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“You know it was our pleasure. We’re so happy you’re here. Are you excited to start this new adventure?”
There’s no simple answer to that. In the past two months, I’ve lost my job, decided to turn my love of baking into a business, and moved to Myrtle Beach. I’m equal parts excited and terrified.
“I’m happy to be closer to you and Jeremy, and Dale, of course. But it’s definitely going to be an adjustment.”
For the past fifteen years, my job as a market research analyst kept me traveling seventy-five percent of the time. My friend Hope used to call me Chandler Bing because like the Friends character, she knew I made good money but had no idea what I did for a living. I tried explaining it to her and Karen, but they never really caught on. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.
I’ll admit that getting let go after dedicating my life to the company stung. But in the end, it will be a good thing. So will this move to Myrtle Beach.
It only took me two months of living in St. Pete full-time to realize I had no reason to stay there. My mom died when I was in high school and my dad remarried and moved to Texas years ago to be closer to his new wife’s family. Jason, my brother, was killed by a drunk driver seven years ago, leaving Karen and my nephew Jeremy behind. When Karen got involved with Dale Montgomery, first baseman for the Carolina Waves, they moved to Myrtle Beach to live with him. Since they’re the people I’m closest to, it seemed a no-brainer that I should move here too.
“We’re happy to help you with whatever you need at the bakery, too.” she said.
“Thanks. I’m good for the moment. The landlord is taking care of painting and he’s putting a new floor in, too. That should be done in the next couple weeks. In the meantime, I’ve been shopping for equipment, talking with vendors for supplies, and practicing recipes. I plan on starting with a small, basic menu and offering daily specials.”
“That sounds great.”
She asked me another question, but I got distracted by the hottie talking to Jeremy down on the field. We’re at the game early to watch batting practice. Jeremy has been hanging down near the dugout talking with Dale and some of the other players, but it’s only this particular one who’s caught my eye.
Phil Riddle is a walking wet dream and I’ve been lusting after him since I first laid eyes on him a couple years ago. Karen nudged me with her elbow and I tore my gaze from all his luciousness to focus on her all-too-knowing smirk.
“What?” I asked when she didn’t say anything.
“See something you like?”
There’s no use denying it, so I shrugged.
“What’s not to like? The man is so hot, I’m surprised we’re not getting burned up here.” I shifted in my seat. “Did you ever notice that he looks like Jason Momoa?”
“You think?”
“Not Aquaman Momoa, but back when he had short hair and no facial hair.”
She looked at him and scrunched her nose.
“Maybe a little bit. He definitely has the height and build.” Bobbing her eyebrows, she added, “I could invite you both over to dinner sometime if you want a formal introduction. From what I understand, he isn’t seeing anyone.”
I looked at the man in question, considering her offer.
“That’s not really a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“You know I don’t do long-term relationships, and I’d hate for it to be awkward after the fact if we did hook up.”
“Maybe now that you’re settling down here, you’ll be up for something long-term.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “Plus I’ll be too busy with opening the bakery to start a new relationship of any kind.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, just let me know.”
I looked down at the field again. Phil was now stretching just off the first-base line, giving me a view of his perfect ass. Before I could do something crazy, like tell Karen to set up that dinner, Hannah Reagan joined us, pulling my attention away from the object of my lust.
“How are those babies doing?” Karen asked her.
“They’re doing well. Getting so big already.”
“How old are they now?” I asked.
