Page 20 of You Cake My Breath Away

What the fuck?

Holy shit.

My cheeks heat, and I immediately admonish myself for checking him out. Objectively, I’ve always known Archer was good-looking. He’s an all-American type of guy, and we shared one drunken, passionate kiss in college where he made it clear he wasn’t interested in more than friendship. But it’s been years since I noticed him inthatway.

That’s what I get for my social media scrolling session this morning. Maybe I should take Shantel up on the offer to set me up on a date.I blink rapidly, trying to convince myself this isn’t happening—that I wasn’t just drooling over my husband’s best friend.

Snapped from my daze by a cleared throat, I drop to the floor and gather the contents of the box.

“Need some help?” Nora crouches to pick up the items that flew into the garage, and my skin flames in embarrassment.

“Thanks,” I murmur, shuffling through excuses that would explain what just happened.The earth tilted and I tripped. There was a banana peel on the ground. I had a momentary lapse in judgment and checked out Archer.None of those reasons seem to convey the shame I feel, and for some reason all I blurt out is, “Sweaty hands.”

“Here you go.” Archer holds one of Jessie’s sketches out for me to grab, and for once his face is devoid of the usual smirk he wears like a second skin. “He could’ve been an artist.”

“Uhh…” I stammer, still unable to formulate coherent sentences. “Yeah, he could’ve.” I look down at the box, fighting the urge to flee the house—and maybe move to another state. I turn to Nora, hoping she can’t see the sweat on my forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything, Puddin’.” She turns to Archer with a raised brow as if to inconspicuously convey a message. “I’ll go pour us some sweet tea.”

“Oh, no need.” I hike a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ve gotta get going.”

She ignores me and continues into the kitchen. Archer toes the floor with his brown cowboy boot, clearly wanting to say something but holding back. I secure the box under my arm and turn. As I reach for the handle, I realize something and spin around.

“Where’s your truck?” I ask. “I didn’t see it in the driveway.”

He chuckles, flashing the smirk I’ve grown accustomed to. “Heard that spot was reserved.”

Surprised at his candor, I bark a laugh. “Ahh, I see.”

“Parked up the street when Nora told me you were stopping by.” He shrugs, rolling a flannel sleeve to his bicep. A moment passes between us where neither of us knows what to say, but it’s Archer that breaks the silence. “I’ll be at the bakery location tomorrow, if you want to stop by.”

The mention of the bakery shatters the chaotic swirling of my mind. Twisting my ring around my finger, all I manage to do is nod before escaping out the front door. Inside my car, I press a shaky hand to my forehead. Though my skin feels like it’s on fire, my head is cool to the touch.

Maybe I’m coming down with something.

I shift my car into gear and head home to take a long shower.

***

The last time I stood in front of this building Jessie let me think it had been purchased out from under me. I cursed the owner for taking my dream location, dashing any hopes I had of selling my desserts. This time, I’m filled with pride knowing the bakery I’ve dreamt about since I was a kid is finally going to be mine.

As long as I don’t kill the carpenter before the work is complete.

Loud banging emanates from behind the new door Archer must’ve hung, and I steal a few short breaths, hyping myself up to finally see what the inside looks like. I wrap my hand around the knob, but my gaze snags on the glinting diamond I’ve yet to be able to remove from my finger. I close my eyes against the threat of tears. I should be stepping through this threshold with Jessie, but instead, the only thing that accompanies me through the doorway is the ache of his loss.

The tarp-covered floor shifts under me as I stare in awe at the place I’m going to make into my bakery. I inhale the sappy scent of wood shavings, allowing the aroma to bring a smile to my face.

“Hello?” I choke out over the thunk of a hammer.

“Over here,” Archer’s muffled voice sounds from behind a toolbox.

Breath ekes out of me when he lifts his head and I catch the first sight of his trimmed facial hair. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced, and the brown hair beneath his backwards hat has more strands of gray than I remember. After chatting with my therapist last night about my reaction to checking out Archer, she assured me that it’s human nature to appreciate the opposite sex, that it most likely has nothing to do withwhohe is, but that I’m slowly healing and opening my heart to potential like we talked about—even though the thought makes me want to barf.

“Anyone ever told you staring is rude?” Archer slams the toolbox lid, leaning on top with a smirk I haven’t seen for ages. He spins his poker chip in his fingers, and his eyes take a journey from my bright yellow rainboots to my rainbow leggings and land on my solid blue top. “Haven’t seen you wear an outfit like this in a long time.”

If it was anyone else, I’d assume that comment was a come-on, but not with Archer. Him being attracted to me would be like cats being attracted to dogs.

I’m trying to get back a piece of myself and improve my mood by wearing clothes that make me happy, and if he has something snarky to say, he can shove it where the sun don’t shine. I shift my attention away from him and take in the room. It smells of cedar and pine, but soon the air will be filled with the slightly sweet, yeasty aroma of baked goods.

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