The Baker's Beauty (The River Hill Series Book 3)

by Rebecca Norinne

  He could do this. He took a deep breath and told his story. “I felt responsible for a long time. I still do, honestly. They did an investigation, which revealed I hadn’t done anything wrong, but in my heart, I know I failed Cal. He was a talented kid, and he was my friend, and I didn’t do enough to help him. I’ve had to live with that every day, and I haven’t handled it well.” He let out a dry chuckle. “That’s the understatement of the year. I drank. Nearly drank myself to death. I don’t know how everyone else on the team handled Cal’s death, because I ran away. I’m from a small town a few hours away, and my family runs a bakery. I went home, and I worked in the bakery, and I drank until I couldn’t see straight anymore, and I still saw him every time I closed my eyes.” If you were going to confess your sins, you might as well do it in front of cameras for national audience viewing, right?

  “I didn’t come up for air until some good friends forced me to, and I’ve started to learn the lesson that Cal’s life should have taught me all along. Seize the joy and stay with the people you love. Don’t run from your past; it’ll only haunt your future.”

  “And now?” The interviewer’s voice broke the silence in the room.

  “Now, I’m ready to have a future again. I’ll think about Cal a lot, still, I know. But I’m going to try to remember him as he was in life, and I’ll mourn the loss of what we could have seen from him, while still appreciating the time we had.”

  “Will you be coming back to the recording industry?”

  Sean shook his head. “This has been a great trip in a lot of ways, and I have to thank you folks for bringing me back to L.A. I was terrified, thinking that I’d immediately do something wrong, and fail myself or somebody else. But I’m remembering that I have some good friends here, too, which is great. I think I’ll be visiting occasionally, but my home now is River Hill.” He let his grin grow. “You might have heard of it recently. It’s a great town. I can recommend the bakery.”

  Chuckles from the staff members serving as the studio audience followed that, and he hoped they kept it in the final cut. “I’m ready for what’s next,” he said firmly and raised his eyes to find Jess, to show her that he meant what he’d said.

  She was gone.

  He let the sound tech unclip him, shook hands with the crew and his old friends, made promises to keep in touch, all while looking around the studio. She really wasn’t here. She’d left him.

  He made his way back to their hotel, anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach while he tried to ignore it. Maybe she’d left early to come back here to take a nap. Or maybe she was hungry, had stepped out for lunch.

  He slipped his keycard into the lock, and as the faint click of the door sounded, his phone buzzed.

  Jess: I took an earlier flight. Have a lot to do. Sorry.

  The door clicked again, indicating it had re-locked itself because he’d taken too long to turn the handle. He barely heard it.

  She’d just … left?

  Not just the studio, not just the building. Not for lunch, or a nap. She’d left him here in L.A., alone. And flown back to River Hill without him.

  He finally managed to get the door open with shaking hands. He made his way inside and sat down on the bed with a thump. They hadn’t even managed to have sex in it; steamy shower sex, sure, but he’d been looking forward to laying her down and spending tonight savoring her body. Apparently, she hadn’t felt the same.

  Hearing him talk about what he’d done and how he’d failed Cal again must have made her realize that he was too much to handle. He put his head in his hands. He was trying so hard to turn himself into a better man. Not just for himself, but for her. She deserved somebody who could support her unequivocally, without turning into a nervous wreck the second anyone innocently offered him a glass of wine. She’d fucking nailed that audition. If they didn’t give her the hosting gig, he’d be shocked. Maybe she’d realized that her new career opportunity wasn’t a good fit for her small-town boyfriend.

  She’d been surprised by his revelation about Matt’s history, but even he knew that it wasn’t enough to keep her from taking the job. And if he were honest with himself, he suspected that Matt had been far more on the straight and narrow since Cal’s death. They’d all been impacted in different ways. Matt was still a wheeler and dealer in the business sense of the words, but the brief rumors Sean had heard all indicated that the partying had been toned way down. He still didn’t have to like the guy, though.

