Dax looked over. Grant, Ollie, and Aiden were watching him.
“How can you tell if he’s depressed?” Aiden asked. “He’s playing Ping-Pong and eating gummy bears. That’s what he does when he’s happy.”
Ollie pointed at the table. “He’s playing Ping-Pong alone.”
Dax had shoved the Ping-Pong table in the Hot Cakes break room up against a wall. Ollie was right—that in itself was a sign things were wonky in Dax Marshall’s world. He never wanted to do anything alone.
“And those aren’t regular gummy bears,” Ollie said, pointing to the jar on the table to one side.
The guys came closer, and Aiden grinned when he noticed the bears were swimming in clear liquid.
“Vodka-soaked gummy bears?” he asked Dax.
Dax shrugged. “I tried straight vodka, but yuck.” Typical. He liked the fruit-flavored vodkas, and the cotton-candy vodka he’d tried once had been delicious but straight vodka wasn’t his thing. Of course, he was basically a child in a man’s body, so that tracked.
Aiden pulled a bear out with a thumb and finger and tossed it into his mouth. He shrugged. “I don’t think they’ve been in there long enough. Don’t they take a few hours at least to soak up the vodka?”
“Three days to be perfect,” Ollie confirmed.
Dax crossed to the jar and picked up the large spoon next to it. He dipped the spoon in as if it were a bowl of cereal and took a bite.
Aiden nodded. “Got it.”
“So gummy bears and Ping-Pong whether you're happy or pissed or brokenhearted, huh?” Grant said.
“Guess so.” Thing was, until now, none of them had seen him brokenhearted. He’d never been brokenhearted. Happy and pissed, sure. But he’d never been in love, so no one had ever been able to break his heart.
“We need to talk,” Grant told him. “How drunk are you?”
“Not drunk enough.” The gummy bears had only been in the vodka for about an hour and eating them with a spoon still let him taste too much of the liquor.
“Then sit down.”
Dax rounded the edge of the sofa and slumped into the overstuffed cushions. He tipped his head back into the cushion behind him. “I’m ready for my pep talk.”
Grant took a seat on the coffee table directly in front of Dax. He snorted. “Pep talk?”
Dax lifted his head and frowned at Grant. “Yeah. My pep talk. Where you tell me I’ll get over Jane.”
Aiden snorted this time and took the chair perpendicular to where Dax sat. “You’re not going to get over Jane.”
Dax turned his frown on Aiden. “What?”
“Jane’s awesome. She’s one of those girls who, if you’re lucky enough to get close to her, you don’t get over. You fell for her and that’s forever, man.”
Dax sighed even as his heart turned over in his chest. That sounded accurate. “So is this a pep talk about how to get her back?”
“This is a talk about leaving Piper alone,” Ollie said, sliding onto the arm of the sofa and leaning his elbows on his thighs.
Dax frowned. “What’s wrong with Piper?”
“She’s now obsessed with baby llamas for one thing,” Ollie said.
“Alpacas,” Dax corrected. Piper had been helping him with research. Not only the farming program for people with dementia but other programs for eldercare facilities as well as state policies and any other issues he needed to be aware of.
Ollie nodded. “Whatever. And goats. And potbellied pigs. That’s what she’s spending her time researching.”
“And by researching, Ollie means she’s been making trips out to talk to Dallas and Justin. And enjoying those trips a lot,” Aiden said.
Dallas Ryan and Justin Ross owned the farm. “So?” Dax asked.
“So Piper has… enjoyed getting to know those guys,” Aiden said.
“Fuck off, Aiden,” Ollie said.
Dax looked at Ollie. “Oh.”
“There’s no oh,” Ollie said. “We just need her in the office doing Hot Cakes work. And Fluke work. Not oohing and ahhing over… stuff at the farm.”
“And by 'stuff at the farm' you mean the goats and alpacas, not the guys taking care of the goats and alpacas?” Dax asked, suddenly feeling better. Giving his friends shit always made him feel better, and it was about fucking time Ollie noticed how amazing Piper was. Maybe seeing her flirting with other guys was what it was going to take.
