Page 2 of Tempt Our Fate

“We sure don’t,” I answer, continuing my task. “But if there is something going on next door, I feel like I need to welcome them the only way I know how—with treats.”

Lexi smirks as she shakes her head at me. “So you’re taking treats over there, but you’re really going over there to snoop?”

I snap the tongs between us. “That’sexactlywhat I’m doing.” Our most popular croissant sold out this morning, but I pick out a few other customer favorites that we still have left to include.

Once I have a dozen different options in the box, hoping that’s enough for whatever kind of crowd is gathering next door, I close it and even add a cute Wake and Bake sticker to seal it shut.

“We might have new neighbors to welcome, Lexi. This is the nice thing to do.” I wink at her, setting the box on the counter so I can adjust the claw clip in my hair.

I probably look like a wreck after the long morning and afternoon that I’ve had, but I don’t care about my appearance too much. I’m not trying to impress these tourist businessmen—I’m just trying to get information on why the space next door is suddenly available for sale when I’ve been told multiple times otherwise.

I wrap the long tendrils of my dark hair in a twist, pinching the sides of the clip together and securing it in my hair. My hair is too messy to even try to wear down, but I do pull out a few pieces in the front to attempt to style the updo a little more.

“How do you still look so good after an afternoon like that?” Lexi comments, looking down at her coffee-stained apron. We accidentally collided at one point during the chaos, sloshing a fresh espresso shot onto both of us. Luckily for me, her apron took most of the damage.

I roll my eyes at her. The only thing I did this morning was put on mascara and a little bit of blush. I didn’t have time to do anything else before I had to race to the shop to get things started for the day. I wouldn’t describe myself as put together, but it’ll do. I don’t care about impressing anyone with my looks, but I wouldn’t mind if they loved my treats. Maybe if I can impress one of the owners before the sale is final, they’ll reconsider and sell it to me instead.

I’m about to head out the door when Lexi rushes forward, pulling at the string of my apron. “Wait!” she calls, tugging at the neck loop. “Maybe take this off first?”

I laugh, looking at the abundance of flour and icing covering the fabric. “Yeah, probably should.”

The apron makes a soft thud as I toss it onto one of the counters behind us. “This T-shirt isn’t the most professional attire either,” I note, kind of wishing I’d worn something else this morning.

Lexi shakes her head at me. “It works. It’s better than the apron. Plus, I think the Wake and Bake merch is cute. Own it, Pippa.”

My shoulders straighten as I flash her a wink. “You’re totally right. Time for me to go make some friends.”

2

PIPPA

There aremultiple SUVs lined up in front of the gallery. A man in yet another suit stands outside the front door. He presses a phone to his ear, not even noticing me walking toward him.

“I just don’t see your vision for this. Who would want to come here to look at art?”

He sighs at whatever is said on the other line and then scowls, creating a crease on his already wrinkled forehead. “No, I’m not questioning you, sir. It’s just that—”

The person on the other line must be upset because he pulls the phone away from his ear slightly.

My cowboy boots scuff against the pavement as I come to a stop. The sound catches the guy’s attention. His eyes travel up and down my body. He grunts, clearly displeased. “See you in a bit,” he clips before tapping something on the screen. His eyes focus on the box in my grasp.

“Are you looking at the space?” I ask, nodding toward the building.

His eyes follow mine. He scratches at his chin awkwardly. “Did you need something?”

I smile when he focuses on me again.Yes, sir. You could help me by telling me why the hell the owners will sell to you and not me.

I hold up the box of pastries, giving it a gentle shake. “I own the cafe right next door and wanted to introduce myself. I wasn’t sure if you were just looking or if you owned it. But I wanted to give you guys a warm welcome either way…”

My attempt at fishing for more information doesn’t work. He does give me the slightest of smiles. Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, he takes a step toward the Richardsons’ old gallery. Their custom sign and awnings still hang on the building, but I wonder how long it’ll last. Judging by the guy’s demeanor, my hopes of renting this space are dwindling.

It seems like it’s already been sold, but I follow him inside just to scope things out. My feet come to a halt when I see the inside of the building. I used to frequent the Richardsons’ shop. Al was one of the nicest humans I’d ever met, and he was so proud of the gallery he and his wife created. It was their pride and joy. They worked so hard to highlight the talent of local artists. My heart feels heavy as I look around the space. There used to be so many variations of different art pieces in here. There were paintings, sculptures, photographs, and pottery. It was filled with life.

Now, it feels void of life. The stark white walls contrast three men in dark suits. The men talk in a semicircle, one of them looking over at me midconversation.

“How can I help you, dear?”

I try not to scoff. I’m twenty-three years old. I’m not anyone’s dear. I smile anyway because now I’m even more curious about who purchased the space. I want to know their intentions—and maybe part of me still wants to know if they’d want to sell it again to someone else…to me.

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