Page 38 of Half Baked

Icy rage spreads through me. In the back of my mind, I had wondered if these delays were related to my father’s reputation. I had no reason other than years of weariness to fuel that belief, yet here he is confirming my suspicions.

Rolling my shoulders back, I plaster on an unaffected grin and reply. “People are often surprised to find that I am, in fact,notmy father. Maybe in the future that can be remembered.”

He spent enough time examining my signature, I think to myself. It didn’t say Nathaniel.

But my mouth stays firmly closed on that regard. After all, I was still raised by Nathaniel, I know how to play the game.

“Certainly,” the commissioner agrees hurriedly. “Thank you for this service.” Without another word, I watch him scurry out the door.

No longer facing the frustration of his presence, I turn back to my sea rescue department. My department that just received the green light to operate. The space is empty, and I allow myself a moment to absorb this news.

Turning in a circle, I take in the oxford blue walls, freshly painted, in the open living space. There’s a kitchen in the corner, as well as a long dining table and a cluster of armchairs around a generous sized television. Above the door, Nash wasted no time putting his Texas Longhorns flag up. There’s a good chance that if we took the flag down, we’d find that the back has specks of once wet paint staining it.

But I don’t mind. I stare at the glowing burnt orange and white material against the dark walls. This personal touch makes the space feel ready to be lived in.

After how much bad came from my family’s wealth, it is an uplifting feeling to know I was able to do something for good with even just a small portion of it. Something that matters. I settle into the warmth that creeps through my chest, a smile stretching slowly across my face. I get to keep doing the thing I love most for the town that I love most. The people who didn’t try to throw me to the wolves when given the opportunity to claim their fifteen minutes of fame.

“Hayden?” Wes sticks his head through the door from the fire department. “Are we meeting out here instead?”

“Yeah”—I grin at my friend—“grab the guys.” With a nod, he disappears from the doorway, giving me a chance to open the envelope in my hand. I withdraw the required paperwork, skimming through it.

There it is. The form that reads approved permitting. Cleared to operate.

I sigh a breath of relief as Wes returns with Nash and Jamie in tow, and a large, light blue bakery box. My eyebrows shoot up, recognizing it immediately. “That box isn’t from the café.”

“No, I went to the bakehouse,” he replies, opening it and popping a cookie in his mouth.

Wes got to see Poppy this morning, and I’m unreasonably jealous. She’s the woman that loves to hate me, no matter what the hell I do. And yet, I’m counting down the hours until I get to see her later today. It’s twisted, really.

I take a deep breath, ignoring the memory of the possessive fire I felt throughout my body last night when that man came on to her. I had no right, but before I knew it, I was charging through the brewery with a single thought.Mine.

And for a minute, I believed it might be true. Because there’s no doubt that she pressed into me. For a minute, she forgot she was supposed to hate me. Same as that night at her house.

And I don’t care how few and far between they are, I know I’ll remain determined to collect those minutes like the precious treasures they are. I’ll take all the fights too. I want every part of Poppy Wheeler.

I snatch a scone before Jamie can reach in for one. Still balancing the box in hand, Wes adds, “It’s too bad though, Poppy was going to make those really good strawberry stuffed things. But she doesn’t have a mixer anymore.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t have one anymore? What happened?” I had seen it there just yesterday.

“It broke, I guess.” He shrugs. “She told me she couldn’t make them because of it.”

“I’m not sure what thing you are talking about, but these are fucking fantastic,” Jamie says with a mouth full of scone.

Taking a bite of my own, I feel a pit forming in my stomach. I hate the idea of her not being able to do what she needs to do. Not when buying a new mixer would be such an easy way for me to help. But Poppy made it clear just last night that she doesn’t want me to swoop in on her behalf.

I look around the station, thinking about the way I funded this place in secret. She doesn’t have a clue that Wes told me about the mixer, she might not connect the dots. Especially considering her belief that I’m her worst enemy.

“You good?” Wes asks me skeptically.

“Yeah, let’s get started,” I reply, pulling out a chair while still deep in thought. Could I make it work, ordering a new mixer? The team sits as well, watching me expectantly.

Right, I told them we were starting.

“I met with the commissioner this morning,” I explain. “And I have updates.”

“You met in person?” Jamie asks.

“What did he say?” Nash adds.

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