Sweet Love

by Lauren Accardo

  “He’s visiting you at work now, huh?”

  A bitter laugh huffed past her lips. “A week of avoiding me and this is what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  He scolded himself internally. Why couldn’t he summon his trademark charm in moments like this? Was it so hard to treat Mila as someone more than a friend? He wanted to. Bad.

  “No,” he said. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “I wanted to talk about the flowers. Again. About how I’m an idiot.”

  The corner of her lips quirked into the first hints of a smile. “You’ve piqued my interest.”

  A whisper of relief wove through his chest. “I know you hate flowers. I wanted to do something nice for you, and I should’ve thought a little bit harder about what you might actually like.”

  She blinked and readjusted her arms across her chest. “I don’t hate flowers.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, you hate flowers. Which is why that bouquet was so confusing.”

  He’d always associated flowers with funerals and apologies. When his father messed up, his mother received a standard delivery from April’s Flowers the next day. She always smiled and thanked him, but disappointment would line her eyes.

  He swallowed down the sick feeling in his throat. One misstep with Mila and he reverted back to bad behavior instilled in him at birth. He’d pulled a move his father had pulled a hundred times.

  “I don’t hate flowers, either,” Jared said. “I hate what they represent.”

  Mila quirked an eyebrow. “Love? Joy? Celebration?”

  He bit his lip. “I was thinking sympathy and regret.”

  “Ah, I get it. Aside from funerals, you think men only send flowers when they’re apologizing. Is that it? A flimsy attempt at making things right after a dick move?”

  He shrugged. She’d nailed it.

  “I remember in kindergarten,” she said, “my teacher got flowers delivered to her in the middle of the day. She said her husband had sent them just because. She spent the rest of the day on cloud nine.”

  “You sure he wasn’t apologizing for something?”

  Mila shook her head and dropped her gaze to the cracked pavement at their feet. “Didn’t look like it.”

  She looked back up at him, the sparkle absent from her eyes.

  “Okay,” he said. “Now I know.”

  “Now you know what?”

  “You like flowers.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You planning to do something with that information?”

  Panic crept up his neck. Was he? Would he send her flowers again? He thought of Vin—that smarmy weasel—sitting at the counter, hoping for another chance to get in Mila’s pants. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved beautiful flowers just because. And why couldn’t Jared be the one to send them?

  “Maybe,” he said. Could she see through him? In the past few years, he’d tried diligently to hide his true self in front of her. It grew harder every day.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m . . . intrigued?”

  He ran his tongue over his lower lip. God, he wanted to kiss her. Would she pull away? Would she slap him? Was that heavy rise and fall in her chest because of anger or impatience?

  “Mila!” Benny’s voice called through the screen door. “LaMotta’s sucking wind in here without you. You about done?”

  She lifted her gaze to Jared again as if giving him one more shot. But now wasn’t the moment. He couldn’t leap across that giant chasm while Benny barked at her to get back to work and the scent of burnt fry grease filled the air and Vin waited at the counter for his grilled cheese with mayo.

  No. It wasn’t now. But it was coming. That much Jared knew.

  * * *

  * * *

  The first round of judging for the Pine Ridge Spring Bake-Off began with much less fanfare than the finale promised, but Jared entered the community center with a knot in his stomach the size of a golf ball and just as dense.

  He scratched his nose, bit his lip, jiggled his hands inside his coat pockets. Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

  “What’s your problem?” Sam asked. “You’d think you were baking today.”

  “He’s just nervous for Mila,” Sydney said. “Leave the kid alone.”

  The three of them huddled near the back of the room where bite-size pieces of every baked good would eventually be placed after the judges received their tastes. Long white folding tables lined the room, with tiny cards marking the name of each contestant and the name of their creation.

  Jared’s eyes returned over and over to the little card on the end that read, mila bailey. sweet and savory rosemary concord grape pie.

  He couldn’t believe he hadn’t tasted it before she decided it was the one. She’d typically be more than willing to share her creations, but she’d held the bake-off pie close to the vest.

  “Sounds kinda gross, right?” Nicole’s voice broke through his thoughts.

  “Yeah, kinda. Knowing her, though, it’s probably insanely delicious.”

  “She does have the knack.” Nicole crossed her arms across her chest and examined Jared with narrowed eyes. “You talked to her lately?”

  “Sure.” He’d always assumed Mila and Nicole shared everything with each other, but he didn’t know how much Mila had said about Eat at Jam’s, the flowers, the moment at the diner. And if she hadn’t shared it with Nicole, maybe none of it had mattered to her as much as it had to him.

  Nicole nodded slowly, more subdued than he’d ever seen her.

  “Jared,” Nicole said.

  He waited for the rest, waited for Nicole to push and prod until the truth fell out of him. “Yes?”

  “What’s going on with you? Are you dying or something? You’ve been off your game lately.”

  Mayor Sweeney entered the community center, and the room erupted in applause. “Thank you all for coming!” he said, raising his hands in the air. “We’ll begin in about fifteen minutes.”

  Jared cleared his throat and shifted again.

  “So?” Nicole pressed.

