“Thank you. If not this time then the next, or so Dakota keeps telling me.” I try to sound nonchalant. I don’t think she’d understand my obsession with winning this year, to be one of the youngest to ever win at the Olympics.
“Dakota?” she asks minutes later while pulling in front of a nondescript building in the middle of town, sandwiched between the pharmacy and post office.
“My best friend. We met during our first youth competition when we were both thirteen years old. She’s one of the only people to put up with me for years when everyone else had given up.” I speak without thinking, revealing way too much, but unable to take it back.
“Montana—” Lizzie starts, her tone filled with sympathy, but I interrupt, desperate to not talk about what I just let slip. No need to dive into my mental state, that’s what I have a therapist for.
“Is this Lauren’s bakery?” I look at the sign above the window display and the name catches my attention.
Hummingbird Bakery.
I remember seeing the delicate hummingbird tattoo on her wrist during dinner. It must hold some special meaning for her.
“Yes, it is. I was going to pick up some sweets for your father and the boys as a little treat after the long few days they’ve had.” She looks at me like she’s trying to gauge my reaction to being here. “You can wait in the truck if you like.”
I realize she thinks I’ll be upset about seeing Lauren, but I’m not. It’s not her fault her boyfriend is a jackass or that her presence made me realize my father replaced me. “No, I’d like to see it. And after everything you guys have told me, I want to try some of her sweets. See if they live up to the hype.” I smile, making sure she knows I’m only joking.
“Okay then.” She gestures for me to get out. “Let’s go. I got some chores left to do this afternoon.”
The mention of chores reminds me I should start pulling my weight around the farm, now that I’m able to actually do something, instead of only helping with dinner. “Lizzie,” I call to get her attention. “Let me know which chores I should help with. Now that I’m cleared by the doctor for some manual labor, I’d like to do my part.”
She doesn’t say anything until we’re about to enter the bakery. “Okay. I’ll talk to Wayne about it. After all, you’re still not a hundred percent, and the last thing we’d want to do is set you back in your recovery.”
“Well, just let me know. I can do more besides working with Lucifer. The physical therapist told me yesterday I’m doing well and progressing faster than he expected. I should be fine helping with a few things around the farm.”
“This smells delicious.” I have a hard time holding back a moan, but the combination of smells, sweet and savory, makes my mouth water.
As soon as the words leave my lips, a laugh that sounds like something you’d hear from Snow White—all innocent and kind—can be heard from in front of me. And when I look up I come face-to-face with Lauren, as gorgeous as last time, who seems happy to see me.
“I’m so glad you could finally make it, Montana,” Lauren says excitedly, taking me aback. She gestures me to come closer while moving around behind the counter. “You need to try these.”
It’s hard not to be swept up in her excitement about whatever it is she’s trying to show me. I can’t help but reciprocate the smile as I walk toward her, even if I might want to. As soon as I’m within arm’s reach, she holds what appears to be a cookie toward me. “Here”—she slightly wiggles the treat in my direction, commanding me to take it—“try this and tell me what you think. It’s something new I’m trying, but I’m not sure if it’s any good.”
I shrug and take a bite of the cookie in my hand. The delicious combination of flavors hits my taste buds, causing my eyes to roll back and a moan to slip past my lips. I can’t help myself.
Without saying a word, I eat the rest of the treat, hoping she’ll give me another one.
“I take it you like them?”
I nod vigorously, while savoring the last bite. “Oh, my god. This is amazing. I’ve never tasted anything like this. What is it?”
“It’s called a German Bethmännchen.”
“A German what?” I ask, confused by the weird sounding name.
“It’s a marzipan cookie. I recently found a German pastry book in my mom’s things. I think her mother was German, I’m not sure since I never met my grandmother. But I looked through the book and the recipe for these”—she nods toward the cookie she’s holding out for me to take—“caught my eye. I know not everyone likes marzipan, but I thought I would test the waters and give it a try.”
My smile is genuine, I can’t help but like Lauren and her bubbly personality. Whether I want to or not, after all, I can’t judge her for who she’s fallen in love with. None of us can control that, my ex being the prime example. And I have a feeling Kade’s contempt is reserved solely for me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a nice guy to everyone else.
“Well, I love them. I’ll take them off your hands. Screw the diet my nutritionist and personal trainer keep reminding me to get back on.” I’m sure Dakota would love these too. I make a mental note to bring her some when I go home.
“In that case”—she grabs a light blue paper bag from underneath the counter and starts filling it with the marzipan cookies and others I can’t
