Chapter 1
Caparelli’s Bakery sat on a quiet corner in old town Kingsport, Virginia, its green, white and red striped awning waving in the cool September breeze. It was a perfect fall day that reminded Aileen of Friday night bonfires in Aurora Springs, stealing Kamden’s hockey sweatshirt to keep the chill off and later refusing to give it back. She spotted Tarren standing outside the bakery with his hands in his pockets and picked up her pace. At least pastries and strong coffee were reliable pleasures without the messy history.
As they pushed open the bakery door, a gust of wind whipped Aileen’s curls into her mouth mid-hello. She spat out a strand, cursing herself for ignoring her instinct to braid it before leaving the house. Inside, the smell of espresso and warm sugar greeted them.
“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Aileen said, smiling at the barista as she stepped up to the counter, looking at the shelves that were lined with a variety of Italian cookies and pastries. Each one more tempting than the next. “I’ll take one lobster tail, five cannoli and all the macaroons. The lobster tail and a cannoli on a plate and the rest can be boxed up. Oh, and an espresso. Wait, also a black coffee in a to-go cup. Thanks.”
“Aileen,” Tarren said, crossing his arms over his tailored charcoal coat. He was looking at her with the same expression he’d worn since her sophomore year of college whenever he was about to meddle in her love life. “When was the last time you went on a date?”
She spared him a glance as she accepted her espresso. “I don’t know, Tarren. A year? Maybe longer if we’re not counting those half-hearted video dates from the apps.” She sighed. “Wow. My love life is tragic.”
Tarren placed his own order before turning his attention back to her. “Tragic is an understatement.”
“Thank you,” she said sweetly to the server, eyeing the plate of perfection before her. She grabbed the plate and coffee the barista slid across the counter, then nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s eat outside before this beautiful morning turns into summer again.” It was a joke among locals that you could experience all four seasons in one day in Virginia.
“Aileen, I’m afraid you’re replacing men with pastries.”
“I am not.” She popped the end of a cannoli into her mouth and took a bite, closing her eyes as the sweet ricotta melted over her tongue. “That’s what my vibrator is for. Pastries for comfort, batteries for everything else.”
Tarren nearly choked on his espresso. “Jesus Christ.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not Aileen, but I think it’s time to date again. And sleeping with your married ex-boyfriend from high school doesn’t count.”
Aileen rolled her eyes. “Kamden and I haven’t...” she hesitated. “Well. Not recently.”
“That pause was very telling.” Tarren’s journalistic instincts were impossible to turn off, even with friends.
She busied herself arranging her napkin, stirring her espresso, avoiding his gaze. “Look, I just don’t know if I have the energy for dating. My vibrator and book boyfriends are getting along just fine.”
“That is the saddest, most pathetic sentence I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m perfectly fucking content!” She stabbed at her cannoli with unnecessary force. “I have a house, the new mare I’m training, fifteen demanding students who occasionally listen before doing exactly what I told them not to do, and enough barn drama to fill a reality show. My plate is full, Tarren.”
“So what, you’re just done with relationships? Forever.”
“I’ve tried,” she said, pushing pieces of cannoli around her plate with the fork. “You know how that ends.”
“That lawyer you dated was four years ago,” Tarren said gently. “And Kamden—”
“Is not up for discussion.” The sharpness in her voice surprised even her. “Sorry. It’s just… complicated.”
“I know.” He said in a softer voice.
“Besides,” Aileen continued bitterly, “I get up at five AM to muck stalls and go to bed by nine. I’m not exactly girlfriend material.”
Tarren groaned. “Stop that. You’re gorgeous, and I know someone who would absolutely want to date you.”
She gave him a wary look. “Oh no.” She pointed her fork at him accusingly. “You’re setting me up aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Tarren.”
“Aileen.”
“I met an old friend of mine for lunch the other day and he started venting about how shallow and self-absorbed his recent dates have been. You, Aileen, are far from shallow, and you’re one of the most fascinating people I know. Completely ridiculous, in the best way. Funny, generous, lighthearted, and—”
“A great lay?” she teased.
He smirked. “That too.”
She groaned, rubbing her temples. “Why now? You’ve known me forever. If you had a match for me, why didn’t you set it up sooner?”
“Honestly? Timing.” He paused. “Your lives were on different paths. But now? Now I think you’re both ready.”
“Shouldn’t that be for me to decide?”
She sighed, taking a sip of her coffee.
What if I did go on this date? What could it hurt? I don’t have to see him again. Or I could see him again, fall in love, he could cheat on me, and it all ends in a meteor crashing into Earth. Nothing to lose.
She gave him a long, suspicious look.
Fine.
“Does he look like he reads actual books? Because I’m tired of guys whose idea of literature is scrolling social media.”
Tarren grinned. “He’s not what you expect. He sees the world through stories.” Tarren sipped his espresso. “Notices details most people miss. The kind of guy who remembers exactly how you take your coffee but forgets what day it is.” He smiled. “And yes, he’s attractive enough that Archie made me swear I wasn’t secretly in love with him.”
“Was he at your wedding?”
“No, he was supposed to be my best man, but work got in the way.”
“So, he’s married to his job?”
“Not exactly.”
“I feel like you’re withholding information.” She narrowed her eyes. “Last time you had that look, you set me up with a guy who stared at his phone the whole time.”
“This is different.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Journalist’s honor.”
“I didn’t know journalists were honorable,” she laughed and then was quiet for a moment. “Fine,” she said, sighing, knowing she’d already lost the battle. “But only because my cat’s conversation skills have been lacking lately.”
“That’s the spirit! Excellent. You’re meeting him at Duveney’s tomorrow at eight.”
Aileen choked on her espresso. “Duveney’s? The place with the three-month waiting list?”
“I have some connections. I wanted you to have privacy.”
“Oh no.” She set her cup down. “He’s not some self-important finance bro, is he? Because I’ve dated enough men who think riding horses is just a cute hobby for rich girls.”
Tarren’s eyes gleamed. “He’s the opposite of finance. And trust me,” he leaned closer, “he’s fascinated by women with… skills.”
She huffed. “Shut up. But you’d better come over tomorrow to help me pick out an outfit.”
“I already know what you should wear. Your navy blue mini dress, with the v-neck and those beige heels of yours.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t that too much? I’m not trying to fuck him on the first date.”
Tarren smirked. “Never say never.”
She rolled her eyes. “If he’s expecting someone who looks good in anything other than mud-splattered riding pants, he’ll be sorely disappointed.” She gestured vaguely at herself. “I’m 5’2” and built for staying on fifteen hundred-pound animals, not walking a runway.”
“He’s dated the perfect model types.” Tarren’s expression softened. “But he’s looking for something different, unfiltered, you could say.”
“So I’m a project?”
“No, you’re authentic. There’s a difference.” Tarren clapped his hands. “Alright. Let’s finish up here. Archie wants me to pick up some of that chocolate black tea from the tea shop on the corner.”
“Oh, that stuff is divine.” Aileen grinned. “I’m grabbing a tin for myself, and maybe something calming since I apparently have a date tomorrow.”
