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My heart squeezes hard at the sight of him, breath leaving my lungs in a whoosh. Words fail me.
Six and a half billion people in the world, and it had to be him.
The one who, a year ago, kissed me like a man starved. Six months ago, he quit his job at Four Cups and left without a word of warning.
My lips tingle at the sight of him, so I pinch them together to chase the feeling away.
Fallon and I didn’t just kiss. We made out like two horny teens on the floor of the Four Cups kitchen. Then, right after Fallon told me he liked me, his ex-girlfriend showed up in town.
At his invitation.
Her name? Amanda Bailey. The woman who would become my publisher. He wanted her to meet me, which was great, but she was staying at his house—and was obviously angling to get back together with him, which was less great. I could see the lust in her eyes whenever she looked at him, the way she lingered in the kitchen when she was done meeting with me just to get the chance to talk to Fallon.
I often wondered if my recipe book was just an excuse for her to keep visiting Heart’s Cove. That thought has niggled at me for a year—am I really good enough to have my own book, or was this all just piggybacking on some poor woman’s unrequited love?
Her arrival presented me with a horrible, difficult conundrum: if I chose to pursue things with Fallon—and get more of those knee-weakening kisses—I had to get between Amanda and Fallon. It was either romance or my career.
I chose my career. Of course I chose my career. What’s one kiss in the face of a published book? What’s one man compared to my lifelong dream?
I win. It’s what I do. I choose a path and I crush whatever obstacles stand in the way.
But the past year has been torture, and the success of the book feels like ash on my tongue—especially since Fallon quit his job at Four Cups and left without looking back.
Fallon’s eyes move from Gus to me, but unlike me, he doesn’t look surprised. “Hi, Jen.”
Complicated emotions swirl inside me, and I do my best to tamp them down. So what if I kissed this man over a year ago? So what if I haven’t kissed anyone since? So what if pushing him away felt like my own chest was being shredded to pieces?
I feel confused, excited, nervous. Terrified.
Happy. I’m happy to see him again, even though he left without warning. Without ever giving me the chance to mend things between us.
But he’s here, in this cabin, and he’s…competing against me?
I stare. “What are you doing here?”
Gus glances from Fallon to me and back to Fallon again. “Oh, right. We were talking about this before the crows. Fallon is your replacement partner.”
My mouth goes dry. “My partner?”
Wait—Fallon is competing with me? I’ll be spending the next four weeks cooped up in a little guesthouse, working side by side with the man who hasn’t been able to look me in the eyes since I told him I didn’t want to date him? The man who quit his job because I rejected him?
Fallon rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking to me. “Um…surprise?”
“No.” I drop my bag and cross my arms. “No way.”
A crow caws in the distance, and Gus flinches. He looks up at the sky, then back at us. “I’ll just…leave you two to get comfortable.” Gus turns, surveying the trees suspiciously, still gripping the broomstick with both hands, then marches off and leaves me on the doorstep.
Fallon faces me fully, and the world suddenly feels smaller. He reaches for me and takes my bag from the ground, dropping it inside the door. “Come in, Jen. I’ll explain everything.”
“Explain…everything?” My feet betray me by taking a step inside, and Fallon closes the door behind me. His presence is a warm wall beside me, and I close my eyes as I catch a hint of a woodsy male scent. He’s always smelled divine. I remember the way it felt to be wrapped up in his arms—
No. That was over a year ago. I need to get a grip.
I need to focus on winning this competition, getting a hundred grand, and starting my own bakery. That is what’s going to happen here—nothing else.
But getting a grip is hard when a man like Fallon is involved, because another thing I haven’t mentioned about Fallon is that he’s drop-dead gorgeous. Not in a male model kind of way, but in a big-burly-man-who-could-throw-you-over-his-shoulder-if-he-wanted-to kind of way. Pin-you-against-the-wall kind of way.
Screw-you-till-you-forget-your-own-name kind of way.
