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Rick, ever the charmer, smiles at Trina. “You look nervous. Sometimes I think the first day of school is harder on us parents than it is on the kids.”
Trina lifts her hand to tuck a strand of that elegant hair behind her ear, and I notice the way Rick’s eyes flick to her ring finger, noticing the strip of paler skin where her wedding band used to be. His stance shifts instantly, shoulder leaning against the doorway as he flashes a smile at her.
And I want to kill him. In that moment, I know we’re not so different from animals, because the primal urge to stake my claim on Trina rises up inside me, almost too strong to resist. I’d pummel him in the face just for the way he’s looking at her.
I mean—what the fuck?
A slow, long breath moves into my lungs, then back out. I need to get a fucking grip.
But how am I supposed to make sense of this? The first woman I’ve ever wanted is officially, completely off-limits.
Bringing my attention back to the two parents, I hear Trina let out a weak laugh that sounds nothing like her. “I know. You’re happy they’re out of your hair for the school year, but it’s still hard to see them walk away.” She glances inside the classroom, past me as if I’m not even there, to where Ricky and Katie have their heads bent over the desk, playing with building blocks I’d left out to keep the kids busy until everyone arrives. Trina shakes her head and smiles at Rick. “Especially when it seems so very easy for the kids.”
Rick laughs, ever the charmer, then glances at me. When he sees the thunder in my face, his brows twitch together, but he doesn’t comment. He glances at Trina. “I was about to get a coffee at the Four Cups Café. Would you like to join?”
That’s it. Fuck my career. Fuck my job. I’ll fight this man right here in the hallway and throw my future away. I’ll piss on all the years I spent building my reputation, because there’s no way I’m watching another man ask Trina out right in front of my face. No fucking way.
Not after what happened this weekend. Not after I felt her wrap her arms around me on the back of my bike. Not after I met her ex-husband and saw the hurt in her face. Not after I realized that I want to fix that for her, show her that we could be better together. I want to be the man to make her laugh. I want to be the man by her side.
“Mr. Blair! Ricky said you have a motorcycle.” Katie jumps up, eyes wide. “Is that true?”
“It is true, Katie,” I say, lingering near the door even though I should go to the students. But my mind is a mess. My palms itch to curl around Trina’s body and keep her close. My throat feels raw from holding in all the aggression I want to hurl at Rick.
“I’d better let you go,” Trina says to me. “We can continue our discussion at another time.” Her voice is…cold. Not waiting for me to answer, she squares her shoulders and paints a false smile on her face before glancing at Rick. “My sister is a co-owner of the Four Cups Café. She’s expecting me, actually.”
Rick grins hungrily, then sweeps his arm down the hallway in an after you motion. I watch the two of them walk away together, tasting nothing but ash on my tongue—but there’s nothing I can do about it, because Trina is officially off-limits to me until the end of the school year at the earliest.
And judging by my past experience? This is only going to get worse.
Then another child comes to the door, and it’s my turn to paint a false smile on my face.
Today is going to be a long day.
CHAPTER 23
Jen
Here’s the thing. Amanda—Fallon’s ex—is really nice. This is the second time she’s been in Heart’s Cove, and she’s super excited about my recipe book. Apart from my friends, she’s basically my number one cheerleader.
Take this morning, for example. She came to the café and found me in the kitchen to show me preliminary layouts for the final book. She’s lined up food stylists and started talking about media appearances.
She believes in me.
And I feel like a total jerk for resenting her.
I stock up the quickly emptying display cabinet with a fresh batch of croissants, then head back to the kitchen where Amanda is sampling my banana bread.
She looks up when I arrive. “The addition of cardamon is genius, Jen. This is some of the best banana bread I’ve ever had.”
I can’t help smiling. People tell me my baking is good, but it’s different having an actual professional tell me I’m good enough. Good enough to make it in this industry. Good enough to be a real, published pastry chef. Recipes like banana bread are so easy to me that I can whip one up in minutes—but she’s made me realize that not everyone has that skill.
“It’s a pretty basic recipe.” I shrug.
Amanda puts her slice of banana bread down and brushes her fingers off. “You need to stop doing that.”
I frown. “Doing what?”
“Knocking yourself down when you speak. You have to get comfortable promoting yourself.”
