Page 34 of Sweet Rivals

I walked through the cafe, pausing briefly to look at the main space, imagining what it would look like when it was done. It made my chest swell up with excitement, regret, and worry. I had to win. I had to make this happen. I wanted it so badly that it hurt.

As I stepped into the sun, I turned on the boardwalk and headed for home. A line already formed in front of the Fudge House where a poor, overwhelmed teenager handed out samples and tried to direct the crowd into the store for a purchase. Children ran squealing toward the arcade, which played a constant stream of electronica accompanied by the whistles and sirens of blasting games. Cyclists on single speed beach cruises with wide handlebars and old rickety baskets peddled slowly by, clunking along loose boards as they relearned how to ride a bike. It was the sound of my life and helped ground me just a little bit from the heartbreak of my current predicament.

The gritty sand and congealed flour rubbed at my skin and left me desperate for a shower, which only pulled my mind back to the strange events of the day. I should have been back at the bakery, trying out recipes. Instead, I was slinking home to get a shower. What the hell had happened? Who the hell was that girl spraying water in the kitchen and wrestling in the sand? Had the whole thing been a rouse to get my guard down? Pull me off-balance? Get me out of the kitchen?

I really knew nothing at all about Jared or his brother or his family. I, unlike my mom, was still ardently against the corporate takeover of my small little beach town. More and more, however, I felt like I was in the minority. Chuck from the Cape Shore Daily News, which had actually turned into a monthly paper sometime in the last two decades, had called the bakery and asked for an interview. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a hard-hitting think piece about the fast-fading small town feel as big names took over for mom-and-pop shops. Even Cat, who would be on my side until the day we died, seemed to not mind Jared so much.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Sorry about earlier,” the voice behind me sounded familiar and entirely foreign at the same time.

When I turned around and saw Jared’s almost twin, I understood why. They were so similar that it was almost like looking at the same person drawn by different artists.

I had gone home, taken a shower, and wallowed in self-pity before going to grab a sandwich at the deli on Elm. It was literally a hole in the wall, well off the beaten path, where the owner wore a cheese wedge for a hat as he stuck his head out the walk-up window to take orders. At lunch time, the line snaked down Elm and turned the corner onto Howard Street as people baked in the sun, waiting for the uniquely named sandwiches.

I stood right alongside them like the sucker I was when Joel sidled up beside me. I hadn’t decided yet if I should hate him as much as Jared or give him a little credit for also wanting the downfall of the bakery.

“Ummm … okay,” I said.

Around me, I caught women letting their eyes linger on Joel. Between his good looks and his fame, I guess he was the type of guy to elicit that kind of response. He was muscular, lean, and well put together like his brother, but more than that, he gave off an air of confidence that drew people in. I couldn’t put my finger on what made some people exude effervescent confidence and what made others sort of fade into the background, like me. I wasn’t necessarily immune to Joel’s natural, effortless charm, rather, I had more pressing things on my mind.

“You clean up pretty nicely,” Joel said with a smile.

I squinted my eyes at him. He wasn’t wrong. The lack of sand and flour, coupled with a cute pair of floral, high-waisted shorts and a white crop tank, did make me look pretty cute. However, I was suspicious by nature, and doubly so when compliments came after the cold introduction we’d had.

Joel smiled. Again, it was swoon-worthy, for sure, but somehow, it didn’t have quite the same lightness that Jared’s did. When Jared smiled, it felt like the whole world smiled with him. What the hell? I shook my head, trying to dislodge that thought.

“I know our first meeting wasn’t all that pleasant. My brother and I don’t always see eye to eye, and it doesn’t put me in the best of moods. Can we start again?” He reached out his hand as the line lurched forward. I glanced at him warily before shaking it. “I’m Joel. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Jenna,” I said, shaking his hand.

“I don’t know you, Jenna, but food fight aside, you come off as grounded and maybe a little suspicious. I like that. I think it would be a good counterpoint to my brother. But I’m going to be honest with you.” We stepped forward in line again. I eyed him sideways trying to figure out what his angle was. What was with the compliments? “I don’t agree with this venture my brother has undertaken. Like you heard, it is frivolous, risky, and well outside of our brand. For those reasons alone, it is going to garner a lot of attention. I don’t know if he is ready for that.”

“Why is he doing it then?” I asked the one question that had been burning in me since the moment I noticed the missing for sale sign outside my barley. His comment about lots of attention fell to the bottom of my stomach like an anchor dragging me down. I would have to reflect on that idea later.

Joel shrugged. “He isn’t being entirely forthcoming with me.”

I stepped up in line again and found myself face to face with Andy in his cheese hat.

“Jenna! The usual?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” I said.

“You got it. One Cape Shore Bomber coming right up. And for you sir?” Andy asked.

“I’ll take the veggie wrap,” Joel said, and suddenly I felt self-conscious about the greasy egg, bacon, sauerkraut sandwich I was about to eat.

“Be right up!” he said.

We stood to the side while we waited for our food. I couldn’t figure out why Joel had found me. Maybe it hadn’t been purposeful at all, but it felt like this conversation was going somewhere. I didn’t like that I couldn’t predict where. Since Jared showed up in my life, few things were predictable. My routine was in shambles, my job—if I could even call it that—was unrecognizable, and now I was surrounded by two men who both seemed to have a hidden agenda.

Once Andy called our names and placed the food in our hands, we stepped away from the chaos of the sandwich place and started walking toward the boardwalk without a word. The longer the silence stretched, the more my anxiety grew. I guess I was having lunch with this guy now?

With the wooden planks under our feet, we navigated toward the first bench overlooking the sand and water that we came to. With an unspoken agreement, we sat down. I unwrapped my food and did my best to keep sauerkraut and cheese sauce from dribbling down my chin as I took my first bite.

“So how did you and Jared meet?” he asked finally after a few bites of food. It was an interesting question because while we met by happenstance at the Food Fest, it didn’t even begin to explain how we got where we were.

“He was visiting for the Food Fest. I was working the stall for my parents' restaurant,” I said, regretting my honesty. For some reason, I didn’t love the idea of Joel Wallace knowing about The Lobster Tail.

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