Page 12 of Break Me Like a Promise (Oak Valley)

He called Katie.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His blood boiled.

“Oh hey, sunshine. Glad things went over so well,” Katie chuckled.

Colton gripped the steering wheel, still trying to slow his breathing. “Why would you do that?”

“Why do you think, you big lunk? You would have avoided her for god knows how long. Better to just rip off the band-aid.”

“I’m going to rip something else if you pull that shit again.”

His sister barked out a laugh. “What, a new asshole? Jeez, you’re so predictable. Such a mechanic. Just come back to the shop, Dad’s going to throw a fit if he thinks you’re skipping out.”

Colton seethed. “I’m on a house call. I’ll see him tonight.” He hung up the phone, before Katie could get under his skin any further. He worked at an auto shop, but he’d never been a mechanic. His dad wanted him at the family shop, but when the anger threatened to boil over, it was the kitchen he needed.

He threw the car down the road, switching gears and slamming the gas. He should’ve been a race car driver, maybe then he wouldn’t have gotten his stupid injuries and dumped back in this stupid little town. The drive to Main Street was a blur, and Colton squealed into the bakery parking lot. A few people braving the early January cold risked a glance before scurrying along. He watched them, knowing what they thought.

Asshole. Failure.

Probably something about compensation.

That made him snort — he knew the stigma of trucks and sports cars, even if it wasn’t true. He had his muscle car because it made him feel alive and in control. He got out, the cold hitting him. It was getting close to Christmas and probably time to break out his winter coat, but there was a point of pride attached to claiming imperviousness to cold. Colton had always waited for his dad to pull out his coat before he did. And his dad hadn’t pulled it out yet, so neither would he. Since he got the pride gene from his dad, he was always trying to come out on top. Even if his dad didn’t see it that way.

In, out. In, out.

He ambled to the bakery, located on the one main street that cut straight through town. Tucked in the scenic Hudson Valley, Oak Valley fulfilled its storybook potential: trees ringed with lights, street posts with glittering wreaths, residents calling jovial greetings as they hurried to their destinations. If he concentrated, he could probably make out the Salvation Army bell from outside the grocery store. It was a cute town with everything anyone could need.

It was just so damn small. Constricting.

Sleigh bells jingled as he opened the door to For Goodness Cakes, overcome with the smell of baking bread, buttercream frosting, and coffee. The narrow storefront managed to fit in a hodge-podge of four vintage tables with chairs that were often being moved to accommodate the large groups of teens or parents with young kids who hid there for warmth during winter or to escape the summer humidity. The new coffee shop down the street, AC/DCafe helped offload some of the cramping — it was large and sleek, and more for people wanting to work rather than people looking to be cozy. For Goodness Cakes had recently started selling their baked breads there, and the added income was starting new conversations on what the future of the little bakery looked like.

There was a binder on the small counter with the wedding cakes and catering options, a glass case beneath displaying scones, breads, muffins, cookies, and tarts. When any of the three employed bakers — or Colton — felt like experimenting, there was a platter left on the counter with the new item and a locked box with accompanying papers for comments. They’d been able to keep the menu updated with items that would be loved, but Colton knew they needed more ways to stand out. Oak Valley was small, but it was still growing. He sighed, wondering if they had the time or budget to brainstorm and implement new ideas.

Olive Dougherty came out from the back. He noticed the slight hitch in her step as she saw him, but she recovered with a warm smile and leaned forward against the counter. They’d always been friendly, but not friends. Growing up in the same classes could do that, plus her mom owned the bakery and she was good friends with Ruby.

“Hey, Colt. Haven’t seen you in here for a bit.” She tucked a strand of jet black hair behind her ear, the end of the bob curling around some glitzy dangly earrings. Her bright blue eyes softened. She was Ruby’s friend, but he knew she’d always rooted for him.

He shrugged. “Yeah, been busy with the auto shop. Is my mom in?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen.” Olive raised an eyebrow. “You going to bake us up a new masterpiece? I still get requests for those orange almond croissants you made back in high school.”

He shrugged, remembering how everyone had pushed him to enter a county-wide food contest. But the grueling football practices for state championships — and the hard set of his father’s jaw — had deterred him.

“I’m thinking about it. Maybe some rose cardamom eclairs?”

“Oh, don’t tease me like that, Colton!”

He laughed. “You guys aren’t hiring by chance?”

Olive perked up. “Not unless you want to replace your mom. You could’ve had one in high school, you know.”

“You know that’s not true, Olive.” He walked past her, not bothering to look her way.

His mom was elbow-deep in dough, kneading and rolling the large ball on the floured counter. Bruce Springsteen was on low, and she was softly singing along. Colton smiled. These were the moments he wanted to remember forever.

“Oh, you scared me!” Cheri jumped, hand resting on her chest.

“Sorry, Olive said you were back here.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You making sourdough?”

---