“Piper doesn’t dress appropriately for stomping around a farm,” Ollie said with a frown. “It’s ridiculous she’s going out there.”
Well, that wasn’t entirely untrue, but there was no way Ollie was concerned about Piper’s clothes. Okay, that might not be true. Piper looked sexy as hell in the dresses and skirts she wore. Ollie might very well be concerned about that and what Dallas and Justin thought of her dresses and skirts. But he wasn’t worried about her shoes getting dirty.
In fact, Dax had images of the farmers he’d met tearing off their flannels and tees to lay them down over the dirt so Piper could walk through the barnyard in her hot-pink pumps like a queen. With her two shirtless escorts checking out her curves in her pin-up dresses.
He grinned. He really did love that Ollie was annoyed by this.
“Oh, no worries,” Aiden said. “She got some boots.”
Ollie looked over at him. “What?”
“Piper got some boots. They’re like rubber rain boots. But they’re bright pink with black and white polka dots. And go up to her knees. They’re pretty cute.”
Of course they were.
Dax could see by Aiden’s grin that he really liked that this was annoying Ollie too.
“Well, great,” Dax said with a nod. “Then it’s all fine.”
Sure, because the biggest problem here had been that Piper didn’t have appropriate footwear for the barnyard.
“Anyway,” Grant said, pulling their attention back to him. And his eye roll. “Ollie has a point.”
Dax frowned. “What?”
It wasn’t that Grant had never said Ollie had a point, but it was rare. Ollie didn’t make points. Ollie came up with crazy concepts. Then Dax turned them into more tangible ideas. Then Aiden turned those ideas into actionable points. Then Cam turned those points into paperwork. And finally Grant turned that paperwork into dollars. So no, Ollie didn’t often make points.
“Piper is doing a lot of work on the farm plan and that’s fine. But you haven’t done anything with it for two days.”
“I’m working through some things.” And texting Jane. And then trying with everything in him to keep from texting Jane. And then texting Jane about how he was sorry he kept texting and bugging her and how he was going to leave her alone. And then texting her about how he really was going to leave her alone, but first he wanted to say one more time that he loved her. And then texting her that he knew he was pathetic with all the texting.
He could only hope she hadn’t told Zoe about it. Or that at least Zoe hadn’t told Aiden. Or that at least Aiden hadn’t told the rest of the guys.
“You’re playing Ping-Pong and drinking a ridiculous amount of cappuccino and moping,” Grant said.
“That’s how I work through things.”
“Bullshit.”
Dax’s eyebrows went up. “It is.”
“I’ve known you for nine years,” Grant said. “It takes you, max, six hours to work through things. We’re going on fifty-some hours now. You’re moping and avoiding.”
“I don’t mope and avoid.”
“Exactly. So get off your ass and do something.”
Dax sat up straighter. “Hey, this isn’t very supportive.”
“You don’t need us to be supportive,” Grant said. “You’re in love with her, and you’re mad because she called you on some shit.”
He frowned. “I think I like Ping-Pong better than this.” He started to get up.
“But she was wrong.”
Dax sat back down. “Go on.”
“She panicked because you were your u
sual self,” Grant said. “And your usual self does spontaneous things just because they sound fun.”
Dax started to get up again. He knew this.
“At least, that’s why she thinks you did it,” Grant went on. “Because that’s what you think you did.”
Dax sighed and settled back into the cushions. Honestly, his head was swimming a little from the vodka, and he was too tired to keep getting up and down. The manic Ping-Pong game had something to do with that. But more, he hadn’t been sleeping well since he’d walked away from Jane.
He’d been determined to give her space—other than the texting, of course—but staying away, and her radio silence, was killing him slowly.
And he’d probably mess up the staying-away-physically thing too if he could go to her and say he was sorry for buying the nursing home. But he couldn’t quite say that with any sincerity. He was sorry it had upset her. But he wasn’t sorry about the things he’d learned and the excitement he felt about the possibilities. Or the excitement he saw in the staff and the residents who were anticipating the changes.