  How could he expect Jess to tether herself to somebody who could barely stand to be in L.A. for more than a day when she probably expected to move here? Oh, God. That was it. That was why she’d left. She was a lot faster on the uptake than he was. She was moving to L.A. He’d just publicly committed to staying in River Hill.

  How could they possibly make this work?

  He’d tried so hard to make himself a better man lately, but she needed more from him. He needed more from himself. But he wasn’t sure he had it in him. He rubbed his hands over his face, then froze as realization hit him. He was thinking of solutions, of ways he could work on himself and his relationships. He wasn’t thinking about alcohol at all.

  Sean stood and began throwing his things back into his weekender bag. He’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try. He might be broken, but he loved her. There had to be a way.

  Chapter 22

  Swish, thump, swish, thump. Jess’s footfalls echoed in her head as her feet met asphalt. Swish, thump, coward. Swish thump, coward.

  She’d left him. She’d gotten up out of her seat and walked straight out of the studio, back to the hotel where she’d haphazardly thrown her belongings into her carry-on bag, and then to the airport. Like a coward.

  At the time, it had seemed the wisest course of action was to give herself some space to think without the weight of her feelings for Sean coloring her perspective. And for a minute or two, it had worked. But then she’d gotten a call from Jai as her plane had touched down in Oakland offering her the job, and she’d begun spiraling all over again.

  And now that she was back in River Hill, all she felt was guilt. Guilt for being unsupportive when Sean had been the exact opposite. Guilt for leaving him in his moment of need. And guilt for wanting two things that seemed diametrically opposed to one another. No doubt, she was falling in love with him, but she was also in love with the idea of launching a career her family couldn’t mock. Beauty-queen-turned-beauty-blogger had a limited shelf life, and Jess didn’t know what she would do once its expiration date came due. But beauty-queen-turned-TV-host opened up a whole host of opportunities she’d never considered.

  Just look at Tyra Banks and Heidi Klum. Not that Jess considered herself on the famous supermodels’ level by any stretch of the imagination. Or rather, Marisol wouldn’t let her consider it. When she’d spoken with her sister this morning, Jess had floated the idea that she could parlay her minor fame into a strong, steady career on award-winning shows like theirs. It was at that point her sister had given her the patented Marisol “are you fucking with me?” glare and thrown out another name: Kate Plimpton, a fellow former Miss Teen USA contestant who’d botched an answer about U.S. geography so badly that she’d achieved instant notoriety. Two years later, she’d ended up as a contestant on World Traveler Challenge, but no one had heard from her since. They’d looked her up online to find that she was now selling real estate a couple of miles away from where Jess had auditioned.

  All in all, not a bad life, but not the one Jess imagined for herself, either. Marisol, however, thought Jess going into real estate was the perfect solution to her career crisis. To hear Marisol tell it, all of Jess’s years as a pageant queen—smiling and nodding at people she’d rather yell at—was excellent preparation for dealing with clients. Her sister had even offered to set Jess up with a friend who sold houses in the next county over. She’d politely declined.

  And after that conversation, Jess had gone running. She’d needed to. If she didn’t work off some of her excess nerves
and frustration, she was liable to head straight to the closest restaurant and order every dessert on their menu. Since she was trying not to vomit, that seemed like a terrible idea.

  As she came around a bend in the road, the valley opened up in front of her, and her stride faltered. When she’d left her house an hour ago, she hadn’t had a set route, but she’d never intended to run this far. Jess slowed her pace and tapped the screen on her watch. Twelve-point-five miles. Holy cow! She’d once run a half marathon for charity, and when she’d crossed the finish line, she’d wanted to fall down and never get up again. Another half a mile and she’d match that distance. Unfortunately, that meant by the time she ran home, she’d have run a full marathon—and that wasn’t something she was ready for. No matter how many nerves she had propelling her forward.

