“Um, no. I’m starving and then I want to pet the animals,” Brooklynsays.
“Fine. I’mgoing.”
I jump out of the SUV, careful not to drop my precious cargo. And then I call out his name. “Silas!” He sees me right away and stops. He just stares at me for a moment, then blinks. I swallow sixty-seventy times in the seconds it takes me to cross the straw covered parking lot tohim.
“Hi,” I say, in this oddly cheerfulway.
“Hey.” He’s in shock. His brown eyes are so wide and his mouth is hanging open a little. It’s so good to see him, it almost hurts. He looks exactly the same. Still tall and brawny for no damn reason. Skin still glistening brown with half a day’s heavy lifting under his belt. He’s breaking in a new hat. Blue with, I think, the Scottish flag across the front. His hair is starting to curl at the base of his neck. It’s longer, but it works forhim.
“You look good,” I say. Like anidiot.
“So do you. I like your hair.” He reaches up and touches one of the faux locs I have hanging past my shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” hesays.
“Youhave?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been thinking about youtoo.”
“Are youhere—”
“Ebie!” I turn around and Ginny is standing in the back door to the cannery,waving.
“No!” Silas says. “Get out of here! Go backinside!”
“Give me five,” I call back to her, laughing. “I’ll be there in asec.”
“Hurry. We’re making jam!” She ducks back in the door, but not without flicking off Silas first. I let out a snort and turn back toSilas.
“So, I uh, I quit my job. Well my most recent law-related job,” I tellhim.
“Youdid?”
“Yeah. It didn’t suit me much. I took up baking. I’m working on setting up an online store now and looking for kitchen space to rent. I’m starting to outgrow my apartment’s counter and pantryspace.”
“That’s cool. You did seem pretty into Martha Stewart when you were here. I didn’t know you could actuallybake.”
“I can. I just didn’t have much time before. Or, well, I didn’t make time. These are for you.” I take the lid off the plastic container and show him my wares. “These are amaretto peach donuts. And these are apple cheesecake tarts and these are pumpkin sugarcookies.”
“Can I try onenow?”
“Please.” He grabs one of the donuts and takes a huge bite. I feel myself smiling. No tiny sampling for Silas McInroy. His eyes flash wide as he considers the donut and then looks back atme.
“These are fuckinggood.”
“Thanks. I wanted the peach to really come through.” He just nods, then finishes the other half in one bite. I slide the top back on and hold the container out to him. “These are all foryou.”
“Thank you. I’m not sharing them with Ginny orMaya.”
“Don’t worry, I made them their own batch. They’re in the car. Um, I actually was hoping to talk to you, all three of you and Mason, about expanding the cannery and the cafe. Maybe adding abakery?”
“Yes,” he blurts out withouthesitation.
“Yes?”
“I want you to run it,” he says so fast, I almost don’t process it atfirst.
“I’d lovethat.”