“No worries,” I smile and show my sketchbook page.
I used to be self-conscious about my sketches. Like each design was too personal to share. I hated criticism and got nervous for feedback. I used to be a nail bitter. But after college and job hunting I developed thick skin. And a love for my own style. My croquis forms aren’t the normal super tall and slender forms like most of my coworkers. My feminine bodies tend to have thicker thighs and more to their waist. Plus, I lean towards bright colors instead of skin tones. Which means the beaded emerald and black gown I’m sketching is over a bright blue curvy body with a fancy updo in purple.
“This is great,” Dylan lets out a long whistle. “You have a knack for color, even with the black. I like your shading.” He points to the way the fabric folds and how it looks as if it’s moving without wind.
“Thank you,” I grin. “What’s your role here at the bakery?” He sits down next to me.
“I’m the cake decorator,” he extends his hand and I shake it. “I’m Dylan,” he taps the name tag.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Mallory. Do you draw? Or paint?”
“In my spare time I enjoy painting and sculpting. Though I don’t have a lot of free time with being a single dad and all.”
“Are all the employees here single parents?”
“Pretty much. It’s great. We all have something in common. And it’s a real hit for the women in town,” he laughs and I can’t help but join. Dylan is easy to chat with. He doesn’t make me nervous like Jake does.
“You work with Jake then,” I slip his name into the conversation and watch as Dylan narrows his eyes for a moment before they widen in amusement.
“Ah, you must be the one he had to cancel on. He was torn up about that.”
“Actually, we’re all going to the pancake dinner.”
“Him and Char? Interesting.” Dylan tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.
“It should be fun. Unless the pancakes aren’t good. Then I’ll be disappointed.” He chuckles and asks how long I’m in town for. “Almost two weeks. My friends sent me here for the Heart-to-Heart Festival. Apparently, Valentine, Montana is the hot spot for singles. Who knew?” I shrug my shoulders.
“We do our best,” he grins. “Word of advice, or I suppose it’s more of a small note. Jake doesn’t really date. Like ever.”
“Ever?” Even I go on the occasional date. I haven’t really had a serious relationship last longer than a year and a half though.
“Charlotte comes first. Always has and probably always will.”
“I get that. But thanks for the heads up. It’s not like I’m here for long anyways. Just the festival and I’m back to Québec City.”
“He may tell you but he may not, he’s had his heart broken before. Just go easy on him.” I’m about to reply when someone comes over to ask Dylan about a wedding cake order. He excuses himself and I find myself alone once more.
I had assumed that the lack of wedding band and dinner offer meant Jake was single. To know he’s also healing from heartache is a line I would hesitate to cross. Especially with me leaving. Who knows, we may not even get along.
Though a little fun is the reason I’m here.
After a little longer I head back to the hotel to take a break in their sauna, shower, and unwind with a book. Then I’m dressed in a navy and green striped sweater and my skinny jeans. They hug my hips but have enough stretch in them to be practical. I grab my purse and pull on my winter gear. It’s almost six so I head to the bakery to meet Jake and Charlotte.
I see Charlotte before I spot Jake sitting inside. I say hi to the duo and Charlotte wraps her arms around my legs. It surprises me and I feel my cheeks start to hurt from the wide grin I have plastered on my face.
“Ready for pancakes?” Jakes asks and I nod. He scoops Charlotte up and holds the door open for me as we leave.
We walk side by side in silence for a moment before Charlotte asks me why I’m in Montana.
“I’m here for the festival. And I really like pancakes,” she giggles at my reply.
“That’s a long flight for breakfast food,” Jake states as he sets Charlotte down and the fire station comes into view.
“True. This town is on the small side, isn’t it? That walk was short.” I look up and down the street dotted with various brick buildings.
“It has everything you could possibly need though.” He points out the pharmacy across the street, a diner with a brightneon open sign, and the flower shop a few storefronts down. “Also, the best bakery in Montana,” he beams.
We enter the fire station and there are large tables set up and a few men in navy outfits walking around with plates piled high with pancakes. The room smells like maple syrup and sugar.
