Page 73 of Booked on You
Welcome! Coffee will be ready in five-ish.
I slip my phone into my pocket and stretch, stiff after staying in one place too long. I move to the kitchen and make Scarlett a fresh pot of coffee, adding an extra scoop so it’s stronger. I’ll make sure she gets anything she asks for.
On the way to town, I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. School started last week, so traffic around the tourist area, where my aunt’s bakery is located, is less busy than usual. I park my truck right up front.
The familiar jingle above the bakery door greets me like a warm welcome as the scent of fresh-baked pastries and sugary warmth envelops me. That smell reminds me of my childhood, and it’s tied to almost every memory I have of Millie.
Behind the counter, my aunt glances up, and her brown eyes sparkle when she sees me. She wipes her flour-covered hands on her apron before coming around the counter.
“Well, it’s about time,” she teases, drawing me into her arms. We’re the only family either of us has left. I don’t take that for granted, and neither does she. “Almost thought you got lost.”
“I was lost, remember? Between some pages.” I chuckle, holding her for a moment before stepping back.
She studies me.
“You’re different,” she declares, returning behind the counter.
I ignore her, reaching for one of the pecan cookies cooling on the tray. “You’re imagining things.”
“No way,” she replies bluntly, swatting playfully at my hand as I steal another cookie. “You’re wearing that look, the one you have when you’re in love.”
I glance away, biting into the cookie. “Oh, come on.”
Her mouth falls open. “I can’t believe it. You have a crush on Scarlett Collins.”
“I’m not admitting anything,” I say, leaning against the counter, cookie crumbs sticking to my fingertips. “It’s complicated.”
She waves a dismissive hand, returning to kneading dough. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
Her helper walks up front, carrying a tray of bear claws. She sets them on the cooling rack and returns to the back to finish prepping.
“Don’t spread rumors,” I tell her.
Millie chuckles. “I’m not. I’m just listening to what everyone else has to say.”
I playfully roll my eyes. “Between you and me, I do like her. But she lives in New York and will be returning.”
“Distance doesn’t matter,” Mille says, still working the bread. Eventually, she cuts it into squares.
“I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”
“You know why, though?” Millie dusts her fingers and the counter with flour.
I shake my head.
“It’s because you weren’t ready for her yet. Still had some life lessons to learn. You know what they say? Timing is?—”
“Everything.” It’s something she and my mama always said. The thought makes me grin. “I think you’re right. Had I met Scarlett years ago, I’m not sure I would’ve been?—”
The bell on the door chimes, interrupting our conversation. I glance over, and the blood drains from my face.
Sara.
My ex-fiancée stands near the doorway, looking as beautiful as always. Her dark hair is perfectly styled, and her eyes are fixed on me. My gut clenches, not from attraction, but from the unpleasant reminder of the pain she caused me. I straighten my stance.
“Sara,” I mutter. “What a surprise.”
“Ezra,” she says, “I was hoping to run into you.”
