Cinnamon and Spice Conundrum (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

Chapter 13

Ryan/Jack

Smacking my palm against my forehead, I groan as soon as Sadie drives off down the road.

What an awkward conversation!

Hopefully Sadie didn’t pick up on my discomfort after the discussion about Mr. Turnbill. I’ve dug myself an even deeper hole of lies now that I’ve called myself arrogant and that I avoid myself at work. I made me sound like a real jerk. When Sadie learns I’m really the snooty Mr. Turnbill, what’s going to happen? I can’t keep up the Jack disguise indefinitely. Can I?

Grabbing my cell, I call Sam. There’s too much to discuss to try to text him about this conundrum.

“Well hello, Ryan! How are things going in Pinecone Pines?” he chirps.

“I just described myself to your sister as an arrogant jerk,” I blurt.

“What? Why?”

Sighing loudly, I reply, “She brought up your business partner and then started asking questions. She asked what his first name was. She knew it started with R, but since I told her my name is Jack Ryan, I couldn’t say Ryan Turnbill without her becoming suspicious.”

Sam laughs. “Yes, too many Ryans might raise a red flag. So, what did you say?”

Groaning, I say, “I said I usually called me, er, him Mr. Turnbill and that he was kind of snobby.”

A roar of laughter splits my left ear. Sam laughs for several seconds. “Oh my gosh! You honestly said that? About yourself?” Another howl rips across the line .

I snort. “Laugh all you want, but I’ve dug myself a giant hole. I even said Ryan was on a sabbatical.” Why I developed looseness of the lips and added that tidbit, I don’t know.

Sam continues to snicker.

“When Sadie finds out I’m really Ryan, she’s going to be so angry. She’ll wonder why I didn’t admit the truth sooner. This was a perfect opportunity to confide in her, and I didn’t.” My heart sinks to my toes, knowing I just made a colossal misstep. I can trust Sadie with the truth, so why didn’t I tell her who I really am?

The laughter stops. “Um, I see your point.”

“Going incognito was a terrible idea!” I screech. “Keeping up this mistaken identity ruse is killing me. She might be falling for Jack, when all the time I want to tell her who I really am... Ryan... A nice guy who made a mistake in judgement to not let her in on my disguise from the get-go. I also want to explain why I felt compelled to hide out.”

“When you say it that way, I agree. You should have been honest with her from the beginning.”

“Gee, thanks for that belated advice,” I grumble.

“Why can’t you come clean now and tell her the truth? Make a joke about it.”

“Sam, she’s going to be livid. How can she trust me? I haven’t been honest with her from the start, and she’ll feel like she can’t believe anything I say... Ugh! This is such a mess.”

Silence hangs on the line, and I glance at the screen to make sure the call is still connected.

As I bring the phone back to my ear, Sam says, “Well, she might feel that way initially. But she’s going to be even more livid if she finds out who you really are and you weren’t the one to tell her.”

He’s right. At least if it comes from me, she’ll know I tried to clear things up between us. Made an attempt to be honest after the string of white lies I’ve been telling .

“Give me a couple days to think about this and figure out what to do. Please don’t spill the beans when you talk to her.”

“I won’t.” He pauses for a few beats, then asks, “Where did you go on sabbatical?”

“What?” I say, puzzlement in my voice.

“Where did you tell Sadie you went on sabbatical. In case she asks me.”

“That’s the only lie I didn’t elaborate about. She concluded he, er, I went to Africa on safari and I didn’t confirm or deny it.”

More laughter and a couple snorts pierce my ear. I’m getting a little peeved about how entertained Sam is over this disaster of my own making.

“Hey, so... are there feelings developing between the two of you? You mentioned she was falling for you, er, Jack.” Another tiny laugh slips out.

Oops! Will Sam be mad about this development? I was initially worried that my best friend’s sister should be off limits, but I forgot about that concern a while ago. Sadie’s just too easy to fall for.

Several times during our shifts at the café, I see her looking at me with an expression I’d label as desire. Just this morning, when we accidentally touched hands while I was handing her a muffin tin, she sucked in her breath like she had been zapped. I also felt that jolt of attraction all the way to my toes.

“I’m falling for her, that’s for sure. And I get a strong sense that she’s falling for me too.” I hold my breath after I deliver that admission.

“That’s great! My best friend and my sister. Why didn’t I try to get you two together sooner?”

Whew! I sag with relief and don’t debate the pros and cons of dating his sister. My brain is too weary to worry about that right now. Any potential relationship with Sadie will be over if I don’t fix this mess about who I really am. Clear the air as soon as possible. Why not do it tonight?

The pasta’s boiling on the stovetop when Sadie and Jolt arrive home. When she walks into the kitchen, I’m busy stirring the sauce so it won’t scorch, but when I glance over my shoulder, my heart flips at the sight. Her ponytail is half falling out of its band, strands of hair dangling enticingly around her face. She has a pink stain of indeterminate origin on her T-shirt, but it adds to her attractiveness rather than detracts.