He’d also go to her if he could and say he was going to be selling Sunny Orchard. But he hadn’t quite gotten around to doing a single thing about selling it yet either. It had only been two days. That was one excuse. But the truth was, it was because he didn’t want to sell it. He wanted to make it work.
“I do things just because they sound fun,” he said to Grant. “That’s true.”
Grant shook his head. “You’re missing a key part here. The things you do sound fun to you because they make the people you care about happy.”
Dax frowned.
“Painting your office yellow and furnishing it with beanbags sounded fun, not because you love beanbag chairs, but because every time I walk in there and sigh, it makes Aiden, Cam, and Ollie laugh,” Grant said. “I mean, I believe you like beanbag chairs, but you insist on them because of the chain reaction they cause in your friends. Me being in a room with beanbag chairs makes everyone feel lighter.”
Dax narrowed his eyes at Grant. “Even you?”
“Maybe,” Grant hedged.
That was good enough for Dax. He grinned. “Go on.”
“You might do a lot of over-the-top things and spontaneously decide some new activity or trip or project sounds fun, but it’s always about how those trips and projects will affect the people you care about. When it comes to people”—Grant pointed at Ollie, then Aiden, then himself—"you stick. Nine years, Dax. Lots of trips and projects and craziness, but we have been a we for nine years.”
Dax felt his smile die as he stared at Grant. He hadn’t been expecting that.
“And I think Jane is perfect for you,” Grant went on. “She’s had a tough time, and even if things with the nursing home work out and things with her sister get easier, everything she’s been through has impacted her and will stay with her. She’s someone you’ll get to spend a lot of time making happy.”
He blew out a breath. “God, I hope so,” he said fervently.
Grant nodded. “You need someone who needs to be made happy every single day. And she needs someone fully committed to doing that.”
Dax swallowed hard. He was definitely committed to doing that. He wanted to be that person for her. He typically looked for the good time, but with Jane he wanted to be there for it all. “So what do I do now?”
“Make sure she understands she’s one of your people. Everything else will make sense to her in time,” Grant said.
Dax stretched to his feet and clapped his hands. Then he wobbled a little. Maybe he’d had a couple of spoonfuls too many of the gummy bears.
Grant pushed him back onto the couch. “You’re getting on a plane early tomorrow.”
Dax frowned. Then nodded as he remembered. “I have a nursing home conference in Austin.”
Grant nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, you don’t know shit about running a nursing home, so yeah,” Grant said.
“But I need to go talk to Jane.”
“I’ll go talk to her,” Aiden said.
Grant shook his head. “I’ll go talk to her.”
“You will?” Dax asked.
“If anyone knows how crazy you can seem but can love you anyway, it’s me.”
Dax’s eyes got wide as he sat up straight. “Did you just say you love me?”
“I did.” Grant stretched to his feet.
“I love you too, Grant.” Dax was grinning bigger than he had in two days. And it wasn’t just because of the liquored-up gummy bears. He had amazing friends. He must be doing something right.
“Yeah, yeah.” Grant smoothed the front of his tie and stepped around the edge of the couch.
“I love you too, Grant,” Aiden echoed, with an equally big grin.
“Shut up, Aiden,” Grant said as he headed for the door.
“I love you the most, Grant!” Ollie called.
“I already regret everything,” Grant said then pulled the break room door shut behind him.
But they all knew he was lying.
Dax watched him go, unable to ease his frown. He looked at Aiden. “You really don’t think I should go find Jane? Or call her at least?”
Aiden shook his head. “You need to stop calling and texting her.”
Okay, so she’d told her friends about that. And Zoe had told Aiden.
“She’s with Zoe and Josie every night,” Aiden said.
That made him feel a little better. “I just need to wait for her?”
Aiden shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, you said everything you could say right? You told her you loved her. Nothing has changed on your end. You’re going to get your shit together and learn about nursing homes and you’re going to keep going with this and make it kick ass and show her you’re sticking around. But that will take time. You just have to be patient.”
