Page 62 of Shattered Hearts

I give a small shrug. “All I did was mix and control the ovens.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t spill anything, and nothing burnt. So I call that a win.”

Her positivity rubs off on me, and I grin as I pull the ridiculous pink apron off. “Maybe I’m the oven pro.”

“I think you are,” she drawls, and I hear a twinge of delight in her tone, making my fingers tingle. “We can pick all of this up in the morning before heading over to Hollow Grove.”

“Too easy.” I wash my hands before grabbing my things off the bench and walking Laynie to her car. It’s parked in the dimly lit alleyway that’s quiet and out of the eye of those on the main road.

Searching for her keys, she unlocks Betsie and dumps her bag on the passenger seat before turning to face me. I stand with my hands in my pockets, the light breeze tickling the hair around my neck.

“Thank you again.” She pauses, her gaze dropping. “Thank you for everything, G.”

Somehow that thank you feels more loaded than it should, as if she’s not only grateful for my help tonight, but for other things too. Things I might not understand.

“I said I was going to help you out.”

She drags her fingers through her hair, which is now out and falling down her back in a pretty, glossy blonde sheen. “I know, but you’re helping me in more ways than you probably realise.”

My teeth chew on my bottom lip. There are so many more ways that I could help you if only you knew how much I want to be involved, I want to shout at her, but I know it’s not the right time. She’s exhausted, and she’ll need to rest for tomorrow with everything that needs to be done.

So, I settle on, “That’s what best friends are for.”

Laynie’s eyes are on mine, unblinking. My heart pounds in my throat, rattling my rib cage as her hand reaches out, fingers grazing my wrist. I almost flinch at the contact. She always has this effect on me, like when her skin meets mine, it’s electric and intense, but this is different.

This feels charged and amplified.

Swallowing, her fingers close around my wrist, and I wait for her to say something, to break the silence sitting around us when her hand slides through mine. I’ve felt her fingers tangled in mine many times before, but this feels different. More purposeful and tender, as if she’s stripping away one of the barriers protecting her and closing the gap between us.

Splashes of pink stains her cheekbones as Laynie averts her gaze, grabbing onto the door of Betsie and slamming it shut. I let in an inhale as soon as our hands detach, because I definitely forgot to breathe for a beat.

She gives me a small smile and walks around to the other side of the car. Opening the driver’s side, Laynie pauses before getting in, her eyes trained on the steering wheel before flicking up to meet mine. “You’ll always be my best friend, Blondie. No matter what.”

She closes the door, leaving me standing beside her car with my hands still in my pockets. My toes scrunch and my fingers run through my hair as my pulse radiates through me.

I have well and truly fallen for my best friend.

The market is buzzing by the time we rock up. Laynie slept on the drive over, which I didn’t mind. She needed the rest, and I wanted her to relax. Tables and temporary covers have been set up in rows along the main street of Hollow Grove. There are coloured signs, baskets of food, bottles of freshly made juices, herbal concoctions, homemade soaps, and so many other things.

Finding our designated spot, I drop the two bags and boxes I carried from the ute. Laynie places the other two cooler bags on the ground and lets out a sigh. “This should be fun.”

“And chaotic,” I add with a grin.

Laynie starts setting up her stall as I catch Mum coming down the aisle with Reid and Holden. She stops at the stall beside us and gives Laynie a quick hug before getting to work on her own setup. I help unpack the desserts, lining them up in sections. Laynie places out some decorations, mini calk signs, and business cards.

Taking out my phone, I snap a quick photo of her behind the stall holding up some homemade blondies. She’s wrapped up in an oversized denim jacket with a tanned sheepskin collar, bootleg jeans, her Doc Martins and braided hair with some flyaways. She’s stunningly beautiful, and I adore seeing her this excited over something as simple as baked goods.

“Can I see it?” she asks as I walk behind the table.

Passing her my phone, Laynie grins and sends it to herself. “I want to post this on our social media and website. It might help bring in some more people, and show that we also do pop-ups.”

“Good idea, ” I say, before sneaking a croissant for myself.

Taking a bite, Laynie’s hand wraps around my wrist. I give a small giggle as she gasps, “You little menace.”

I swallow the mammoth bite of almonds and flakes, grinning. “A cute menace, though, right?” I wink at her.

Laynie shakes her head, but she doesn’t deny it. I watch her cheeks pinken to her unique colour before she goes back to fiddling with the set up. I finish off the croissant and grab five bucks from my wallet, shoving it in her handbag. She’ll find it later, I’m sure.