Which was a little like herding cats.
“Bri, why don’t you take a break? Work on something else for a bit.” Mabel popped back into the kitchen, her eyes darting to the spot on the floor where she’d caught her and Gerard just an hour earlier.
Bri knew, because she kept staring at it too.
“It’s okay, Mabel. I got it.” She would do this, somehow. All of it. Casey would have the best wedding ever, if it killed her. The only kiss she needed to be thinking about was Casey and Nathan’s at the altar.
“These arthritic hands aren’t done for completely—yet.” Mabel held out her purple-veined hands, her bright orange nail polish catching the bakery lights. “Come on, now, hand over that piping bag.”
Bri reluctantly relinquished the icing. She really did need to call Casey, make sure she wasn’t forgetting something that her friend needed before Sunday. Had they talked at Taylor’s only that morning?
Her chest tightened. Had it been only two weeks since Gerard rode into her life? Since he’d stirred up dormant feelings, upped her blood pressure, and made her feel more irritated—and alive—than she had been in years?
Had it been only a day since Bri discovered the giant question mark hanging over her parents’ legacy?
Her heart thundered in her chest, and she grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. She hated to look incompetent or overwhelmed—what if that showed Mabel and Agnes she couldn’t handle the bakery alone, nudging them toward selling it? She should just talk to them about it—but she wasn’t ready for their answer. The only thing worse than wondering about the future was realizing her greatest fears were actually heading her way.
She needed a break. “I’ll just walk over to Casey’s house and check on a few things, then be right back.” Maybe if she caught her breath for a moment, and a little of her friend’s pre-wedding excitement, she could get refreshed and come back to knock out the remaining tasks.
Mabel continued piping, without looking up. “Take your time, dear. This will all get done.” She’d already completed three flowers. “Agnes will hold down the fort up front.”
“Thank you.” Bri grabbed two to-go coffees with cream before she could change her mind, then escaped outside. The November air chilled her cheeks and cooled the flush that came from working around a hot oven. If Casey was even half as overwhelmed and exhausted as Bri was, then she would also appreciate the afternoon caffeine pickup.
She rounded the corner of Maple toward Casey’s house and glimpsed a tall figure strolling toward her. She squinted, trying to make the person out. The saunter and sway of his shoulders was familiar.
Gerard.
Her heart rate increased, and she clutched both coffees, halfway debating if she should duck behind the big oak tree to her left. He must be heading back from the church.
Had he seen her yet?
She squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t hide. This was her town, and like it or not, he was going to be leaving it—very soon.
The thought brought relief and disappointment in equal measures.
She’d sort that out later. Right now, she had other emotions to conceal. She refused to let Gerard know how he’d affected her in the kitchen. Until she knew exactly what had happened between them—or rather, had almost happened and why he’d stopped it—she would have to keep her own reaction stuffed down.
Besides, she felt totally incapable of deciphering anything romantic with her parents’ love story on the line. Clearly, she wasn’t the best interpreter, after all. The thought knotted her stomach. She was refusing to let herself think about so much at this point, she wished she could just clear her brain completely.
Bri pasted on what she hoped was a casual smile and raised her mug at Gerard. “Mission accomplished?”
He nodded, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into the neck of his shirt. His eyes were a little drawn at the corners, as if he’d missed sleep the night before. Or maybe it’d just been as long a day for him as it’d been for her. “Everything’s been delivered to the pastor.”
Bri took a sip of her coffee. “Thanks for doing that.”
He ran a hand through his slightly rumpled hair as he nodded. “No big deal.” There were definitely creases by his brows too. Had something happened at the church? Or was he feeling the effects of their connection at the bakery too? She sort of hoped for the latter.
“How’d you know I’d be heading back right now?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t.” If she had, she’d probably have chosen another route. “What do you mean?”
He pointed to the second cup of coffee in her hand.
“Oh!” She hesitated, then held it out to him. “But you don’t like my coffee.”
“I told you last time—it’s growing on me.” He gently pushed her hand away, and the connection of his fingers on her wrist sent sparks down her spine. “But I don’t want to be a coffee thief.”
“It’s okay, Casey won’t care. Besides, you look like you need it more.”
“Thanks.” He took the cup, then rolled his eyes at her, a humorous spark temporarily lifting the tired lines. “I think.”
She looked worse, guaranteed. Thankfully he didn’t confirm that fact. “I really appreciate your help.” She didn’t want to get vulnerable, but he was going out of his way to assist her—and she still didn’t really understand why. He didn’t owe her anything. Did that mean he cared—about her? Or just felt sorry for the situation she’d gotten herself into?
The wind shifted, ruffling his hair. “It’s no problem. I have the time, which is something you’re pretty short on.”
That was considerate. Hope blossomed. Hope for what, exactly, she wasn’t sure, except when he was sweet like that it made her—
“Besides, like I said, it gives me an up-close-and-personal angle for the second part of this article.”
Hope smashed into a dozen
