Promise Me (Asher Family #1)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

SADIE

Subpar.

Screw him.

I tap the plus button on the treadmill harder than it deserves.

My donuts are not dry. There is nothing dry about my baking. Not one single item.

I blow out a breath and increase the speed.

Hudson sucks.

He said those things only to get under my skin.

It’s working, too, because that was yesterday, and I’m still obsessing over it.

My phone rings, and the Taylor Swift song that’s streaming through my headphones turns off.

I slow my pace and grab my towel.

“Hello?” I answer in a huff.

“Oh god, are you running again?” Brooke asks, her voice calm, but I can hear the worry.

“Yes, I am.”

“What happened? Let me guess, Hudson?”

“When is it not Hudson?” I reach for the spray bottle, grab a cleaning cloth, too, and return to the machine I’ve been using. I pull the squeeze trigger repeatedly, dowsing the screen and handles. “He’s so infuriating. It’s one thing to be rude in general but to talk down about my baking, about my mother's recipes. Gah! He’s just the worst human on this planet.”

I toss the cloth into the laundry bin and make my way toward the locker rooms.

Lovers has one just gym. Someone might work out at Lovers Lodge, but only if they are a guest. And thankfully, this is one place where I never bump into Hudson. Our schedules don’t line up for that, so miracles do happen … even if they’re small.

“He does it on purpose,” Brooke says quietly into my ear. “Don’t let him do that to you.”

“I know he does,” I snap. “And it annoys me even more that I still let it work every single time.”

“I wish there was a way to get him back.”

I pause in the hallway; the eucalyptus smells from the wet steam room wafting from down the hall.

How did I not think of this before?

“I might know of a way,” I say quietly. Like I said, everyone in Lovers comes here. I might not run into Hudson right this very moment, but I still don’t want anyone to hear me.

“What is it?”

“If I can find a way to get Mrs. Whittaker to sell to me and not him, I think he’d leave me alone.”

“Or hate you forever.”

“Eh, we already have that feeling for one another, so that’s not really a loss for me.”

I ignore the stretching my body craves after that workout, and head right for my bag.

“It sounds like you have a plan.”

“Of course, I have a plan. ”

“Okay, well, I want you to tell me more, but the truck just got here with our delivery of necessary baking goods.”

“Perfect. I’ll be in later and tell you everything.”

We click off the line, and I march out into the sunshine with a mega smile. I run through my mental checklist: shower, food, and then find Mrs. Whittaker to talk to her one-on-one.

I swing my leg over my bicycle, buckle my helmet, and start for my place.

Well, my dad's place. If having a headache over my business neighbor wasn’t enough, I’m also a twenty-eight-year-old woman who still lives with her dad.

There isn’t anything wrong with this for someone who wants that, but for me, it’s complicated.

A few years ago, I planned to buy the space that is now called Hudson’s. It comes with an apartment above it, and I was ready to make my move. I was ready to spread my wings and do my own thing. Multiple things happened that year to delay that dream. The biggest was when my mom died. I couldn’t leave my dad all alone. Not then. Not yet.

By the time I had things together and was ready to take on this project again, the space had been sold to another buyer. It was at least a month before I found out it was Hudson.

We can just add that to the list of reasons why I don’t care for him.

Sure, he didn’t know how badly I wanted that place because he didn’t even live here at that time, but still. He was always finding ways to piss me off. It clearly comes naturally to him.

Which is why I refuse to let him win this time. There is another apartment right above the space for sale. It’s mine. He doesn’t need it.

Sure, it would mean having Hudson as a neighbor, but it would finally be something that was mine .

I turn into my driveway, open the garage to put my bike away and head inside.

Dad isn’t here. He’s at work.

I let out a sad laugh.

What must he think? His youngest still lives with him, and his oldest works with him. Does he love it, or does he hate that he has no space?

How upset would he be if I told him I was ready for some of my own?

I make it downtown in record time, which isn’t a hardship considering you can get anywhere in Lovers in minutes. Still, I’m proud of the time I’m making this afternoon.

I park my bike in the back, noting how the door to the bakery is still open, with boxes everywhere.

