Page 20 of My Dream

“About Clay...” I began, unsure of how to phrase what I wanted to say.

Compass turned to me, one brow raised. “What about him?”

“Well, when we have to pretend that we’re,” I motioned awkwardly between us, “us, it isn’t too weird for you, right? Hopefully, we can just have the crew focus on The Cakery and not, uh, you and me.”

Compass took another drag and let the smoke linger in his mouth before exhaling. “Whatever it is, it is, babe. I’m up for anything.”

His nonchalant attitude caught me off guard. “That sounded... surprisingly laidback.”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not much rattles me, Fallon.”

I smiled despite myself. His confidence had a way of grounding me, even when my own thoughts were a tangled mess.

“You really think the cake business could work?” I asked and steered the conversation back to something less complicated.

“Hell yeah,” Compass said without hesitation. “Especially if every cake you two make tastes like that one. People’ll be lining up around the block.”

I laughed, and a small flicker of hope flitted in my chest. Maybe this crazy idea of opening The Cakery wasn’t as far-fetched as I thought it was. I was worried we were only doing it to distract the cameras, but it seemed like even when the cameras were gone, The Cakery was going to keep going. “I hope you’re right, Compass.”

“I am. And we’ve got a few days before douche canoe Clay and the cameras show back up. We’ll get things figured out before they get here.”

I leaned back and rested my head against Compass’s arm. “I hope you’re right, Compass,” I murmured, and my voice was barely louder than the creak of the swing.

Without thinking, I leaned into him and let the warmth of his body seep into mine. The night was cool, but close to him, it was easy to forget the chill.

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” he said, his voice steady and sure, the kind of tone that made you believe everything he said was a promise. “It’ll all work out.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting those words settle. I wanted to believe him so badly. For once, I wanted things to go smoothly and for there not to be some unseen storm brewing just over the horizon.

“I’ll hold you to that,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I meant it as a challenge or a plea.

Compass chuckled softly, and the sound vibrated against me. “You can, Fallon. I’ve got you.”

And for a little while, sitting there on that swing, I let myself believe him.

Chapter Eight

Compass

I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee and breathed in the rich smell of the coffee. It was ten o’clock, and the day was already in full swing. Fallon and Adalee were in the kitchen working on another cake—this time, lemon poppy seed.

I fucking loved lemon.

The common room buzzed with the usual morning noise. Yarder, Poppy, Dove, and Sloane were sprawled on the couches, their attention half on the TV and half on their lazy conversations. At the table, Stretch, Aero, and Throttle were finishing their breakfast with plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of them.

Adalee had cooked enough for an army, as always. I grabbed a plate, scooped up the rest of the food, and joined the guys at the table.

As I sat down, Pirate strolled into the room with his nose in the air like he was some kind of bloodhound. “What’s that smell?” he asked, his voice carrying over the low hum of the TV.

“Cake!” Adalee called from the kitchen.

Pirate rubbed his belly dramatically. “Hell yeah! I’m starting to like the idea of you girls running a bakery.”

“Cakery!” Fallon and Adalee corrected in unison, not missing a beat.

Pirate threw up his hands and grinned. “Cakery. My bad.”

“You’re late for breakfast,” I said and jabbed my fork into a hunk of fluffy eggs.

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