Page 79 of Half Baked

“No deal, Tara. Oh, and I’ll be talking to you through your lawyers from here on out.” I end the call as she is still sputtering at my audacity. But she has no idea about the stubborn lengths I’ll go to for the people I love.

Grabbing my keys, I flip the sign to ‘closed’ on the front door before locking up and charging down the wharf. My feet are leading the way, spurred on by my determination. I’m not even sure if he’ll be there—or if it is appropriate for me to drop in at a rescue station like he does at the bakery. But I’m sure as hell about to find out.

Beachgoers, families on bicycles, and dog walkers all fly by me as I drive along the shoreline and cut inland towards the stations. They all seem serenely unbothered on their summer vacations—cheerful about being in our town. These are the people that show was supposed to be for. It was supposed to be a love letter to Foxport summers and remarkable grandmothers. It’s as if Tara has spoiled, tainting the rest of the ingredients that make up Small Town Table.

I reach the station in the blink of an eye and park beside a certain classic sports car. Barely out of my SUV, I’m halted by a deep voice that has the ability to send a delicious flutter through my chest.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Hayden marvels. His navy blue Foxport Rescue tee stretches across his strong frame and his sleeves pull upwards as he leans in the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest. I allow myself a leisurely once-over of his handsome appearance in his first responder uniform. It’sso… him. I can’t imagine him wearing a suit and tie to an office instead every day.

Crossing the parking lot, I hold up the crumpled—and now wind whipped from the drive—paperwork. “Tara sent me a little present today,” I explain.

His smile falls and his brow furrows. When his hand extends, I think he’s going for the legal document and prepare to hand it over. Instead, he reaches for me, his arm coming around my waist and tugging me against his chest. “I want another minute with you before I have to think about that,” he murmurs against my hair.

It’s only then that I realize I needed this minute, too, and the tension I’ve been carrying with my indignation melts away in his embrace. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, coming here like this. But as my body settles against him, my heart settles too.

He makes everything better. And at least with this problem, I’m ready for him to do just that.

“I needed this,” I mumble against the cotton of his tee. His hand strokes down my hair in response and I let the resulting chill spread the remaining way down my back.

“I’m here for whatever you need, you know that.”

Lifting my head, I meet his gaze and utter four little words I would have never imagined saying so freely to Hayden. “I need your help.”

Chapter 36

Hayden

It’s not often that I wield the power left to me, but there’s no one else I would rather wield it for. Sitting behind the oversized mahogany desk in my father’s old office, I stretch my arms forward until the rolled sleeves of my pressed button-down slide up near my elbows. The weight of the Rolex on my wrist feels unnatural, so do the Italian leather oxfords on my feet. I look like I’m trying to impersonate Beckett, and he would love it.

“I appreciate you coming down from New York on short notice,” I start graciously. “This is something I would like to wrap up quickly.”

“And you say it’s not related to Thompson Capital?” lawyer number one asks. He’s Walters, of Walters, Rosenberg, and Ryan, and if I had to guess, he is nearing ninety years old.

Their firm is the most elite in the corporate world, often ranking first on The Vault’s top 100. I brought Walters in when I was still a teenager and wanted to be rid of my father’s in-house legal team. They clearly couldn’t be trusted. I think Walters took one look at me as a kid and felt pity, and I appreciate him being able to see through the media hype to what was really in front of him—a boy being forced to grow up overnight.

“Not directly at this time,” I reply, sliding the document Poppy relinquished to me across the desk. “I’m hoping to stop this before it reaches Beckett’s business.”

He reaches for it, scanning the opening paragraph and snorting. “Hollywood just can’t stop themselves from trying to drum up drama, can they?”

“What’s this about Hollywood?” lawyer number two asks, leaning over to read the papers as well. As the newest partner, not a named one, he seemed eager to get a peek inside Hill House today, he’s the one I have to put this show on for.

“They are trying to exploit my girlfriend,” I reply coldly. We might not have established what exactly this is between us, but I’ve already viewed Poppy as mine for quite some time. So why not keep it simple for these men that have no place in my personal life?

Walters hums with understanding as he flips to the next page. “Typical scare tactics. We can shred their claims without hardly lifting a finger.”

“I didn’t think they had a case here,” I agree, doing my best to hide the relief coursing through me. Lawyer two falls for my front. Walters doesn’t.

He offers a sympathetic smile, almost like a father-figure would. “Consider this handled. Let Poppy know she’s free and clear of Small Town Table.”

I rise from behind the desk to shake his hand. “Thank you, Walters. I appreciate your timeliness.” Then I turn to lawyer two. “And your discretion,” I add with a subtle undertone of warning.

They both nod as they start towards the door. But before leaving, Walters turns back and adds, “I was surprised that your call didn’t have to do with an acquisition when you mentioned a local business. After the rescue team build, I thought maybe you were starting to buy up this town.”

“Not yet,” I laugh. But his words are slowly untangling something in mind. Something that just might be enough to solve the other problem looming over my girl.

“This has to work,” I mutter.

I’m back in my father’s office, but this time I’m not the one behind the desk. Instead, I’m pacing across the ornate rug as Beckett reads through the freshly drafted contract before him.

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