Unwrapped (Sugar & Spice #1)

3. Ivy

Chapter 3

Ivy

T he cold wind bites my cheeks as I step outside the Mercer building, tugging my coat tighter around myself against the sharp Chicago air. Snowflakes swirl around me, sticking to my hair, but I barely notice. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one louder than the last. I focus on the rhythmic crunch of my boots on the snow-covered sidewalk, trying to ground myself, but it’s no use. My mind keeps circling back to one thing—no, one person.

Asher Mercer.

Seeing him again, after all these years, sent those familiar butterflies dancing through my lower belly, reminding me why I had that silly little crush on him all those years ago. He’s changed, but in a way that only makes him more intriguing. Back in high school, he was all easy smiles and effortless charm, but now there’s a depth to him, a seriousness that wasn’t there before. It’s like he’s grown into the person everyone expected him to be, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s truly happy.

And yet, some things about him are the same. That smile, for one. I tried to stay focused during our meeting, but every time his lips curled, making his eyes crinkle, that familiar swooping feeling tugged at my stomach, just like it used to when I was seventeen. I told myself back then that he was just a teenage crush, that I was only drawn to him because he was everything I thought I wasn’t—confident, popular, the person everyone wanted to know. But now, I’m not so sure.

I let out a shaky breath, watching it billow out in a cloud of white, and shake my head, trying to regain some sense of control. This is just business—strictly professional. And yet I can’t ignore the flicker of something that I haven’t felt in a long time, something that feels a lot like hope, but also excitement.

My fingers curl inside my gloves, pressing against my palms as I quicken my pace. I can’t peel the smile from my face as I replay the way his eyes lit up as they scanned my body. While my thick wool coat doesn’t give away much about my shape, I can still tell when a man has to actively stop himself from letting his eyes linger.

But as soon as I giggle out loud to myself, I remember his invitation to the holiday party and my stomach drops. Not only do I not have anything to wear to an event the Mercer brothers would put on, but I’m way out of my league if it means having to steel his attention away from a crowd of people.

“I just won’t go,” I say to myself with a shrug as if it is just as simple as that. I take the stairs down to the train to head back to my place, my head now completely drowning in everything Tessa and I have to do next for Sugar my pricing isn’t wrong.” Then she pauses, slowly placing her cup back onto the counter. “Wait a minute. Maybe he suggested our pricing was off because he knew it would make you worried so then you’d have to go to his party to talk to him further!”

“Okay, I think you might be watching a little too much true crime because that’s insane.” I change the subject, hoping she won’t press me further on the Asher conversation. “Anyway, did you hear back from Suzette?”

She rolls her eyes, taking the bait. “Yeah, she’s still trying to sell us on that overpriced spot on Milwaukee Avenue. I told her it’s out of our budget, but she won’t give up. I swear, it’s like she thinks we’re made of money.”

“I think they do that because there’s always room for negotiation.”

“I just get annoyed. Like in House Hunters when they tell the agent their budget is absolutely no higher than this and fifteen seconds later, they’re showing them a house that’s eighty thousand dollars over budget. Like, what the hell?”

One of the things I love most about Tess is, there’s never a question on how she feels about something. Either her facial expression or her tongue is going to tell you.

“It’s not like we can just say, ‘ Oh, let me reach into my back pocket for that extra money for the down payment. ’” She reaches for her laptop again and holds it up. “Anyway, let’s go over the proposal one more time.”

“Again? Forty-seventh time’s a charm?” I laugh softly, grateful for the distraction. But as I settle onto the couch next to her, my mind drifts back to the way Asher’s hand brushed mine as he handed me his business card, the way his voice softened when he said, “ You’ve got potential ,” like his words meant so much more than what he was actually saying.

Maybe I’m reading into it and maybe I imagined the way his eyes took me in, but I know I didn’t imagine the spark that ran between us when we touched.

It’s a memory that makes my stomach flip, no matter how hard I try to push it away.

I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant hum of the city beyond my window. Sleep doesn’t come easily, not with my thoughts tangled up in the past. I remember the way I used to sneak glances at Asher in the hallways at school, how my heart would race whenever he walked by with that easy, confident stride of his. He was always surrounded by people—football buddies, cheerleaders, kids from every social circle who seemed to worship him.

