Page 56 of Ryder

“Okay,” I mutter.

He kisses me on the lips and leaves before I can fully absorb the tornado that just breezed through the kitchen. The tornado that is now my life.

My father sticks his head in the door and looks at me pointedly. “You’re not going anywhere until he gets back, right?”

I roll my eyes. “No, Dad. I don’t even have a car. I assume he took mine.”

“Good.” He nods his approval and ducks back into the shop.

My mother is grinning and humming. Not just random humming. The tune is “Going to the Chapel”.

I want to tell her to stop. I should feel far more stressed about this than I do. I’m a bit panicked, but not to the level I would expect.

Married? This Friday? Me?

When the door to the bakery swings open several hours later, I’m the only one working out front. It’s the afternoon. We don’t get much business at this time of day.

I look up to find Reagan Clegg coming in. She owns an adventure company in town. She’s four years older than me, so I didn’t know her well in school. As usual, she looks amazing. She’s fit and slender. Her hair is in a long blond braid down her back. She has on cute hiking clothes like she always does.

“Hey, Claire.” She gives me a little wave as she approaches and then sets her forearms on the glass display case between us. “Is it true?”

I flinch slightly, wondering how anyone knows I’m getting married. We’ve told no one. The only people who know are my parents and Tiago. We haven’t mentioned it a single time since the shop opened, so no one can pick up on it and start a rumor mill, especially Arnie and Blue.

“Is what true?” I ask, my heart racing.

“That you hooked up with one of Old Man Wilde’s grandsons. I couldn’t make it to the town meeting last night, but I’ve heard the rumors.” She’s grinning.

“Oh, yes.” If that’s all she knows, whew.

“That’s great. Good for you. I heard he’s hot.”

I’ve only known Reagan to be kind, so I don’t think she means anything nefarious. I think she’s expressing genuine happiness for me.

She giggles. “I’m sorry I missed the meeting. I heard his brother was there and that he’s hot, too. Granted, I suppose everyone in this town who is single and about our age would think any unattached man who doesn’t need a walker could be described as hot.”

I smile. “Tiago. I guess he’s also not hard on the eyes.” He’s nothing like Ryder, so I can’t really judge him. He has long dark hair, and he’s often wearing paint-splattered clothes. I’m never sure whether he’s in the process of painting when I see him or if all his clothes are permanently spotted with paint.

As if we’ve conjured Tiago up out of thin air, when the door opens again, I look up to find him walking into the bakery. He hasn’t come here before, so I’m slightly surprised to see him.

Reagan turns sideways to see who is entering, and I hear a slight hitch in her breath. Apparently, she agrees with the general consensus around town.

Tiago smiles as he approaches. “Hey, Claire.” He glances at Reagan next, and there’s a long, silent pause. Is he checking her out?

Reagan suddenly lifts her elbows off the counter and holds out a hand. “You must be Tiago. Reagan Clegg.”

Tiago gives her a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you.” When he releases her, he nods toward me. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll let you two finish.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Reagan insists. “I just came in to pick up a box of pastries for tomorrow morning’s hiking group.”

It’s almost closing. Reagan often comes in at this time to get what she needs for the next day. Even though we open pretty early, she feels too rushed in the mornings to stop by on her way to work.

Tiago nods. “Hiking group?”

“I run an adventure company. I can set up all kinds of outdoor experiences. Business hasn’t been as good with the decline of the economy lately, but I still stay afloat. First thing tomorrow, I have a group of friends who want to do a three-hour hike. I like to have pastries for them before we get started.”

“Ah. That’s nice of you,” Tiago responds while I fill a box with goodies.

I know she wants a variety of whatever I have left. We give her a huge discount, too, since, technically, these will be day-old when she serves them. Plus, it’s the end of the day here; we can’t sell these as fresh for much longer anyway.

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