Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, #3)(37)

“Sorry.” I look over at them with a wobbly smile. “I got distracted.”

Delilah gives my shoulder a nudge. “What are you dreaming about this time?”

I shut my eyes and imagine the windowfront full of decor and glass pastry stands. “Summer-themed display. Bright colors that pop and treats featuring the fruits of the season.”

Violet sighs. “Sounds like a dream.”

That’s because it is.

“What do you think would be your bestseller?” Delilah points her cane at the window.

I look away from our reflections in the window. “Dee—”

She wags her finger in front of me. “Uh-uh-uh. You know how we play the game.”

The three of us have been doing the dream game ever since Violet learned about manifestation. It hasn’t worked out for us yet, but that doesn’t stop my friends from trying.

She pokes me in the side. “Stop thinking so much and just tell me the first thing that comes to mind.”

I bite down on my lip and consider my answer. “Well…you know how crazy everyone gets for my blueberry crumb cake.”

Violet grins. “I’ve never seen so many people fight over a bunch of leftover crumbs. Even Sheriff Hank was ready to throw hands during last year’s Fourth of July barbeque, and he is practically medically sedated nowadays.”

My lungs burn from how hard I laugh.

Delilah, the softer one of my two best friends, shifts her cane to her left hand so she can wrap her other arm around my shoulder. “You know, if you sold the house, you would have the money to buy this place and turn it into the best bakery in Michigan.”

I shake my head so hard, my vision blurs. “Not happening.”

Violet pipes up. “Just think about it. You’re the one who said you wouldn’t risk giving up a steady paying job and health insurance for a dream. But once you sell the lake house, you’ll have the money to cover all the startup costs of opening a new business.”

I shake my head. “No way. That money isn’t for me.”

Violet tilts her head. “Even with Wisteria Prep’s tuition, you wouldn’t spend more than a quarter of it.”

“I should be saving, not spending.”

Delilah’s hold around my shoulders tightens. “It’s okay to be a little selfish and think about yourself every now and then. Cami would want you to be happy.”

“What if I’m not good enough?” I voice my fear aloud. It’s the same one that has kept me up many nights, rooted deep in years of questioning my self-worth. I’ve spent most of my life running from that worry ever since my father packed his bags and said he wasn’t coming back.

“What if you end up spending the rest of your life regretting not taking a chance when you had it?” Violet wraps her arm around me, right above Delilah’s.

“Or what if Missy opens a shop here instead and ends up becoming the town’s favorite baker?” Delilah teases.

I gasp. “Take that back.”

“I don’t know. It could be possible that someone comes for your crown. I heard Missy was trying to master a tres leches recipe before the Fourth of July bake-off.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “I should have suspected something when she was following me around the grocery store last month, asking me all kinds of questions about what brand of condensed milk I like most.”

Violet pinches me in the side, making me laugh. “The point is, you’ll miss out on all the things you could have done if you just asked yourself why not instead of what if.”

“Who knew you could be so deep?”

She taps her temple. “Tequila makes me thoughtful.”

“And horny,” Delilah finishes for her, earning a jab to the ribs.

I wrap my arms around both of my friends and pull them in for a big hug. “You’ll be my first two customers?”

Delilah smiles. “Like we ever had a choice.”





15





CAL





Lana plucks a page from the tall stack of papers on the kitchen table and reads to herself while using her red pen to mark the page. Without any alcohol to artificially inflate my self-esteem, I’m left with a racing heart and an urge to escape before Lana notices me.

Not relying on vodka to numb your problems is a positive thing.

Yeah, except reducing my consumption always seems like a good idea until I’m faced with any kind of adversity.

Just go on and get this over with.

I tuck my thumbs into my front pockets. “Do you have a second?”

She looks up at me. “I’m a bit busy here grading papers.”

“On a Friday night? Riveting stuff.”

She shoots me a look. “Unless you’re here to admit defeat about the house, don’t bother.”

“I prefer the term compromise.”

“I’m sure that’s what all the losers say to make themselves feel better.” The shimmer in her eyes fucks with me. Or to be more specific, my dick.

You’re fucked in the head.

Of course I am. At this point in my life, I’ve had more therapists than friends, and neither stick around for long given my issues.

I pull out a chair across from her and take a seat. “I’m going to make you an offer.”