  He should’ve known better than to think she’d drop it.

  He opened his mouth, and before a single syllable passed his lips, she gasped.

  “What?” he said.

  Her mouth hung open in an odd smile, and her dark brown eyes glittered. “You’re in love with her. You are totally in love with her, aren’t you?”

  A blush crept into his cheeks, revealing every bit of fear decorating his insides and refusing to allow him the secret. He was truly screwed now. Girlfriend telepathy had probably already kicked in and Mila was mimicking throwing up somewhere behind the scenes.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Nicole said. “I’m not sure why I never noticed it before. You are totally in love with her.”

  “Stop saying it.” The last thing he needed was someone to overhear and shout it from the rooftops. Sam and Sydney chatted, sickeningly smitten with each other and blissfully unaware of the conversation going on three feet to their left.

  “Is that what the flowers were for?” Nicole asked, her face twisting in confusion. Mila and Nicole were polar opposites, Nicole’s emotions always shining clear through her face, while Mila had practiced her neutral stare to perfection.

  “I got some bad advice,” Jared said.

  “Aw, Jare.” Nicole placed a kind hand on his arm. “This is new for you, huh? Normally you’d take a girl for drinks, send her some mediocre bouquet, and seal the deal the same night. But with Mila . . .”

  Jared exhaled. The more he talked about it, the easier it got. “Don’t say anything to her, all right?”

  A sympathetic smile crossed her face. “Sure. But what are you gonna do about it?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. I just want some time to decide.”


  “Whatever you do,” Nicole said, “make sure it’s really her. You know what I mean? You’re not gonna find advice on wooing Mila Bailey on Google. And I recently promised her I’d stop pushing her into stuff she didn’t want to do, but I will absolutely be your girl on the inside should you need me.”

  He grinned. Nicole’s face practically glowed with optimism.

  “Thanks,” he said. “If it does get to that point, I’m really hoping she won’t need too much convincing.”

  Nicole shrugged. “Either way, dude. I’m in full support of this.”

  The mayor took the stage again. “Okay, everybody, listen up! The annual Pine Ridge Spring Bake-Off will begin in five minutes! Contestants will wait in the adjacent room until the judges narrow it down to the top twenty desserts, after which time the selected contestants will approach the judges and explain their creations. You’ll then have a chance to sample the desserts as the judges deliberate on the final ten. We hope you’re just as excited as we are!”

  More of their friends joined, and Jared and Nicole’s conversation filled the space between them. The secret sparkled in her eyes, and she looked at him every couple of minutes with a timid smile. The promise in Nicole’s face gave him a nudge of hope. Surely if her best friend was on board, Mila would be, too.

  Or at least, he hoped.

  chapter nine

  The low-ceilinged room buzzed with voices and the electricity of competition. A steady drone of anxious conversation surrounded Mila as she sat alone at the end of a long folding table and tried to distract herself with Scrabble on her phone.

  She checked her watch. It was 1:44 p.m.

  Judges had been at it for an hour and forty-four minutes. God only knew how much longer it would take them to taste and take notes on the 134 entries. The contestants had been served sandwiches and beverages from the diner, but Mila’s stomach churned. She’d grabbed half a turkey club, but now it sat limply on the paper plate in front of her with a single bite missing.

  She didn’t want to be nervous, had tried willing it out of her system. The bake-off hadn’t even been something she’d wanted. Damn Aunt Georgie for putting the idea in her head. Damn her for shoving Mila into a competition she actually believed she had a shot at winning.

  Now she wanted it. She wanted it badly. As she fell asleep the previous night, visions of quitting the diner danced in her head. When she’d taken the job her first summer out of college, she never imagined it would become her long-term career. Four years in, the quicksand of steady work and easy money held tight to her feet, slipped past her ankles, and threatened to swallow her for eternity.

  The prize money promised a way out. A ticket to culinary school. A safety net. A few months to breathe and stretch and try something new. Possibility tickled her brain, refused to be ignored. How could she ever go back to her mundane life after this?

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” Vin’s assistant’s shrill voice sounded from the doorway of the cramped community center annex that most often served as a meeting place for Girl Scouts and recovering alcoholics.

  “Finally,” the woman next to Mila said with a sigh. She ran a comb through her bright red curls. “I was about to lose my damn mind in this room.”

  “The least they could’ve done is served booze, right?” Mila joked. She’d been sitting next to the woman for nearly two hours without a single word exchanged. Her nerves occupied all her brain space, demanding she explore every possible outcome of the next few hours. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

  “Exactly!” The woman laughed, a hearty sound that came straight from her chest. “What I wouldn’t give for a sidecar right about now. Gosh, I’ve been so nervous I didn’t even introduce myself. Sorry about that.”

  Mila smoothed down her sweater. She’d chosen a soft purple wool pullover with slightly puffed sleeves today. The color and silhouette of royalty. Nicole had approved.

  “Don’t apologize,” she said. “I felt exactly the same way. I’m Mila.”

  The woman extended a hand. “Kim. Good luck to you, Mila.”

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  Heat rose to Mila’s cheeks. Here we go.

