Page 51 of Sweet Rivals

“I’m not worrying.”

Jared’s laughter filled the car and sent warm tendrils through my body. Guess it’s better than the panic that was there before.

“You are ready for this. You are a good baker.”

“How would you know? All you have done for the last week is tell me how much I suck.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Do you have selective amnesia? You haven’t stopped telling me how a real baker doesn’t burn things or how unprofessional I am or that I am only here to appease the locals.”

“I thought that was part of the friendly competition.”

“Not friendly.”

“Fine. I thought that was part of unfriendly competition.”

I could feel the laughter in his voice. “You know. I’m starting to think I liked you better when you weren’t talking to me.”

“For all of two seconds?”

“It was several hours.”

“Guess you need to break my heart more often.”

Before I could even process what he had said or what the hell it meant or argue that I had done nothing of the sort, he parked the car and promptly got out. And all of a sudden, I didn’t have time to think about Jared because we had arrived. This was real. With the panic surging in my chest, I finally understood why I had put this off. I didn’t have the constitution to take risks or the self-esteem to put myself out there.

“You can do this,” he whispered in my ear as he walked past with a table.

We had parked behind The Lobster Tail. There was a sidewalk and backdoor that only the staff used. Still, a handful of vacationers walked past as I stood paralyzed next to the truck.

Could I do this? I had no formal training. I had never done anything like this. My credentials were baking for a bunch of a-holes who ate literally anything.

I felt Jared’s hand on my shoulder. “Jenna,” he whispered into my ear, and once again, desire warred with panic for control of my body and mind. “Jenna, look at me.”

I pulled my eyes from the alley and Main Street beyond it to look into his eyes. He turned me toward him, placing his other hand on my shoulder. “You are a rock star. You have been preparing for this your whole life. You are going to walk onto that Main Street and sell your damn pastries. People are going to eat them, and they are going to love them.”

I nodded. Looking up into his deeply concerned face, I actually believed him. The tight knot of panic and worry untied itself, and I took in a deep breath. I didn’t know if it was his words or his warm hands on my shoulders, but somehow, Jared had just saved me from myself.

“Yes, okay.”

“You can do this.”

“Alright. I’m ready,” I said.

We unloaded the car and started setting up on the folding table.

“I’m sorry about my momentary meltdown,” I said, feeling embarrassed that I had been so raw and vulnerable in front of Jared.

“I’ve had worse,” he said.

“There’s no way,” I said. “Nothing seems to bother you.”

“Everything bothers me. I just cope with it differently,” he said with a shrug.

“This looks fantastic!” My mom’s voice pulled my attention.

There were so many things I wanted to talk to Jared about. So many thoughts and feelings in my head that I wanted to explore, but now wasn’t the time. Mom stood beside the table, hands on her hips, glowing with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

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