She was absolutely beautiful,and in that shy way that really turns me on. It’s like she doesn’t realize howcute she really is. Maybe she was just shy because we didn’t know each other.Maybe she opens up once she gets more comfortable with someone.
Whatever the case,I’m dying to find out.
I’d been checkingher out from the moment she walked into the large assembly room and headed tothe coffee table. But as soon as I saw that she was also from Texas, I knew Ihad to make a move. I had to at least say hi. The bad news is that Texas ishuge. You can drive ten hours and still not cross over the state lines. For allI know, she lives in the panhandle, or near El Paso, or up in the hill country.Anywhere but southeast, where I live. So even though there was a one in fiftychance that her state would be the same as mine, the odds are even slimmer thatshe lives anywhere near me.
Still … I need tofind out.
I’m kicking myselffor not getting her number. I was this close to asking for it too, but thenTweetle Dee and Tweetle Dum approached and ruined the moment. If they’d seen meask a girl for her number, they’d have made some stupid jock frat-boy type ofscene about it. That’s the problem with my jackass twin cousins. They still actlike they’re freshmen in college.
And it’s just thethree of us at my office. After I branched off from Dad’s failed real estatebusiness to start my own company, I hadn’t hired anyone else to work with meyet. That’s probably why I resonated with the keynote speaker so much. We bothdid our own thing and became very successful. Now I have a few part time realestate agents who operate under my company, but they’re older, in theirfifties, and very experienced. They do their own thing and they’re good at it.
My cousins aregoing to need a lot of help from me if they want to succeed.
I try to putthoughts of Alexa out of my mind while I listen to the panel of five expertswho talk about real estate. I try to soak up their knowledge and learnsomething, but my mind keeps drifting back to her soft smile, her brown eyes,and the way she smelled like vanilla.
By the time theone-hour session is over, I haven’t learned very much. But I do decide on onething.
I have to find heragain.
Chapter 5
iPad cash registersare all the rage now. I feel slightly ahead of the curve because I got one twoyears ago when I opened my shop, after careful deliberation because I reallywanted one of those big metal antique registers to give my bakery a nostalgicfeel. But … since the world runs on credit cards and not cash, I ended up goingwith the iPad. It sits on a base that swivels so I can swipe credit cards andthen have the customer sign the digital receipt with their finger.
As I walk throughthe vendor room, I notice all kinds of improvements have been made to cashregisters. You can now put a tablet thing on each table in your restaurant andhave people pay for their meal without even needing to talk to a waitress. Thetablet also plays games. I think that’s just the worst idea ever. You should goto a restaurant to spend time with the people you’re with, not to stare at afreaking screen. People already stare at their phones too much. I think I’vedone a good job of cultivating a friendly warm atmosphere in Sweets Bakery.People are rarely on their phones, unless they’re taking photos of their food,which I love because all the social media posts give me exposure.
I walk slowlythrough the aisles, taking in all of the products people have to offer. Thereare a lot of kitchen type items, but most of them are for full restaurants notbakeries. I skim over these quickly because I have a method to my baking and Idon’t really want to change it, even if a cool new cooking utensil did come up.
I take somebrochures for a website company that lets you set up a store online because Ithink it would be cool to take custom cake orders online and then have thecustomer come pick them up. That way it wouldn’t waste our time in the storewhen they want to order one. People always take forever looking through mybinder of custom cake options and it makes it difficult to serve the othercustomers. Giving my shop a website that’s better than the free template I’vegot now would be pretty cool.
For at least anhour or so, I get lost in the trance of all these shiny new items and I forgetabout how pathetic I felt over meeting Gabe this morning. I mean, what’s wrongwith me? I say hello to one attractive man and suddenly I’m wishing he’d ask meout.
Ugh.
I’m so pathetic. Hewas just being friendly, and I was being friendly and that’s all it was.Nothing more. This is a business convention, not a singles bar.
I tell myself, forthe millionth time, to get it together. I stop trying to look for him as I walkthrough the aisles, or when I slip out of the main vendor room and check outanother panel. I don’t scan the hallways for his Texas nametag, even though Iwant to.
I spent the lastseveral weeks telling myself that I’m a businesswoman who deserves to be takenseriously at this event, and I’ll be damned if I’ll suddenly revert to being ateenager again, swooning over a cute guy instead of keeping level-headed.
I’m doing prettygood by the time dinner rolls around. My stomach growls and my fitness trackersays I’ve walked just over fourteen thousand steps today. Not bad. I deserve ahuge meal.
I don’t feel likegetting a taxi or learning how Uber works, so I decide to eat in the hotel’srestaurant on the first floor. It calls itself a steakhouse, but it doesn’tlook like the ones we have in Texas. This restaurant is fancy, modern, and hassharp stainless-steel decorations instead of taxidermy or fishing poles on thewalls like the places back at home.
I ask for a tablefor one, feeling like a total loser while I do it, but the waitress doesn’tseem to care. She leads me to a narrow two-person booth along the side of therestaurant and gives me a menu.
I glance around andsee tons of people with state-shaped nametags sitting together and eating. Mostof them sit with people from their own state, which confirms my theory thatpeople came here in groups. Some tables have a mixture of states, and I wonderif they all met each other today and decided to eat together. That thoughtbothers me a little.
I should have triedto meet some people, too. Friendly people, not hot guys. Then maybe I wouldn’tbe sitting alone.
I order a friedchicken salad with extra ranch—the Texan way—and then when I think I’m going togo totally crazy being here by myself, I take out my phone and call Livi. Shedoesn’t answer, and I feel even more like a loser as I scroll through my phonewishing I had someone to keep me company while I sit here alone.
My heart aches whenI see my mom’s number in my contacts list. She died so very long ago, but Ialways kept her number just because it made me happy to have it there. Now, Iwish I could talk to her again. It’s been a while since I’ve felt the heavyweight of her loss. My life has been so busy lately that I’m usually alwayshappy and therefore don’t get sad often. But now, something about being aloneis tearing at my seams. All around me people are eating and chatting and havinga good time. I’m just sitting here with my sweet tea and phone, staring at mymom’s name and trying not to get emotional.
I put the phone downand pretend to be interested in the dessert menu. The bad thing about being abaker is that you can’t enjoy crappy restaurant desserts because they’re neververy good. The only desserts I can get excited about are from upscale bakerieswhere they have talented chefs. Places like this steakhouse just ship in frozencheesecake and call it a day.
My phone rings, andI’m delighted to see Livi’s name on the screen. Geez, I’m so bad at being anindependent woman.
“Hey,” I say as Ianswer the phone.
