Page 55 of Half Baked

“Hey, um, Tara is here. She says she wants to talk to us. Are you able to?—”

“I’m on my way.”

I lower my phone and clutch it against my chest. He had an urgency to his tone, and it creates a new wave of nerves within me. I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. I’m not going to let her see me sweat.

Stepping back out front, I smile politely at Tara. “He’ll be here in just a minute.”

“How nice to have a man so willing to come when you call.”

Was that a compliment for Hayden or a dig at me?

Either way, I’m grateful that she isn’t expecting small talk, already looking back down at her phone. I busy myself behind the counter and before long, Hayden walks into the door.

He’s in his fire department T-shirt and navy-colored uniform pants, his hair looking soft and inviting and swept back like he ran his fingers through it the whole way up the wharf.

The patter of my heart is involuntary and fierce at the sight of him. Whatever Tara has to say, it will be okay. He’s here to help me, and that feels reassuring rather than scary.

Hayden keeps his eyes on me as he enters, walking right past her to reach me. He slips his fingers into my hair and cups the back of my head. “You good?” he murmurs, his deep blue eyes searching mine.

If my heart was electrified by him before, this sends it shooting into the stratosphere. “I have no clue what she wants,” I whisper back.

“I’d hate to interrupt the moment,” Tara says behind us. “You know I love how cute you are together, but I’ve got a meeting before we come back to shoot.”

She rises from her perch on the window ledge and crosses the lobby. Withdrawing a tablet from her bag, she clicks it open to reveal a picture of Cliff House. Tara slides the device across the counter to us and smiles broadly.

“You’ve been holding out on us,Mr. Thompson.”

No. A chill runs through me with her icy words. But how did they find out?

“How do you figure?” he asks evenly, his mask of indifference perfectly in place. The only difference is that I notice it now, I know that it’s a mask. I notice the subtle way his jaw has tightened. The way his eyes have a hint of weariness. Hayden’s never been unbothered by his family’s circumstances, he just hides it incredibly well.

I, in contrast, havenotpracticed my indifference on the topic. My eyes are shooting daggers at Tara.

“We’ve had the perfect story right here in front of us. You are the eldest son of the infamous Nathaniel Thompson. The sole heir to the Thompson fortune after that mysterious disappearance.”

“What does that have to do with baking? You don’t have any right to drag this up,” I snap.

Hayden’s hand snakes around my waist, his fingers tightening into my side. He’s either trying to settle my heated tone, or he’s trying to settle himself. It’s hard to tell and it doesn’t matter—because the contact seems to ground us both.

“We have a whole angle here.” Tara holds her hands up as if to frame us in a shot. “The mystery of Foxport. People will love it,” she gushes.

“Does this have any bearing on the episode being shot today?” Hayden keeps his voice perfectly controlled. Apparently, I’m the only person he fights with, and for some reason, the realization brings a faint smile to my lips.

“Oh no, we’d need time to dig into things. I just wanted to get the ball rolling the second I found out.”

“Then if it’s not going to be brought up today, we’ll see you later for shooting,” he replies.

She hesitates, clearly surprised we aren’t as thrilled as her. “Yes, of course. We’ll talk more later.” In a flurry, she collects herself and drifts from the bakery once again.

I wait to say anything, watching her disappear down the wharf until she’s out of view from the front window. The moment she’s gone, I open my mouth only to stop once again.

“Hayden—”

He has turned to me with a grin spilling across his face. “Poppy Seed, you just came to my defense.” He pulls me against his chest and presses a kiss to my forehead.

I close my eyes and savor the feeling of his lips on my skin. A rush coursing through me at the gentle contact. He lingers like this for a moment, and I don’t pull away.

“Of course I did,” I mutter against his collarbone. “They can’t?—”

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