Our friendship began inside this diner, but it developed while hauling furniture for him in my truck bed, changing flat tires on his car, and blowing up thousands of balloons for May’s birthday parties. These aren’t services I’d be as quick to offer anyone else in town, but Brenden is... special.
“No, you really don’t have to,” he argues. “I’ll figure something else out. I’ll just have to help in the kitchen myself.”
A sharp laugh punches out of me. Ignoring the eye daggers he aims my way, I say, “You can’t cook. That’s why you’re always here.”
His jaw drops. “How very dare you!” he says in mock offense. “Ican socook. Bagel bites and mozzarella sticks totally count as cooking.”
“Nothing frozen counts.”
“But I always get the cheese to that perfect gooeyness-without-melting-over quality!”
I do my best to look unimpressed, rather than charmed, but I think I fail. “Seriously, I don’t mind helping. Benji can cover for me. He’s always happy for more hours, and I trust him. I’ll still have to pop back and forth to take care of some stuff, but it’s doable.”
Brenden looks up at me now, immense gratitude painted all over his face, and I know I’m making the right decision offering to help. Even if it’s going to be a pain in the ass sorting everything out.
There’s not much I wouldn’t do for this man.
Luckily, I don’t think he realizes that.
CHAPTER THREE
BRENDEN
Inmyoffice,leaningback in the cushy desk chair I splurged on for myself and flipping through some paperwork about the incoming retreat, I’m much less frazzled than I was two days ago. I’m actually starting to believe everything will work out fine.
Because Travis Reed is a godsend.
Asking him to help was my only option. But I hate being that person—the one who can’t seem to handle things on his own. Who always goes running to a bigger and stronger man for help. Travis never seems to mind, but still.
My pride can’t get in the way of keeping the inn running though. I love this place. But more than that, I love my daughter. I’ll do anything necessary to ensure I can provide a stable life for her.
One of the last things I said to April was,I promise May will grow up surrounded by love and joy and everything she could ever need.
Thinking about April, even for a second, causes my eyes to well up with tears.Fuck.I blink them away and shake my thoughtsclear, because I’m at work. Even in the privacy of my office, I need to stay the happy-go-lucky Brenden Sanderson everyone in this town expects me to be. I can’t reveal all the sadness that hides under the surface. No one wants to be around that guy.
I grab my phone to play some music, hoping it’ll cure my melancholy dip in mood. Skyler James is a perfect choice. May’s a much bigger fan than I am—she was obsessed with Boys Will Be Boys when she was little—but there probably isn’t a gay man on the planet who doesn’t at least appreciate Skyler now. He’s not exactly my type, but there’s no denying the guy is gorgeous. I still can’t believe he came out, or that all those theories about him and his ex-bandmate were actually true.
Score one for the gays! Or two, really, because Trevor Blue is also smoking hot.
After I finish going over some last details for the event, I remember I’m supposed to cover the desk for Danny’s break. And then I’d like to pop into the kitchen to see how things are going today.
Travis already fixed the oven—it turned out not to be as broken as Addison thought. This saved me an unnecessary bill but agitated my chef. I get the sense she doesn’t appreciate someone else showing her up in her own kitchen. I can’t hold it against her for not figuring out what was wrong with it though. From what I learned when interviewing her, she owned a successful restaurant in Chicago for five years with her now ex-wife. But her role was mainly to handle the cooking while her ex took care of the business side of things, and that probably included dealing with appliance maintenance.
It's obvious Addison’s grateful for Travis’s help with the food prep, though. Now that she’s less stressed, she’s been excited to come up with even more new menu options for the corporate crowd. Lately, there’s been a lot of food shoved in my face for me try, and you’ll never find me complaining about that.
As I get up, my phone rings. Seeing Elise’s name on the screen, I sink back into my chair and take a deep breath. She never calls this often.
“Hi, Elise,” I answer faux cheerfully.
“Brenden!” she says by way of greeting. “I’m so glad to catch you again. We didn’t get a chance to talk much the other day.”
That’s because you only really wanted to talk to May, I think a little bitterly.
We do the obligatory small talk thing for a minute. I ask how she and Grant are doing in Philly and how Grant’s work is going before I’m tapped out. It’s harder when we’ve already talked about May recently. She’s our only common interest.
Then Elise asks me how things are going with the inn. And it may just be out of politeness, since I asked about her husband’s work, but my hackles go up.
I tell her everything’s running smoothly, business is steady as usual, my new chef is wonderful. The whole time I talk, though, I’m wondering if she’s asking because she and Grant are expecting me to fail at running this place. They loaned me money, so they sort of have an investment in it being successful. But even if the place went under (knock on wood), I’d find another way to pay them back eventually. Being indebted to them isn’t fun.
