Page 66 of Never Let You Go

At the bakery, we do our share to help out, and Alexandra and I are carrying the last of the stuff we made. Isaac brought the bulk of it earlier and stayed to enjoy himself. A welcome reprieve for the kid, one he can chalk up to “working” as far as his father’s concerned.

When we walk in—Skye skipping ahead, Alexandra in front of me, and me closing the back—there’s a card game going on in a corner, with a couple of the firemen, the pastor, the owner of the General Store, and my cousin Colton—Grace’s brother, who’s usually more of the hermit kind.

A group of women greet Alexandra loudly from afar, and my chest warms as I watch her plop the pies she’s carrying on the bar counter, hang her coat up, and join them.

This town has a way of pulling you in, and I love that for her. She’s not open about her life in New York, but I’m not getting a homesick vibe. If I’m counting right, she has one good friend in New York. And no family. She’s had an active social life here. And I like it.

So damn much.

This town saved me.

Alexandra might not know it, but she needs saving too. She’s too fucking lonely.

I strain to keep my eyes off her and focus instead on the laughter coming from behind the doors to the kitchen. Hoisting Skye on my hip, I kick the swing doors open and walk in on Justin stirring a sauce while sipping wine, and Shane, his chef, pouring carrot ginger soup in a chafer. They erupt in laughter as Wendy and Todd, the owners of the inn, deliver the punch line of one of their guests’ shenanigans. I plop Skye on the prep table next to Shane, who starts quizzing her on school and life in general.

It’s only minutes before Grace pops her head in. “You guys still think you’re the cool crowd? We’re too old for that. C’mon!” She grabs a bowl of potato salad and goes back into the pub. “Dinner’s served!” she announces, her voice not carrying at all, but knowing we’ll feel compelled to follow, as we should.

Soon, there’s a line at the makeshift buffet laid out on the bar, then we all take our seats at different tables. Isaac joins me, and I sit back, taking a slow drink of my beer. Skye is sitting at the kids’ table, laughing and eating. Alexandra is on the opposite side of the room, deep in conversation with Grace, Kiara, Autumn, and Cassandra. Her fingers dance on her phone, which she shows around the table. The women nod, then the conversation resumes. She sips her wine in tiny laps, her eyes dance, shiny. Happy. She says something, and everyone listens to her.

“Alex said she hopes you’ll enter the baking competition,” Isaac drops before shoving a heaping forkful of food in his mouth.

“She did?”

“Mm-hm,” he answers, and swallows. “She really hopes so. Heard her talk with Kiara about it.”

“That right.”

“Kiara was saying how you don’t give a shit. And Alex said you should start giving a shit or you’re gonna turn into an old fart.”

My head whips to him. “She said that.”

“Yup.” He finishes his soda in one long pull and stands to refill his plate.

My eyes flit from him to Alexandra, and I catch her looking at me. Pink tints her cheeks, but she holds my gaze.

Smiles at me.

Isaac takes his seat next to me. “She meant it in a good way, you know. I think.” He shrugs. “Never really know with women.”

“You know much about women, dude? You’re what, sixteen?”

“Seventeen. And I do know how she looks at you when you’re not looking, so I know she meant it in a good way.”

Alright. I’m done with this high school bullshit. I don’t need a seventeen-year-old filling me in on who in class has a crush on me.

But I am going to throw my hat in the competition.

“I’m not an old fart,” I tell Isaac.

Justin slides a chair next to me. “Isn’t that what all old farts say?”

Isaac chuckles.

“What’s this about?” Justin asks.

I glower at Isaac, but he ignores me, and says, “Alexandra thinks the boss should enter the baking competition, so now the boss has his panties in a tizzy because he doesn’t want to bother with that, but if Alexandra wants it…”

Justin’s shoulders shake as he tries to hold in his chuckle. “Dude,” he tells Isaac. “Don’t ruin a good thing, okay? We’ve all been trying to get him to do it. Don’t be jealous because some hot chick from the city rolls in and has him wrapped around her finger and he doesn’t even know it yet. You’re his teenage male employee. You’re in a different world. Just be thankful he’s going to do something good for himself. And for us. For the whole town.”

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