Page 19 of Sweet Rivals

PoatoBake888: I guess we can’t be friends anymore.

TheBakingChick: I guess not.

PoatoBake888: Talk to you tomorrow?

TheBakingChick: Sure

I went to bed with a smile on my face until I remembered the real problem waiting for me in the morning. Why couldn’t PotatoBake888 been the one to show up unexpectedly in my town instead of my worst nightmare made real.

Chapter Fourteen

Iwoke up the next morning and moved through my routine, but the second I stepped outside, I lost all momentum. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Find a new walk? Go past the bakery and have my heart ripped out again? I stood outside of my front door, the usual morning walkers hoofing it past me on the sidewalk in their workout gear off to get a juice from Green Goddess or a coffee from The Magic Cafe.

“You are a badass, Jenna,” I whispered to myself as I lifted my chin and closed my eyes, letting the sun energize me. “You are a badass,” I whispered again.

When I opened my eyes, the two old ladies in a power-walk lockstep looked at me scandalized, threatening my barely-there confidence. When they were out of earshot, I whispered it one more time, to reaffirm it in my mind. Maybe if I kept saying it, I would believe it. Either way, I wasn’t letting corporate take-over ruin my walk too. Besides, I could do some recon when I passed my bakery.

I started my walk with a pep in my step and an anger-fueled conviction. The closer I got to the bakery, the more my anxiety ticked up. I felt it tightening my chest when the glass windows of the bakery came into view.

“What the hell am I doing?” I whispered to myself. I stopped in my tracks and started turning around. I didn’t want to see Jared, and I definitely didn’t want him to see me. I didn’t have a plan of attack yet. I needed Cat. I needed … I didn’t know what I needed. Maybe to channel Carrie. I didn’t feel badass at all anymore.

“You come to take me up on my offer?”

The voice left my throat dry for more reasons than one. I wished that every time I thought of him, I didn’t think of that stupid kiss. I turned. He stood there, still wearing vacationer gear, a floral print, short-sleeved button down, khaki shorts, and flip flops. Who works in a kitchen in flip flops?

“Of course not,” I said.

“That’s too bad,” he said. “I was just trying to decide on a color scheme. I have the construction guys coming tomorrow to rearrange the layout. I have to choose paint colors and order the furniture and fixtures.”

“How about orange and purple?” I said.

“Bold choices,” he said with a smirk as if I was joking.

“I guess you aren’t brave enough to stand out,” I said. Internally, I felt warmth creeping through my body as uncertainty coursed through me in waves. What was I doing?

“I thought you didn’t want to mar the beauty of Cape Shore. Don’t you think a bright orange and purple bakery might do that?” he asked, still smirking like we were just two friends having a laugh.

“I think you aren’t going to be here long enough to make an impact one way or the other,” I said with a lift of my eyebrow that I hoped looked confident and uncaring.

“Is that right? How come?”

“Because I am going to make sure of it,” I said, letting all the anger I felt drip from my voice like venom. Shit, did I just show my hand? Goddamn, why was I so bad at this?

His eyebrows climbed his forehead. I had finally managed to wipe the stupid smirk off his face. It was replaced with genuine concern and something else that I couldn’t read because I didn’t interpret asshole. I had forgotten that he had no idea that he had ruined my life, or at the very least, dropped a bomb on it. He knew how I felt about his family and their business practices to some extent, but he had no idea how personal it was for me.

Shit, this wasn’t going how I intended it to.

“I will have you know that this was supposed to be MY bakery,” I said.

He stood silently for a minute blinking through his shock. We stared at each other to the accompaniment of waves crashing and seagulls screeching.

“What?”

“This bakery. I didn’t miss the old place. I wanted it to be mine.” Suddenly, I worried I sounded like a petulant child. I had gone years not divulging my real ambitions, and here I was, blurting it out to a rich, famous, and hugely successful chef who didn’t give two shits about me or my town or my bakery. My cheeks burned red, and I had half a mind to cut and run. Pack a bag and move far, far away. I guess I would have to start considering that as a real possibility—open a bakery someplace else. My shoulders sagged with the thought.

“Then why wasn’t it?” he asked.

I blinked. Ouch, that was not a comeback I was prepared for.

---