4. Tara

4

TARA

It's been two days since I last saw Jason here at the bakery. Ever since I turned down his request to go out with him, I've regretted it. The truth is, it's not like he was asking for my hand in marriage or anything serious. He was asking for a date. It's something simple, and surely I can go on one date without getting completely attached to him. Our morning rush just ended, and Becca and I are working. She comes from the kitchen carrying a tray of cookies. She smiles at me when I turn around to look at her. I'm standing by the front windows, looking up and down Main Street, and she caught me.

"Where's your biker boy? This is about the time he usually shows up, huh?"

There's no hiding anything from Becca. I roll my eyes at her. "Yeah. This is usually about the time he shows up. But I doubt he or his friends will be coming in anymore."

She stops mid-stride. "Did something happen? Did I miss something?"

I clench my eyes and open them again. "Yeah. Jason was in here the other day and asked me out."

She sets the tray down on the counter with a big thud. "Finally. It took him long enough."

I bite on to my lower lip with regret. "I turned him down."

"You what?" she asks.

I shrug my shoulders and walk over to where she is. I grab a spatula and start taking the cookies off the tray and setting them in the display case. I start to ramble as I work. "I don't know anything about him, besides he's a biker and part of a club." I point the spatula at Becca with a smirk. "And don't call it a gang because I already figured out he doesn't like that."

Using her gloved hands to help move the cookies over, she nods. "Right. Hear me out. I know it's crazy. I know that he's only been in town a few weeks, but he seems like a nice enough guy. I think you should go out with him."

I frown in concentration. "I told him no. There's really nothing I can do about it now, especially if he doesn't come back in again."

She nudges my shoulder. "Look, I may not know him well, but I know he's nothing like Mark."

I take a deep breath and shrug my shoulders. "How do you know? He could be exactly like Mark. And I'll be honest with you: Breaking up with Mark wasn't hard. It was fun while it lasted, but it didn't break my heart or anything when it was over. Just made me more aware of how men can be. And I'll be honest with you. If Jason did to me what Mark did, it would hurt."

When the last cookie is in the display case, Becca pulls off her gloves. "Look, all I'm saying is I've seen him in here. I've seen the way he is with you. He's really protective. And I don't think that he would do anything to hurt you."

I think back to all the times he's been in the bakery. It's true. When he normally comes, it's with a group of bikers. They're rowdy and a little different than most people here in Whiskey Run, but they've all been nice enough. And Becca's right. He is protective of me. In our conversations, he's worried about me closing at night by myself, driving home by myself in the dark. Heck, he even got into it with one of his friends that he thought looked at me wrong. There’s no question, he’s definitely protective.

Becca interrupts my thoughts. "I guess I just don't get it. What would one date hurt?"

I pick up the empty metal tray and stuff it under my arm. I walk toward the kitchen. "It doesn't matter, Becca. I already told him no."

She laughs at that, and it causes me to stop and turn around. "What's so funny?"

Still laughing, she says, "I may not know him well, but I think I know him enough to know he doesn't seem the type to give up easily. If I was a betting woman, I'd bet he'll be in here sometime today."

I don't answer her. I turn quickly away and walk back to the kitchen. I take my time and clean up the tray and around the sink area, even taking the extra time to dry the dishes and put them all away. By the time I'm done wiping down the whole entire kitchen, I've come to a conclusion. Looking back over the last few weeks, I've been happier than I have in a long time. And I know it's because every day I've looked forward to having Jason come into the bakery to talk. Even though it's always been in short increments of time, I still feel like I've gotten to know him. If he does ask me out again, I'm going to say yes this time.

With my mind made up, I throw the towel on to the counter as I walk back to the front. Now all I have to do is hope he stops in again.