“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”
“I’ve got the dishes,” I answer. “But you do need to share the recipe for that sourdough, because oh my God, it was incredible.”
He smiles, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks. “Actually, I was hoping you might be free on Saturday.”
I glance at him. “Are you baking bread?”
“Among other things,” he replies with a small laugh. “I’m going blueberry picking in the morning, then making jam and sourdough for the senior home. They’re having a farmers' market on Wednesday, and I like to contribute. I thought maybe you’d want to come with me. The fields are about thirty minutes away. And then,” he adds, quieter, “I could show you my sourdough recipe.”
“And your jam recipe.”
“And my jam recipe.”
“And you’ll give me a bit of your starter,” I continue. “So I don’t have to start from scratch.”
He grins. “I’ll even commit to making you bread whenever you want it.”
I laugh, warmth spreading through me. “You’ve got a deal.”
Chapter 18
The morning disappeared into meetings, notes scribbled in the margins of my planner, and prep work for my first whale-watching excursion. We’ve officially partnered with a handful of the tour companies in Depoe Bay, rotating marine biologists onto their boats so visitors can learn about the whales we track and the conservation work happening just beyond the coastline they come to admire.
It’s exciting, and a little surreal.
George puts me in charge of organizing the schedule, which feels like both a vote of confidence and a test. I build it carefully, making sure Gavin, Cassie, Rafi, and I rotate evenly, each of us assigned to a tour every two weeks. Four weeks out. I send the email and log the dates into the system, satisfied when everything lines up the way it should.
I should feel accomplished. Instead, my thoughts keep drifting back to last night. How easy it felt being in the kitchen with Aiden. How natural the conversation was. How he moved around the space as if he belonged there without ever taking over. How kind he’s been since the moment I met him, in ways that feel intentional rather than showy.
And then there’s Finn.
Showing up out of nowhere. Flowers in hand. Asking me out like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The office phone rings somewhere down the hall as I’m walking toward the coffee machine for a refill, lost in my head.
“May,” Abby calls from the front desk. “Cassie on line two for you.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, grabbing my mug and heading for the nearest phone.
“Hey, Cassie.”
“Hey, girl. Sorry to bug you. I just got your email. Would you mind if I switched days with Rafi next week? My birthday is on Friday, and I got the day off.”
“Oh, of course,” I tell her. “That’s totally fine. I’ll update it in the system.”
“Thank you. Actually, I wanted to ask if you’d like to come. We’re going to the casino Friday night—bar, slots, the whole thing.”
“The casino?” I ask, already smiling.
“And,” she adds, clearly pleased with herself, “it’s eighties night. Full eighties best. What do you say?”
“I’d love to,” I say, mentally scrolling through my closet and immediately realizing I have nothing that qualifies as eighties anything.
“Rafi will be there too,” she continues. “He already has his outfit figured out.”
“I can’t wait,” I laugh. “Cassie, that reminds me, can I ask you something in confidence?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
