by Emily Childs
I laugh through my little story because Nicole has no regrets. I’ve tried to get her to confess she holds a bit of resentment being stuck with her wild younger sister, but she’s never caved and insists she never resented a moment.
“Well, we have a knack for forcing people to be our friends, and so you two basically are stuck with us,” Elle insists.
She’s pretty, and I like the way she calms the room. The clear motherly one to Viggo and Philip, and everyone, really. Brita is playful and energetic and shares my intense affection for books. In fact, I’m going home with two classics: Pride and Prejudice and Journey to the Center of the Earth.
It sort of feels like we’ve been friends for years.
“So,” Brita says. “What do you think?”
We glance to the door as it swings open. Jonas, Axel and Bastien come in. The older brothers both trying to mess with Bastien’s hair, him swatting them away. I think Bastien and Axel have a similar face, but he is definitely built like Jonas. Honestly, they could be triplets from afar, minus the age gap, and the way Bastien keeps a little scruff on his chin. I’m not complaining. I’ve always appreciated the scratch of a few unshaven days.
I swallow and force myself to stop thinking of any kind of scratching from Bastien’s facial hair.
“What about right before the wedding?” Elle goes on, checking her phone calendar. “I’m off that entire weekend for the wedding, and might’ve taken all of Friday and possibly Thursday off too. Don’t tell my boss.”
“No judgment,” Brita says.
“Where are you going?” Jonas asked, kissing Brita on the head as he takes a seat next to her.
“We’re going to go out with Laney and Nicole before the wedding. Sig,” Brita calls across the room. “Dinner with Nicole and Laney on Friday before the wedding? You in?”
“Absolutely,” Sigrid says. “I can grill Laney some more.”
Blood rushes to my head, but I calm quickly when Elle and Brita both laugh.
“I don’t know,” Axel says, sitting next to Elle. “I’m not sure I want you hanging out with Laney. If she’s dating Bastien, makes me question her character.”
Bastien slugs Axel, the tips of his ears go red. I snicker and spare him a quick glance. His blue eyes are there to meet me. What does he think about this? His family going to dinner with me, with my sister, does it make him uncomfortable?
“You know, I actually need to check my schedule,” I say. “I have a total workaholic for a boss who never lets me have a day off.”
Axel and Jonas look at me as if I’ve handed them a stack of cash wrapped in gold. They burst out laughing, taunting, and shoving Bastien all over again. He takes cover, swatting them away.
“I am not a workaholic,” he grunts. “Laney, I can’t believe you threw me under the bus.” He shoves Jonas and smooths his hair. “I feel betrayed and am going to go watch the movie with the kids.”
“No, don’t do that,” I say before I even think. Wow. A simple sentence, one made in jest, but leveled in reality. I want Bastien here. My voice lowers, and I speak slower as if my mind is still processing that revelation. “I’ve been waiting to toss out a boss jab all night. I couldn’t resist.”
“Fine,” he says as he settles back in his chair. Our shoulders brush and a rush of heat spreads through my stomach.
Nicole warned me, and the stubborn side of me really hates admitting she might be right. Seeing Bastien in an entirely different element is refreshing and a little intoxicating. These people draw out an easiness with him that I wish he’d keep.
I almost groan and whine like the kids might if they were still awake when Bastien glances at his watch an hour later.
“We better go,” he whispers.
I agree, albeit reluctantly, and gather my purse, expecting to walk out the door. With the Olsens, I learn soon, announcing it is time to leave is simply a new chapter in the evening. Sigrid hugs me, she hugs me, and I almost lose my mind and bury my face in her shoulder. I’d forgotten how it felt for a mom to squeeze you tightly. Elias even side hugs me like my dad used to do. By the time I’ve gone through Brita, Elle, even Brita’s dad and stepmom, the grandpas, and laughed a little as Jonas, Axel, and Bastien give each other a rowdy, sarcastic farewell, there are tears in my eyes.
