. She tamped down the hope blooming in her chest and watched him weave through the crowded ballroom toward her friends and family.

  “I’m sorry the contest didn’t go your way, Mila,” Chef Constance said.

  Mila shook her head, her curls dancing around her face. “Please don’t be sorry. Arthur is so talented. And that pork bread was bizarre and delicious. He deserved to win.”

  “You’re gonna have to work on that Pollyanna attitude if you’re going to work in my kitche
n.”

  Blood whooshed in Mila’s ears. “What’s that?”

  Chef Constance raised one expertly arched eyebrow. “You’re very talented, Mila. I think you’ll get along very well with our pastry chef, Alonso, but you have to toughen up. Can you do that? Spend the next couple of weeks boxing or taking karate or something, so by the time May rolls around you can come to work with us as a pastry apprentice at Indigo Hotels Adirondack Park.”

  Mila’s mouth fell open, her already wobbly composure threatening to break. “You’re serious.”

  “Very serious,” Chef Constance said. “The kitchen is no place for a demure attitude. But it is the place for badass bitches who make pies like caramel apple bacon with sourdough crust. I was hoping you’d turn out something as cool as that and prove to me you deserved the apprenticeship even if you didn’t win the contest. I want you to teach your recipe to Alonso, and then I want to serve that on opening night at the hotel. Deal?”

  Laughter exploded from Mila’s mouth, and before she could stop it, a tear slid down her cheek. Emotions competed for space inside her gut like wrestlers in the ring. “Yes. Deal.”

  “All right, good.” Chef Constance stuck her little hand out and Mila shook it, pumping once as a tiny nod to the badass Chef Constance knew she could be. “I’ve got your number and your email. I’ll be in touch next week with details.”

  “Thank you,” Mila said, swiping at her damp cheeks. “Seriously. Thank you so much.”

  Chef Constance nodded, turned, and walked away.

  The space around her shifted and spun, her vision blurry as she moved through the ballroom and tried to focus on the drawn faces of her friends and family. By the time she joined them, they’d already started spouting their subdued congratulations on winning second place, mixed with hearty condolences for not coming out on top, but Mila had nearly forgotten what there was to be sorry for.