Page 266 of A Taste of Vanilla

“I kept some things.”

“For the record, I never trusted that car.” Oliver crosses his arms over his chest.

“You’ve said that about every man I’ve ever dated.”

“I’m nothing if not consistent.”

Warren appears behind me with my things, stopping several feet away.

Marley looks at him.

He holds out my bag, and she takes it.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“Anytime.”

He looks tired. Soaked. Beautiful in a way I find offensive. Like some storm-drenched bakery ghost with giant muscles sent to me to test whether I learned anything in the last few months.

I take one step back. “I’m going to go inside,” I tell him.

His throat moves. “Okay.”

Without a word, he turns, heading back to his truck.

The bakery opens around me with warmth, sugar, coffee, butter, and the soft glow of a place that’s been waiting for me to come home. Everything is clean, and everything is quiet.

Oliver holds out a bag of fast food. “Eat something.”

“I’ve consumed enough gummy worms to be considered one,” I tell him.

He pushes it to me anyway.

Marley leans against the counter. “What now?”

The question should terrify me.

Yesterday, it would have anyway. This morning, absolutely.

But something about leaving my car behind has rearranged something in me.

I look out the window.

“I think I’m done.”

Her brows shoot up. “With what?”

“Letting the Whitakers win.”

Oliver smirks.

I walk to the chalkboard and look at it before turning my attention to my empty case.

“What are you thinking?” Marley asks.

My smile comes slowly, and for the first time all day, it feels like my own. “I’m thinking we relaunch.”

Oliver groans while Marley pushes away from the counter and retrieves her laptop from the kitchen. She places it on the counter and opens it. “I like it. What are the categories?”