And I was… well, invisible. Except when I was with Tessa, who had no problem dragging me into every social event she could. She was the one who’d nudge me toward Asher at parties, whispering, “ Just go talk to him ,” while I tried to hide my nerves behind a red plastic cup.

I never took her advice. I convinced myself that he wouldn’t care about a girl like me—someone who spent more time in the library than at pep rallies and parties, who preferred studying to cheering at football games. I kept my crush safely locked away, content to admire him from afar, where he couldn’t disappoint me.

The bell rings, echoing down the hallway, and the air fills with the sound of shuffling feet and chatter. I try to blend in, slipping my textbooks against my chest like a shield as I weave through the crowd. My pulse picks up, and my eyes scan the hallway, searching.

Then I spot him.

Asher’s walking down the hall, a lopsided grin on his face like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s wearing that worn-out letterman jacket with his name stitched on the front, and his dark hair is tousled just right, like he rolled out of bed that way—effortless, perfect. There’s this energy that surrounds him, magnetic and impossible to ignore. He’s the kind of guy everyone knows, the one people naturally gravitate toward. I swear, it’s like he carries the sunlight with him, and everything else is just drawn in.

I know I shouldn’t stare. But I can’t help it.

He’s surrounded, as usual. Football buddies in their jerseys, cheerleaders with high ponytails and perfect smiles, a couple of kids from the drama club—even teachers give him nods and smiles like he’s some kind of local celebrity. And maybe he is. In a small town like ours, someone like Asher—quarterback, honor roll, friendly with just about everybody and comes from a just as good-looking and well-to-do family—feels like he’s at the center of everything.

I duck my head, pretending to be busy with my locker as he approaches. The metal is cool beneath my fingers as I twist the dial, but my hands shake a little, and I fumble the combination. I’m acutely aware of the way my heart pounds, a steady thrum in my chest that feels embarrassingly loud. I tell myself it’s stupid, that he’s just a guy—a guy who probably doesn’t even know my name. But even so, every time he walks by, I feel the same rush, the same thrill, like I’m on the edge of something big and unknown.

I sneak another glance just as he’s passing by, his laughter ringing out, clear and warm. He’s got this easy, confident stride, and I think that’s part of what draws me in. He moves like he owns the space around him, like the world is always going to bend in his favor. I wonder what that must feel like—to walk through life with that kind of confidence, to know people want to be near you just because you exist.

And then, as if he can feel my gaze, he looks up. For a second, our eyes meet, and my breath catches. His eyes are a deep, warm brown, and there’s this softness there, a hint of curiosity. It’s just a split second, barely enough time for my mind to register that yes, he’s looking at me. Me.

“Hey, Ivy.” That smile widens and my knees actually tremble like I’m about to end up in a jumble on the floor.

He does know my name.

I suck in a sharp breath, my lips parting slightly as I muster just enough courage to answer back. I’m just about to say it. But then someone claps him on the shoulder, and he’s pulled back into the throng of people.

The moment is gone, like a bubble bursting. I turn back to my locker, pretending to search for a book I don’t need. My face feels warm, and I know if anyone sees me right now, they’ll notice the flush spreading across my cheeks.

I replay the moment in my head, over and over, savoring it even though I know it’s nothing. Just a look. Just a second. But it feels like more. It feels like proof that maybe he’s noticed me, too.

I know it’s silly. I know he’s the kind of person who belongs to everyone, who lights up rooms and makes people feel special with a grin. But I can’t help the way my heart races when he’s near or the way I find myself searching for him in every crowded hallway.

And I can’t help but hope that, one day, he’ll look at me like I’m the only person in the room.

But today, standing in his office, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were different. The way he looked at me—like he was really seeing me for the first time—it was enough to crack open those old, carefully buried feelings. And now, no matter how much I try to tell myself that it’s just nostalgia, that it’s just a silly high school crush resurfacing, I can’t deny the flutter of hope in my chest.

The next morning, I’m in the kitchen early, mixing up a fresh batch of cookie dough. Baking is my therapy, my way of quieting the noise in my head, and right now, I need it more than ever. I lose myself in the rhythm of the process—the soft scrape of the wooden spoon against the bowl, the scent of brown sugar and butter filling the air.

But just when I’m starting to find my calm, Tessa strolls in, still in her pajamas and dragging her feet.

“Slept over again, I see?”