“You okay? Totally overwhelmed?” Bastien asks when we’re in his car.
I sniff, embarrassed, and turn to the passenger window. “No. I wish we didn’t need to leave.”
“Hey,” he says gently. “What’s wrong?”
I laugh and wipe at my eyes. “I can’t believe I’m letting my boss see me cry.”
“Not your boss tonight, remember?”
I smile, still ashamed tears are there at all. “Mom hugs,” I whisper. “I forgot about mom hugs.”
His forehead furrows. “Mom hugs?”
“Your mom hugged me. I didn’t realize mom hugs were something I missed so much.”
“Brooks,” he groans as we pull out onto the road. “You’re killing me, and I have to tell my mom you said that because it’ll make her life. Now she’s going to like you ten times more than me.”
I laugh and go crazy, slipping my arm through the one he has resting over the center console, linking us together if only to enjoy the warm contact a little longer. Bastien smiles, but he doesn’t pull away. I sigh. “Your family is amazing. I just forgot what it felt like to have so many people who care about you. No wonder Nicole likes to come visit with Oscar all the time. Thanks for bringing me.”
“I’m glad you came,” he admits and that tight, warm spin takes hold of my insides again. “But I was hoping they’d earn a wicked awesome, or something.”
I laugh. “Are you making fun of my accent? Because you said it all wrong.”
“Not one wicked,” he goes on, a smile on his lips. “All night. I’m actually disappointed in you.”
“I fell in with all your eh’s and baaygs and Skol Vikings! Seriously, how many times did you say that with your brothers?”
“They won,” he said as if I’ve stunned him. “And I do not say bag like that.”
“You do.” I jut my finger in his face. “You just did, right this second. Baayg. Just like that.”
He snorts and waves me away. “Whatevah.”
“Ah, look at you. I’d never take you for anything other than a guy from Boston if you keep talking like that.”
“Really?”
“No.” We laugh at the same time, and I don’t remember when I’ve been so at ease around Bastien. I close my eyes, grinning stupidly. “Bastien.”
“Yeah.”
I pause and try not to laugh. “They’re wicked awesome.”
Falling asleep on the way home is not how I planned for the drive to go, but the next thing I knew, Bastien is nudging my shoulder gently, and helping me stagger sleepily up my front steps.
“Sorry,” I say through a yawn. “Be a wilder driver next time.”
“You can be honest; my voice lulls you to sleep. I’m taking it as a compliment, don’t worry.”
“Of course, you would.” At my door, I cross my arms over my body and face him. When did he get so close? When did I start to like it? “Why don’t you visit more?”
The abruptness of the question stops Bastien and his face twists into the typical closed off guy I know. “It’s a small town.”
I don’t understand, but I have few doubts he’s being intentionally vague.
Bastien sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Amy lives there.”
My eyes snap up. Right. Maybe they weren’t high school sweethearts or whatever, but they had history. Knowing how long she’d cared about Bastien makes what he did worse. Through the mirage of tonight, I’d nearly forgotten.
“You think things about me,” he says softly. “And I hate that you do.”
“What would you do if you knew the things I did?”
He sighs. “Give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Like the Olsens would’ve if a pier
ced, bright haired girl came to their door. Isn’t that what he told me? “What are you saying?” Tell me you aren’t the scumbag she said you were.
I want to know. I need to know his side, and the idea of it scares me. It’s never been my business beyond what a tearful roommate told me, and it really isn’t my business now, yet I want to know.
“Not tonight,” he says, voice rough. “Tonight’s been too good to go there, and we have a meeting in the morning.”
My heart falls. “Right.” I’d almost forgotten. “The Cutlers are coming.”
He smirks. “Do you have those notes you took, about detailed targeting?”
“What?” My mouth drops. “Were you snooping on my tablet, Mr. Olsen?”
He chuckles. “You left it with me. An honest mistake.”
“I can send them to you.”
