Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Me too.”
“You don’t. The bar doesn’t open until… When does it open?”
“I usually open it around two.”
“Then you’ve got all kinds of time.”
“You didn’t let me finish. I’m opening at noon for the weekend. Families and friends are home for Thanksgiving and often want to come into town for a drink. I do great business this weekend. But I’m off Saturday night for your parents’ party. In fact, I’m taking the whole day off so we can spend Saturday together,” he says.
“We can, but I’ll be baking pita and preparing baklava.”
“Sounds good to me. It’s a date.”
“Okay.” I smile.
Funny, he didn’t ask. He just told me, and I’m okay with that.
I’m okay with all of this. Something about Brendan Murphy grounds me. Makes me feel bigger than myself.
I’ve never been a woman who thinks a good man can solve every problem. And I’m not saying Brendan has solved mine. My problems still exist, but with him at my side, I feel so much stronger—as well as beautiful and desirable.
As much as I hate to admit it, that feels good.
Women who don’t like to feel beautiful and desirable?
They’re just plain lying.
I used to think I was one of them.
Nope.
I may have made peace with the fact that Gina is the beauty of my family years ago, but that doesn’t stop me from enjoying being beautiful myself.
I’ll never look like Gina, but it’s okay to look like Ava. And if Brendan thinks I’m beautiful? I can’t help but enjoy that.
My phone alarm rings at five on the button. I’m exhausted, and I’m lying with my head toward the foot of the bed. I simply rolled off Brendan and fell asleep.
His head is on the pillow, and he’s snoring softly. Not a loud snore at all, and certainly not enough to have woken me up without my alarm. But it’s cute, really. This tiny little snore from such a big man.
I get out of bed carefully so as not to disturb him and tiptoe to the bathroom. I take a quick shower and then dress in sweats, a clean apron, and my hair net.
I go downstairs and gather ingredients to begin the day’s bake. My Hobart mixer with the dough hook stands ready. I wish I could hand knead every single loaf, but with the amount of business I do, that’s not possible. The Hobart does it for me.
For some of my more specialized loaves, like challah, for example, I still knead by hand. I also hand knead my sourdough, which I mix from my starter each day.
It’s just a basic white sourdough loaf. But sometimes, when I’m feeling creative, I add a few things. After last night with Brendan, I want to do something special, so I throw some dried cranberries and walnuts into the sourdough. It will make a nice post-Thanksgiving loaf for people to enjoy with their leftover turkey and stuffing.
An hour later, Maya and Luke arrive. They both help me in the kitchen until we open at eight.
We started serving breakfast sandwiches a few months ago, and they’ve been a hit. I’m expecting a huge crowd of people who, after preparing a huge meal yesterday, don’t want to make breakfast.
And as soon as the clock hits eight, the takeout orders start flying in.
Eggs and bacon on sourdough is my bestseller, followed by a Steel beef burger and a poached egg on an English muffin. I always thought that was a weird combo, but it was my father’s idea, and people seem to love it.
My father…
I don’t have time to think about what he and my mom might be keeping from me. Maya, Luke, and I are swamped.
“Hey, do you guys need any help down here?”
I jerk toward the sound of Brendan’s voice.
“You can’t be serious,” I say.
“Of course I am. Looks like you could use an extra set of hands.”
“You’ll need an apron and a hairnet.” I point to the closet on the far side of the wall. “Everything’s in there.”
A few moments later, Brendan returns with his gorgeous red hair tied up in a hairnet.
“Now that is a good look on you,” I say, laughing.
I put him to work assembling sandwiches, while I take another batch of loaves out of the oven.
“Have you ever thought of selling pizza crusts?” Brendan asks.
“Yeah. I’ve had some requests for them. But I can barely keep up with what I do now.”
“That’s because you’re the best damned baker this town has ever seen.” Brendan smiles.
“You’re sweet.”
“I’m only being truthful. You have a gift, Ava. You should think about expanding.”
I sigh. Brendan isn’t the first person to say this to me. I could easily expand if I poked into my trust fund.
I’ve just never wanted to do that.
I know it’s silly. No one would think twice if I did. But I always wanted to be my own person. Make my own way in this vast world.