Page 26 of Spicy or Sweet (Wintermore #2)

NOELLE

I’m not good at taking time off, but I still feel guilty that I didn’t find out about Shay’s birthday until the day was almost over, so when she suggests taking the following Sunday off to spend the day together, I jump at the chance.

We’re quickly approaching the end of our time working together, and I want to cling to every moment I can get with her.

A few days ago, pillow-talking breathlessly, I asked Shay where her favorite place in Wintermore was, and she didn’t even have to think before answering.

“The reservoir. I love it there. Georgie loved water, and I can see the mountains, so I always feel closer to her and Nico there. I’ve considered renting a boat a few times to go out on the water, but I’ve never rowed a boat before,” she said, and I started planning straight away.

I don’t have a boat, but my parents do. It’s nothing fancy, just a little wooden rowboat that we used to take out on the reservoir when we were kids.

My parents still go out for boat picnics every summer, and the storm from earlier this week has left behind an unseasonably warm fall weekend.

The perfect weather for a picnic, if you ask me.

When I called to ask if I could borrow the boat, my dad didn’t ask questions. As I park my car outside their house, I realize I’m not going to get away so easily: my mom is helping my dad secure the boat on the bed of their truck, a wicker basket at her feet. I should’ve known.

“Hi, honey!” she calls as I get out of my car.

“Hey.”

I grab my picnic basket (tote bag) from the trunk, even though I know it won’t be half as impressive as whatever my mom has put together.

When you treat every day like Christmas, every day is a cause for celebration, and every celebration deserves a feast—that’s my mom’s outlook, anyway.

And no one in their right mind would ever turn down any kind of food packed by either of my parents.

I fell in love with the kitchen, standing on a little wooden step stool so I could reach the counters and bake with them, but my food will never taste as good as theirs.

They put so much love into everything they do.

“Thank you for getting the boat out for me and letting me use the truck,” I say, hugging my dad, then my mom.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

“What’s the occasion?” My mom leans against the truck, the fall sunshine catching the threads of gold in her auburn hair.

“Does there need to be an occasion? It’s a beautiful day,” I counter, and she snorts.

“Don’t bullshit us. You never do this kind of thing, and your dad isn’t nearly nosy enough.” She prods him in the side, and he yelps. “Who, pray tell, are you taking on a romantic boat trip on this beautiful day?”

“You called it romantic, not me,” I point out, but there’s no point in dodging around it. Quinn already spotted Shay and me together; it’s only a matter of time before someone else does, and this town is a breeding ground for gossip.

“Shay and I are… seeing each other, I guess.”

“You guess? What does that mean?” my dad asks, frowning at me.

“It means it’s complicated,” I answer, because I really don’t want to explain the ins and outs of whatever the hell is going on between us.

Mostly because I can’t. We’re sleeping together…

casually. We snuggled on her couch and watched Gilmore Girls until we both fell asleep a couple of days ago…

casually. I’m taking her on a romantic boat trip today… casually.

“But you’re interested in her?” my mom asks, looking completely unsurprised. I assume the rumor mill is already turning.

“I am. We’re just figuring things out.”

“Well, we’re happy for you either way, kiddo,” my dad says, squeezing my shoulder. “I know she’s a bit older than you, but hey, at least she’s not family-adjacent.”

I snort. “I suppose it would be hard to scandalize you after Rora and Uncle Henry.”

“Don’t say that around Felix,” my mom warns with a shudder. “I hate to think how he would take it as a challenge.”

She talks me through everything she packed in the picnic basket—half the contents of her kitchen, it seems—until I eventually drag myself away, tossing them my car keys in case they need the car, and climbing into their truck with a wave.

Shay is standing outside when I pull up. I didn’t tell her the plan for today, just to dress to be outside, and her eyes widen as she takes in my parents’ truck with the rowboat strapped to the bed.

Croissant winds around her feet, meowing as I jump down from the truck and round the cab.

“Hi, baby,” I coo, crouching down and gathering him into my arms. I stand up, stepping closer to his mom.

“You know, when you said you had a surprise for me, I was expecting you to show up with The Grinch butt plug,” she says, surprising a laugh from me.

“Even I don’t love Christmas enough to use The Grinch butt plug.” I lean in to kiss her. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi. That’s a boat.”

“Sure is. What do you reckon?” I ask Croissant, scratching his chin. “You want to come with your mama and I for a picnic on the reservoir?” He meows, and I take that as a yes.

“We’re going to the reservoir?” Shay asks, practically vibrating with excitement.

“If you want to,” I answer, but I barely get the words out before she says, “Yes!”

