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Chapter 14

Stella

I f I ever have to look at another floor sample, paint color, or tile and make a decision again in my life, I’m going to need a grippy-sock vacay. Not because of the store or the people I had to meet with—it was all just because there were too many choices, and it stressed me out.

What if I make the wrong choice? What if my ideas look stupid together, and I end up making the new bakery look like a joke?

That being said, the staff was great and helped make everything go smoothly; it was just a lot. I’m so thankful for them. And for Miles.

When Miles told me he had it all set up, I figured he’d just made a phone call to let them know I was on my way.

No. Miles called and told them everything we needed, right down to the exact measurements. He even sent them a couple of pictures I had shown him from the night we talked about the bakery, and they already had a lot of good ideas laid out for me. I’m so grateful for how much work he took off my plate, especially since I had no idea where to begin.

Which is why I’m so frustrated. I feel like he keeps going from hot to cold. Every time I talk to him, it’s like I’m talking to a different version of him, and frankly, I’m getting tired of it. At this point, I’m done playing this game. I gave him time to stress out over my brother, but now he’s acting like my brother is actually involved in the situation between the two of us, and I’m not interested.

If he can’t man up and pick me and stand up to my brother in the process, he’s not the man for me.

Knowing this and accepting it as true doesn’t make it any easier to experience, and it doesn’t stop me from wishing he didn’t feel this way. I wish there was a way to change his mind, to make him see my side—that my brother shouldn’t matter. All that should matter to Rex is that I’m happy, and if I’m happy hanging out with Miles and having fun, there shouldn’t be a problem.

But since we don’t see eye to eye, I’m going to use this time in Nashville to hang out, do a little sightseeing, and when we get home, I’ll go back to the hotel. It’ll be fine.

We can keep things platonic and be cordial; we’re both adults here.

As I leave and head back down the block to the bakery, I feel my phone ring.

Sawyer.

“Hello,” I say as I answer the phone.

“Glad to see your phone works. I’ll make sure not to tell your brother that,” she says, humor in her voice, but I can tell she’s annoyed about something. “How’s Nashville?”

“It’s been good. Went out on the town last night, and that was an adventure,” I tell her, sharing as much of the truth as I can without divulging too many details. I definitely can’t tell her about the bakery or any of those issues. At least, not yet. I’ll talk to her about all of that when I get home and can do it face-to-face.

Especially because I’m hoping she can help me talk to my brother.

It’s not that I’m uncomfortable talking to him; it’s just that she seems to be the only one who can talk some sense into him when he’s being bullheaded.

“That sounds like fun! How’s Kenzie? How long are you staying there for?” she says, and I can hear Rory in the background asking for another cookie—using her best pouting skills to score it, something Rex wouldn’t fall for…usually.

My niece just loves her sweets, especially if they have sprinkles—on them, in them, around them. It really doesn’t matter as long as they’re included.

“Kenzie’s good,” I say, not elaborating that I only know this from a phone call. “I think it’s another couple of days. I’ve gotta check the ticket again,” I say, not wanting to admit that I didn’t actually book these tickets. That her boyfriend’s teammate did, and that he’s here with me.

Not giving Sawyer any important details should be an Olympic sport because the girl sniffs out secrets like it’s her life’s mission. I’m doing everything I can to answer her questions perfectly, trying not to give her any openings. All I can do is hope I don’t slip up.

I don’t think she’d tell my brother, but I also don’t think she’d be too thrilled about keeping this from him. I’d prefer not to put her in that position if I don’t have to.

“So, I hate to bring it up because, honestly, I prefer to stay out of it, but you two are siblings, and I obviously understand what it’s like. But your brother is worried about you. He says he hasn’t heard from you in a while.”

“I’ve just got a lot going on, business-wise and personal-wise, and I’m not in the right headspace to handle his judgment or deal with the energy it takes to turn down his forced handouts,” I say, not sugarcoating it anymore. If his girlfriend is going to ask the questions, I might as well tell the truth.

“You know he’s not judging you.”

“I know he doesn’t mean to,” I say, because my brother is a wonderful guy who doesn’t judge others, but he sure comes off that way unintentionally. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel that way. Don’t worry, though, Miles already told me that I’ve been a dick and shouldn’t be so hard on him,” I say, immediately covering my mouth.

“Miles?”

Fuck. Shit. Cock. Balls.

“Why were you and Miles talking about this?” Sawyer asks, and I realize I’ve made a grave mistake.

I hesitate, unsure what to say, as I slowly approach the bakery. Just three more stores, and I’ll be right out front.

“Stella? Holy shit! You’re in Nashville with him, aren’t you!?” she whisper-shouts into the phone. I hear shuffling as she moves around, followed by a door closing before she starts talking again at a more normal volume. “Stella, answer me right now, or I swear I will tell your brother.”

