“Then why didn’t you get arrested?”
“I almost did once.”
“Elodie!”
Humiliation burns in my stomach. “Honestly, it’s amazing I’m not in jail, but ultimately, the asshole thought he was so smooth, keeping me so controlled that he didn’t let me very far into his life. He had to use his name for the restaurant, but he made me put the apartment in my name. Same with the accounts he hid the retirees’ money in, which I sent back.” And that landed me in the situation I’m in now, but I wasn’t taking anything else from people I didn’t earn. “I don’t want anyone to know.”
“What about Cruz?”
“I told him.” Most of it. He’s done enough for me. If I tell him about the blackmail, he’ll park himself in the bakery every second of every day, with his sleeves rolled up and his apron on. Or worse, he’ll track Damon down and revert to the version of Cruz Foster he’s ashamed of. I’m not putting him in that positionever.
I dig out my phone and check the time. “I’ve gotta get back and prep for tomorrow.” I need to do admin stuff before I can’t hold up my eyelids anymore. “I’ve got a picnic date with Cruz tomorrow night.”
She yanks me into a big hug. “You only leave that bakery to do more work. I’m so glad he’s forcing you to live again.”
I smile and embrace her back, but I can’t fight off the melancholy settling in. Cruz is giving me a taste of how much I’ve been missing, but until I can stop the blackmail, that’s all it’ll be.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cruz
Haven strolls into the tasting room ten minutes before he said he’d relieve me so I can get ready for the picnic with Elodie. He nods at the few tourists scattered throughout the bar, along with Ned and Isadora, the couple who own the local gas station.
When Haven rounds the counter, I don’t leave right away.
“Thanks, man.” I give the counter one last wipe after making Isadora’s cherrytini. I need to get Elodie out to try one of those—if I can ever get her away from the bakery for more than a few hours at a time. She works too hard, and she’s going to drop if she doesn’t let up.
Whatever is driving her must be big.
“Not a problem.” He flips through the recent orders on the tablet, familiarizing himself. “Got nothing else to do.”
“No hot date yourself?”
“Seems everyone’s got one but me.” He gives me a casual smile, but there’s a kinship in his eyes that I recognize from my pre-Elodie days. Since those weren’t long ago, I get where Haven’s coming from. He’s done everything with his brothershis whole life and now they’re all living in separate houses. Iverson has a wife and kids, and Durban and Campbell’s wedding is next summer.
“I’m sure there’s some lucky girl out there for you.”
He smirks. “Unless she comes into the tasting room or hangs out at the auction barn, I’m not meeting her.”
“You gotta get out more.” I’m one to talk. All of us involved in Foster House have sown our wild oats, and the quieter life is more appealing.
“Eh. I’m fine. I went out with Allison a few times last month.”
“Allison Johnson? From the vet’s office?”
He nods and grimaces at the same time. “I swear I heard her introduce me as her future husband to some friends who came into Bootleg on our second date.”
“Oof.”
“Yeah. Haven’t asked her out since, but she keeps asking what my weekend plans are.” He picks up a rag and juggles it from hand to hand. “So if she ever asks, I’m working.”
“You do work a lot,” I say drily.
“All the time.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “I’m not cockblocking you though. Go. Have fun.”
I run home and pack the fried chicken I made last night for our picnic. The salad isn’t pasta today, but I picked up veggies from the farmer’s market. I stuff the special dessert I bought into a cooler with extra ice.
When I drive around the front, the sign on Dee’s Sweets says closed, but Elodie’s inside, in front of the window, talking to a man not quite as tall as me. She’s got her hands on her hips like she’s facing off with him and he’s towering way too fucking close to her. Instead of pulling around the back as planned, I park right in front.
