Page 31 of Simply Yours

Her laugh was short, humorless. "He’s not interested."

"How do you know that?"

She stiffened. The answer lodged itself in her throat like a piece of stale bread. How did she know? Maybe because Jason had never texted her. Never called. Never come back to Pizza Palace after that night, after she had—stupidly—thought something might be there.

After she had started to hope.

"I don’t want to talk about it," she said, forcing her tone to remain steady.

"Caitlin—"

"Matthew. Please." Her voice dropped to a whisper, thick with the embarrassment she could no longer swallow down. She had misread the signals. She had convinced herself there was something, when in reality, Jason had probably been bored, polite, or worse—just killing time.

And she? She had been waiting.

She clenched her jaw, blinking furiously.

This was pathetic.

Shewas pathetic.

"I don’t want to talk about it," she repeated, sharper this time, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. "Your brother isn’t interested, and I’ve got loaves of bread to sell."

Matthew studied her for a beat, the sympathy in his eyes making her want to throw the entire bread stall at him.

"Well, sell me another," he said, offering a sportingly casual nod, like they hadn’t just wandered into dangerous territory. "I’ll send people your way and just mention the farm when you talk to anyone. Jason and Luke made a batch of Dad’s barbecue seasoning to sell and?—"

Caitlin’s ears perked up despite herself. "Oh really?" She crossed her arms, feigning disinterest but failing miserably. "Dude, take your loaf and get me a small jar, please?"

"Come have barbecue at the farm," Matthew countered, his lips twitching like he knew exactly what he was doing.

She rolled her eyes. "No—Jason’s there."

"He’s been there before," Matthew pointed out, shrugging.

"But I’ve never been rejected like this before," she muttered, and the moment the words left her mouth, she clamped her lips shut.

Too late.

Matthew’s expression shifted. A flash of something—guilt, realization, regret—crossed his face.

"That... uh... might be my fault," he hedged, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

Caitlin narrowed her eyes, the slow, creeping understanding making her pulse spike. "Excuse me?"

Before he could escape, she grabbed a crusty loaf and smacked him upside the head.

"Are you kidding me?!" she hissed, her voice laced with fury as several heads turned their way. She didn’t care. Let them watch. Let them gossip. She was ready to start launching loaves like missiles if Matthew had interfered.

He lifted his hands in surrender, wincing. "Look, I might’ve... sort of... said something to him?—"

"Did he ask for my cell number?" she cut in, eyes blazing.

Matthew took a slow step back. "Uh..."

She grabbed another loaf.

"Matthew, I will beat you to a bready-pulp!" Caitlin had never wanted to murder her best friend more than she did at this moment. Matthew stood there, shifting on his feet, his guilty expression confirming what she already knew.

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