“Actually, I think you should explain them to her,” he admits. “You did that in your spare time, and you’re spot on. I checked.”
My face heats and I’m lost for words for a few heartbeats. “Leave it to you to check my work.”
“Sorry. Habits.”
I close the space between us, our bodies nearly touch. I need to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. “You want me to participate. You’re not doing me a favor because of all this stuff between us, right?”
“I wouldn’t tell you to participate if I didn’t think you could, and should,” he says. I draw in a sharp breath when he tucks a wild lock of hair behind my ear. “You’re good at marketing, Laney. Prove it to everyone else.”
I know I’m blushing, but don’t care. A smile spreads across my face. “Okay. I will.”
Bastien nods like he might end the conversation, or leave, but stays where he is. “See you tomorrow.”
My chest is tight and my heart won’t slow down. I don’t think about what Amy told me. I don’t think of Bastien as a cheater. I don’t think of him as the moody dictator over my life. I want to get closer, maybe touch him, maybe more than touch.
I don’t.
I need to bite the inside of my cheek to do it, but I hold back.
Bastien smiles. “Goodnight, Brooks. See you bright and early.”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out more like a broken croak. “Thanks again. For today.”
I spin into my door, wave over my shoulder, and barricade myself inside the safety of my own walls. My head is muddy, everything feels foggy.
For the briefest moment, I’d wanted to kiss Bastien. Really bad. My fingers touch my lips as if they betrayed me somehow. Alone, with no one to prove anything to, I can admit if Bastien ever stands that close to me again, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.
I’m not sure I’d want to stop myself.
Chapter 17
Bastien
I love my job, but I’ve never walked into the office with this much excited energy. Like a constant buzzing with every step.
Last night can hardly be put into coherent thoughts. The way Laney molded into the weird, blended machine that makes up the bakers of Linström was unique. It takes a second, sometimes, for people to get used to the idea of two families basically being one. I hardly remember the years where the Jacobsons were our rivals to the fullest extent of the word. Now they’re family, and it can be weird to people.
Amy didn’t quite understand the bond I have with Oscar, with Brita, with Philip Jacobson. I guess I can understand. Double the family activities when you combine two families. She complained we never had time alone; we were always surrounded.
Laney didn’t want to leave last night.
My grandpa always told me that people who dare take on our family, to love those of us in it, they must form a bond with the bakery, the dynamics, or we’d scare them off to the hills. After last night, I think he’s right.
Some people fit.
Laney fits, at least to me, but I can’t deny she’s expecting this to be finite. In truth, I need to keep my head in that line of thinking too. I’m not ready to let anyone inside. I’m not.
And I tell myself that until I hear Laney’s loud greeting to the front desk, and I hardly remember my name. This morning feels like I’m dancing on broken glass, and any moment we’ll fall to the pain below. Broken glass or not, when she knocks on my door, I can’t hide my smile even if I wanted to.
“Heya Baahs,” she says with a smirk.
She looks more like Laney today. A tight pencil skirt that devours her hips and waist to the point I have to consciously remind myself not to stare, a silk blouse with a bright beaded vest, and black Keds with hot pink soles.
“Hey, did you see the leftovers my mom sent me? I put some in a baayg for you under your desk.”
Laney laughs, the one where she tosses her head back just enough her neck is exposed. Warmth skirts in the pit of my belly. I lean over my desk as an attempt to sit naturally while calming the storm swirling inside.
She shakes her head. “I love how you tried to make it dramatic, but really your accent hardly changed.”
“I don’t have an accent,” I say, laughing as I turn back to my computer. “Go to work, Brooks.”
“In due time. I actually wanted to go over the meeting, so I know what you’re expecting.”
Probably a good idea. I gesture to the chair by my desk and Laney pulls out her tablet. She reviews her notes about the detailed target market she wrote up for the Charleston firm Cutler Incorporated is wanting to open. She has it nailed down to what religion most of their potential clientele practice.
