I’ve done it.
I grab my phone and text Brady, unable to wait for him to show up at the main house on his own time.
Come up here. You need these in your life.
I take a picture of the blueberry muffins and hit send, but it won’t go through.
Brady shows up ten minutes later, a look of anticipation on his face.
“Here,” I announce proudly, grabbing a muffin off the cooling rack and presenting it to him, along with a kiss on his cheek. His face falls, which makes my face fall.
“What?” I ask, worried.
“When you said I needthesein my life, I thought you were talking about something else.” His eyes lower to my chest, and with a glance around to be certain we’re alone, he uses a fingertip to follow the hem of my V-neck tee.
“First,” I say, giving him a stern look, “you need to eat this muffin. And then—”
“I can eat another muffin?”
I give him an exasperated look, but it’s mostly an act. If sex with Brady is a drug, consider me addicted. I haven’t slept in my own bed in three days, not since Brady got the news about Lennon.
I was afraid he’d pull away after that, but it only seems to have caused him to double-down on me and whatever it is we’re doing here, which we’ve yet to discuss. At some point we’ll have to, especially considering I’m now a contender in a bake-off that will keep me in Lonesome if I win.
“Fine,” I say, crossing my arms and looking away playfully.
Brady tips up my chin with one finger, leveling his lust-filled gaze on me. “Don’t act like you don’t love it. Last night you said—”
“Okay, okay.” I hold up my arms in defeat. “I can’t be held accountable for what I say when I’m in the throes.”
Brady laughs. He takes the muffin from me and makes it disappear in two bites. He lifts his eyes to the ceiling. “God, that’s good.”
I watch him chew and swallow, then hand him a second option. “Okay, now, try this one.”
Brady eyes it. “I thought you were going with Jane’s recipe.”
“It is Jane’s recipe, but with an Addison kick. I don’t want to copy her exactly.”
“The topping?”
I nod, my hands urging him on.
He takes a bite, closes his eyes again, but this time he sighs deeply. “Heaven,” he says simply.
A mixture of joy and relief swim through me. “Yeah?”
He nods solemnly and takes a drink from my water cup sitting on the island counter. “There’s no way you won’t win that competition, Addison.”
I make a face. “It’s only a couple weeks away.” I glance at him, a sudden feeling of nervousness coming over me. Grabbing the dirty bowl, I take it to the sink and run water into it. Without looking at him, I say, “Your stay is ending soon. Where do you think you’ll go after Lonesome?” I work to make my voice nonchalant, but on the inside it feels like all my organs are squeezing together.
It’s only been a couple weeks since I decided I liked him. Too soon to care this much. And even though I know that to be true, even though I can hear and feel the practicality of these words, my heart rejects them.
I came here thinking good things weren’t in the cards for me.
And then, along came Brady.
And, according to the calendar where my grandma writes her bookings, in a few days, there he’ll go. The notion twists my stomach into knots.
The bowl has filled with water, so I turn it off and spin around, my lower back resting on the edge of the sink.
