Page 3 of Red, White, and You

"You didn't know?" I pause mid-scrub, gripping the bowl tighter. "He said he was in town visiting you and Joe."

"I mean, he mentioned to Joe that he was thinking about coming," she says. "Said it depended on his schedule. I didn't know he'd actually made a final decision until just now."

I narrow my eyes at the phone like she can feel it through the line, then resume my aggressive cleaning. "So, he's not staying with you?"

"Nope. He must be renting a place in town."

"How long is he staying?" The words come out sharper than I intended as I slam the clean bowl onto the drying rack.

"Not sure. A few days? Maybe a week? The off-season ends in a couple of weeks and Joe will be back in training camp. So, Phoenix won't have much reason to stick around after that. Unless…"

I freeze, dish towel halfway to the next bowl. "Unless what?"

"Unless he falls head over heels in love with a gorgeous baker."

I nearly drop the bowl. "Don't you dare try to play matchmaker."

"The two of you would make the most beautiful babies."

I bang the bowl down on the counter harder than necessary. "Phoenix Wood is the last man on earth I'd be interested in."

"Really?" I can hear the smirk in Ella's voice. "Didn't you used to have a little crush on him?"

I cringe, abandoning the dishes to pace behind my counter. "That was before he became the face of Hart Health. He's the enemy."

Ella laughs. "That's a little dramatic. Professional athletes have endorsement deals. That doesn't make him the enemy."

"You sure about that?" I stop pacing to lean against the counter. "Because he was more than happy to deliver a message for my parents."

"Really? What was it?"

"He just repeated what Mom's text said yesterday. They want to talk about my future. Which, in Hart family speak, usually means they want to lecture me about wasted potential and the evils of refined sugar." I pick up my dish towel and start folding it into precise squares, needing something to do with my hands.

Ella goes quiet, and I can practically hear her carefully choosing her next words. "What if this time is different?"

"It's not." The towel gets an unnecessarily violent shake before I fold it again.

"But what if—"

"Ella, I love you for being optimistic, but some things never change." I set the towel down and brace both hands on the counter. "My parents built an empire on discipline and deprivation. I built a business on joy and indulgence. We're oil and water."

"Maybe. Or maybe you're both just stubborn enough to find a way to mix."

Before I can respond to that particular piece of wisdom, the bell over my door jingles again. I look up from my pristine counter, expecting to see one of my regular early-morning customers.

Instead, I see Phoenix Wood standing in my doorway again, morning sunlight streaming in behind him like he's some kind of romantic hero in a movie I definitely don't want to be starring in. He's looking sheepish and holding my empty cupcake wrapper.

Of all the timing in the world.

"I'll call you back," I tell Ella, hanging up without waiting for a response.

"Miss me already?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Actually," he says, flashing his dimple, "I was wondering if I could get another one of those cupcakes. For Joe. I sent him a picture, and he threatened to tackle me if I didn't bring him one."

I raise an eyebrow. "Joe wants one of my sugar bombs two weeks before he reports to training camp? Doesn't he have a Super Bowl title to defend?"

Phoenix steps closer to the counter, and I catch a whiff of his cologne—something clean and woodsy that definitely didn’t come from a drugstore. The morning light filtering through myfront windows catches the gold flecks in his brown eyes, and I can hear the distant hum of Main Street waking up outside.

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