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“No one can stop you from going back if that’s what you wish.”
I let out a humorless laugh and direct my gaze to the horses in the distance. For years I planned to leave the island that imprisoned me, and now that I’m not going back, I’m having regrets. I’m scared of the unknown. And there are so, so many. It’s ironic that my prison feels safe to me now.
“I don’t know what I want. It’s just all I know.”
Taking the three steps up to the porch, a swing sits off to the right. I sit in it, letting the warmth of the sun saturate my skin for a while longer and swipe my foot to sway me back and forth.
Memories of Ryker keep popping up in my thoughts. Through the midst of the unknowns, his chiseled face is clear as day. Telling myself that he won’t want to deal with all this hasn’t helped diffuse the feelings I have for him. The second I stepped out of Max’s house, he probably washed his hands of me. I’m not good for his image.
“After we get settled, there is a Target up the road a few miles. We’ll go pick up any essentials you need. Aiden Roberts had your bags sent from Max Shaw’s house, so you do have those waiting for you inside.”
“Target?”
She gasps in surprise. “You’ve never been to Target?”
I shake my head, and she puffs out an exaggerated sigh. “You were raised with animals,” she jokes and then laughs at herself. She’s a bit odd. “Oh! We can pick up some groceries and you can bake some of your famous cookies.”
“They’re not famous,” I chuckle at her attempt to make me feel better.
“Yet.”
“You haven’t even had one.”
Her eyes gleam. I like her better when she loosens up. “Let’s fix that. I have a major sweet tooth.”
I sigh. So does Ryker.
* * *
“Holy cow!” Halli beams. I tilt my head, confused by her choice of words.
“Does it taste like meat?” Picking up a warm sugar cookie off the cooling rack, I take a quick bite, afraid the extract turned bad. Relief that it tastes normal and not like bovine settles my panic. That would be embarrassing.
She stuffs the whole cookie in her mouth, licking away the crumbs left on her lips. “Nooo. Have you never heard that phrase? It’s delicious,” she mutters with a full mouth. “This is the best cookie I’ve ever had. What’s in it that makes it different?” She grabs another one and eats it in one bite. She wasn’t kidding. Major sweet tooth.
“It’s a secret,” I lie.
It’s not. It’s the Tahitian vanilla extract from one specific tiny farm in Tahiti. His process is a secret, but he produces the purest, richest vanilla I have tried.
Oh no! I drop my head with guilt, smacking myself in the head. I’m the one who pushed him to produce more. My order makes up more than half his stock each month and now with me not there, his business will suffer. I make a mental note to call him at some point. Maybe I can get some shipped here.
“Guys, come in and grab a cookie,” Halli says into her sleeve.
Good thing I brought a larger bottle of extract with me. If there’s anything about my life for certain, it’s baking. “I want to open a bakery,” I blurt.
“Sign me up for a dozen a week.” Halli moans, eating another cookie. “Wait, make that two dozen.”
“What smells wonderful in here,” Amy says walking into the kitchen with her nose in the air.
She glances around the messy kitchen and I’m about to apologize but Halli exclaims, “You have to try these cookies. I swear they have crack in them. I can’t stop eating them.” She jerks her head toward me and asks in a worried tone. “They don’t have crack in them, do they?”
I scratch my head. All these unfamiliar words are baffling. “Crack? I… I’m not sure what that is.”
“Drugs.”
I laugh out loud, wondering how I’ll ever learn the lingo. “No drugs, I promise.”
Amy takes one and splits it in half before taking a bite. She hums and waits to finish before saying, “This is fantastic, Aspen. Is it just a sugar cookie?”
