The Wrong Goodbye Read online

  As much as I worry about myself, about how maybe I’m not pretty enough, or not good enough, or that I’m too nice or boring for a guy to like, another part of me knows that I’m not the problem. The problem is that I live in Mable Falls, a sleepy little country town with no good single men.

  How can I find my true love if I never get out and meet people?

  Mason was lucky. He met Livi through me. I pretty much set them up, even though I didn’t see it coming at first. I smile to myself as I consider calling him up and telling him he owes me. I introduced him to his true love, so now he needs to find someone for me.

  If only love worked that way. If only it was as easy as asking someone to return a favor by bringing you a soul mate.

  Every time it feels like I’m slipping back into this depression over being single, I try to cheer myself up. I’m only twenty-four. I’m still plenty young enough to find love. So what if my mom met my dad when she was nineteen. And if Grandma married Grandpa when they were twenty-two. There’s still time for me. It’s not like I’m unlovable. I’m a nice person. I have pretty long brown hair that’s naturally wavy, and Livi is always saying she’s jealous of my naturally tan skin. Sure, I’m a little overweight, but I think I carry it well. It’s all mostly in my hips and ass, and some guys like that. I just need to find those guys.

  As I lay in my hotel’s surprisingly comfortable bed, I tell myself to shrug off these thoughts of men and dating and love. None of that even matters right now. I’m in a whole different state, looking to find ways to grow my business. Love can wait for another time.

  Chapter 3

  My alarm goes off bright and early on Friday morning. It’s day one of the convention, and I’m filled with butterflies and excitement and a strong need for coffee. I do my hair and makeup and put on my black pinstripe slacks. I pair them with a teal blouse and some black beaded jewelry. I look pretty damn professional. It’s miles away from the sundresses and flour-covered apron that I usually wear to work. With this look, I could be a lawyer or something.

  I head down to the lobby and get a large cup of coffee from the continental breakfast bar. I don’t want anything too messy to eat, because ruining one of my three business outfits this early in the convention would be a nightmare, so I grab a banana and a granola bar. I eat quickly and then take my coffee to the hotel’s massive conference room. Right at the front of the room is a short line of people waiting to sign in.

  I try to smile and look polite, but no one really notices me. I do notice that most people seem to be in groups, or at least pairs. It’s like everyone came here with a friend. Maybe they’re all business partners or something. I’m a one-woman show so I didn’t even think about bringing anyone else. This would have been way more fun with Livi by my side.

  When it’s my turn to sign in, I give the woman my name and she digs through a plastic bin, retrieving a laminated nametag in the shape of Texas.

  “How cute,” I say as she hands me the nametag, which is on a blue lanyard. I hang it around my neck. It says ALEXA SHARP and then Sweets Bakery underneath it. I’m totally in love.

  The lady nods. “Texas is the coolest shaped state, I think. The people from Colorado thought their nametag was just a poorly cut out square,” she says with a chuckle.

  I have to agree with her. As I glance around, I see people wearing state-shaped lanyards. Some of them look silly, but my Texas looks cool. Maybe I’m just biased because I was born and raised here.

  The keynote speech begins in five minutes, so I’m about to take a seat in one of the hundreds of chairs that are lined up in front of the stage, but then I realize my coffee is empty.

  I make my way through the throngs of people to the coffee table that’s been set up at the back of the room. Since my first coffee cup has gotten kind of soggy on the lid from my lipstick, I toss it in a nearby trashcan and get a fresh one.

  Livi makes fun of me for my creamer-to-coffee ratio, but I always pour the creamer first. That way you can pour the coffee over it and it mixes itself and you don’t have to waste a spoon. She tells me I’m neurotic, but it’s how I like to do things.

  I take the stainless-steel container marked CREAMER and tip it over my new paper coffee cup. Nothing happens.

  But the thing is heavy, so I know it’s not empty. I tip it again, but it still doesn’t work. I find a nearly invisible button on the handle and press it, then try again. Only this time, it’s like the floodgates have been opened. A huge splash of creamer falls into my cup—way more than I’ll ever need.

  “Shit,” I mutter, setting the stupid pitcher of creamer back on the table. I look into my cup, and it has like two inches of French Vanilla in there. Gross.

  “Howdy,” I voice says beside me. It’s deep and raspy, and possibly the most cliché-sounding southern twang I’ve ever heard.

  I look over at the man who said it, and he tips an imaginary cowboy hat at me. “It’s nice to meet a fellow Texan,” he says, but in a normal voice this time.

  His normal voice is very attractive. Or maybe, that’s just what my brain processes because his face is so attractive that I’m suddenly not thinking straight. He has dark hair that’s short on the sides, long and slightly wavy on top, and swooped back in a way that makes me want to run my hands through it. His chiseled jaw has just a hint of stubble, and even though he’s wearing black slacks and a button up light blue shirt, I can tell he’s absolutely ripped underneath those fancy clothes.

  He’s smiling right at me, and I am suddenly very aware that he just talked to me and I have no idea what he said. Apparently my brain doesn’t function well when I’m looking at a gorgeous guy.

  “Um… what?” I say.

  He grins, and gestures to my boobs.

