Page 63 of Make Mine Sweet
I scratch my beard as if I’m pondering that. “Even without the man bun?”
That earns an eye roll. “I won’t pretend you weren’t cute,” she starts.
I grin wider. It’s been fifteen years, but come on. I’m only human.
“But it was your personality. The way you carried yourself. Like you weren’t afraid of anything.” Her gaze drifts to August in the yard. “I was afraid of everything.”
“Shy kid?” I ask. She hasn’t seemed like a shy person from what I’ve seen, except occasionally when it comes to me.
“Not exactly, just…timid. I looked for the safe path. I never would have thought about climbing a mountain or white water rafting or even talking to a cute boy.”
“He would have been thrilled to have you talk to him.” He sure is today.
She cringes. “I doubt it. I was only seventeen. I don’t think I would have been on your radar.”
“My loss.” She’s right, though. I might have been a shameless flirt, but I wasn’t so thoughtless as to seek out someone underage.
“You know,” she says, “all these years later, I’m just as terrified about making wrong choices as I was back then.”
“What choices are you afraid of getting wrong?” Maybe I’m pushing, but this doesn’t sound like a hypothetical.
Her gaze stays on me, and I could swear she’s debating just how to answer.
“Cakes, for one,” she finally says.
“Cakes?” Not the choices I thought we were talking about.
“We mostly do pies in the bakery, as you probably saw. But a few years ago, I started experimenting with cakes on the side.” She shakes her head, a wry smile shining out. “That makes it sound so illicit, but it kind of is to my mom. The thing is, I love making fancy cakes. I love pairing the exact right flavors together. I love coming up with simple but elegant decorations. And I love knowing I helped make someone’s special day that much more memorable.”
Her heavy sigh tugs at something behind my ribs.
“I got my first wedding cake request today. I talked with the couple this afternoon—they’re so excited, it’s impossible for me not to be excited, too. My mother, though. She’snotexcited. I want to add my specialty cakes to our website and menu, but Mom doesn’t think the business can support it. And I have to trust she knows best.”
“Does she?”
Tess splays a hand as though obviously she must. “She says it’s too much of a risk.”
“Sometimes a little risk is a good thing.”
She huffs out a breath. “Why am I not surprised you’d say that?”
“My brothers and I risked a lot when we pooled our money together to start our guiding business. We grew faster than maybe we should have. But it worked out because we weren’t afraid to try.” I can just imagine Pierce’s indignant reaction if he’d overheard that trite explanation. “I’m oversimplifying, and we had setbacks along the way, but we wouldn’t have our successes if we’d played it safe.”
I am keenly aware I haven’t lived by that motto in years.
“Do you miss it?”
It wasn’t all standing on the tops of mountains. So much work goes into a climb, the preparation and planning, both mental and physical, knowing weather could turn us away before we make it to the top. But mostly, I remember the exhilaration of reaching new heights, the views still stamped in my memory, the sense, however fleeting, that I could do anything.
“Every day.”
Hurts to admit when I’ve spent so much time running from that truth. I miss it, but I can’t recapture it. Not like it used to be.
“It wasn’t just about conquering mountains and the rush of adrenaline,” I go on. “I always knew exactly where to go, where I was headed, and how I would get there. I didn’t question any of it. Now…I’ve lost my way. Like a compass without a needle.”
I don’t like admitting as much to her. I’m stuck, in a way I’ve never experienced before. For the first time in more years than I can count, I don’t know what I should do next. I’m not even sure what’s possible.
“You can find your way again,” she says softly.