  “I’m going to announce the names of the twenty finalists,” Vin’s assistant said. “After you answer a few questions from the judges, they’ll cut the group down to ten. Please listen for your name and line up in front of me in the order I call you.”

  Mila drew a shaky breath into her lungs and took a sip of Coke from the nearly empty can in front of her. The last thing she needed after taste-testing pie all week was more sugar, but her throat threatened to dry up completely if she didn’t wet it.

  Vin’s assistant began reading names, in no discernible order, and Mila gnawed on her thumbnail. Three names. Four. The older gentleman in the purple windbreaker. The cute blonde in the trendy jeans. Her new friend Sidecar Kim. Another name. And another.

  “Mila Bailey.”

  Her nerves shot into overdrive as she pushed away from the wall and grinned at the smiling faces around her. A few called out, “Congratulations!” She yelled back thanks despite having no idea who’d said it.

  Her skin tingled from her head downward, and she crossed her arms over her chest to stop the shaking.

  Step one.

  She’d have to speak in front of the panel of judges, which included Vin’s friend and hunky former football player Denny Torres; Mayor Sweeney; Constance Hathaway, head chef at Indigo Hotels Adirondack Park; and Harry Sepinski of local cable access fame.

  Despite the usual fears churning in her gut, another emotion tapped at Mila’s insides. Excitement. She’d made it past round one. The first hurdle cleared, with a little lift from Aunt Georgie.

  The rest of the top twenty lined up behind Mila, and Vin’s assistant led them into the hallway. “They’ll announce you individually, and you’ll stand on your mark in front of the panel. Each judge will be seated with your baked goods in front of them, and they’ll ask you a couple of questions. Please answer honestly, and when they dismiss you, go through the far door into the opposite hallway, where Vin will be waiting for you.”

  Mila traced her teeth over her bottom lip and focused on her breathing. In and out. In and out. It was just the townspeople and their families, for the most part. She’d seen these people every day for as long as she’d been alive. How scary could they be?

  Her mental pep talk only took her so far, and when her name crackled out over the community center sound system, her stomach flip-flopped into her chest.

  “Go!” Vin’s assistant hissed.

  Mila walked carefully into the room, cursing her high-heeled boots. She should’ve worn sneakers. Nobody ever tripped over themselves in sneakers.

  She made it to the center of the room and forced a smile at the judges. Four pairs of eyes, all fixed on her like spotlights. While she waited for them to greet her, her gaze lifted over the crowd, and there, at the back of the room with fists pumping in the air, was Jared.

  A blinding grin dominated his face, and when they locked eyes, he thrust his arms into the air. He mouthed “Yeah!” at her and fist-pumped again. A rush of joy flooded her chest. Despite the awkward ending to their dinner and dancing, and his lame attempt at some sort of gift, he showed up for her when it mattered. She returned her gaze to the judges with renewed confidence.

  “Hi, Mila,” Mayor Sweeney said. “We’re so happy to see one of Pine Ridge’s own up here.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m so glad you liked the pie.”

  “This is a very unusual flavor combination,” Denny Torres said. “How did you come up with it?”

  Mila cleared her throat. “I was very lucky to be introduced to a local vineyard owner who had frozen Concord grapes to spare.” Her gaze flickered to Jared at the back of the room, the wild grin still gracing his lips. “As soon as I heard ‘Concord grapes,’ my brain just s
ort of took off. And I’ve always loved the idea of a savory take on a dessert, so this is what came of all that.”

  Each judge scribbled a note.

  “That’s all, Mila.” Chef Constance grinned. “Thank you very much.”

  Mila’s smile faded as she waited one more beat. Had they only meant to ask her one question? Was her answer so boring, so mundane, that they’d unanimously and silently agreed they were done with her? Someone in the room coughed, breaking through the moment, and she turned to exit.

  Vin waited in the hallway, where the first eight contestants milled around chatting with one another. His eyes lit up behind the hipster glasses, and he pulled her into a bear hug. Her whole body stiffened as he squeezed, and when he finally let go, she took a step backward.

  What was her problem with this guy? He smelled good; he had interesting things to say. He’d been attentive but respectful, and he’d paid for every drink when they went out. But she couldn’t get over the hump of hesitation. He was like the vanilla pudding in the buffet. Perfectly fine, tasty even, but nobody’s first choice.

  They hadn’t discussed the fact that he lived far away, and anything that might happen between them would be temporary. All the same, what was wrong with getting some? She should want to have fun, and yet every time he tried to get close to her, she pulled back.

  “You’re amazing,” he said from behind straight, shiny teeth. “Congrats on making it this far.”

  This far. Huh. Did he question her ability to go further? She had too many people in her life already doubting her skill and competence. She certainly didn’t need another.

  “Thanks.” She swallowed down her discomfort and crossed her arms over her chest. “They only asked me one question. Is that weird?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe they already know everything they need to know. Hey, you wanna grab dinner after this?”

  “Oh, um.” His brain must’ve flickered like a bad light bulb. “My friends are here, so I think we might all go out.”

  He nodded slowly, his face falling in disappointment. “Okay, cool.”