  Oh wait, no. Not my boobs. It’s my nametag. I let out a breath.

  “I said it’s nice to meet a fellow Texan.”

  “Ah,” I say, noticing his own nametag for the first time. It’s also in the shape of Texas. His nametag read GABRIEL BARR, Barr Real Estate.

  “I’m Gabe,” he says, holding out his hand.

  “Alexa,” I squeak, because I’m both embarrassed and a little turned on. This guy is so freaking hot. I do manage to shake his hand though, so hopefully he doesn’t think I’m a total lunatic.

  He leans forward a bit. “Not to sound weird, but I noticed the trouble you were having,” he says, nodding toward my coffee cup which is all creamer and no coffee yet. “The same thing happened to me when I was here last year, and I’m glad I’m not the only one who can’t figure out that damn thing.”

  He smiles and I smile, too. In the back of my mind, I feel like I should be a little embarrassed. He just witnessed me looking like an idiot, after all. Instead, all I can do is smile. It’s like Gabe’s lips are infectious, and if they tip up then mine do, too.

  “Do you mind?” he asks, then he takes my coffee cup and pours half of it into an empty one. Then he hands it back to me. “Perfect.”

  I watch him take the coffee pot and fill up his cup, then he tips it toward me. I make sure my hand is steady and not shaking nervously, and I hold out my cup. He fills it up.

  “I love how you don’t need to stir it when you pour the creamer in first,” he says.

  Oh my, I think I’m in love.

  “Me too,” I say.

  We each put a plastic lid on our coffee, and I figure the moment is over. The keynote speech will begin any second now, but I don’t want the moment to be over. To my great relief, Gabe looks at me. “Want to sit together?”

  “We are both Texans,” I say as casually as I can muster. No need to let him know how much I’m swooning right now. “Seems like the right thing to do.”

  He flashes me a grin that is all white teeth and then motions for me to lead the way. I find a spot near the front that has two empty seats, and when he sits next to me, I get a rush of his cologne. He smells woodsy, and clean, and oddly enough, very Texan. It’s comforting since I’m here in another state where I don’t kn
ow anything, or anyone.

  I am totally over the moon that this year’s celebrated keynote speaker is a woman. It’s the first time the small business convention has invited a woman business owner to do the main speech. She’s vibrant and beautiful, and probably in her fifties. I am totally caught up in her words, and the forty-five minute speech goes by entirely too quickly. I even forget about Gabe and his muscular stature that’s sitting right next to me. This woman’s words feel so empowering. She talks about being the only woman in her engineering field, and how she got the courage to branch off and start her own firm. Her whole career took off after that brave move, and now she’s so much more successful than she ever would have been if she stayed working for a company that wasn’t her own.

  I’ve never felt so inspired in my life. Even if I don’t get a single other thing from this convention, it was all worth it for this keynote speech. I feel good about myself for the first time in a long time. I’m not just some silly girl with a dream to bake cupcakes. I’m a business owner. I’m an employer. I totally rock.

  I’m still high on inspiration when her speech wraps up and is suddenly over. Thunderous applause fills the room, mine included.

  The announcer steps up to the podium and tells us that we can now go to the nearby conference rooms and enjoy panels on various business topics, or that we can check out the vendor room. I take out the schedule I was given during check-in and look for the panels I wanted to attend.

  “That was a great speech,” Gabe says. “That woman totally kicks ass.”

  “I know! I loved her,” I say.

  People start getting up and heading off to do other things, but we’re still seated. This is awkward because I really don’t want to leave him, but I also need to check out the panels I came here to attend.

  “So where are you headed next?” he asks, as if sensing my thoughts. Or, maybe, he feels the same way I do.

  I glance at my schedule. “Health insurance for small business,” I say. Right now I only have two employees and I pay them hourly. I’d love to be able to offer benefits because Livi needs health insurance and I don’t want her to leave me for another company.

  “Cool,” he says, but there’s a little disappointment in his eyes. “I’m headed to a real estate panel. I imagine it’s going to be very, very boring,” he says with an eye roll.

  I’m about to ask him why he’s going if he doesn’t think he’ll like it, but two guys walk up wearing Texas nametags as well. They look about our age, or maybe younger. They’re both pale with dark skin and look like brothers.

  “There you are,” one of them says to Gabe. “You ready?”

  “Yeah,” he says, then stands up. I stand up too just so it looks like I’m not some loser who is desperate to hang out with him.

  Right as he turns to me, I decide to prove that I’m definitely not a loser. “See ya,” I say, giving a little wave as I turn and walk off in the other direction.

  I feel bold and confident, but I’d be lying if I said a part of me was hoping he’d call after me. Ask me to stop, and give him my number or something. Or ask me to meet up later for dinner. Anything.

  But he doesn’t. When I’m across the room, I glance back and see him walking with his two friends, their focus on their schedules. Ugh. Why did I get my hopes up?

  It’s just a hot guy. He’s here for the convention, just like I am. He’s not here to meet girls, he’s here to learn about real estate.

  I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Who cares about Gabe Barr? I’m a business woman. I’m here for business.

  Still, I glance back one last time before I leave the room, and I see him, standing across the hallway.

