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But I know what I want to do.
CHAPTER 7
POLLY
Ismile so much these days my cheeks hurt. I hum the song Gabe and I danced to at the fair as I form apple turnovers. The warm scent of baking bread and cinnamon swirls through the air, mixing with the sugary sweetness of freshly iced pastries, and I feel like I’m floating.
Sophie, working at the front counter, calls over to me, “You’re in a good mood today! Are you excited about your date tonight?”
I laugh, wiping my flour-covered hands on my apron. “Is it that obvious?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, honey, you’ve been glowing since you walked in this morning.”
It’s been weeks since Gabe started coming in every afternoon, claiming he couldn’t get enough of my apple turnovers. Every time I see him, I fall harder for him. The way he looks at me, like I’m the only person in the room, the way he supports me when I talk about the bakery and how much it means to me—it all feels so easy, so right.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling. “I’m looking forward to our date tonight.”
Sophie’s eyes light up. “Do you think it’s serious?”
I hesitate, my heart racing. “I think so. I know we haven’t known each other that long, but there’s something about Gabe. He’s different from anyone else I’ve ever been with. Everything is so natural with him, and…I think he’s into me, too.”
Sophie grins and nudges my shoulder with hers. “You think he’s into you? Girl, the man isdefinitelyinto you.”
I laugh, but deep down, I know she’s right. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, you know?”
“Polly,” Sophie says, placing a hand on my arm, “sometimes you have to accept what’s happening and try not to overthink it. If it feels right, then it’s probably right.”
I nod, feeling a bit lighter. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this time, itisdifferent. I try not to compare Gabe to my ex, but I guess it says more about how deeply my ex hurt me that I can doubt someone as wonderful as Gabe.
The sun is loweringin the sky, casting everything in golden hues, as Gabe and I pull up to the waterfalls. The heavy rush of water greets us before we get out of the truck, and my heart flutters.
“This place is gorgeous,” I say, inhaling the crisp, fresh air.
Gabe smiles, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Wait until you see the view from the top,” he replies, already grabbing the picnic basket from the backseat. He looks so handsome in his fitted t-shirt and jeans, and I don’t try to hide how I watch hismuscles flex as he lifts the basket and grabs a couple of heavy wool blankets.
“Are you sure you want to carry that? It looks heavy,” I tease, reaching for the handle.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ve got it. This is about me treating you.” His voice carries that warm, protective tone that launches a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach. I love that he takes time to focus on me.
As we hike up a short trail, the rush of the waterfall grows louder, mixing with the chirps of birds settling in for the evening. I take a moment to glance sideways at him, and affection warms my chest. “You outdid yourself with this picnic, you know.”
“You deserve special things,” he replies, giving me a sidelong glance that makes my heart race.
We finally reach a clearing where the view opens up, revealing the waterfall cascading over rocks, shimmering in the golden light. I gasp, momentarily speechless. “Wow, Gabe, this is breathtaking!”
He sets the basket down on a soft patch of grass and spreads out a blanket. “I thought you’d like it. I can’t believe you haven’t been up here before.”
Gabe opens the basket, revealing an assortment of treats: artisanal cheeses, fresh fruit, crackers, and a bottle of sparkling cider. “I hope you’re hungry,” he says, pouring us each a glass.
“This all looks incredible!” I exclaim, picking up a piece of cheese and taking a bite. “Mmm! This is delicious.” I offer him a piece,our fingers brushing together, sending a spark dancing across my skin.
“Only the best for you,” he replies, his gaze lingering on me, making my cheeks heat. “Here, try this fig.”
He holds it up, and without thinking, I lean forward, letting him feed me. The sweetness bursts in my mouth, and I moan at the richness and deliciousness of the fig.
“Okay, your turn,” I say, picking up a slice of pear and offering it to him.
He leans in closer, his eyes locked on mine as he takes a bite, and the air between us crackles with tension.
