“So… I’ve been thinking about redecorating the store,” I say as I snag one of Jax’s fries, even though I have my own. A stack of recipes sits on the table in front of me as I try to figure out which ones I’m going to try next.
Since we came to our agreement that nothing more would happen between us, then spent that epic afternoon flying over the trees and playing on the ropes course last weekend, Jackson and I have talked every day.
After I mentioned staying late to try out some recipes for what I want to pitch to Alice, Jackson showed up with burgers, forcing me to take a break and eat something of substance.
So far, we’ve both managed to avoid eye contact, and we’ve given each other a wide berth and avoided the confines of the office entirely.
Everything between us is still awkward andunusually stilted, and those not-accidental brushes we both took advantage of while we were in the middle of our adventure are weighing heavy on my mind because they didn’t feel awkward at all. They felt like what I imagined being bad should feel like. Forbidden. Intoxicating.
And that’s why we’re sitting out at the two-seater tables in the middle of the store, rather than in the back office like we would’ve done prior to the night that didn’t happen. Because I’m afraid if I “accidentally” press into him again, then I’m going to want to see what those abs feel like. With my tongue.
But as much as I find him attractive—and want to do intimate, perverted things to him—I can’t lose his friendship. Being a bystander while his relationship with Harmony imploded and the subsequent fallout between him and Alice? Yeah. That takes this to a new level of No Way.
I know what it’s like to lose someone. I don’t want to lose either Jax or Alice.
“Why?” he asks around a mouthful.
“Well, I was helping Jules do some gardening the other day and looked across the street and noticed how Sticky Sweet just looks… I dunno.” I lift a shoulder. “Wilted? But sort of garish at the same time?”
From the corner of my eye, I see him lower the burger and then reach back up to wipe his mouth, acutely aware of every move he’s made, the way his jeans mold to his round ass, and how his T-shirt clings to his pecs. If it weren’t for the fresh burgers, I’d probably be salivating over his cologne too.
Thank god for ground beef and bacon.
He relaxes back in his straight chair as his attentionturns to me. My scalp prickles under the weight of his scrutiny, but I don’t meet his eyes. Instead, I look at my walls covered in records and 45s and faded album jackets I found at thrift stores when I first set up my quirky little bakery.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m thinking it might be time for a rebrand.”
“What would you change?”
“The color is too loud, for one.” I scan the room. I still like the bright pink, but if I want to attract higher-end clients, somehow, I don’t think my ’80s party vibe will attract the people who would pay big bucks for a baked good. If this reunion is a success, it has the potential to open the doors for more corporate work. Would they go for my brand as it is? With my funky, eclectic mix of rock-n-roll neon? Would a CEO walk by my shop and give me a second thought for a corporate holiday event? My mother and her attorney squad certainly wouldn’t. But aside from her and what she would or wouldn’t approve of, my business has done well up until now, though if I want to grow, shouldn’t my aesthetic grow with it?
“I might rearrange the layout for more seating. Change the environment and make it more relaxing, less in your face. It just feels like too much.”
Finally, I take a chance and look at him. He’s chewing another bite, jaw flexing as he bites down. What is it with my addiction to that jaw?
Because it’s strong and defined and sexy as hell.
He’s studying the bakery, though, giving it a critical eye like he’s trying to help me. The stone wall around my heart crumbles a little. This is the Jackson I know, have known since forever.
“I disagree with the loud part, but I get what you’re saying. It’s time for an update.”
I smile. Validation feels so sweet.
“I was thinking of going with some darker colors, something that would coordinate better with the rest of Main.”
Jackson shakes his head. “Disagree. Update the paint, even if you slightly change the colors. But this place is known for its cheerfulness. People come here every day because you make the best baked goods. They keep coming back because you consistently deliver. They don’t care if your walls are Pepto pink or washed-out eggshell white.” He spears me with that deep blue gaze. “Why do you really want this? You’re testing out new menu ideas and folding under bougie pressure. You’re thinking of rebranding to match someone else’s aesthetic. This isn’t the loud and proud Maggie I know, so what’s it really about?”
I sigh. “This reunion job has the potential to land me some other high-profile catering jobs. I want to be prepared. If a potential client were to walk in here right now, what would they think?”
“Uh, that you have eclectic—but great—taste in music.” He gestures to the album covers lining the wall.
“But that doesn’t say anything about the quality of my work. I don’t want them to think I’m a joke. I want a more professional look.”
Jackson studies me for a heartbeat. “Mags, you do you. Fuck them if they don’t like who you are.”
The sincerity in his voice turns my insides to jelly. Jackson is hot every day. Confident and cocky, an in-your-face alpha-hole hero. But this side? Supportive and sweet? This is the reason we’ve become such good friends. And sweet Jax has the power to break my heart.
He reaches across the table, brushing the back of a knuckle across the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got some ketchup…”
