It’s the fucking wind.
It’s like a thousand little knives poking me all over my body at one time. And it makes it feel like it’s actually negative ten degrees.
I mean…holy shit.
It doesn’t help that we don’t have gloves. Or hats. Orcoats.
“Sorry, man,” Graham says. “I should have left you in New Mexico.” He shoots me a grin. “I know Sofia would be happy to keep you warm.”
I don’t react to Graham’s comment about Sofia. It will only encourage him. Yes, the gorgeous daughter of the man we were there to meet with made it very clear that she hopes I come back soon. She’s also a fantastic cook, sweet, intelligent. All of thethings. I’m sure Graham is completely confused as to why I’m not more enthusiastic about Sofia’s attention.
But, somehow, it has escapedGraham’sattention that I’m crazy about his sister.
Maybe it’s for the best. For now, anyway. It’s not like I’ve really won Ginny over to the idea of us being madly in love, either. But the fact that Graham’s oblivious to the situation is amusing.
Finally, our ride into town—a friend of Graham’s—pulls up.
“Oh my God, how do you not have coats?” the pretty brunette asks through the rolled-down window.
“Hey, Sasha,” Graham greets, opening the back door. “Yeah, we were a little distracted when we packed for the first leg of this trip.”
The trunk pops open, and I load my bag before taking the front seat.
“Hi, I’m Sasha Wright,” she says, giving me a big smile.
“I’m Everett.” I extend my hand.
She laughs and leans over to give me a quick hug. “I know. Welcome back.” She pulls away and twists. “Graham, shut the damned door! It’s freezing!”
He chuckles. “I noticed.” He slams his door, and we pull out of the tiny airport that’s a few miles outside of town.
I’d flown in and out of Lincoln the first time I’d come to Sapphire Falls, but Mason quickly informed me that there is a private airstrip I can use. For such a small town, there are an unusual number of people with enough money to have or charter private planes. It’s been a very nice way to get in and out of town quickly.
Sasha talks non-stop on the short drive to the bakery and lets us out at the curb.
“I’ll take your bags over to Adrianne and Mason’s!” she promises as we get out.
“Thanks, Sasha,” Graham says. “I owe you a drink later.”
She laughs. “Sure thing.”
He grins at me as we head into the bakery. “Her parents own the Come Again bar. She pretty much always drinks for free.”
A bell tinkles merrily as Graham pulls the door open to Scott’s Sweets.
The moment I step inside, I feel a sense of calm and happiness wash over me.
I’m not sure why. It is bustling and crowded, packed with people and loud conversation, laughter, and sounds I can’t even place. I assume they’re coming from the kitchen and are things like mixers. But every reference I have for bakeries comes from television and movies. And I don’t even really watch television or movies. I’ve probably read books that have bakery references in them at some point in my thirty-one years, but I can’t think of any in particular at the moment.
There is still something so warm and inviting about Scott’s Sweets. Obviously, everyone in this shop is happy to be here. And why wouldn’t they be? The place is filled with the smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate. And most of all, the people behind the counter, greeting everyone with big smiles, are Adrianne and Ginny Riley. There is another woman, too, but I don’t know who she is, and honestly, once I see Harriet Ginger Riley, I cannot think of anything else anyway.
Our eyes lock across the room like some cliché, and she freezes for a moment. If I hadn’t been watching specifically to see what her reaction would be, I might have missed the way her smile brightened for just a moment before she looked away from me.
I think she missed me. Or at least she was anticipating my arrival today.
That smile, that single moment, was worth not staying in New Mexico.
Being apart for a month hasn’t made me want her less.