  Looking right at me.

  Chapter 4

  The guys insist that we sit in the back row of the small conference room that’s hosting the real estate panel. I try to argue for a spot up front, but they refuse because they are idiots who prefer to do as little work as possible. Pure nepotism is the only reason they’re employed at my company. My mother begged me to give my cousins a job after they both flunked their realtor exam and my aunt was scared they’d turn out to be deadbeat losers like their dad.

  Jason and Jeremy are twenty-two years old, but our six year age difference sometimes feels like decades.

  I love my mom though, and my aunt, so I went against my better judgement and hired them both as assistants until they can study harder and finally pass their exams to become a licensed real estate agent. Right now I have them doing the grunt work of putting up for sale signs and arranging the photographers and doing stuff around the office.

  I’m tempted to leave their lazy asses in the back row while I find a spot up front, but I stay because I need to make sure they’re paying attention. I prefer being close to the front that way I can focus on the speakers. If I’m too far back I’ll get distracted. I’m paying a lot of money to bring these guys with me this year, and we’re going to get my money’s worth.

  Of course, I get the feeling that my location doesn’t matter much. As I sit behind an overweight man who smells like cigarettes, I’m already having a hard time concentrating because I keep thinking about her.

  That cute Texan who had long gorgeous hair and an even more beautiful smile. Plus, her ass looked amazing in those pants. If Jason and Jeremy hadn’t retrieved me after the keynote, I probably would have blown off my entire schedule to follow her around to her panels, as stupid as that would have been.

  She was absolutely beautiful, and in that shy way that really turns me on. It’s like she doesn’t realize how cute she really is. Maybe she was just shy because we didn’t know each other. Maybe she opens up once she gets more comfortable with someone.

  Whatever the case, I’m dying to find out.

  I’d been checking her out from the moment she walked into the large assembly room and headed to the coffee table. But as soon as I saw that she was also from Texas, I knew I had to make a move. I had to at least say hi. The bad news is that Texas is huge. You can drive ten hours and still not cross over the state lines. For all I know, she lives in the panhandle, or near El Paso, or up in the hill country. Anywhere but southeast, where I live. So even though there was a one in fifty chance that her state would be the same as mine, the odds are even slimmer that she lives anywhere near me.

  Still … I need to find out.

  I’m kicking myself for not getting her number. I was this close to asking for it too, but then Tweetle Dee and Tweetle Dum approached and ruined the moment. If they’d seen me ask a girl for her number, they’d have made some stupid jock frat-boy type of scene about it. That’s the problem with my jackass twin cousins. They still act like they’re freshmen in college.

  And it’s just the three of us at my office. After I branched off from Dad’s failed real estate business to start my own company, I hadn’t hired anyone else to work with me yet. That’s probably why I resonated with the keynote speaker so much. We both did our own thing and became very successful. Now I have a few part time real estate agents who operate under my company, but they’re older, in their fifties, and very experienced. They do their own thing and they’re good at it.

  My cousins are going to need a lot of help from me if they want to succeed.

  I try to put thoughts of Alexa out of my mind while I listen to the panel of five experts who talk about real estate. I try to soak up their knowledge and learn something, but my mind keeps drifting back to her soft smile, her brown eyes, and the way she smelled like vanilla.

  By the time the one-hour session is over, I haven’t learned very much. But I do decide on one thing.

  I have to find her again.

  Chapter 5

  iPad cash registers are all the rage now. I feel slightly ahead of the curve because I got one two years ago when I opened my shop, after careful deliberation because I really wanted one of those big metal antique registers to give my bakery a nostalgic feel. But … since the world runs on credit cards and not cash, I ended up going wit
h the iPad. It sits on a base that swivels so I can swipe credit cards and then have the customer sign the digital receipt with their finger.

  As I walk through the vendor room, I notice all kinds of improvements have been made to cash registers. You can now put a tablet thing on each table in your restaurant and have people pay for their meal without even needing to talk to a waitress. The tablet also plays games. I think that’s just the worst idea ever. You should go to a restaurant to spend time with the people you’re with, not to stare at a freaking screen. People already stare at their phones too much. I think I’ve done a good job of cultivating a friendly warm atmosphere in Sweets Bakery. People are rarely on their phones, unless they’re taking photos of their food, which I love because all the social media posts give me exposure.

  I walk slowly through the aisles, taking in all of the products people have to offer. There are a lot of kitchen type items, but most of them are for full restaurants not bakeries. I skim over these quickly because I have a method to my baking and I don’t really want to change it, even if a cool new cooking utensil did come up.

  I take some brochures for a website company that lets you set up a store online because I think it would be cool to take custom cake orders online and then have the customer come pick them up. That way it wouldn’t waste our time in the store when they want to order one. People always take forever looking through my binder of custom cake options and it makes it difficult to serve the other customers. Giving my shop a website that’s better than the free template I’ve got now would be pretty cool.

  For at least an hour or so, I get lost in the trance of all these shiny new items and I forget about how pathetic I felt over meeting Gabe this morning. I mean, what’s wrong with me? I say hello to one attractive man and suddenly I’m wishing he’d ask me out.