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Fourteen cherry pies, three trays of danishes, two batches of sugar cookies… It goes on and on and on. I can’t do any of this.
“But I—”
The bell over the door rings, interrupting us as a man walks in.
“Oh, hi Clark!” Lindsay says as she leaves me to serve him. “I heard that Stella’s team won the cheerleading competition! The whole town is proud of her. Here, give her this on me and tell her she did a wonderful job representing Bridgeworth Pines!”
The man smiles as she hands him a wrapped-up cookie.
Say what you want about this town, but there’s something nice about everyone knowing each other’s names. You don’t get that in New York. Not at all.
It’s nice, but it’s also a double-edged sword. And it’s only a matter of time before I feel how sharp that sword edge is.
Once everyone finds out that I’m Charlotte Oberman, I’ll either be gawked at or cut down.
Probably both.
I sigh as I get to work, unable to do a damn thing about it.
Thanks a lot, Dad.
CHAPTER TWO
Charlotte
* * *
“You look familiar.”
I stop dead in my tracks, frozen all over as the man across the counter squints at me while trying to place where he knows me from.
“I get that a lot,” I say with a nervous smile. “One of those faces that everyone seems to recognize.”
He suddenly snaps his fingers and points at me as it clicks in his mind. “Charlotte Oberman!”
I swallow hard.
“I think you have me mistaken.”
He looks at my name tag and shakes his head. “Charlotte. It is you!”
I look around nervously as the other customers start paying attention. My cheeks are burning red.
“Wow, your dad is a real piece of shit!” he says with a deep laugh.
My jaw is clenched as I stand here, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me into oblivion.
“That’s not nice!” the woman next to him says with a horrified look on her face.
I appreciate the support, but he’s not wrong. At all.
“Her father is Walter Oberman,” he says with a big smile. The prick is loving this. “The CEO of Oberman Technology.”
“Oh,” the lady says as her face drops. She looks at me with a look that lets me know she’s no longer on my side.
“I’m glad he’s getting what he deserves!” she says in a snippy tone before turning away from me with a huff.
“I have to go… get something in the…” I rush into the back before the tears come pouring out.
How could my father have been so reckless? I looked up to him. I worshipped him. I thought he was the smartest, most talented man in the world, but he was nothing but a con artist. A fraud. A thief. A liar.
I can forgive him for lying to investors, but how can I forgive him for lying to me? My whole life was a lie orchestrated by him.
He took money from my friends’ parents, knowing his whole company was a sham. Over three hundred people laid off, dozens of arrests, billions of dollars lost from the retirement accounts of people who trusted him, and one daughter’s broken heart.
I hate him for this.
I’ll never forgive him.
After a few minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I peek out to make sure the man is gone. He is, so I walk back out, ready to try again.
It’s all I can do. Keep trying.
The bell over the door rings and I dart my eyes over, dreading to see another customer who recognizes me, or worse, someone from the press.
The sight stuns me. I freeze as I watch the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen come strolling in like he’s walking into his home.
I duck down and gaze at him, hiding behind a loaf of sourdough bread on the counter. My heart starts beating harder as he unzips his winter coat. He’s wearing nothing but a white t-shirt under that jacket and it’s clear that he’s got a hard flat stomach and a nice developed chest.
But it’s his face that really gets my attention. My eyes dart back to his fierce green eyes that are shining like emeralds in the sun. He has flakes of snow in his dark brown hair and I watch in a dazed stupor as he shakes them off his head, messing up his hair in the process. Somehow, it looks even better now.
He must be in his mid-twenties, but there’s a sureness and a sense of authority he radiates that’s usually reserved for older more powerful men. I can tell by the way he holds himself, the viciously intelligent look in his eyes, the forceful way he holds his clean-shaven jaw. Give this guy a decade and he’ll be ruling the world.
My head starts to get light and the tiny hairs on my arms raise as he peels off his jacket.
