Page 10 of The Billionaire Is Back

The longing, the admiration, the rejection. It’s all still there in my bloodstream. I tried so hard to forget about him all through junior and senior year. While I was apprenticing with Buddy and Ruthie, the former owners of this bakery, I tried dating local dudes that I knewwould never leave. In the summers, I had fun with out-of-town guys who came through Beacon Harbor. But I’d forget about them within a week. It’s not like I lack confidence or that I can’t get a date. Even if I had the time or energy to date now, there are no interesting, eligible men in this town. At least not when I compare them to Grady. A lack of high-quality ingredients, shall we say. You could put Chris Kimball in the oven at the perfect temperature for the exact right amount of time and he’d still never rise to husband material.

Not that Grady is husband material—not for anyone who lives in Beacon Harbor anyway.

Why is he back?

How long is he staying?

Does he even remember me?

Is he single?

Does Jake know he’s in town?

Am I going to see Grady Barber while he’s here?

Why do I care?

Why didn’t I wash my hair this morning, dammit?

I realize Vera is still watching me, eyebrows raised, lips clamped shut. “So, I’ll let Mrs. Barber know it’ll be ready by noon?”

I unclench my jaw, but my mouth can’t form words.

“Breathe, honey. Just breathe.”

I do that. I breathe. I shake out the tension in my body. And then I say, “Tell Mrs. Barber I’ll have the cake ready by noon. She can pick it up between noon and two, when we close. Thank you.” And then I remember that I was boiling milk and butter for my choux pastry dough and see that it has reduced to the point of being unusable.I refrain from glaring at Vera, who could have maybe alerted me to the fact that it was boiling. Instead, I grit out, “Actually, tell her it will be ready for pickup between one and two. And that we’re closing at two o’clock sharp.”

“You got it, she said as she calmly returned to the front of the store and reminded her friend that she always carries an emergency Xanax in her bag.”

“Not necessary!” I yell out, trying to figure out if I can still use this reduced mixture for something. I might just let it cool down a little and pour it into my mouth.

Whatever the problem is, baking is the solution.

Even if the problem is that I haven’t forgotten Grady Barber as much as I thought I had.

But yeah. Today isnota not-shitty day.

Chapter 4

Bake to the Future

Grady

This isn’t a car.

This is a time machine.

That’s what I think as I stare at my old Mercedes 380 in the bowels of the dark concrete cave parking structure in New York where she’s been housed. She was my first real victory. I set a goal, I worked like crazy, and I got her.

I guess I haven’t stopped ever since. I could have gotten rid of her when I got to New York after Wharton. Instead, I did the opposite. I paid way too much to store her here and hired a guy to change the fluids, inflate the tires, and keep the battery charged. I kept thinking that someday I’d sell her. I have more impressive cars, and I don’t even have time to drive those.

But looking at this old beauty now, I know I’m never going to do that. Never was.

There’s nothing like your first love.

And if you can hold on to her, you never let her go.

I climb into the car and shut the door with a satisfying thud. I sniff the air in here. The car still smells faintly of Cheetos and beer. Shaking my head, I laugh. How is that possible? I am rocketed further back in time as I remember Jake and Robbie drinking and eating, the two of them packed into the back seat. I yelled at them to wait until we got to the beach. As usual, they didn’t listen.

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