And I have to smother a groan.
I do not need to get turned on while we’re flying home.
I close my eyes and try not to think of her, but she’s there, in the bakery, wearing only an apron. She’s in my kitchen, sitting on the counter, asking me what my favorite thing to bake is.
She’s letting her hair down at the end of a long day, shaking it out, then asking me to rub her neck. And I do, while I kiss the back of it, then down her body till she’s?—
Stop.
Just stop.
But when I open my eyes, Theo’s standing by our row. “Nice game tonight.”
I blink off the filthy thoughts.
“Thanks, man,” I say, then shift gears, stat. “How’s it going with the GM job?”
He raps on the back of the seat in front of Riggs even though it’s made of plastic. “Good. Knock on wood.”
“Glad to hear,” I say as the plane hums quietly while hurtling through the night sky.
“What about you and Afternoon Delight? It’s clearly not distracting you from the game,” he says.
“It’s not,” I say, but then I drop the subject because I don’t want to let on that the bakery’s not the distraction.
His sister is, and she plays on a loop in my mind—a loop that is driving me mad since I don’t do loops. I don’t have obsessions. I don’t lose my head over a woman. I never thought this much about Sarah, not about the women I dated after her, and not even about Eliza. Everything with Eliza was comfortable, compartmentalized, easy.
This? There’s nothing easy about the way I can’t stop thinking about Mabel.
But I made a promise not to go there again, and I’m going to keep that promise the second time around.
Not for Theo. Not because he’s her brother. But for me, and for her, and the dream we’re both chasing together.
I invite her brother to grab the empty seat next to me, and we shoot the breeze the rest of the flight, playing cards, talking shit, and having a good time. That helps, too, with my promise.
The next day, I pick up Charlotte from school, and my mind is fixed firmly on being a dad. When she slides into the car, she says, “I just got an email that our volunteer application for the animal shelter was accepted. The one Mabel told us about. We could do that together soon. Isn’t it going to be great?”
“It sure is,” I say, half wishing she hadn’t brought up Mabel, but half grateful, too, that it’s not my fault this time when my mind wanders to the woman I work with.
Besides, I’m good at what I do. I can handle it all. I can definitely handle it.
21
THAT LITTLE BAKERY
MABEL
I’d rather be baking,butI also know I need to, how shall we say, mend some fences? To some, I’m still the girl who took off from Cozy Valley and hardly ever came back, and if I want these townspeople to come to my bakery, I need to say hi and let them know I’m sticking around.
Well, for a year at least, but that counts.
I’m running some errands in town today, and that gives me the perfect chance to spread the word about Afternoon Delight. The business—not what Corbin did to me a week agoinour business. I definitely need to put that incident out of my head. And I’m doing my best to quit daydreaming about it.
I swear I’m trying not to think about Corbin’s magical thigh.
After I stop by Reprise to pick up another set of adorably mismatched plates, I invite the owner to check us out when we open in around two weeks, handing her a fresh new card with a QR code on it for Afternoon Delight. “Would love to see you there, Zakiya,” I tell her.
I’ve gotten to know her a bit from my trips here to forage for dishes. Originally from Bahrain, she’s newish to Cozy Valley too, her makeup game is on point, and she has a wicked sweet tooth. In short, I adore her.