  Jess dropped forward at the waist and slapped her palms to her thighs. Pulling a deep breath into her lungs, she looked around at her surroundings. She’d never run this way before, but if she wasn’t mistaken, this was the same road Sean had taken the night he’d pulled his truck off the road and into a stretch of vines. Jess stood and shielded her eyes. Spinning around in a circle, she got her bearings. Yeah, this was the place. No wonder he hadn’t been worried about someone calling the cops on them for trespassing. This was Noah Bradstone’s land, and just up ahead, half a mile beyond was Angelica Travis’s bed and breakfast, where Jess had first met Jai.

  Jess hated to drop in unannounced, especially looking sweaty and disheveled, but she hadn’t been prepared to run quite so far. Putting one foot in front of the other, she jogged the rest of the way to The Oakwell Inn, hitting the driveway just as a car was pulling in. Jess stopped to let the guest pull in ahead of her when the driver stopped the vehicle and rolled down the window.

  “Jess?”

  “Yes?” She shielded her eyes again. “Oh, hey.”

  Naomi Klein lifted her sunglasses. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, why?” Her question came out as a high-pitched squeak. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? Because you look like you’re about to die of heat stroke. And you’re covered in road dust.”

  Jess glanced down to see that her ankles were three shades darker than her normal skin tone. Sweat dripped down her temple, and she wiped her brow with her forearm—which came away streaked with dirt and grime. “Shit.”

  An awkward silence hung between them for a few beats, and then Naomi said, “I’m heading up to the inn for book club. Do you want to rinse off there and join us?”

  Caught off guard at the other woman’s invitation, Jess’s response came out a flustered jumble of platitudes. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. I mean, thank you. That’s very nice. I mean, it’s not nice. It’s—” She blew out a breath and shook her head. Putting on her best smile, she said, “Sorry. Thank you for the invitation, but I couldn’t.”

  “Sure, you could.”

  “I don’t even know what book you’re covering.”

  Naomi chuckled. “If it makes you feel any better, we spend about ten minutes discussing the book, and the next two hours gossiping and drinking Noah’s wine.”

  Jess chewed her lip. She could use a drink of water—and a toilet, if she were honest—but she didn’t want to intrude so far as to beg the use of a shower. Especially not with the way she looked. She didn’t know what kind of furniture The Oakwell Inn had, but she pictured it all white and shabby chic and she was a mess. Definitely a bad combination.

  As if sensing her hesitancy, Naomi upped the ante. “I’ve got a spare outfit in the trunk you can borrow. And if you come in, we’ll tell you everything you want to know about Sean.”

  Jess sucked in a breath. She’d hoped her run would banish thoughts of him, but it hadn’t worked. And now, hearing his name spoken aloud was a painful reminder of how she’d failed him. She needed to apologize, but not just any apology. It had to be a get-down-on-your-knees-and-grovel sort of apology. The type of “please forgive me for how stupid I’ve been” that he wouldn’t be able to ignore. Maybe his friends could help her figure out how to do that. Because she didn’t have the first clue where to start.

  “I see you waffling. You know you want to.” Naomi laughed, and Jess grinned despite herself.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Climb in, and we’ll drive the rest of the way. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

  Forty minutes later, Jess emerged from a steamy bathroom wrapped in one of the inn’s plush white robes with a towel on her head. Angelica had taken one look at Jess and pushed her into a white marble room with orders not to come out until she felt better. At first, Jess had been offended, but then Maeve Brennan—Naomi’s boyfriend’s little sister and part-owner of the town’s famous distillery—had sauntered past and informed Jess that this was Angelica’s thing. Apparently, the gorgeous blonde Amazon thought a hot bubble bath was the best cure for whatever ails you. Both Maeve and Naomi had been shoved in there a time or two.

  As it turned out, Angelica was right. Jess felt infinitely better than when she’d walked in. She changed into the clothes Naomi had left for her and joined the other women in a sunlit room decorated in shades of white, sage green, and white-washed wood. She curled up on a sofa—white linen, just as she’d imagined—while the others passed a bottle of red wine between them.

