Page 48 of Hometown Girl

“Did you talk to him?”

Callie frowned. “Of course not. I hid myself in the back room and stared at him from behind the safety of a cracked door.”

Beth shook her head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Ben would be crazy not to fall head over heels for you.”

“Stop. I think you’re forgetting who we’re talking about here. Mr.Major League and the baker who still works for her parents.” She glanced at Beth as if realizing she’d said something offensive. “It’s not the same—you working for your dad’s company. You run that place. I’m a glorified barista making lattes for cranky customers all day.”

“Hey.” Beth held up her cup.

“I didn’t mean you. You seem surprisingly uncranky today.”

“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that. I have to go.” Beth picked up her coffee and pastries and walked toward the door, guilt gnawing at her. She still hadn’t told Callie the truth about her job. How would she ever own up to it? She turned back before pushing the door open. “I’m serious about the bakery. You can work for yourself.”

“Done. I’ll give my notice today.” She winked.

“Might want to wait a few more months before you do that.”

“Have fun with your farmhand,” Callie called out.

Beth glared at her and shook her head, aware that everyone in the diner had heard the remark. Her friend looked anything but apologetic.

When she reached Fairwind, her latte was half-gone and her nerves were shot, just like they’d been the first day at every new job, class or interview she’d ever had. Professional nerves were natural, though, right? It had nothing to do with the beautiful man waiting for her on the steps of the old house.

A glance at the clock told her he was early. She could appreciate that in an employee.

As she parked, he stood, and Roxie ran out to greet her. The German shepherd had a sweet way about her. Beth might even grow to like her, which was strange considering she had never been an animal person. Molly was the animal lover in their family—she’d have a houseful if her landlord would allow it. But Beth? She didn’t want the hassle. Or the dog hair. Or the saliva.

Still, she rubbed Roxie between the ears when the dog reached her in the middle of the yard.

Drew wore jeans, a long-sleeved Henley and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His tattered red ball cap sat backward on his head, and he seemed even better-looking than he had Saturday. How was that possible?

Somehow she didn’t think this kind of assessment qualified as professional.

They met halfway between the parking lot and the house, and she handed him the coffee. “I didn’t know if you’d have a chance to get breakfast.”

He took it, then directed her attention to the porch where two Butler’s coffees sat, a bag of pastries between them.

“I thought the same thing,” he said.

“You brought breakfast?” It was thoughtful. So few people were thoughtful anymore.

He looked away, almost shyly. “I guess we can save some of it for lunch.”

She laughed. “Great minds, right?”

“Only great if you got the best pastries.” He turned toward the porch.

She fell into step beside him. “Cheese Danish.”

“Oh, you’re good.” He sat down and took a drink. Roxie lay down in the grass at the bottom of the stairs. “Can I expect this kind of treatment every day if I take the job?”

She laughed. “Don’t count on it.”

A soft lull fell between them, and Beth realized it was her turn to talk—and not about pastries. A little playful banter was fine, but she needed to remember why they were there and act accordingly if she had any hope of winning this man’s respect.

She’d been working for respect since the day she graduated college—and while nobody else knew about some of the poor choices she’d made, she knew. Which meant she’d been working overtime for respect the past two years. She had a lot to make up for.

She reminded herself that he didn’t know any of that. He didn’t even know who she was.

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