I flash back to the locker room yesterday, and the way the guys mocked me, deservedly so. But they bought theI was helping outexcuse, so I’m hoping Theo will do the same. No one will be the wiser. Hell, I already washed the shirt and it’s air-drying in the sun.
Paranoid much?Yes, Yes. I am.
Theo grins my way, then his gaze drifts down to my hand. “And what do we have here?”
The offering certainly can’t hurt. “Just made some monkey bread last night. Here you go.”
He’d be insulted if I handed it to him, so I lob the chunk his way. He catches it, then holds it up high, like it’s a treasure found deep in the jungle. “And this, my man—this is why I knew you’d be perfect for this hookup.”
My brain snags on the last part of the sentence. “Hookup?” I choke out.
“Consider me a matchmaker,” Theo says, squeezing Mabel’s shoulder, and my chest tightens. “A business matchmaker, because my sister has always wanted to open a bakery.”
“Right,” I say, since I’ve known she’s been looking for a place in the city for a while.
As he unwraps the chunk of monkey bread, Theo turns to her. “And Mabel, did you know my man Corbinalsowants to open a bakery?”
She whips her gaze to me. “You do?”
It’s not a state secret or anything. Jason, my agent, certainly knows. My buddies Rowan and Tyler on the Sea Dogs, and Riggs and Miller on the Foxes do too. And obviously, Theo’s heard about it. But I don’t go around advertising it to the world. It’s personal.
It was Mom’s dream to open a bakery. We even planned it together, plotting which of her recipes we’d use. Dreaming up the desserts we’d make together and offer each day of the week, from lemon shortbread to chocolate cupcakes, from seven-layer bars to mini key-lime pies. She went so far as to take me around to visit spaces to lease. But then, one weekend, she held out her shaking hand and said quietly, “I think it’s too late.”
The tremors won. Soon, she stopped baking entirely.
I bat away the tough memories, focusing on Theo. “When I retire,” I correct him. “It’s my retirement plan.”
Shrugging like that detail’s unimportant, Theo plucks off a chunk of the sticky-sweet treat. “Plans change. Mabel found out today that she was left this firehouse by our grandma.”
“That’s…huge,” I say. That is an understatement. Bits of the conversation start to line up. “And you’re going to turn it into a bakery?”
She grins, the kind of smile that acknowledges the idea’s a little out there. “I didn’t ever plan on opening a bakeryhere. I don’t know if you recall, but afterthe incident”—she stops to sketch air quotes—“the town’s online gossip column titled their articleOld McMabel and the Four Animals of the Firehouse Apocalypse. Their most popular piece ever. Which was ridiculous since the math was wrong. There were six animals that day.”
That day I met the gorgeous, spunky spitfire in this firehouse and offered to help her clean up the mess of syrup, pancakes, and bacon caused by the farm animals she’d been overseeing as a sanctuary volunteer. While we corralled and cleaned, I plotted how to ask her out. Then I learned she was Theo’s sister, home from college, and I shelved the plans for a date.
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t know about the headline,” I say, in case that eases the sting.
“Thanks. But everyone else did. I haven’t really wanted to set up roots here, or a business. I still don’t, but this is my best shot at a shopfront. Honestly, my only shot. It could be a stepping stone. It has a kitchen with two industrial-size ovens, so I can use those, for sure. We even tested them out, and they work. But the space needs some pretty serious work.”
“Well, itisa firehouse, not a bakery.”
“I know, but the prior owners did some work on it, so it’s not like it needs a complete reno,” she says, then offers a small smile. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“And they involve brilliant brothers,” Theo adds, as he finishes another bite of the bread. “When she got the deed, she asked me if I had any ideas for how she could cover the cash for the extensive updates. Since I am the king of dealmakers, I told her to meet me here. Then I called you.”
“Ihadsomesavings,” Mabel points out, with that slight defensiveness I saw yesterday. Or, maybe it’s pride? “But it’s all gone into marketing my bakery in the city. It’s so competitive there, though, with so many storefronts and ghost kitchens and pop-ups to contend with. I’ve been trying to get a loan to open a bakery there, but I’ve had no luck. And the kitchen I rented is going keto. Now I finally have a space, and that solves one problem, but the upgrades are a whole other issue.”
She sounds hopeful and sad at the same time. Makes sense when she keeps getting close but never close enough. My heart hurts for her.
“She won’t take money from me,” Theo says.
“You have law school loans. Plus, Mom and Dad would never let me hear the end of it.The golden child had to bail you out. Maybe try a real career like law.”
“They wouldn’t have to know,” Theo says.
“They’d find out. It’s what Mom does,” Mabel says. I feel like a bystander to a private family convo. “But I need an investor if I’m ever going to be able to do this. I need…” She stops and takes a big breath. “Capital.”
Theo’s shit-eating grin grows as he turns my way, and I’m no longer a bystander. I’m the main party. I figure what is coming next, right before he says, “That’s you, man. That is fuckingyou. You love to bake too, and you want to open a bakery.”