“And if I answer you, you won’t tell him?” I ask nervously.

“Nah, I wouldn’t either way because that’s not my business. Sisters before misters. Besides, Rex already has one little girl to worry about when it comes to dating. He needs to realize he doesn’t need to worry about you,” she says, and I smile. “But I will kick your ass for going on a trip with a hot man and not telling me about it!”

“Well…you’re kind of right. I am here in Nashville with Miles…but he’s more here with me than the other way around. There’s some stuff he’s helping me with, which I’ll fill you in on when we get home.”

“So, he’s just there…helping you? This isn’t a spicy vacation where I’m going to get all the hot hookup details when you get back?”

“Umm, I wouldn’t exactly say that,” I say, stopping outside the bakery. The lights are all on, and I can see Miles working on something in the back.

I hate how much I don’t hate this man, how it would be impossible to hate him because he’s so fucking wonderful. It’s funny, though, because that’s also the exact reason I do hate him half the time.

“Stella Grace, you are telling the group chat all the details the second you get home.”

“Sawyer, I’ll tell you all the details first. Let’s meet up for coffee or to watch an away game one night when I’m back, and Rex is gone—he definitely needs to be gone for these stories,” I say, giggling as I start to think about some of the memories.

“You tell me when, and I’ll have the tequila ready.”

Looking through the window of the bakery, I notice…it’s clean. There’s no more water on the floor; in fact, there’s no more floor at all. All the flooring is stacked up in the back, leaving only the dry materials that we can still keep.

He did this all by himself?

He’s making it really hard for me to not want to play the game anymore…

Must. Stay. Strong.

“Okay, Sawyer. Look, I gotta go, something just came up.”

“Okay, call me when you’re home! Love you!”

“Love you, too,” I say, hanging up the phone.

The second I walk in, I’m blown away by everything he’s done in the mere hours I was gone. Miles has ripped out all the water-damaged floors, baseboards, and the wall, and he’s thrown them into a pile by the back door. Nearly all the demolition is done, leaving only the cleanup before we start installing the new stuff I picked out today.

Shockingly, they promised to have everything on-site first thing in the morning, which, according to them, meant by seven a.m. As a bakery owner, I appreciate that their mornings are the same as mine. A less-than-one-day turnaround is crazy impressive, especially considering how many different things I needed. Thankfully, everything I wanted was in stock. I chose lots of neutrals paired with dark wood, white tiles, and a bright white paint to hopefully open up the small place.

I want it to feel cozy yet elegant, filled with pretty flowers and plants, creating a vibe that draws all kinds of people inside.

At least, that’s my dream.

“What’re you doing back already?” Miles says, and I turn to see him carrying another stack of wet flooring on his shoulder. He’s wearing a pair of black sweats and a backwards hat—nothing else—and a bit of his longer sandy brown hair is peeking out just slightly, enough that I want to run my fingers through it, maybe tug on it a little.

“It actually went really quickly,” I tell him, still admiring his work. “Thanks for having everything set up. They already had all the samples pulled for what we needed, which made everything go smoothly.”

“Of course,” he says with a nod. “I’m glad it went so well and that Mrs. Jenkins was helpful. She’s wonderful and has always been there to help when we’ve wanted to update our homes in the past.”

“Homes? You have a home here?”

“Yeah, my parents and I have homes about forty five minutes west of here.”

“Really? How much time do you spend here?”

“Not too much,” he says, tossing the wood into the pile before turning back around to grab another stack, leaving the conversation at that.

He’s not very talkative today. I guess this is my thanks for the handful of happy endings I helped provide last night. Well…I take that back. The fucking bakery is an incredible thank you. But dammit, I’d like another orgasm or two…and I’d almost like to explore whatever this little spark between us is.

Will it fizzle out? Suffocate and die? Or will it grow, engulfing everything around us, lighting our worlds on fire in ways neither of us has ever experienced?

My vote is on the last one…based on just kissing that man and how electric every touch was, like nothing I’d felt before.

Well, that’s a lie.

I’ve experienced something similar one other time in my life, back in my early twenties, at a hockey party when I kissed the cute hockey boy I’d hung out with all night. That night was the only other time that every innocent touch felt more exciting than sex with anyone else ever had.

But I don’t want to tell him that.

I don’t want him to know just how much of an impact he’s had on my life because he doesn’t deserve to know.

“I’m going to go jump in the shower. I’ve been stressed after everything today,” I say, my eyes lingering on his back as I speak.

“Okay. Pizza will be here in thirty minutes, so I’ll be up then.”

Nodding, I turn to head up the stairs, knowing this shower needs to wash away a whole lot more than just dirt. I need to wash the memories with Miles down the drain, locking my emotions up until I can get them under control. It’s obvious he’s been able to do that his entire life.

He forgot that night. He’ll probably forget the other nights, too.

Maybe it’s time I let go.