“Brooke!” I call out. I shimmy between some stacked boxes that are taller than me and then step over another. “What’s happening back here?”

“Hey!” She pokes her head out with a big smile. “So, um, I think there was a mistake on the order.”

“What?”

She hands me the packing slip, and I quickly notice that the entire order is double what it should have been.

“Oh, crap.”

“Yeah.”

“This is fine,” I say, nodding like a broken bobblehead. “I can make extra for a couple of days and give them away around town.”

Brooke lets out a huff. “That’s so much work, and you’ll lose money. Not to mention, I’m leaving for my sister’s wedding tonight and won’t be here for the next week to help you. ”

“Swear to me right now that you will not think about work while you are gone. You are her maid of honor, and she needs you to be focused. Plus, I’m not worried about the money.”

Maybe just a little.

“I’m worried about all of this going to waste,” I say before she can think of another way to argue with me over this.

All we need to do is figure out where to store everything.

The fire I had to find Mrs. Whittaker fades. I can’t leave Brooke alone with this mess. This will take time, and she has a flight to catch in Wind Valley tonight.

“Let’s get this put away and cleaned up.”

I blow out a breath. This is a minor setback, but my goal is still the same.

That place is mine.

I remove my phone from my back pocket, typing out a quick text to my brother.

Sadie

Can we set up a meeting to talk about the spot next to the bakery?

His reply is instant.

Linc

I wasn't kidding when I said I was only putting up the sign. She wants to sell it herself. Dad agreed that the company would help her in certain areas, but she wants everything else to go through her.

Linc

Her number is on the sign.

Even better. Mrs. Whittaker loves me, so if I don’t have to go through my brother, my chances just increased.

I clap my hands.

“Let’s get to it. I have a storefront to buy.”

Turns out, Linc sent that same message to Hudson.

As soon as most of the boxes are put away, Brooke shoves me toward the front door. Of course, Hudson is leaning against the window of the space between us, his attention on the phone in his hand.

I take a breath before I step out the door.

Fighting with him is exhausting, but Brooke wasn’t kidding yesterday. Hudson Asher is not sore on the eyes. That might be what I hate the most about him. That soft, thick brown hair on his head. The way his bright blue eyes shine like diamonds. The thick dark lashes I would kill for. The dimples that hit his cheeks when you catch a rare smile. The way his body towers over mine when he talks to me. I’ve seen him running through town; everything under his jeans and T-shirt is sculpted to perfection. I used to think he was conceited that way, always working out and worrying about his appearance. But the more I think about it, I know hockey played a role. Those men must stay in shape for their careers. Maybe keeping the routine keeps him connected to a dream job that was cut short.

A small part of me feels bad for what he lost.

I’m still human, after all .

“How long are you going to stand there and admire me?”

And then it speaks.

I step outside, letting the sunshine warm my skin and praying it lifts my mood and gives me the serenity I need to have a calm conversation with Satan.

“No comment, huh? That’s unusual.”

The sun has failed me.

“What are you doing out here? Are you giving your staff a break and letting the migraines they get from being around you fade?” I ask.

He pushes off the wall as I move toward him—well, toward the space for sale.

He pulls his sunglasses from where they are hanging on the front of his shirt and slips them on. He stuffs his phone into his front jeans pocket and then crosses his arms.

I ignore him, obviously.

Once I’m close enough, I lean toward the window to get a look inside.

She’s not there. I didn’t really expect her to be, but a girl can hope. I stop in front of the sign and type her phone number into my phone.

“Still think you stand a chance, huh?”

I ignore him.

I press the green button, hold the phone to my ear, and walk back to the bakery.

Her car pulls up just before I reach the door.

Even better.

Mrs. Whittaker parks and gets out. She slams the door, her hands on her hips as she rounds the hood.

“I will not do this with you two. Not today.”

“Do what?” I ask innocently.

“Listen to you fight over my store.” She shakes her finger at me. “Your brother warned me that the two of you both want this pace.”

That traitor.

Her hands fly up. “Let’s get this over with.”

She unlocks the door and then waves for us to follow.

Hudson leans in close.

