“I’m good, thanks,” she tells him, and we both dig in to the food. “There’s just something so good about greasy appetizers that makes them taste so damn delicious.”
“Exactly, and can I say that it’s refreshing to be out with a woman who will actually eat said greasy appetizers with me. Not that there’s anything wrong with a salad, but that isn’t all you need to eat.”
“I’m long past my days of trying to pretend I don’t love food. Hell, I bake for a living. I don’t think it’s a surprise I like sugar. I’m just careful to eat it sparingly. It’s tempting some days, but I can usually control myself.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I don’t think I have that kind of self-control,” I tell her honestly.
“When you’re around it all the time, sometimes the last thing I want to eat is sweets.”
“That makes sense. How long have you been baking?”
“For as long as I can remember, but as a job, since high school. Back then, my aunt, Harper’s mom, ran the bakery. Harper took over a few years ago when her mom got sick and could no longer run the place. Back then, I was just an employee, but Harper and I have split the manager duties and we’re working toward me buying her out now that she’s moving to California.”
“That’s awesome. So the bakery has always been in your family?” I ask.
“Yes, my grandparents started it. My grandmother was known for her baking, and they figured why not get paid for her work.”
“Sounds like it has worked out pretty well.”
“It has. We still use many of her original recipes, but also love adding new items to the shop when one of us finds something we want to try.”
“That’s really cool. I’m sure there are many items that are nostalgic to people that have been coming since they were kids.”
“Oh, absolutely. We get a lot of requests for Grandma’s original items for special orders.”
“It’s awesome that you can carry her legacy on like that.”
“I’m just glad that I was able to learn some of my skills directly from her before she stopped being able to help out.”
“I’m sure she was a great mentor. Might as well learn from the best.”
“Exactly,” she states just as our server returns with our main course. She sets the plates down and removes the now empty sampler platter.
We dig in to our food, making small talk as we do. I can tell Lacey is getting more and more relaxed as the minutes tick by. The more we talk, the more she’s opening up, which is giving me hope something more than dinner tonight will happen.
7
LACEY
I sit across from Garrett,still shocked I’m here with him, on a date, of all things. As much as I want to slam the door on the idea of a relationship with a man, he has definitely piqued my interest. The fact it doesn’t bother him I’m a single mom with two young kids is refreshing. I would never consider my kids baggage, but others might. They’ve already been through enough in their short lives. With all the drama around my ex-husband, I don’t want them to experience any more heartbreak in their lives, if I can control it.
“Are you ready to get out of here?” Garrett asks after he’s paid for our dinner.
“Yes,” I tell him. He stands from his side of the booth and holds out a hand for me to take as I get up. I willingly slide my hand into his as I stand. The firm, yet gentle way he holds my hand steady while I stand sends jolts of electricity through my body. How such a simple touch from this man sends my body into a frenzy is a new sensation.
I can remember back when I first met Neil, I’d get that butterfly sensation when he was around, but I haven’t felt like that in years.
Once I’m standing and have collected the to-go bag with our leftovers inside, Garrett links our fingers and leads me outside to his truck.
“Do you have time, or do you need me to take you back home now that dinner is over?” he asks when we reach his truck.
“I can spare some more time, what did you have in mind?” I ask, looking up at him as we now stand facing one another.
“I’d rather show you than tell you,” he says as he brings his free hand up and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. “Have I told you just how beautiful you are?” he asks. I don’t miss the huskiness of his voice.
I swallow hard, a lump forming in the back of my throat. “N-No,” I whisper. His eyes keep drifting between my eyes and my lips. I think he wants to kiss me but is holding back, for some reason. I can’t say I’d push him away if he lowered his head to mine and pressed our lips together.
“Let’s get out of here, then,” he says, and reaches around me to open the passenger door of his truck.