Ben reaches a hand down and hauls me out of the water with seemingly no effort.
I mean, I don’t normally cuss, but damn.
My lady parts are the only warm things on me at the moment. I stand there, shivering, as I pick up my clothes to put them back on.
“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” I admit as I stare down at the water soaking into my T-shirt from my hands.
In a split second, Ben has his shirt pulled over his head and is holding it out to me, but I can’t see it because holy abs, Batman. I’ve only glimpsed them in the darkness of the hallway with the light from the bathroom dimly on them, but seeing them in the light of day, the sun shining on them in all their glory, I have to reach up and make sure my tongue isn’t hanging out of my mouth.
“Here, you can use my shirt to dry off,” Ben says, grabbing my T-shirt and shorts from my hand so I can quickly run his soft cotton shirt over my skin to soak up the water droplets coating me.
“Thank you,” I say, averting my eyes before he sees that I’m a creeper and makes a run for it. I hand him his shirt back once I’m done and put my clothes back on, neither of us making eye contact.
“I’m going to get you back,” I say with a grin, and he finally looks at me.
“I can’t wait,” he says with a wink before grabbing my hand.
We turn, him pulling me off the dock, and I think that maybe this could be the best day of my life.
13 Pepper
The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. I’ve had Danger duty since Ben was called into work.
When Monday arrives—the day of my orientation at culinary school—I wake up to Danger’s rank breath in my face as a drop of saliva rolls off his tongue and onto my cheek.
“Come on, Danger. Down, boy,” I huff as I sit up and move his small but stout body directly off of mine. “That’s the last time you get to sleep in here if that’s how you’re going to wake me up,” I scold him as I throw the covers back, my heart pounding in excitement for what this day will bring.
It’s here. It’s really happening. I’m going to learn the secrets of the culinary world and hopefully make my mark in it one day as the best pastry chef in America. I’m not going too broad yet. I’ll aim for the best pastry chef in the world after that.
Knowing Ben isn’t here, I throw the door open and run from my room to the bathroom in nothing but my underwear, feeling free and alive and happy—so happy.
After showering, I step out and draw a huge sun, complete with rays, in the fog on the mirror, grinning like a lunatic the entire time.
It’s the first day of the rest of your life.
I take Danger outside to do his business and then don the cotton pants and plain T-shirt that I picked up over the weekend. The school’s name is proudly embroidered on my apron and chef’s jacket, which I put in my bag. Slipping my feet into my socks and plain black shoes, I eye myself in the mirror before pulling my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. I put my contacts in and swipe a little mascara over my eyelashes before checking the time.
Just enough time to swing by Nickoli’s Bistro for coffee on my way there.
I grin at Danger as I put some food and pour some water in his bowls.
“Wish me luck, Danger.” I lean down and rub his head, seeing his eyes pleading with me not to go. “Now, don’t give me that look. Your dad will be home soon.”
I double-check to make sure I have everything before sailing out the door and locking it.
I feel like I’m floating. Nothing can bring me down. Then, my phone rings, Mom’s name flashing across the screen.
Except for that.
I groan and stop to swipe, holding it to my ear with my shoulder as I open the car door and get in. I start to sweat, as this is the worst possible time to get into a conversation about my dishonesty with my mom.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer as I throw all of my stuff into the passenger seat.
“Pepper, I’m so glad I caught you. Classes are starting today, correct?”
“Yep, I’m headed there after I get coffee.”
“Wonderful. Your dad and I just wanted to wish you a wonderful first day and talk about visiting this weekend instead of in a month. We really miss you.”
This is perfect. I’ll just wait until this weekend to tell them.
“We don’t know how we ever let you move up there. The house is a lot quieter without you around.” Mom sounds almost sad, and it sends a pang through my heart.
I open my mouth to come clean right then even though I just said I would tell them when they got here, but thankfully, she continues talking.
“We’ve already bought plane tickets and booked a room, but I can cancel them if it’s a bad time,” she says, her tone saying she hopes she doesn’t have to cancel them.
“No, it should be fine,” I tell her.
Stress level: through the roof now.
“Perfect. Talk later, darling. Love you!” Mom blows a kiss across the phone before she hangs up.
I let my head sink back against the headrest as I close my eyes. I feel bad when she’s being so nice to me. Yes, they don’t support my dreams, but is that any reason to treat them so horribly?
Okay, first things first. Coffee.
I pull out of the apartment and head to Nickoli’s Bistro, the restaurant owned by Mason’s dad. Jules helped them open a coffee shop inside,
