“We are not going to let that happen.” I’m already on my feet, searching fruitlessly for a phone so I can set up a meeting with this dickwad lawyer as soon as humanly possible.
“I don’t know what to do.” Her head falls back to her knees.
I crouch down in front of her, forcing her to look at me. “Hey. None of that. I know receiving a letter like this can be terrifying.” Satan knows I’ve sent my fair share of them, to people just like Emma. I’ve just never had to witness the reactions of the people receiving them. “But we are not going to roll over and let these guys win. We have a lot of legal options and lucky for you, I know them all. I am not going to let them take this bakery from you.”
Emma wipes under her eyes. “I don’t know if there’s anything you can do to stop them.”
“No way. Shit like this doesn’t happen here. Heart Springs is this idyllic wonderland, right? So there’s no way the jackass real estate developer succeeds in closing down the locally owned small business. That’s not how these things work here.” I run my eyes over the letter again, searching for the name of the person I am going to skewer and roast on a pit for threatening Emma like this. “Wait a second. Noah Crenshaw? Is there more than one Noah in this town?”
Emma shakes her head. “Not that I know of.”
I collapse on the floor next to Emma.
“What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth to tell her before I realize I’m not supposed to know about Noah yet. Neither Ben nor Mimi has filled me in on the details of my third bachelor, presumably because they know they’ve set me up with a total douche canoe.
Fuck.
They set me up with a total douche canoe because they think I am also a total douche canoe.
Not going to lie, that one stings.
Emma prods me with her elbow.
I clear my throat, determined to examine the implications of this discovery when I’m back at home in the peace and comfort of my bathtub. “Nothing’s wrong. Why don’t you close the bakery for today, take some time for yourself. Go home and relax, or maybe see if there’s someone you can talk to. Ethan’s probably available.” Okay, it’s not exactly subtle, but we’re in a moment of distress here.
“Okay.” She agrees, but it’s reluctant.
I jump up before she can change her mind. I write a note on a blank piece of paper and tape it to the front window. Heading back behind the counter, I help Emma to her feet and hand her her coat and purse. “I’ll do a quick cleanup and make sure the door is locked when I leave.”
Before I can protest, Emma throws herself at me, arms wrapping tight around my torso. “Thank you, Cam. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you here.”
My arms are stiff by my sides, but after a second of being unable to breathe due to the strength of her grip, I manage to pat her on the back a few more times. “No problem.”
She releases me, and tears are shining in her big brown eyes once again, only this time they are accompanied by a small smile. “You’re a really good friend.”
I don’t have a response, and she doesn’t seem to need one. She gives my hand a final squeeze and heads out through the kitchen.
No one has ever called me a good friend before.
I don’t know that anyone has ever called me a friend before.
That thought wouldn’t have bothered me a few days ago, but now I realize how depressing it is.
Well, Emma just might be my first real friend, and that means I can’t let her down. I do a quick wipe down of all the counters and make sure the few ingredients Emma took out this morning get put away before I lock all the doors and head out to the main street on amission.
14
I stop the first person I see. “Excuse me, could you please tell me where I can find the offices of Noah Crenshaw?”
“Sure! They’re right over there.” The woman points directly across the town square.
Of course, his office is right here because where else would it be?
I thank the woman and march across the grass. It’s still green, despite the sudden change of seasons, though all the trees surrounding it are canopies of orange and red and yellow.
I barge through the door with a “Noah Crenshaw & Associates” sign hanging out front, not stopping it from smacking into the wall. “I need to speak with Noah Crenshaw. Immediately.” Any trace of manners has fled the building because no one who works for scum like this guy deserves my politeness. I conveniently ignore that, in my world, I am the scum like Noah Crenshaw.
