Page 17 of Sweet Rivals

Maybe he realized that he had overstayed his welcome, but he seemed so dense that I seriously doubted he had the social awareness to interpret the needs of those around him. I crossed my arms over my chest, letting him know with my body language and daggers for eyes what I thought of that idea.

“It was great meeting you all again. I’ll be by soon. I want to make sure I coordinate with the locals on this new endeavor,” he said.

Mom and Dad said polite goodbyes while I stood my ground, and my rage-filled eye contact, mostly blocking the door. In order to leave, he closed the distance between us. His hulking, overly muscled form stood only inches from me, sending shivers through my body as I remembered our kiss. It was the last thing I wanted to think about. I didn’t want to concede ground, but I also couldn’t possibly remain in such close quarters with him, so I stepped out of the way quickly. His eyes never left mine as he brushed past me.

I forced myself not to watch him walk away and ignored the butterflies that his closeness left in my stomach. I hated this man. I did not watch men I hated walk away while imagining what they looked like naked. I certainly didn’t get all giddy about being around them like a teenager with her first crush.

Eyes on the prize Jenna, I told myself.

Chapter Thirteen

When I looked back into the room, both my parents looked at me with utter bewilderment.

“What was that?” Mom asked.

“I could ask you two the same thing! I thought you were the most anti-big businesspeople in all of Cape Shore. But all it took was a pretty face and some empty promises for the two of you to cave? Did you hear him? I want to coordinate with the locals? The locals? Like we are some strange subspecies in need of studying by Mr. Fancy Pants?”

“Jenna, it isn’t like that,” Mom said. “We don’t have any say over who buys that bakery, and we are better off working with him than against him.”

“We will have to agree to disagree. I distinctly remember you two gathering the pitchfork mob to drive out the Wendy’s that wanted to open on the highway outside of town. I’m pretty sure if you wanted him gone, he would be. I guess it’s going to be up to me to make that happen,” I said.

“Jenna,” Dad said with a worried tone while my mom wrung her hands in concern. “This isn’t like you.”

“Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I have been too non-confrontational and complacent in my own life for far too long,” I said.

I left the office without another word so I wouldn't get into a fight with my parents. I spent my entire life keeping the peace wherever I went. Now I wanted to burn all of that peace to the ground. I couldn’t help but wonder how they would respond if I told them I had wanted to buy that space or dreamed of opening a bakery for over a decade. I worried they would laugh and think I was childish.

Mom sighed, hurrying after me. “Jenna, I think you should look at this as an opportunity. Maybe you could work for Jared on your days off. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to diversify your experience. I am sure he could teach you a lot about the business that you couldn’t learn here.”

I wasn’t so stubborn to think that I had nothing to learn in the ways of owning, operating, or managing a business. Still, there was something so condescending about the way my mom talked about it. Despite being their full-time kitchen manager for years, having a degree ,and being raised in the kitchen, they still saw me as a kid. Maybe that contributed to me not being open about my dreams with them. Another part of me worried that if I talked about it, reality would creep in and taint the perfect image in my head, making it harder to hold onto the fantasy of it all.

Although, that had just happened with or without me sharing my thoughts.

“Okay, Mom, thanks,” I said. I turned away.

I couldn’t stand there and justify my frustration or explain why I would never ever work for the killer of dreams himself.

That night, after my shift, I lay in bed, replaying the day. Despite being new, angry, self-confident Jenna who only cared about her own goals, an uncomfortable feeling settled over me, and it wasn’t just because I kept thinking about myself in the third person. I worried that I had hurt Jared’s feelings, but I also was enraged that he didn’t seem to give a shit that I thought so little of his venture. I just had to make him regret he ever met me. My one and only purpose in life hung in the balance. I couldn’t do nothing.

Tomorrow, I would make a plan. I would channel Cat and all of the badass women who came before me to fight for what should have been mine.

I debated unloading on PotatoBake888 I didn’t want to come off as unhinged. We met through a bakery management course, so it made sense that we both had similar goals. Few people without ambitions of opening a bakery would take a class like that, so maybe he would understand. But even I recognized that my passion may have been over the top at least after my reaction to the bakery being bought.

I crossed the room to my computer. As I opened it, the glaringly bright light became momentarily blinding. Then my message app dinged. A message had come in a few hours ago.

PotatoBake888: Everything back to normal?

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. If he only knew. But once again, I was left with the decision of how much to tell him. How did I even begin to explain why I cared so much both about a big name coming to our small town and about my future plans being forever altered?

TheBakingChick: Not any time soon.

I finally wrote back. It didn’t really matter how long I took, since he had sent the message a while ago, but I didn’t like overthinking my answers.

To my surprise, he wrote back quickly.

PotatoBake888: Is it possible it's change for the better?

TheBakingChick: That’s unusually optimistic of you.

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