“Rustic,” I muttered, reaching for the register. “Because nothing says down-home Montana like imported orchids and a champagne tower.”
Paige laughed and set the boxes down on the counter. “Oh, and guess what? That podcaster guy’s coming back next week. The one doing The Ex-List: Hard Timber Uncut. Everyone’s freaking out.”
I froze. “How do you know about that already?”
“Marla told Nellie, Nellie told half the breakfast crowd, and now the whole town’s wondering how he’s going to spin the next episode.” Paige grinned. “I bet he’s going to try to corner Trace. He’s the last guy on the Ex-List. Plus, he’s got the whole broody mountain man thing going.”
“Broody,” I repeated. “Yeah. That’s one way to describe him.”
Paige didn’t notice my hands tightening around the rag I’d been using to wipe the counter. “You think he’ll stop by here? The podcaster, I mean. You’re, like, the queen of coffee and drama. He’d be crazy not to.”
“Lucky me.”
Paige cocked her head. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine. Just tired. I met the wedding planner over at the Inn today. She’s going to be here for the next few days and has some big ideas.”
“Did she tell you who the bride and groom are?” Paige’s eyes widened. “I heard the lead singer of Tumbleweed Crossing proposed to that woman he’s been seeing. Do you think it might be them?”
“Really?” I didn’t care about celebrity dating news but was more than happy to keep the conversation on someone else.
“Yeah. They met when he was doing a concert in some small town in Texas. She owned the bakery and he came in every day for a honey bun.” Paige let out a sigh. “Maybe that could happen to me too. We should put some special bourbon cinnamon rolls on the menu when everyone’s in town for the wedding. I’d love to meet the guitarist. That would give the podcaster something new to talk about, wouldn’t it?”
I didn’t respond. My brain was still trying to sort through what might happen if the podcaster pushed Trace.
Paige studied me for a second, then shrugged. “You want me to close tonight? You could go home, take a bubble bath, read one of your swoony books where everything works out okay in the end.”
I almost smiled. “Tempting. But no, I’ll stay. Go enjoy the sunshine.”
“Sure thing. See you tomorrow.”
When she left, I sagged against the counter and let my shoulders drop.
The Ex-List.
I’d tried so hard to distance myself from it—to pretend it was something I’d outgrown. But the moment Mimi mentioned the podcast, it all came rushing back… the night Gillian and I sat on her couch with a bottle of wine and a stupid idea, laughing as we talked about Hard Timber’s most eligible men and their worst habits.
I’d written Trace’s name on that list.
The Heartbreaker.
And I’d meant every word, at least at the time. Back then, I thought he didn’t see me. That he never would. Now, a couple of years later, I knew better. He’d seen me just fine. He just never chose me. And I’d made damn sure he regretted it, even if he didn’t know I was the reason his name had been listed along with the others.
The final joke was on me though. I was the one with the biggest regret. I never should have put his name on that list. It had been months since it somehow went public, and I still felt sick to my stomach every time I thought about it.
I’d hoped the list would fade away, but it wouldn’t die.
The front door opened, and I plastered on a smile and lifted my head. “Sorry, we’re closing early today?—”
“Good thing I know the owner,” Nellie said.
She breezed in wearing one of her aprons from The Huckleberry Café, a pie tin wrapped in foil balanced on one arm. Her gray curls had been tamed into a tight bun, and she smelled like sugar and sass.
“I brought you a gift.” She plunked the pie on the counter. “The season is over, and it’s my last strawberry rhubarb pie. For my favorite overworked barista.”
“Your favorite?” I looked at her through narrowed eyes. “ You say that to everyone.”
“Maybe, but only you believe me.” She winked, then leaned an elbow on the counter. “So, I hear you and Trace are going to be working together on the big wedding. How’s it going?”
