“Mila, relax. He didn’t say anything bad. It was good, exactly what your brother should do when you start dating someone. He loves you.”
“Ugh. I know he does. I just wish he would back off a little. He doesn’t need to be so worried about me and my personal life.”
Somehow, my hands are still on her wrists, and I realize my thumbs are tracing gentle circles around her skin. I don’t think about what I’m doing, just tug her closer until she’s close enough for me to wrap my arms around her shoulders. Her head falls to my chest and I have to remind myself I’m just being a friend. But…would friends hug like this? And enjoy it…a lot? Only if you want more than friendship. My inner voice needs to shut the fuck up right now, because she feels good in my arms, and she certainly doesn’t seem like she thinks this is weird.
“That’s the whole point of what we’re doing, though, isn’t it? Show your brother he doesn’t need to worry about you, even if it is stupid that it takes a relationship for that to happen.”
“Just like it’s stupid that Morton won’t believe that you’re settled in town unless you’re in a relationship?”
I reluctantly take a step back, letting my hands drop down to my sides. “Exactly. It’s all so ridiculous, but as long as you and I know what we’re doing and why, it’ll work.”
“Just don’t fall for me, Jackson Holt.”
I scoff at her teasing. “I could say the same to you, Mila Monroe.”
“No chance. You might be handsome and have sexy forearms, but I don’t have time for love.”
She doesn’t have the time, and my heart still feels too jaded to even consider it. On paper, we look like the perfect pairing for a relationship of convenience.
And yet it stings to hear those words.
Chapter 9
Mila
“If you want to knock down that wall, we could, but not all the way across. We’ll need a structural beam as well. Mila, are you even listening to me?”
Ethan’s frustrated voice interrupts my distracted thoughts, and I look at him guiltily. “Yeah. A beam. Okay.”
“No, it’s not just ‘okay’. A beam is a lot of work, and a lot of money. What’s going on Mills, you’re the one who wanted to meet today, so why are you so distracted?”
I can’t tell him the truth, that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Jackson. When he pulled me into his arms at the house yesterday, it didn’t feel like a friend comforting a friend. It felt like more. Even if the words we spoke said otherwise, my damn heart is starting to see him differently. Blame the kiss at the restaurant, blame the funny texts we keep sending each other, blame the way my breath speeds up when he walks into the bakery each morning and kisses my forehead for everyone to see.
He might be a fake boyfriend but he’s a damn good one.
“Sorry, Ethan. I’m just tired.” I hate lying to my brother most of all, and he knows I’m terrible at it, so for a minute, I think he’s going to call me out on it. But I’m not faking the dark circles under my eyes, those are courtesy of waking up before five am six days a week. I’m looking forward to this week when I get two days off, thanks to the Canada Day holiday falling on a Monday, the day after my usual day off. My friends tell me I work too much and I’m starting to think they’re right. Not that I can admit that now, especially as Ethan and I are finally figuring out my plans for expansion. It’s taken years for me to save up the money for this, and for the space to be available. But here I am, standing in what will eventually become the café side of The Nutty Muffin.
I hope my mom is happy.
“So, we add a beam. I’ve got the budget for it, right?”
Ethan looks at me for a second before answering. “Yeah, you do. I still think it might be easier if we don’t knock down the entire wall. Just part of it. It’ll feel open but have some separation. You said you wanted one side to be more of a deli or café, so then maybe the other side stays focused on the bakery. You could add more display cases if you move seating over here.”
I look around the space, trying to envision what he’s suggesting. And I can see it easily. Instead of only offering pre-made sandwiches like I do right now, on a very limited basis at that, I could have this side of the space be where customers could sit and eat, with staff making sandwiches on my baked bread, fresh to order. Then the other side could be for all things sweet.
“Do you think the name still works? Can a lunch place be called The Nutty Muffin?”
Ethan chuckles. “I think if you tried to change the name, you’d have a riot on your hands.”
That makes me smile, mostly because it’s true. My regulars love the name of the bakery, some have even asked if I could make mugs with the logo on it. Paige sketched the adorable muffin with a cute face for me, and I have to admit, it would look perfect on a mug or a shirt.
“Okay, the name stays for now, but I’m not totally convinced. We knock down part of the wall, add a beam, more display cases next door, and a food prep area over here. Can we still expand the kitchen?”
Ethan and I walk to the back of the space, where he takes some measurements before confirming I have room back here for at least an oven and refrigerator, plus some storage. The majority of the baking will still happen on the other side, but it’ll be nice to have a little work space here.
When we’re finished, we wander over to the bakery where things are slow but steady, as usual for the early afternoon. Ethan pours us both a cup of coffee while I go to the back and grab two raspberry scones that I made fresh this morning with raspberries from a local farm. In the summer, I’m overwhelmed with choices of fresh fruit to use in my treats, and berry scones sell out every single day. I happen to know they’re my brother’s favourite, which is why I saved these for him.
“You’re too good to me, Mills,” he groans when he sees the plate.
