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Carson burst into laughter, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Don’t bother. You look good in anything, sweetheart. You could make a paper bag look sexy. I’ll see you at two.”
I hung up, blushing and smiling. Carson never failed to charm me. The way he reduced me to putty in his hands was effortless. I thought everything he said and did was brilliant and hilarious. That’s why they say love is blind, I guess.
Three hours later, I parked at the curb on a tree-lined street down by the river and joined my mother at a wrought-iron table outside the quaint little Bistro. The potted palms and blue painted door held so much curb appeal, as did all the downtown businesses in Cooper’s Cove.
“Hey, Mom. How was your day?” I leaned in to kiss her cheek.
“Fine. I just ran some errands and had coffee with a girlfriend. How was work?”
“As exciting as selling insurance can be,” I deadpanned.
“You don’t have to work there, Ryan. You can find a job you love.”
“I already found something I love, and working there leaves me lots of hours to spend baking. I sold two cakes last week.” Granted, they were to my neighbors, but a sale is a sale.
“Maybe it’s time we discussed opening your own bakery.”
My mother and I had ‘discussed’ this many times. My answer was always the same. Extreme anxiety followed by gut-churning nausea. The idea of opening my own store and being responsible for the entire operation filled me with dread.
It was all just too…much.
Leases and contracts, insurance and liability, maintaining ovens and equipment, ordering just the right amount of supplies without going over or being short, and keeping up with my expenses felt overwhelming and exhausting. Baking made me feel energized and creative. It made me happy. All of that would be lost if I turned it into a business that was too much for me to handle alone.
“We’ll see, Mom. For now, I’m happy with where I’m at. Let’s change the subject. I have a friend joining us today. Someone you’ve been dying to meet. He should be here any—”
“Ryan? Hey! Is this your beautiful mother you told me about? She looks more like your sister. The only reason I know that it’s not is because you said you meet her for lunch every Wednesday.”
Of all people, what was he doing here?
Dennis walked over to our table, smiling and reaching for my mother’s hand. He placed a kiss on the back of it, charming her into a blush. He looked amazing dressed in navy chinos and a pink button-down, his navy tie was printed with a pink paisley pattern.
“Hey, Dennis.” I stood and greeted him as he pulled me into a hug, kissing my cheek. His lips lingered on my skin, and I fought the urge to wipe it away. “What are you doing here?”
“I work down the street. It’s my lunch hour, and I thought I’d pop over and grab a sandwich.” Then he turned to my mother. “Have you tried their Brie sandwich with caramelized onions and apple slices? It’s amazing.”
She gushed at the attention, her pretty smile brightening her face. “I have not, but it sounds just like the one Ryan orders almost every week.”
Dennis turned his focus back to me. “Why am I not surprised? We already have so much in common.”
Ignoring his comment, I introduced him. “Mom, this is my friend Dennis.” This time, he pulled her into a hug, as if they’d been friends for ages instead of two minutes. “Dennis, my mother, Angela.”
They continued to carry on their own conversation, only mentioning me here and there as I played with my phone, checking for messages from Carson. I couldn’t wait for him to arrive and shoo Dennis away. Any minute now, I thought as I scanned the street.
But Carson never showed. The disappointment I felt slowly gave way to anger. I found myself rushing to grab the check so I could storm over there and confront him. Just what kind of hot-and-cold game was he playing with me?
As I drove across town, I noticed how the landscape changed gradually from manicured to slightly unkempt in places. There were fewer parks and common areas on this side of town. No pretty wrought-iron light poles lining the streets. I’d never been to Carson's house before. The pale blue exterior and yellow door looked cheery, and the flowerbeds were planted with bright colorful perennials. His home was surprisingly charming for being inhabited by a bunch of bachelors.
I knocked on his door with more force than I should have. Carlisle answered, took one look at my face, and his smile faltered, looking wary. He pointed above him. “He’s up there. Go easy on him. My uncle will be pissed if he has to come by to do structural repairs.”
He snickered as I marched past him, heading straight for the stairs. My anger gave me tunnel vision, making me unaware of the rooms I passed through on my quest to hunt down Carson, that no-good, no-show, lying goon.
His door was cracked, music playing from a speaker. I recognized the classic rock as a playlist I’d heard him listen to in the car. He sang a few words every couple of bars, and I had to convince myself to stay mad. He wasn’t cute or charming. He’d stood me up and let me down. I kinda felt crushed, but was damned if I’d admit it to him.
Pushing the door open wider, I stalked inside and towered over him as he lay on his bed, hand cocked on my hip, the other pointing at him. “Where in the hell were you?”
His astonished look gave me a smidge of satisfaction.
“What are you doing here?”
