Page 9 of Keeping You
“And?”
“And nothing. He tried to apologize, I told him what really happened, and he left.”
Rachel doesn’t seem convinced. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I turn to my computer, hoping she’ll take the hint and drop it. But this is Rachel we’re talking about. The woman who moved to small-town Texas, found love, and decided to plant roots. She’s not dropping anything. She’s totally invested.
“You know,” she says casually, settling into the chair across from my desk, “Travis mentioned that Luke, that’s his name, right? That he was quite the heartbreaker back in the day.”
I freeze, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Did he now?”
I shouldn’t be surprised. In Cupid’s Creek, gossip never stays buried for long.
“Mmm-hmm. Said he was trouble too, but the kind of trouble that made smart girls do stupid things.”
“I’m not a kid anymore,” I say firmly. “And I have no intention of doing anything stupid.”
“Of course not,” she agrees, but there’s a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Because that would be crazy. A successful, independent woman like you, falling for her first love all over again? Totally ridiculous.”
“Rachel.” Her sharp eyes miss nothing, but the speed with which she’s put two and two together rattles me. Is she just that perceptive, or has this been town lore all along? Did Harper say something years ago that spread like wildfire?
“I’m just saying, sometimes the universe gives us second chances for a reason.”
“And sometimes,” I counter, “the universe is just cruel.”
But even as I say it, I can’t shake the image of Luke standing in my back room, looking at me like he’s seeing something he thought he’d lost forever.
To appease my best friend’s wishes, I spent over a decade getting over her big brother. And what did it get me? If I’d only stood up to her back then, she might have realized I loved Luke. She might still be my best friend. Then she could have had Kirk all to herself from the time he arrived in town, and we’d both be happy right now.
But she used my loyalty to her as my best friend against me, not trusting that my relationship with Luke had nothing to do with her own. And she didn’t blink twice when Kirk came into the picture. What happened to the friendship code when she and Kirk got together?
Maybe it’s time Harper realizes there is no code.
Chapter Four
Luke
Three weeks into my return home, and I think I’ve spent more time elbow-deep in flour than I have on patrol. The irony isn’t lost on me, though. I left the chaos of a big city and came home to take over as sheriff of a sleepy little town, but instead, whether I want to or not, I’m learning the ins and outs of running a bakery from my sisters.
“Don’t forget you’re making two dozen,” Anna says for the third time this morning from her perch at the edge of a large working counter. Her voice carries a special edge when she thinks I’m not paying attention, and the tone hasn’t changed since she was a little girl chasing after me to play tea party with her and her stuffed toys.
“And…”
“And one batch has raisins and the other doesn’t.” I finish, not looking up from the dough I’m currently kneading. “I got it the first twelve times.”
She huffs, wiping her hands on an apron that displays the business logo, leaving behind smudges of chocolate from the buttercream she’s mixing. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to help run this place, you need to know what you’re doing.”
“I thought my job title read Sheriff, not Pastry Chef.”
The truth is, I don’t mind the work. Some of my fondest memories include spending hours with Mom and Grams while they baked and I tested. When I entered grade school, they figured it was time to put me to use in the kitchen, since I spent every other day there. There’s something oddly soothing about the routine of measuring ingredients, kneading dough, and the methodical process of creating something people want. It’s a hell of a lot different from chasing down drug dealers and responding to domestic violence calls.
“Anna may have officially taken over the business, but this place belongs to all of us,” Harper adds to the conversation as she appears in the kitchen, leaving her post in the front of the store. “We’ve sold exactly two cups of coffee, three muffins, and two mini loaves. It’s almost noon.” Her disappointment is evident in the pout she’s sporting and the worry creasing her brow line.
Anna warned me she’d been struggling to keep the bakery open. Since I arrived this morning after checking in at the station, only three customers had come through the door, one of them Mrs. Jenkins who bought a single muffin and spent the entire transaction giving Harper the stink eye while she looked me up and down from over the top of her glasses. I got the distinct impression that if she could still drive, she would have gone to the next town to get her morning breakfast fix.
I start to roll out the dough, letting my hands work while my mind wanders. Although it’s been a while, I’ve made Gram’s cinnamon rolls hundreds of times and can do them in my sleep.
“This isn’t working,” Harper mutters, slumping against the counter, running a finger through the flour coating the surface. “Ever since the whole Kirk thing started, it’s like the entire town has decided to boycott us.”
