Page 21 of Rushing Into Love

“Fine. A fast walk,” I huffed. “Thanks for the advice.” I looked at the door pointedly and she took the hint, standing up.

“I didn’t mean to sound insensitive, Bree. I want you to be happy is all. And, for what it’s worth, we love having you here.” She gave me a quick hug, but I resisted, standing stiff against her embrace.

“Well, thanks for that anyway, I guess,” I said, in an attempt to be nice. I didn’t really feel like fighting with my sister on top of everything else. I already had one too many stressors on my plate at the moment. No need to add another.

* * *

I can’t believemy sister even suggested I quit my job. Seriously? That was her solution to my problem?Just move on?Leave LA? And move here?

I gazed around Main Street—the grey cobblestone road making up the center square, the trees lining the street, creating a colorful autumnal canopy, the cute storefronts with their matching awnings.Maybe I could live here.The thought wormed its way into my head. It was certainly idyllic enough. Not cosmopolitan like LA, but it was quaint.

No! You can’t just quit. You are not a quitter, I chastised myself.No, moving was a terrible idea. And selfish of Brooks to suggest, really. She probably wanted to foist Mom off on me.

Still annoyed at my sister, I walked quickly past the florist, the butcher shop, a book store. Now I was thirsty. I’d stormed out of the house so quickly, I hadn’t thought to grab water. The General Store where I’d stopped in for a few forgotten items the other day was on my right. I’d just pop in and have a look around. Maybe I could get a smoothie or something.

Ring-ring.Old-timey bells jingled as I opened the door, alerting the owners they had a customer. The store was empty except for me. I guess it was the weekend; most people were probably home, eating breakfast with their families.

“Well, hello there!” The same tall, broad man who’d helped me with my shopping last time stepped out of a back room. “Good to see you again! And what can I help you with this morning?” His tone was so friendly, I couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m just looking around,” I said, attempting to match his friendliness, although I was feeling less than sociable at the moment.

“Take your time. Let me know if I can help you out at all. I’ve owned this store for over forty years, so I better know where everything is by now!” He chuckled at his own joke before giving me a wave and ducking into the back room.

“Thanks!” I waved back, but he was already gone. Wandering down the aisles aimlessly, I let my mind flow over my problems. The one thing I knew for certain, like 1000% sure—Pax and I were over. He hadn’t called or texted me since Thursday; I doubted he even knew I wasn’t in LA, he was so busy with Keely or the current skank du jour. I’d tried to make it work with him, but at the end of the day, he wasn’t ready for a commitment. So whatever. We were done.

But could I still do the interview?Was there any scenario where I could sit onLA Todayand somehow field Layla’s questions about my relationship with Pax without looking utterly ridiculous? Unfortunately, I didn’t think I could.

Damn it. The biggest break of my career—the one I’d been waiting for the last three and a half years—and I was going to turn it down. Frustrated, I smacked my head.

“Hey.”

I recognized the deep voice even before I turned. I really regretted smacking myself in the head right then.

“Hi!” I said cheerfully, spinning around and fixing a big smile on my face.

It was Ryder, looking every bit as gorgeous as I remembered him.

6

Ryder

Bree stood at the back of my family’s store, looking just as good as she had last night. Walking up to her, I caught her mid-conversation with herself, apparently.

“Hey. What brings you by?”

She whirled around, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. “Oh, hi!”

I must have startled her, but she recovered quickly. “I was out taking a walk. I wanted to run, but…” She gestured at her knee, wrapped in the bandage I’d given her.

“Yeah, probably best to wait a few more days on that. How’s it feeling? Still stiff?”

“No, it’s much better. And purple is kind of my color, so it’s working for me.”

I chuckled and she gave me a warm smile.

“So, do you work here, too?” she gestured at the store. “How many jobs do you have?”

“Only one and a half,” I laughed. “My parents own the store and I come in on the weekends sometimes to help out, especially on inventory days. It’s the least I could do for them.”

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