Page 2 of Red, White, and You

"You haven't even heard what they want to say."

"I don't need to. I've been hearing what they want to say my entire life." I grab my piping bag and start aggressively decorating red velvet cupcakes, hoping he'll take the hint. "Thanks for stopping by. The highway's that way."

But Phoenix doesn't leave. Instead, he leans against my counter, and I can feel his eyes on me as I pipe frosting roses with perhaps more force than necessary.

"You know," he says after a moment, "you're not what I expected."

I glance over my shoulder. "Good. Expectations are the root of all disappointment."

"Is that embroidered on a pillow somewhere around here?"

"Check the merch shelf. Right next to my 'Don't Kale My Vibe' tea towels."

He actually looks toward the small display of bakery-branded items I keep near the register, and his laugh is genuine this time. Surprised. Like he wasn't expecting me to be funny.

Which is oddly insulting and flattering at the same time.

"Your parents mentioned you had a unique sense of humor," he says.

"That's parent-speak for 'refuses to fall in line and promote our agenda.'" I set down my piping bag and face him fully. "Look, Phoenix, I'm sure you're a very nice person. I'm sure you drink your protein shakes and do your squats and inspire millions of people to buy overpriced supplements."

He flashes that grin again. "But?"

"But I'm not interested in whatever wellness intervention my parents have planned. I like my life. I like my bakery. I like making things that taste good instead of things that are supposed to be good for you." I gesture around the shop, taking in the cheerful yellow walls, the mismatched vintage chairs, the display case full of sinful treats. "This makes people happy. Real,immediate, sugar-induced happiness. Despite what my parents think, that's a good thing."

Phoenix follows my gaze, and for a second, his expression softens. "It's a nice place," he says, and there's something genuine in his voice that catches me off guard.

But before I can analyze it, he straightens up. "Anyway, message delivered. My job is done." He pauses. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Gigi."

I grab the nearest cupcake—chocolate cake piled high with cookies & cream frosting—and hold it out. "For your trouble."

He takes the cupcake, eyebrow raised. "This looks dangerously indulgent."

“It is,” I agree.

He stares at it like it might explode in his hands. "It's been a long time since I let myself have something like this."

"Your handlers watching?" I ask.

"Something like that," he mutters.

Phoenix heads for the door, then pauses with his hand on the handle. "See you around," he says, looking back over his shoulder with that infuriating grin.

The door jingles as he leaves, and I watch through the window as he walks down Main Street, cupcake in hand. He moves with an easy confidence that's annoyingly attractive—athletic but not showy.

Ugh. The last thing I need is to find my parents' golden boy appealing.

I have a festival to prep for, a business to run, and exactly zero time to think about the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

Chapter 2

Gigi

Myphonebuzzesonthe counter just as I'm scraping the last of the buttercream explosion off my mixing bowls. I see Ella's name on the screen and answer without bothering with pleasantries.

"Why didn't you tell me Phoenix Wood was in town?" I wedge the phone between my shoulder and ear, attacking a particularly stubborn patch of blue frosting.

"He is?" Ella's voice sounds genuinely surprised.

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