A twinge of concern hits when I notice that her shoulders droop as if she’s tired. I want to haul her into my arms and kiss her senseless, taking her mind off her day.

“You look beat. Sit and the food will be ready in a few minutes.”

She doesn’t say a word, just flops down in a chair at the table, like her legs are made of rubber. I expect her to protest, so I’m surprised and worried by her behavior.

“Did anything happen at the café? You seem a little down.”

Without warning, a tear tracks its way down her cheek. Snapping off the burner, I stride to her side and sit down. Grasping one of her hands, which feels cold under my touch, I say, “Tell me what happened.”

Her pretty brown eyes lock with mine and her lips wobble. My heart starts accelerating in my chest. Did one of the regulars chew her out? I’ll bop Wilbur over the head with my fishing pole if he said something nasty to her.

Squeezing her hand, I say, “Sadie, what’s wrong?”

Like a dam breaking, she starts talking, her words tumbling one over the other in the rush to get out. “When I turned on the oven, I heard a loud pop... I jiggled the control, but nothing happened... It usually fires right up... After five minutes the inside was still stone cold.” She draws in a long breath. “Dilbert came over and looked at it for me. He thinks the heating element went out. ”

Wondering why Sadie seems to attract disaster—first her water heater bursts and now this—and how an auto mechanic is qualified to look at an oven, I say, “Can you order a new one? Heating element, I mean.”

She nods. “I used Agnes’s laptop and ordered one online. Even with expedited shipping, my oven will be out of commission until Saturday.” Turning watery eyes to me, she adds, “This commercial heating element costs $1,500 and I only have $1,000 in my checking account.” I’m barely able to make out those words because the sobs start coming in earnest.

Not hesitating, I pull her up, then sit in her chair, positioning her on my lap. Circling my arms around her, I let her cry into my chest while I rub circles on her back. She sobs for several minutes, then eventually her sobs turn into hiccups. I’m oh so very tempted to kiss her, but right now she needs consoling.

It feels so right to embrace her like this. I want to shelter her from all of life’s bumps and bruises. With how Sam always describes Sadie as a magnet for misfortune, I’m not surprised at this turn of events. I wondered a few days ago when another calamity, other than the busted water heater, was going to hit. My heart sinks at her bad luck.

When she’s quiet for several seconds, I tilt her chin up and ask, “Better?”

She blinks at me and nods. “Jack, I’m sorry for crying all over you.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” I mentally kick myself for using the friend word. She’s so much more precious to me than just a friend. I clear my throat. “I know this might be overstepping, but I can loan you some money until you get back on your feet. With the festival coming up, you’ll bring in enough profits to get your bank account back in black.” Especially if she implements my new pricing strategy, although now isn’t the time to mention that.

Her eyes grow wide. “Jack, I can’t take your money. I’m sure Sam isn’t paying you very much.” She bites her lip as if she wants to say more, probably about my inexpensive clothes and my crummy car—all part of the lowly assistant ruse. “I’ll call Sam. He can loan me some money.”

I nod, relieved that I warned Sam about my mounting pile of lies in case she asks about Mr. Turnbill, off on safari, spending his stacks of money.

Ouch! That still stings.

“So let’s talk about how we can keep the café open until the new heating element arrives. Are there any other commercial-grade ovens in town you can use?” I ask, moving on from the discussion about money.

“Yes, but I hate to impose,” she says, her brows creasing together and her lips tipping down in a frown.

“Impose?” Sadie underestimates how special she is and how well-liked she is by everyone in this town. “I bet any other restaurant owner would be happy to help. How about The Strobilus Bistro? They must have a commercial oven you can use during off hours. We’ll bake all night if we have to!”

She sits up straighter, blinking at me. “Maybe I should ask. And you’ll help me?”

I pick up her cell, handing it to her. “Make the call. We’ll gobble down the spaghetti and then start mixing batter.”

A smile breaks across her face. She leans in and gives me a peck on the cheek. My heart does a crazy flip, wishing I could touch my lips to hers and kiss her thoroughly. When she swipes her phone, I resist the urge to lock lips by hopping up, depositing her back on the chair, then scrambling to get dinner on the table.

“Francine?” Sadie says. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

I don’t hear all the conversation, but Sadie nods and smiles, saying thank you multiple times, then hangs up. “Oh my gosh, Jack! They’re happy to help. We can start baking at 9:30 tonight. We better get started mixing!” she squeals, stands, and glances worriedly at the clock .

“Please sit,” I say, coming over to the table with two heaping pasta bowls. “We eat first, then mix.” Fortunately, I loaded up the pantry a few days ago with ingredients just in case I felt compelled to try out my new baking skills.

She sits and digs in like a starving person. “This is so good,” she mumbles between bites.

Seeing the smile on her beautiful face warms my heart. A cautionary voice inside my head reminds me that I should talk to her, set the record straight as soon as possible.

Tell her the truth about who I really am. Tell her how I feel about her.

But this emergency with the oven and keeping her bakery open overrides my better judgement and I decide to postpone being truthful and forthright for a while longer until the disaster is averted. What’s the harm?