“I wouldn’t think that would stop you.”
“Fuck, Ben, did someone piss in your Cheerios this morning? What the hell happened over the course of the last hour? I know no one in this town actually likes me, but I didn’t realize you hated me as much as everyone else.” I spin on my heel and march toward the exit, completely done with this bullshit. For an hour or so there, working in the booth with Emma, it seemed like things might be going okay. I wasn’t fucking up everything, and it actually felt good.
And now the one person I thought might be sort of on my side has completely turned on me.
Whatever. I won’t allow Ben’s words to affect me. It’s not like I really believed we were becoming friends.
As soon as I get back to the cottage, I’m losing myself in a hot bath and a glass of wine.
“Cam, wait!” Ben’s voice catches me as I’m turning down the sidewalk in front of our houses.
I don’t stop, continuing to stomp my way along until I can throw open my front gate.
He catches me just before I can slam the front door in his face. “I’m sorry.” He sucks in a long breath, winded fromchasing after me. Which is his own damn fault. I push on the door.
Ben holds up a hand, but he doesn’t make contact with the yellow-painted wood. “Please. Just give me a second.”
I shouldn’t, but there’s something in the deep brown of his eyes that causes me to open the door back up, just the slightest bit.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was upset about something else and I took it out on you.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What were you upset about?”
His eyes flutter closed for a second while he gathers himself. “I can’t tell you. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“Why?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“What happens if you tell me? Does Zeus come down and strike you with a lightning bolt? Does the Great and Powerful Oz send you hurtling back to Kansas?”
“I just can’t.” He holds up a hand to stave off the protest he knows is coming. “Please just believe me when I say I’m trying to look out for you. But sometimes that’s not the easiest thing to do here. You just have to trust me.”
I scoff. “I don’t trust anyone, Ben. I’d think you’d know enough about me by now to realize that.”
He flashes me a soft smile. “I do. I know what I’m asking, and I’m asking it anyway.”
I study him for a second, looking for the usual signs someone is blowing smoke up my ass. But all I see is Ben, the first, and by default, best friend I’ve ever had. “Fine. But don’t take your anger out on me again, got it?”
He gives me a mock salute. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
“Well, have a good night, I guess.”
“Yeah, you too.”
I close the door behind him and peek out the front curtain to watch him head back to the carnival. For a second, I feel guilty for abandoning my cleanup duties, but the feeling doesn’t last long. Between the dunk tank and Mimi’s emotional warfare, I think I more than fulfilled my obligations to the community.
And something tells me that tomorrow, going into the bakery and facing Emma and dealing with the whole Ethan situation is going to be the pinnacle of awkward.
And so into that long, hot bath Igo.
10
Emma greets me with a warm, genuine smile when I push through the door of the bakery the morning after the carnival. Like everywhere else, the shop is done up in pastels, lots of lavender and soft yellow, but somehow it works, creating an environment of homey comfort. Helped along, no doubt, by the completely intoxicating smells seeping from every corner of the space. I return her smile, tentatively, low-key waiting for her to bite my head off. Because it would be totally justified given that I’m being set up with the guy she clearly likes.
Instead she waves and offers me a mug of coffee like the goddess she is. “Good morning, I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Mimi about your coffee order and she told me you liked lattes, extra pumpkin spice.” She spins back toward the counter, the skirt of her lavender sundress twirling.
I grit my teeth, not wanting Emma to suffer for Mimi’s transgressions. “Did she now? Well, that was very sweet of her.” I take a sip, bracing myself for the worst, but I don’t know if it’s Emma’s magic or if this town is finally getting to me, but it’s fucking delicious. “Goddamn, that’s good.”