“I’m not good at that.”
Aiden laughed. “No kidding.”
It came from having a lot of money from a young age. And being accidentally successful in everything he’d ever done. Dax knew that. But instant gratification was the norm for him, and he’d very rarely had it turn out badly.
Dax settled back against the cushions once again. “I’m not going to last long. I need a grand gesture.”
Aiden shook his head. “Just let Grant talk to her. Go to the conference and just… let it work out.”
Dax frowned. God, he missed her so damned much. What if it didn’t work out? What if she really was the one woman he could never fully win over? “Is she okay?” he asked Aiden. “Is she angry? Sad? What?”
Aiden shrugged. “She’s drowning herself in Zoe’s bakery case.”
Dax frowned. That didn’t surprise him. At least she was with her friends. And he had to admit, he was glad she was at least a little upset. Jane being fine without him was a really real possibility.
“Wouldn’t that be more like suffocating?” Ollie asked. “I mean, you have to pull liquid into your lungs to drown. Pie filling is kind of a liquid, I guess, but no way could you really breathe that into your lungs. Crumbs and icing and stuff could get stuck in your nose and throat, though, and block your airways. Which is suffocating. Besides, choking is absolutely the more common way to die from baked goods. No question.”
It took him a second to notice both Dax and Aiden giving him strange looks.
“What?”
“This is why Piper goes out to an alpaca farm to flirt with other men,” Aiden told him.
“She doesn’t go out there to flirt with anyone,” Ollie said. “She just likes alpacas. Evidently.”
“Uh-huh.”
Ollie rolled his eyes. “It has nothing to do with me.”
“Okay.” Aiden shrugged.
Ollie frowned. “It doesn’t.”
Aiden and Dax shared a glance. Ollie really didn’t know Piper had a crush on him. It was maybe better they didn’t point it out.
“I think she’s concerned you’ll ac
tually forget to eat for days or you’ll hook up with some woman who will take you for all your money, and you won’t even realize it until you go to pay a parking ticket you got because you parked your car on the street for four days straight while you were in the middle of a project and sleeping at the office.”
“Piper’s like an older sister to me,” Ollie said. But he shifted on the arm of the couch, clearly a little uncomfortable.
Maybe he was starting to catch on that there was more there.
“Piper is five years younger than you,” Aiden pointed out.
“Well, she’s… my assistant. And sweet. That’s why she takes care of me.”
Dax actually snorted. “Piper is not sweet.” She was kind. She was empathetic. She was seemingly all seeing and all knowing. But she was no nonsense and a bit cynical and impossible to bullshit.
“I don’t understand why she puts up with you,” Aiden told Ollie in a way only a really true friend could.
“Well, Grant loves you,” Dax said, pushing up from the couch. “And I pretty much do too.”
“Grant never said that, and you’re drunk,” Ollie told him, also getting up.
“I could see it in his eyes,” Dax assured him with a grin. “And I’m not that drunk.”
“Yeah, well, I love you too,” Ollie said. “And I’m sorry your girlfriend can find the same comfort in pie and cake that she can with you.”
Dax sighed and slung an arm around Ollie’s neck. “Thanks, Mr. Compassion.” They started for the door.
“And Piper is not going out to that farm to flirt,” Ollie said again.
“Right. Just like you’re only worried about her going out there because of her shoes,” Dax told him.
“That’s it. I’m putting my foot down.”
“Try to take this pie away from me, and lose a finger,” Jane told Max as she shoved another bite of strawberry pie into her mouth.
“I’m serious. I’ve had it up to here,” Max said, pulling out the chair opposite her at the table she’d claimed three days ago at Buttered Up.
“Leave me alone, Max. If I want to eat my feelings, I can. I’m a grown woman and immune to guilt and bullying.”
“Oh, I don’t care if you eat your feelings, honey,” Max said. “I’m just sick of not being able to buy anything strawberry from this bakery. There hasn’t been any strawberry pie, muffins, scones, or even a tart for three days.”
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