“Yeaaaaah.” Her answer morphs into a yawn and then a stretch as she reaches for a mug from one of my cabinets. Ever since we committed to opening this business, it feels like any extra second we have is spent traveling between our apartments so it’s not uncommon we just crash at each other’s place.

She leans against the counter with a mischievous grin on her face, cradling a mug of coffee in her hands. “So, I’ve been thinking about the party.”

I narrow my eyes at her, already suspicious. “Oh, have you?”

“Yep.” She takes a sip, her expression annoyingly smug. “And I’ve decided that we’re going.”

I stop mid-stir, turning to face her. “We? Tessa, I thought we agreed that this was a maybe. You know, if we weren’t too busy with the bakery and all.”

Tessa shrugs, unfazed by my protests. “Yeah, well, I decided to change my mind. Think about it, Ivy—Asher’s right, it’s a great chance to network. We could meet potential investors for expansion opportunities, make connections, and besides, Asher invited us. It’d be rude to say no.”

“Uh-huh, and what happened to he’s just a guy, what does he know? Blah, blah, blah?” I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “You just want to play matchmaker.”

She grins, not even trying to deny it. “Okay, fine, maybe I do. But come on, you can’t seriously tell me you’re not the least bit curious to see what happens. Who knows? Maybe this is fate giving you a second chance.”

A second chance. The words send a shiver down my spine, and I grip the edge of the counter, trying to steady myself.

“Tessa, it’s not that simple. He’s… he’s Asher Mercer, successful entrepreneur, like I said. We reached out to him for help, not for me to try and redeem myself from high school.”

“You’re Ivy Calloway,” she interrupts, her voice firm. “You’re smart, you’re talented, and you’ve built something amazing with me. Stop acting like you’re still that shy girl from high school. You’re a woman of the world. You’ve been through some things; you know who you are now. And fine, forget fate. Maybe you just need to be fucked?”

“God.” I shake my head at her crassness… but she’s not wrong. “You have such a way with words; maybe I should just say that to him.”

To say that things have been stirring since I saw him would be quite the understatement. More like the faucet’s been turned on full blast and I’m worried I’m about to lose control of it like a fucking fire hose.

“Trust me, that would be the one surefire way to seal the deal with him.” She laughs.

I swallow hard, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest. That same tightness I always get when it comes to the idea of putting myself out there and being vulnerable. “I just… I don’t want to get my hopes up, okay? What if he’s just being nice? What if he doesn’t see me as anything more than a former classmate he’s helping with her business?”

Tessa sets her coffee down, her expression softening as she steps closer. “Look, Ivy, I know you’re scared and I know I’ve made a lot of jokes about you and Asher, but if you really are still interested in him, outside of just physical stuff, then the only way you’re going to know if he wants anything more is to get to know him. Sometimes you’ve got to take a chance, even if it scares the hell out of you. And if it doesn’t work out, well… at least you’ll know, right?”

Her words hang in the air, filling the silence between us, and I let out a shaky breath. Deep down, I know she’s right. I’ve spent so long holding myself back, afraid of what might happen if I let anyone in. But maybe it’s time to stop hiding, to take a risk, even if it means facing the possibility of rejection.

I look at her, seeing the hope in her eyes, and finally, I nod. “Okay. Let’s go to the party.” Tessa’s grin is so wide it almost splits her face. “Oh shit, I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Yes, you do!” she says, “remember that little black dress I convinced you to buy last year?”

I had actually completely forgotten about that dress. I shake my head at the thought of wearing it, “that was way too sexy for a work party.”

“Exactly, they’ll be so dazzled by your beauty they’ll gladly want to invest.”

“But for business purposes like you said.” I point toward her to drive home my seriousness. “And if Asher and I happen to spend time talking about personal things, then so be it.”

“And don’t worry, you’ll see once you put that dress on. It’s going to be amazing.”

I force a smile, but my heart is still pounding, a mix of excitement and dread swirling in my chest. As I watch her buzz around the kitchen, already planning our outfits, I try to convince myself that this is just another business move, a chance to make connections and grow our dream. But deep down, I know this decision is about more than just the bakery.

It’s about seeing Asher again, about finding out if the spark I felt in his office was real or just a figment of my imagination. And as much as it terrifies me, I can’t shake the feeling that this holiday season might be my chance to finally be that cliché person who says exactly what’s on their mind and in their heart, expecting a miracle.