Page 30 of Sweet Rivals

“So you have big secrets,” I said. “You a serial killer or something? Oh, maybe it’s fraud? Or all the recipes you stole. Maybe all your success is on the backs of unpaid labor!”

“The way you said that, I can’t help but wonder which one would be worse in your book,” he said.

“Hard to say. I guess murder is kind of a red flag, but exploiting workers, that's a dealbreaker. I couldn’t work for a company who does that.”

“At least you have your standards,” he said.

“Yep. Let me know now,” I said.

“I’m not exploiting labor. I don’t have any at the moment, anyway.”

“In your other restaurants?”

“I’m not all that involved in those beyond my last name.”

“Ah, family drama! Makes sense,” I said, nodding my head. While I was partially joking, it actually did make some sense. The Wallaces were practically a corporate machine. Those types of restaurants didn’t do anything like a small-town bakery. They did everything by focus groups and committees. The email I saw on his computer made a little bit more sense if their family was strained, and he had somehow managed to forge out on his own. “You gonna name this place after yourself?” The question occurred to me as bile rose from my stomach, threatening to climb up my throat.

“Haven’t decided on a name yet. Any thoughts?”

Oh, I had thoughts. Lots and lots of thoughts that I had considered over years and years. But I had no intention of sharing them with him. Not yet, anyway. Why did he want my thoughts? To steal them or because he genuinely valued my opinion? He was strangely personable. I had known from the night we met that he was easy to be around, but I somehow hadn’t expected him to be so—kind. Unless, of course, it was all an act.

Once I’d written down my email address, we walked through the kitchen which also hadn’t been cleared or updated. Without a menu or inventory to start cooking with, I decided to go home to continue planning. I wasn’t going to get anything done with Jared watching over my shoulder.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Later that night, I found myself outside in sweats, a cropped tank over a bathing suit with flip flops, and my hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun. I didn’t have anywhere to go, but my feet dragged me to their usual thinking spots. The amazing thing about living near the beach was how easy it was to reset your perspective. No matter how clouded with doubt or knotted with frustration my thoughts became, the salty air, the misty ocean spray, and the vast blue horizon had the power to clear it almost instantly.

After meeting with Jared, which left me disarmed against my will and ill at ease, I stopped by The Lobster Tail to get Jose set up for my absence. I knew they would manage fine without me, but still I felt it might be helpful if I ran down some of the things I did to help the place run smoother. I had to trust that he would manage, but I fully expected the kitchen would be a bit of a mess in my absence. I guess it was nice to be needed, but I would have been happier knowing that I could leave The Lobster Tail behind altogether.

I had gotten lost in the rabbit hole of my thoughts again by the time I found my little cove. The moon hung heavy and bright in the sky, painting the ocean a liquid silver. The beach, hidden beyond the rocky alcove, had just enough light seeping into it to allow me to find my way down without breaking my neck. As soon as my feet hit the sand, I pulled my shirt and sweats off, leaving them in a heap before running into the warm waves. I rushed past the breakers, jumping and diving so they didn’t knock me over before the water reached my waist, and I could ride the rolling waves, floating on my back. I spread my limbs into a star. The waves rocked me gently up and down as I stared at the night sky, dotted with stars.

This little cove was one of my favorite spots. The peninsula came to a point and the shoreline made a half-moon shape with large rocky outcroppings surrounding a mostly hidden piece of beach. The waves were mild, and it created a private little spot that I had visited since I was a kid. Very few people knew about it and even fewer bothered to visit. It was where I did my best contemplating.

My dream felt so close I could touch it and so impossibly far at the same time. This wasn’t how I had imagined any of this would look. I felt disoriented and antsy. All I had wanted for the longest time was to be done with the kitchen, working every day in my bakery. Now, I didn’t have to go to the kitchen for the foreseeable future, but the bakery held all kinds of angst, not the least of which was Jared. He didn’t make any sense to me. Every time he opened his mouth, the mystery felt deeper rather than shallower. He had ridiculous amounts of money that allowed him to do whatever the hell he wanted, and yet he had brought me in with big promises of power and control. He had his big family name but seemed to have purchased the bakery on a whim, likely without his family's say, possibly without their support. And worst of all, he kissed me the night we met. Nothing made sense.

I felt disoriented and antsy. I had intended to come here and imagine my menu, so why the hell was I wasting my time thinking about Jared? I briefly let myself sink under the water before making my way toward shore. I ran through the waves again, only stumbling a few times as the waves crashed on my ankles and tried to pull me back to the abyss. As I reached the sand, I saw a man emerge from the rocks.

“Holy shit!” I shouted, grabbing my chest to keep my heart from exploding out of it.

“Evening,” Jared said with a laugh.

“You’re one creepy asshole,” I said.

“You are the one emerging from the ocean in the dark like a siren or something,” he said.

I rolled my eyes, hoping he could see the expression in the moonlight. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

How the hell had Jared found this place? I was starting to worry that I had been transported to a sci-fi movie, and this guy had put a microchip in my head.

“It seemed like a nice spot to think. I’m working on my inspiration for my menu,” he said.

“Want to bounce any ideas around?” I asked.

“You’ll probably steal them.”

“Don’t worry, I only steal good ideas.”

His lips pulled into a smile as he looked down at me. Every time I tried to say something insulting or offensive, it just amused him. It was absolutely infuriating.

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