Page 36 of Sweet Rivals

PotatoBake888: Are we going to have a conversation of only questions?

TheBakingChick: Maybe?

PotatoBake888: Lol that doesn’t count

TheBakingChick: You ruined it

PotatoBake888: Maybe you shouldn’t go to dinner with this guy.

I read PotatoBake888 message a few times. It was the first time he had shared a real opinion about anything. Even when it came to Jared, he stayed remarkably neutral, but now, he thought I shouldn’t go to dinner?

TheBakingChick: Why?

PotatoBake888: Why would you?

TheBakingChick: Now we are back to the questions? Maybe he could help me run his brother out of town. Or give me insight.

He waited a long time before he responded. My forehead scrunched as I stared at the too-bright screen, trying to guess what he might be thinking. We were in new territory. I wasn’t unhappy about it. In fact, little butterflies flapped around in my stomach. Was PotatoBake888 jealous? That thought sent warm fuzzies spreading through my veins. Not for the first time, I thought about my fingers moving slowly and purposefully over the keys to type out a message that would change everything forever. Do you want to meet? But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not now while my life was in utter turmoil.

PotatoBake888: I don’t want to see you get hurt.

My breath caught. We had chatted and flirted. Shared our favorite movies and even bitched to each other about mundane annoyances, but he had never vocalized anything close to real feelings—about me. Now I didn’t know how to respond. Did I make a joke? Did I tell him I was fine? Did I thank him for caring? I settled on being real with him—well, as real as I could be. If I was being completely real with him, I would have to tell him that I looked forward to every one of our conversations and would much rather being going out to dinner with him.

TheBakingChick: I’m already hurt. I waited too long to move forward with my plans for a bakery. I let them idle as fantasies that I convinced myself would happen “one day” without any real effort on my part. Somehow, I believed that it would all magically coalesce, and I wouldn’t ever have to take a risk or feel discomfort. Now, I am paying for that naiveté.

PotatoBake888: I don’t think you are naive. I think you are hopeful and optimistic and practical. There’s nothing wrong with getting your ducks in a row or taking your time. If anyone tries to tell you differently, they are an asshole.

TheBakingChick: Well, the Wallaces didn’t get that memo.

PotatoBake888: They should probably apologize then.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of demanding an apology from Jared Wallace for suggesting I move quicker toward opening my bakery. He was an impossible man to predict, so I had no idea how he might have responded. He would probably laugh and make a joke.

TheBakingChick: I won’t hold my breath. I’ve got to get ready. I’ll talk to you soon.

PotatoBake888: Jenna…

I was startled to see my real name in the chat. Had I told him it? I must have, although I didn’t know his, which felt unfair. I would have to remedy that the next time we spoke.

TheBakingChick: What’s up?

PotatoBake888: Nothing … have a good night.

Those damn ellipses again. I had no idea what the hell they meant, but they left me anxious. I shook my head and turned my attention toward my wardrobe again.

I didn’t know where we were going to eat or the purpose of the meal, so choosing an outfit was impossible. Joel seemed to wear polished looks even at his most casual. I had to look put together, professional, cute, and like I wasn’t trying too hard. A tall order, especially for a girl who spent her life in black jeans, t-shirts, and non-slip shoes.

I settled on a black crop tank top and a flowy high-waisted skirt that allowed a strip of my stomach to peek through along with an ample view of my chest. Staring in the mirror at my cute little outfit with my hair blown out in beachy waves and my winged eyeliner, I felt guilty. Here I was, getting all done up to go out with Joel, when I really wanted to spend more time with PotatoBake888. I also felt just a tiny bit bad that I was going behind Jared’s back. He clearly didn’t have a good relationship with his brother, and although he was my sworn enemy, he was still the source of a potential opportunity the likes of which would never come again. But that was all the more reason to go out with Joel. I had to assess my competition and get a handle on how much Joel knew or didn’t know about the deal Jared had made with me. Did Jared, in the end, even have the power to gift me half of the operation? Which was absolutely insane, when I spent more than half a second thinking about it. So I tried very hard not to. I tilted my head back and groaned at the ceiling.

With that out of my system, I walked out of my apartment to sit on the front porch. My place had once upon a time been a rich person’s mansion back in the 1800s. Somewhere in the '90s, it was turned into individual apartments, but it still had the amazing front porch that all the tenants shared. Over the years, various pieces of furniture found their way to the front for communal use. My favorite was a hanging egg-shaped wicker chair with comfy cushions and pillows that was perfect for reading or rocking or people watching. I curled my feet up under myself and waited.

The large black SUV that pulled up was a pretty good hint that Joel had arrived. When he got out, I saw he wore a suit. Oops, I thought. Perhaps, I miscalculated.

“Nice place,” he said.

“Thanks.” I couldn’t tell if he was being genuine, but my self-doubt filtered in and made me worry he was just being nice. His suit and car and general air of gravitas made me acutely aware that I had never left my tiny town. I spent my life working at a tourist trap lobster joint that still had wood paneling and plastic seafood for decor. Joel, on the other hand, had traveled the world and met famous people. My life paled in comparison. Standing next to him, my dream of owning my own bakery felt small and insignificant. Had my self-doubt always been this bad? Or was that only since the Wallaces shit all over my life?

“You ready?” he asked, holding out his elbow, which reminded me of the first time I met Jared. They really did have the same repertoire. My cheeks got warm, and my lips pulled into a smile all on their own as I looped my arm in his.

---