Page 59 of You Cake My Breath Away

If I was there, Archer wasn’t, and vice versa.

It reminded me of my small group of friends in high school before they all scattered to attend colleges far away while I stayed close to home to ensure my dad was taken care of and to help him at the restaurants.

I wish I could find the same peace Archer seems to have about our situation, but he’s not the one who was married. He’s not the one who stood in front of San Antonio’s high society and promised to love their spouse for the rest of their life, the one who’ll be looked down on with disdain when they find out I’ve fallen for someone else. I need this bakery to be successful, and I can’t do that if everyone turns against me.

“I know I said you could pick the music, but it’s putting me to sleep,” Archer says.

I pretend to be upset and pout, but I turn it to a country station to appease his uncultured ears. We stop twice to go to the bathroom andgrab a breakfast taco, but the four-hour drive is spent in easy silence, listening to music, and chatting about things I want to do at the bakery.

Between the life insurance policy and my paychecks from my parents’ restaurants, I’ve budgeted well for any extra renovations I want to complete. Archer assured me everything was already taken care of for what he’d done prior to telling me about the bakery, and even though I still write him checks for the lease and the work he’s doing now, he refuses to deposit them.

A million other questions itch to be spoken, but I can’t force myself to ask. There’s so much I don’t know about Archer, about his past with his brother—something he rarely talked about during college—and what they were all like as kids, but I know it’s not the right time to ask. Jessie always shied away from the memories that included all three of them too, like talking about Sebastian without Archer there was too difficult. I’ve gleaned enough from Nora and Shantel to understand what happened, but it’s not the same as hearing it from someone who was there.

I’m scared if I push him too hard, he’ll retreat into the silent man who shut me out. Even if I’m not ready to move into relationship territory with him, I don’t think I could handle losing him completely.

“We’re about an hour or so out,” he says after our last stop. “The sale starts at one, so we’ll get there early, peruse what else is going up for sale, and grab a seat.”

“Sounds good.” I pull a notepad out of my purse.

“What are you scribbling there?” he asks once we get back onto the road.

“I’m just thinking of new recipes for the menu or events I could host that would bring people in.”

“People are going to come in, no doubt about it.”

“You don’t know that.” I tap my pen on the notepad. “You haven’t tasted anything I’ve made in like four years.”

His hand moves back to my knee and squeezes. “Look at me.”

I fight the urge to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but I oblige his request, a wave of uneasiness crashing in my chest.

“I know it sounds corny, but I didn’t need another reason to fall for you.”

His honesty wraps around my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I get it, I totally do. I spent many nights during study sessions trying to convince myself I wasn’t attracted to him. He was a playboy who wasn’t serious about anything except football, least of all his studies.

Jessie was the opposite. He was focused on business, had a five-year plan, and everything just felt easy with him. When he asked me out, I had no earthly reason to say no. He was hot, interested, and a good man. Pushing my thoughts of Archer to the side was easy because I hadn’t allowed myself to make that connection. My heart was open to Jessie’s advances and completely shut to Archer’s.

Even though Archer seems all in on whatever is blooming between us, it’s me that’s still scared to give him my all. The last time I did that, I lost not only my best friend but my husband.

Feeling the tension in the truck rising, I change the subject instead of commenting.

“Dad really liked the cake I made, and I’m wondering if it would be beneficial to do a platter of ‘Around the World’ treats?”

He flicks on his blinker and slows down to make a sharp turn. His notebook slides down the dash and falls to the floor. My gaze floats to the cream colored pages with his slanted scrawl, and a familiar name catches my eye. Archer grabs it and shoves it between the seat and console before I have a chance to investigate why my name is scribbled inside. I’ve alwayswondered what he writes in there but have never been brave enough to ask.

“I think that would be great,” he replies, changing the direction of my thoughts back to baking.

“But I also wanna try out old recipes with new flavors,” I continue, eyes lingering on the notebook. “Maybe a strawberry balsamic sponge cake. The savory flavor will make the strawberries sweeter. And for those who like spicier desserts I can add the mango habanero chocolate cupcake.”

He laughs. “I’m sure whatever you decide on is going to taste amazing, and I’ll be your taste tester.”

I can’t stop the smile from creeping onto my face. Why does he have to hit me right in my most vulnerable spot? Not only Dad has come around to trying more of my desserts, and giving honest feedback on them, Archer is finally willing to give up the ghost and dig in.

A spot of clouds rolls in, and I open my phone to check the weather. Like Archer mentioned this morning, the service in this area isn’t great, and I’m struggling to update my app.

“Think it’s going to rain?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Fifty-fifty chance out this way.”

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