Page 5 of Love in the Net (Blue Ridge Buffaloes #2)

The quiet hum of the bakery after closing is usually my favorite part of the day.

It’s a moment to breathe, to let the chaos settle, to feel proud of what I’ve built.

Tonight, though, the silence feels heavy.

The shadows stretch long across the polished counters, and the faint scent of peanut butter and pumpkin lingers in the air, reminding me of all the treats I still need to make for this weekend’s fundraiser.

I wipe down the last tray with slow, deliberate movements, trying not to let my mind wander. But, of course, it does. To Liam. To his sudden departure yesterday. To the way he kissed me like he didn’t want to leave, but left anyway.

The bell above the front door jingles, and I jolt, clutching the dishtowel to my chest like it’s a shield. “We’re closed,” I call out, my voice steadier than I feel.

“It’s just me,” Liam’s deep, gravelly voice replies, and my heart does this ridiculous leap like it’s auditioning for Cirque du Soleil.

I step out from behind the counter, and there he is, standing in the doorway with Bear and Scout flanking him like they’re his personal bodyguards.

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, his expression somewhere between nervous and determined.

The sight of him makes my breath catch, but I quickly push it aside.

“Liam,” I say as Waffles trots over to say hi to his new canine friends. “What are you doing here?”

He takes a step closer, his dogs circling and smelling mine. “I needed to see you.”

This doesn’t sound good.

My heart skips a beat, but I cross my arms, keeping a safe distance. “You didn’t have to bring backup,” I say, nodding toward Bear and Scout.

His lips twitch into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “They insisted.”

I roll my eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “You’re lucky I like them.”

“And me?” he asks, his voice quiet, almost uncertain. “You haven’t answered any of my texts today.”

I don’t answer now either. Instead, I turn and walk toward the window seat. “If you’re here, you might as well sit.”

He follows, settling onto the seat beside me it with a sigh. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The only sound is the faint rustle of Bear and Scout settling on the floor by his feet—and Waffles panting, of course. I swear, he never stops panting.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, his gaze meeting mine. “For leaving like that yesterday. For not explaining about my travel schedule.”

I shrug, trying to play it off. “You’re busy. I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice is firm, and it makes me look up.

There’s something raw in his expression, something I haven’t seen before.

Vulnerability. “I’ve been…I guess I better just admit it.

I’ve been hesitant about us. Not because I don’t like you—because I do. A lot. But because I’ve been scared.”

“Scared?” I echo, my brow furrowing. “Of what?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his hands clasped tightly together. “Of letting myself feel something again. Of opening up. The last time I did, it didn’t end well.”

I stay quiet, sensing that he needs to get this off his chest.

“My ex-fiancée.” He pauses, his jaw tightening.

“She left me three years ago. For someone else. A guy she met while I was on the road. I didn’t see it coming.

I thought we were happy. Turns out, she didn’t want the life that came with being with me—the travel, the attention, the pressure. She said I wasn’t enough.”

The pain in his voice twists something inside me. I reach across the table, placing my hand over his. “Liam.”

He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to where our hands touch.

“I’m telling you this because I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.

I don’t want to hold back with you, Claire.

But I need you to know what you’re getting into.

My life…it’s not easy. I’m gone a lot. People recognize me. It’s not exactly a quiet existence.”

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding. “I won’t lie. I’ve been thinking about that, too. Wondering if I can handle you being gone. If I’m enough to bring you back.”

His eyes snap up to mine, and there’s a fierceness there that takes my breath away. “You’re more than enough,” he says, his voice low and steady. “You’re everything, Claire.”

My throat tightens, and I look away, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. “I’m scared, too,” I admit. “Of getting hurt. Of not being able to make this work.”

His hand tightens around mine, and when I look back at him, there’s a softness in his expression that makes my chest ache in the best way. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “You’ve said that before.”

“Because it’s true.” He grins, and the tension between us melts away. “I have to leave for a road trip tomorrow, sweetheart. I’ll be gone for six days.”

I nod, my smile faltering a little. “I’ll watch every game,” I say, trying to sound upbeat.

“You better.” He leans toward me and kisses me on the forehead, and my heart squeezes. “I’ll call you every chance I get.”

As he walks out the door with Bear and Scout, a strange mix of hope and uncertainty combine within me. This is uncharted territory for me, but for the first time in a long time, I’m willing to take the risk.

The weekend fundraiser arrives, and despite my best efforts, it’s quieter than I hoped. The turnout is small, and while the people who do come are generous, I close up my shop and head into my office to count the money.

Waffles curls into his bed at the side of my desk as I flip through bills, and I sigh when I reach the end. “Nine hundred and sixty-four dollars.”

It’s better than nothing, but it feels like a failure. I pick up my phone, needing a soft place to land right now.

To Liam:

The fundraiser was a bust. Only raised $964. I feel like I let everyone down.

I hit send and wait, watching the little dots appear, then disappear. But no response comes.

The hope I felt with Liam next to me on the window seat dims slightly, and familiar doubt creeps back in. Maybe this is too hard.

But then I remember what he’s said a couple of times now: We’ll figure it out.

I take a deep breath, setting my phone aside. I can’t expect him to text me back within seconds. He’s a pro hockey player, and I settle in to wait for his comfort and reassurance.