I open the passenger door and deposit Croissant on the seat. The reservoir isn’t big, and we’ll never be so far out that we won’t be able to drop him off at the shore if he doesn’t like the boat, but I have a blanket, and no doubt he’ll happily snuggle in and watch the birds go by.

Shay climbs up beside him while I get back behind the wheel, and her smile is brighter than the blazing fall sunshine.

It’s a short drive to the reservoir; usually, I’d walk, but despite years of hauling palettes of toys and sacks of flour, I don’t think I could carry the boat the whole way.

And the short drive is more than worth it when Shay sighs happily and says, “How is it possible that you look this hot driving?” She squeezes my knee, and I practically melt.

Shay helps me unload the boat, and I get the food and blankets situated while she carries Croissant.

Once the two of them are settled, I lock the truck and push the boat over the last of the rocky shore.

I hop in right before the current pulls the boat, feeling the ground disappear beneath me as the weightlessness of the water takes over.

The view of the mountains, of the sun glistening on the water’s surface, is incredible. But I can’t stop looking at Shay.

She stares around us in wonder, taking in every inch of the scene. There’s a soft breeze, enough to cool the heat of the sun and tease the ends of her hair. Even Croissant looks enraptured, scrunching his little nose and looking around wide-eyed.

“You know,” Shay whispers, like she’s scared to speak too loudly and disturb the peace, “I’ve been a lot of places in my life, but I think this might be my favorite.”

“It’s pretty magical,” I agree. “I should bring you here at night sometime. The stars are incredible.”

“I can imagine.”

She sets Croissant down like a loaf on one of the blankets I brought and steps gingerly over the center seat so she can sit facing me. Our knees brush, the tiny touch enough to make my heart race.

“Thank you for doing this. It’s even better than I dreamed it would be.” She cups my cheek, and my skin warms beneath her touch.

I bring her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to her palm. “I’m glad I got to be the one to share it with you.” The words spill out, anything but casual, but I can’t bring myself to regret a little scrap of honesty somewhere so beautiful.

“Did I hear you say picnic?”

“Mhmm.” I lift the picnic basket and balance it on the bench seat beside me. “I made sandwiches and packed some treats, but when I picked up the boat, my mom had the basket with practically an entire grocery store in it for us, so we’re stocked.”

She doesn’t respond as I unzip the basket, and when I look up, she’s frowning. “What?”

“You told your parents about us?”

Ah. Shit. She doesn’t sound pissed, just confused, at least.

“Yes, but in my defense, they definitely already knew,” I answer quickly.

She looks no less confused. If anything, her eyebrows climb higher.

Croissant chooses this moment to perk up, crawling under the bench his mom is sitting on, and standing up on his hind legs to investigate the food.

I toss him a snap pea, and he chases it around the floor.

“Are people talking about us?” Shay asks, and I can’t ascertain how she feels about the possibility from her measured tone.

“This is Wintermore,” I answer with a shrug.

“I think it’s safe to assume someone is talking about you at all times.

But us? I don’t know. My parents weren’t surprised when I told them who was coming with me today, and I know my brother’s friend, Quinn, spotted us through my window a few days ago, so I’m guessing other people in town have also noticed. ”

“Shit.” Shay worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “I suppose we haven’t been as careful as we should’ve been.”

I have to force myself not to show how much I don’t like that.

“Are you upset that people know?”

Every second that Shay takes to think about her answer feels longer.

It’s not fair of me, I know. She doesn’t know this town like I do; she doesn’t know my family like I do. Shay has every right to feel whatever kind of way she feels about people knowing we’re… doing something, even if I’m not sure either of us knows what said something is.

“I’m not upset,” she says, finally. “You’re right that we should probably have assumed people would talk. I just don’t like the idea of being spoken about behind my back—and I like the idea of you being spoken about even less.”

Oh. As far as answers go, that could’ve been a lot worse. I was ready for it to hurt.

“I know it doesn’t make it better or easier, but I’m used to it. I was born in a small town in Texas, and I’ve lived in Wintermore for over twenty years. It comes with the territory.”

“I guess that’s true. How were your parents about it?”

“They were fine with it,” I assure her, and relief flickers in her gray eyes. “Just like I said they would be. To quote my dad, ‘at least you’re not family-adjacent.’”

Her laugh is so fucking pretty. She throws her head back, and the sun catches her hair, lighting her up like a sparkling fire.

It’s hard to believe how long I spent in denial about how beautiful she is.

How funny she is, how smart she is, how sweet, and soft, and perfect she is.

How desperately I want her. Maybe even need her.

It’s funny, really. This time two years ago, all I wanted was to open my bakery and watch the downfall of Shay’s. Now, I can’t help but think I’d like to stay out here forever and forget my bakery even exists.