“She’s here because I called her a half hour ago.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you need a prize?”

“Maybe a thank-you since I’m letting you join us right now.”

“I’m pretty sure she said I could come in, so I will not be thanking anyone but her.”

“Come on, Sadie. You only want this place to piss me off.”

“Oh, please. I know this will come as a surprise, but life does exist outside of Hudson Asher.”

“So why do you want it?”

A throat clears, and we both snap our attention to Mrs. Whittaker, who is standing in front of us with her arms crossed.

“You each get five minutes. Now, Hudson, you can go first since you called me here. What will you do with the space if I sell it to you?”

Hudson is all business as he jumps right to the point.

“Expand the bar. Right now, the locals have to wait more than a half hour most days to eat during the tourist season, and I thought it would be nice to have a place that’s just for the locals to?—”

“You really expect us to believe you’ll turn down a tourist if the only open tables are for the locals?”

“I would. I have this idea that?—”

“You’d turn down money?”

“Sadie …” Hudson’s voice is firm with warning.

With wide eyes, I hold up my hands and let him finish. Basically, he wants to create a haven for the locals. It’s a stupid good idea if he plans to stick to it. All I have for motivation is that I’m ready to move out and want the apartment upstairs.

“Okay, Sadie, it’s your turn,” Mrs. Whittaker says.

I glance at Hudson and then nod to the door.

“No thanks. I think I’ll stay. You got to hear my pitch. I want to hear yours.”

“It doesn’t involve you.”

“It does if she sells to you and your plans become the store next to mine.”

I groan and then turn all my focus to the sweet gray-haired woman in front of us.

“Before my mom died, I wanted to?—”

“No. You can’t use the mom angle.”

I take a slow breath but don’t comment.

“I wanted to open a bookstore. I always thought I would open it in the space where?—”

“A bookstore?” Hudson cuts in. I know he’s doing it because I did it to him, but damn, it pisses me off.

“Stop interrupting me, and let me finish.”

“Like you let me finish?”

“You finished rather quickly, might I add,” I say with a snort.

“Oh, you have quick finish jokes, do you, Sadie? Please, go on. If anything, I always let a woman?—”

“I’ll tell you what,” Mrs. Whittaker says, her hand waving between us. “I’m not going to sell to either of you.”

“What?”

“Why not?”

“Because the two of you have a lot of growing up to do.”

“But I want this place. Badly. It’s perfect for me,” I plead as she heads for the door.

“Don’t you want to sell to someone you know will take care of it?” Hudson’s comment makes her pause, and she turns to face us .

“You’re right. I do. If you two can get along, maybe even become friends, I’ll sell to one of you.”

I guffaw, and Hudson shakes his head.

“Once you become friends, you two will pick.”

“Pick as in …”

“It would bring me much joy to sell to one of you because your parents are some of the loveliest people I know, but you two need to stop acting like children and show me how much you want it.”

“By making us do the one thing you know we don’t want,” Hudson says.

“Become friends,” I add.

“Look at that—you both understand the assignment. You have two months, or I sell to someone else. I’m in no hurry.”

With that, she walks out the door.

I follow right behind her.

“Should we make a plan?” Hudson calls out.

“Does this plan include you agreeing with me that I should buy this place?”

“No.”

“Then no. Lock the door behind you.”

The bakery closes at 4:00 p.m. daily, so Brooke is packing up to leave when I return. I hug her goodbye and tell her I’ll see her when she gets back.

I lock all the doors in the front and flip the sign to show that we are closed, and then I step into the kitchen. It’s the one place I feel closest to my mom. I wish that she were here to give me advice.

Then again, if she were here, I wouldn’t be working in the bakery. I would be doing my own thing.

In hopes of channeling her parental vibes right now, I pull out all the ingredients to make lemon bars. I tell myself it’s because of the extra supply we got today, but really, I’ve let Hudson’s comment get to me more than I care to admit.

I glide around the kitchen, a place I know better than my own bedroom, and have just put the first batch in the oven when my phone, which is in my purse across the room, rings. I move for it, not seeing the box on the floor behind me. The counter edge comes into view all too quickly, and then everything else goes black.