“I’m going to give her the spreadsheets,” I tell her. “It’s pretty straightforward, but you take marketing. Just give suggestions. The woman who’s coming is from the Cutler family. Her email seemed friendly, so just be you and it’ll be fine.”
“You think? Did I miss anything?”
“It’s only a first look,” I say. “Even my numbers are basic, but I’m not sure what more the marketing team could look at. You did great.”
She blows out a long breath, cheeks pink. “Thanks.”
“I don’t like you right now,” I say and lounge into my chair.
“Excuse me.” Her eyes narrow.
“If Holly sees this, Laney,” I say, pointing at the tablet, “I’m going to be short an assistant. And that’s irritating.”
She tosses her pen lid at my head. “Stop making me blush.”
“But I like it.”
“This is sad. All your niceness. I miss insulting you.”
“I didn’t expect you to stop.”
She shrugs and bites her bottom lip, avoiding my eyes. “Feels weird now.”
Something about how she says it steals my breath for half a heartbeat. I’d like to know what she’s thinking right now, about last night, anything, but figure I’m reading too much of it and lean back. “I can be rude, so you don’t feel weird.”
Laney tilts her head. “That’s not you, you know.”
“What’s not?”
“I don’t know why you don’t show this side of you more often. The one who laughs, who seems . . . happy. Not the guy who glowers inside his office.”
We’re going there. Okay. “First of all, I don’t glower.”
“You do.”
“I like to work, Brooks,” I say with a bit of a grumble. “It’s a good focus.”
“Or a distractor,” she says softly. “You can be both.”
My jaw tightens. “Both what?”
“Happy and the annoying, bossy brainiac at the office.”
I don’t answer. For months I’ve lived in the cloud of hurt and anger, using my job as the one solid thing I could hold onto. I’ll never tell my mom she was right about hiding inside my career. Maybe I don’t have the balance Holly is looking for.
Laney stands, a soft smile on her face. “I like this boss.” Her voice is practically a whisper. “Whatever is changing, keep it.”
“The only thing that’s changed is getting closer to you,” I say in a rocky rasp. And there it is, the truth out in the open. Laney
Brooks smashes through bitterness and outer walls like a wrecking ball.
She draws in a quick breath, but the corner of her mouth twitches as she glances to her tablet. Maybe she doesn’t want to look at me.
“As I said,” she whispers, “keep the changes.”
Then she slips into the pit, leaving me open-mouthed, and reeling. For her, I might forget I’m supposed to despise romance, supposed to avoid falling again. Except that broken glass again—what do we do when this is over? When Holly selects her team members, promotes her people? When we don’t need to convince anyone of anything?
We’re doing this for convenience, but the idea of being platonic with Laney turns my stomach.
The thought of watching her fall for anyone else is a knife to the chest.
She told me to keep the changes. No mistake, she’s ruined me somehow—maybe repaired something—because if she asked, I have few doubts I’d keep Laney Brooks as mine forever.
***
Five minutes before noon, Laney and I take up one side of the conference table. Laney won’t stop reading her tablet. Her knee bounces under the table.
I cover her hand with mine and whisper, “You’ll be fine.”
“I’m an assistant.” She squeezes my hand. I’m not sure she notices.
“With a degree in Business Marketing.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to succeed, so I’d stay your assistant forever.”
I ease my hand back and grin. “You still haven’t read my letter of recommendation, have you?”
She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “I think I’m afraid of what you said.”
“Why?”
“Well, if it’s basically a shrine to my awesomeness, I’m going to feel bad for some of the things I’ve called you.” I laugh with her, but she still tangles her fingers together in her lap. “And if you said something mediocre, like I’m nothing impressive, then I might hate you. And I don’t want to hate you.”
The room feels smaller. I can’t get lost in the fog she keeps bringing to my head. Not right now. “Read it, Brooks,” I say lightly. “Trust me, you’ll be kissing my feet when you do.”
She snorts. “You’re full of yourself.”