Page 39 of The Longshot

What does this mean exactly? I’ve never had anyone grovel over me—nor have I had someone hand deliver a bouquet of flowers.

The idea that Gary Wilkinson is trying to pursue something with me scares me beyond belief, and it’s not just his status or claim on the town that’s holding me back. Truthfully, I couldn’t care less about any of that.

It’s the risk.

It’s the fear.

It’s the reality that if things don’t work out between the two of us, Crawley, this bakery, this peace, it all can be gone, and right now, I don’t have it in me to start all over… again.

“I don’t know,” I battle the conflicting part of my brain that tells me that the easy answer is no, yet the right answer is ‘give it a shot’. “Thank you for the flowers and your apology, but?—”

“You’re going to at least give me a chance to show you who I am?” he finishes my sentence.

I shoot him a playful look.

“What?” He shrugs his shoulders. “That was how you were going to finish it, right, Chelsie? You’re going to give me a chance to let me get to know you?”

I rub along my arm, peering down at the daisies once more before I’m locked back into his gaze. He’s captured me—and before I know it, reels me in.

“One week.” He takes a careful step forward yet again. “Christ, how about you give me until Friday, and if you’ve had enough of me by then, poof, I’ll be gone.” He’s theatrical with his hands. “But if I haven’t driven you away by then, then promise me you’ll at least let me take you out? And if not on a date, at least let me give you a tour of Crawley. Your sister says you haven’t been out much…”

I gulp down the lump in my throat as I meet the glimmer in his eyes.

“Please?” he tries.

I nod ever so slightly. “Till Friday.” I agree with his proposal. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Gary Wilkinson.”

For the remainder of the week at precisely 3:30 PM, Gary stops by the bakery with a new trick up his sleeve—also known as “the way to my heart”.

He named his plan that, not me.

Monday was the flowers.

Tuesday, he dropped off a basket with an assortment of novels. Some thrillers, some mysteries, and even a couple of romances. I suppose Ruby had a hand in that one.

Wednesday he came by with a boombox. I know… a boombox. Do they even still make those anymore?

He tried to serenade me with his own unique rendition of Grace Kelly by MIKA. Excellent song choice, terrible choice to sing it himself.

By Thursday, he must’ve caught wind of my coffee order. I supposed I’d left one of my cups lying around, and so he dropped off not only a tall cup with my name on it but an assortment of baked goods with a note that read:

You give people sweet treats all day long. Enjoy one for yourself.

And now, after his week full of romantic and kind gestures, here we are—Friday.

The final day in our “supposed” agreement and the day that I either let Gary down gently, or allow myself to outwardly start falling for him, hard.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I haven’t decided which of my two options I’m going to go forward with yet. But regardless of what I choose, all I know for certain is that over the course of this past week, Gary has proved to me that he’s nothing if not willing.

Willing to try.

Willing to fail.

And most of all, willing to do whatever it takes to make me smile.

And so, although today might be the moment of truth, the way I can’t stop staring at the clock, counting down for his arrival, tells me one thing… Gary Wilkinson might just get a chance.

As I hear the sound of the front door bells chime—my heart skips a beat.

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