She smiles, gazing at the decal. “Before her grandfather died, he always used to call her grandma Honey.”
My cheeks warm. It’s one of those simple things that makes you more attached to a place and its past.
When we walk inside, my eyes roam. The interior aesthetic completely matches the exterior. There’s an accent wall coated in dark paint on the opposite side of the order counter. Wood tables fill the space, and vining houseplants hang in the rafters. Natural light drifts in through the front and rear windows. The back of the bakery leads out to a deck with a view of the bay where Cedar Creek flows into the Columbia.
A few people are chatting and working on computers, sipping their drinks, or indulging in their baked goods.
Dainty hanging lights weave through the rafters and hang over glass cases of croissants, cookies, cakes, muffins, andseveral other pastries, making my mouth water. The one natural brick wall behind the counter pulls everything together. The ambiance of this bakery is impressive for a town of this size. The fact that she had enough money to afford renovations like this is impressive.
My gaze immediately lands on the gorgeous honey-blonde girl who pushes through a set of kitchen doors and reaches into the glass case of various pastries. Her hair is in a messy bun, pieces framing her round face. She has a slim nose and gorgeous, rosy cheeks, probably from running around.
She places a muffin on a plate and calls out a name. She immediately smiles when her attention lands on us walking to the register. She thanks the man who comes up to pick up his order, wiping her hands on her black apron, which covers a short, floral summer dress.
“I was wondering when I would see my favorite customers again,” she beams.
Jessica rolls her eyes and stifles a laugh. “You say that to everyone.”
“But I actually mean it when I say it to you.” She winks at Elena.
Elena drops my hand and peers over the countertop at her. “Adelaide, this is my new nanny, Miss Taryn!”
Her vibrant blue eyes find mine.
This is Cameron’s best friend? Because, holy hell, I have no idea how he’s not dating her. I would date her if I were into women. Images of his face between my legs last night encourage the pang of jealousy stirring in my sternum.
I swallow, attempting to disregard the unwelcome feeling, and manage a smile to dissipate the tension. “Nice to meet you, Adelaide.”
A corner of her lips tugs upward at my greeting, and I can only wonder what thoughts are rummaging through her head at this moment.
I eye her suspiciously. “What?”
“I’m going to go see what Tristan wants,” Jess says, leaving me with Elena to find Tristan, who found a table at the back of the bakery near the patio doors.
Adelaide shakes her head. “You are awfully calm for someone who just moved to town and was—” She peers around, her eyes flicking from one corner of the room to the other. She lowers her voice to a level that has my heart thumping louder than her whisper. “Abducted.”
I don’t miss the hint of amusement slipping through her tone.
She straightens, her voice full of humor. “Cameron is horrible at keeping secrets from me. I’m surprised to see you because I thought it would be months before they let you off the hill. Those boys don’t trust easily.”
Yeah, I’ve figured that out.
“I told them I needed to get out, or I was going to go insane.”
She lifts a brow. “But you’re not running?” There is no hint of judgment laced with the humor in her tone. She’s genuinely curious.
She has this aura about her, one that clutches onto the tension swarming in my chest and draws it out in a form of honesty I’ve never had with strangers before her.
My lips roll, the breath in my lungs expelling leisurely. “Is it horrible to say that I’m making more now than I was with my teaching job?”
She gives me a suppressed grin. Running her hands along the smooth countertop, she says, “Not at all. We do what we do to survive, even if it’s unconventional in the eyes of society.” She tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “And there’s nothingwrong with making decisions that make us content even if the circumstances want to convince us otherwise.”
There’s an underlying meaning behind her words—a flash in her eyes showing me she believes every word. As if she knows the kind of torment your gut battles when you’re doing something that’s not normal or accepted.
It’s only been a few weeks on Lindenvale Hill, and my brain ceased trying to persuade me that this is completely wrong a few days ago when I saw how Cameron and Brennan tucked the kids in one night. They never fail to say “I love you” to each other. Colten too. He may live in the cabin, but he says it before he leaves for the night. The forehead kisses he gives Elena are like missiles straight to my core.
But the reality is always there in the background. Lurking. Festering. Constantly reminding me of the situation when the feeling of confinement settles in.
“And if it makes you feel any better, the Lindenvale brothers are a lot of talk. So, if they threaten you, just take it with a grain of salt. They find…pleasure in threatening something pretty.”
