Page 35 of Sweet Rivals

“Oh,” Joel’s face lit up and it seemed genuine. “A fellow restaurant kid. Which place?”

“The Lobster Tail. It’s the little seafood place in town.”

“I gathered,” he said with a laugh. “So how did the consultant thing come about? He just asked you after being enamored of your cooking?” he asked. It felt mocking, but I couldn’t prove it.

“Something like that,” I said. He clearly didn’t know the wager that Jared and I had made nor what I would get if I won—or lost, for that matter.

“I think it's great getting the input of the locals.” He said "locals" like I was some sort of zoo exhibit.

I snorted a laugh. “You don’t have to pretend you think it’s great. I don’t know exactly how these big chains work, but I can imagine bringing in someone like me only complicates things.”

“A bit, but it will likely complicate things the most for you. It really wasn’t fair of Jared to put you in this position. You have no media or marketing training. And while I trust that you know Cape Shore, we always aim to reach a larger demographic.”

Nothing he said was wrong, but that didn’t stop it from reaffirming every negative script I had told myself since the idea to open a bakery popped into my head. He might as well have just said outright that I simply wasn’t good enough. Who was I to compete in a market with the Wallaces and their team of highly trained people whose singular goal was to know what people wanted and to give it to them.

“Oh, I hurt your feelings,” Joel said.

“No,” I said too quickly.

“I must sound like a total asshole.”

“A little bit,” I said.

“I deserve that,” he laughed. “This sucks all around. There is no way else to put it. Jared has a tendency to act without thinking. I’m hoping this bakery works out for the best, but there is no telling with Jared at the helm. Maybe he can get his head on straight with your help.”

“So this was an impulse buy? Must be nice,” I mumbled to myself, my resentment for Jared rearing its ugly head. I couldn’t even imagine a life in which I had enough throw away money to buy an entire establishment on a whim.

“Not exactly. I think he came here with the plan to set up shop, despite my best arguments against it,” he said.

“Really?” That surprised me. I didn’t know if it should make me feel better or worse that Jared had always had the intention of upending my life.

Joel just shrugged. “Listen, I’ve been a jerk, and my brother has dragged you into family drama. Let me make it up to you. I’ll take you to a nice dinner tonight.”

“That really isn’t necessary,” I said.

“I know. But I want to.” He looked at me with a smile that even my cynical mind couldn’t find fault with. “I’d like to get to know you better. You are part of the team after all.”

“For now,” I said.

“Alright, you don’t have to throw it in my face how much of an asshole I am,” he said with a laugh. “Maybe if dinner is really fantastic, I can make you forget all about it.”

“That would have to be some dinner.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I like a challenge.” He stood up, crumpling the paper that had held his veggie wrap. “Can I pick you up tonight?”

I hadn’t been prepared for him to follow through with dinner so quickly. I thought I would be able to say yes and then mentally prepare for a couple days or weeks and then avoid him entirely so I didn’t have to do it at all. It’s not that I didn’t want to go out to dinner with a handsome man. It’s that I didn’t want to be entangled with the Wallace family any more than I already was.

“Okay,” I said, forcing myself out of my comfort zone. I couldn’t keep hiding in my apartment behind a computer. Besides, maybe I could use this to win the war with Jared.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Istood in front of my closet for several minutes debating what to wear. After lunch, I had almost gone back to the bakery, still desperate to test out my ideas. I just wanted to be in the space. If Jared was there, I wanted to be there, but after our tussle and being caught by Joel, I was too frustrated and embarrassed. Besides, I had all kinds of ridiculous anxiety around dinner. When I got home, I couldn’t figure out why I had agreed, so I did the only thing I could think of to calm myself down—message PotatoBake888.

TheBakingChick: I agreed to a dinner with one of them.

PotatoBake888: Canoodling with the enemy?

TheBakingChick: The enemy of my enemy is my friend?

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