“Why would you help me?” I didn’t always suspect people of having ulterior motives. I went through life thinking everyone was kind and genuine and honest. But that all changed a few months ago when those closest to me showed their true colors. Now I doubt everyone.
Tanner's face blanches for a moment before he looks me in the eye.
“This town likes to see people succeed. A thriving bakery like this gives a place for tourists to stop, somewhere that can cater for the diner or my distillery. We help each other out here. Not sure what you’ve experienced before”—brow furrowed, he looks down at my belly again—“ but here, in Whispers, we don’t leave our people to fail.”
I take in a small breath, still not agreeing to anything. I’m not sold on the idea of accepting so much free help. Especially from a man I just met. Regardless of how good-looking and rich he is.
“We could always barter?” he suggests, clearly noticing my hesitation.
My head tilts at that. “Barter?”
“I’ll get my builder to help fix this place up. You supply me a fresh loaf of bread every morning until you’ve paid back the fee.”
“But that could take a year. Or longer!” I’m astounded. A man I’ve never met, offering to give me essentially a loan and allowing me to pay him back in gluten.
“I know a good investment when I see it. And my builder will too.” His eyes twinkle, like he knows something I don’t. But as I look around my bakery, spotting the chipped counter and the cupboard doors almost off their hinges, I know I could use the help.
Something deep within tells me I can trust this man. That he isn’t someone who’s going to push me out of town or bury me out in the large acreage of forest on the outskirts that I saw on the map recently—apparently, locals call it Serial Killer Forest. Yikes. I get a chill just thinking about it. Actually, from what I’ve read, Tanner Whiteman is one of the most wealthy and upstanding members of not only this town and this state, but I dare say, most of the country.
Maybe this is the small break I’ve been hoping for. Maybe this is part of God's plan. Maybe Grandma is looking down on me from above, giving me the helping hand I need. I take a deep breath, praying that I don’t make the wrong decision.
“Do you like sourdough or…?” The corners of my lips start to curve. I need to learn to trust again. I have to lean on someone to make this bakery a success. For me and my little one.
“Sourdough will be just fine.” He grins, offering me his hand again, and I shake it, sealing our agreement. Completely unaware of how much this deal will change my life.
2
Griffin Patterson
I sip the warm coffee, wondering how Rochelle gets it so flavorful. I have coffee all over the country, and never once has another cup come close to the quality that Delish Diner offers.
“Good, you’re still here.” Tanner strides into the diner like he owns it, heading in my direction and taking a seat in the booth opposite me without an invitation.
“Not for long. Just grabbing lunch, then flying out to Colorado.” I’ve spent the past few days here with him at the new distillery accommodations we’re building, of which we’ve had plans drawn up for a while now. I have a team at the distillery who are almost finished with the structural build. We’re at the fit-out stage, so I flew in this week to check on it. I’ve also had meetings with Victoria, Tanner's wife, and my interior’s contractor about what she has finished for my new place that I’ve built here at Billionaire Boulevard. I don’t have a home. I have houses. And I decided to build one here to add to my portfolio.
“I need a favor before you go.”
I both sigh and grin. His favors are never small things. Instead, always something like, I'm building an extension; could you finish that in a few days. Or, build my ranch; I need it done yesterday.
“I need you to go over to the bakery across the road.”
Eyes narrowed, I look at him over the rim of my coffee cup, where it’s stalled halfway to my mouth.
“Is it open?” I saw newspapers covering the windows, so I assumed someone was doing work over there. But commercial fit-outs aren’t really my thing. Certainly not that small size. Give me a world-class distillery, and I can build your dreams, but a small bakery isn’t worth my time.
“No. It needs a fair amount of work. The new owner seems to think they can do it all on their own.”
I can tell by how his jaw clenches that he isn’t happy about something. But while he’s my closest friend, a bakery builder I am not.
“I gotta fly out today. I need to sign off on the plans for my new Colorado project before I hit Sundown Valley in the morning.”
I’m a busy man. My construction company does luxury builds all around the country. Work is my life. I built my business from the ground up. Something I’m proud of. Something that gives me purpose. Keeps me busy. I need to be busy.
“Sundown Valley? What are you doing over there?”
I give Tanner a grin. “Winery. Stonemore’s making some additions.”
His eyebrows rise. He knows who I’m talking about. The Stonemore family has been around for a while and making a name for themselves. One of the best wineries in the country. I have no idea what it is about these men and their liquor, but Tanner Whiteman and Grayson Stonemore could be two peas in a pod. Both grumpy assholes, but they would give you their last dollar if you needed it.