  Angelica held it aloft, and Jess shook her head. She wasn’t a big drinker to begin with, but since finding out about Sean’s struggle with sobriety, she hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol. It hadn’t been a conscious decision; just something that had happened naturally.

  “Sparkling water instead?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Angelica leaned forward, picked up a pitcher from the coffee table, and poured Jess a glass, topping it with a thin slice of lime. Passing it to Maeve, who in turn passed it to Jess, she said, “This week’s book is about a young woman who falls for an older, sexy man who has a dark past. He’s difficult and surly, but her love saves him. Do you have any thoughts on that, Jess?”

  Jess nearly spit out her water. “Um …”

  “A very fascinating story,” Naomi interjected with a knowing smile. “Don’t you think?”

  Jess’s head swiveled to Maeve, who was holding her hands up in a sign of surrender. “Don’t look at me. I’m just here for the wine and the man candy.”

  “Speaking of man candy,” Angelica continued breezily, “how are things going with Sean?”

  Jess’s eyes darted to Naomi. “You!” She pointed at the tall brunette. “You lured me here under false pretenses.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This sneak attack would be hilarious if it were happening to someone else.

  Naomi chuckled. “I did no such thing. Wine—” she lifted her glass to her lips and took a drink. “And gossip.” She gestured at Jess as if to say, ‘get on with it.’

  “You said you’d tell me everything I wanted to know about Sean.”

  Angelica settled back in her deep, overstuffed chair. “And we will. Just as soon as you tell us how things are going.” The other woman stared at her intently, and Jess got the impression there was more to her question than she was letting on.

  She looked between Angelica, Naomi, and Maeve, and she knew there was. “You know what happened.”

  Naomi and Angelica both nodded while Maeve shook her head. “Not me, but now I want to.” Her eyes sparkled with interest.

  Jess didn’t know these women. Heck, it was the first time she’d ever met Maeve, but she’d felt drawn to the small redhead almost instantly. Jess and Maeve were closer in age than she was with Naomi and Angelica, which might have had something to do with it. That, and Maeve’s infectious grin and happy, sing-songy lilt. She couldn’t say why, but she just knew the Irish girl would be a good friend to have.

  Something she was in short supply of.

  Jess had hundreds of acquaintances, but no one—save Marisol—who she could call for advice or a nice long chat. And given how recent conversations with her sister had gone
, she wasn’t sure that was such a good thing. There’d been a few times she’d wondered if being an orphan might have been simpler.

  But these women were lovely. Nosy, but lovely. Immediately, they’d welcomed her into their fold and made her feel accepted. And goodness, how she longed to be accepted. All she had to do in return was confess her sins—something she did one Sunday a month anyhow.

  She looked at Maeve and winced as she confessed. “I abandoned him in L.A.”

  Maeve, in turn, looked to Angelica and Naomi.

  “One of his proteges died on his watch, and he fled for home a couple of years ago,” Naomi explained. “He hadn’t been back until this past weekend.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.” Jess felt her face growing hot as she continued. “I don’t know what happened. All I can say in my defense is that I panicked. I’d just come from an audition for an amazing new job, and I had all these conflicting thoughts swirling around in my head. At first, I’d hoped he might be able to move down to L.A. with me, but then I saw how hard it was for him to be there, and I knew that was asking too much.” She pulled in a deep breath, and then let it out slowly as she tried to get a grip on her emotions. “Then, at the taping of the show he was doing about Cal’s death, I realized that he belonged in River Hill. He’s happy here. And that’s when I panicked.”

  Angelica nodded sagely. “That’s what he said happened.”

  Jess’s head shot up. “He did?”

  Angelica’s lips flattened into a thoughtful line. “He thought you were panicking about him.”

  Jess’s head whipped from side to side in denial. “No, never about him. I love him.” She stopped short, her eyes going wide. “I love him,” she whispered with wonder. The declaration was startling, but not untrue. She couldn’t say when she’d crossed over the imaginary line from falling into fallen, but it had definitely happened. “I love him, and I abandoned him.”