Brayden, Melissa - How Sweet It Is

“Excuse me. I’m so sorry to bother you.” She took a tentative step into the office and held up the business card. “I’m looking for Grant Tranton, but I think I might be in the wrong place.”

The man looked up but only briefly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s not here.”

A pause.

“But this is his office?”

“Unfortunately so.”

“Okay. Do you, by chance, know where I could find him? I have an eleven o’clock appointment.”

He sighed and straightened. “I wish I did. The contents of this office have been seized as evidence. Mr. Tranton is wanted on several charges. We’d be interested in any information you may have about his whereabouts.” The man covered the distance between them and handed Molly his card.

She stared numbly at the letters. Federal Bureau of Investigation. “He’s wanted on charges?”

“Quite a list of them. Money laundering, fraud, identity theft among others. And that’s only the most recent string. He’s made a career of it. I’d like to get a statement from you about your interaction.”

She stood there, shell shocked as the information settled. On impulse, she dialed Grant’s number, but the singsong notification that informed her his phone number was no longer in service was the tipping point. The grim understanding caused most of the color to fade from the room.

She just kept hearing the words this can’t be happening repeated on some endless loop in her head. It made her dizzy. She prayed to God it was all just a misunderstanding, but she was smart enough to know it probably wasn’t.

The ramifications of it all occurred to her one at a time, tumbling down on her like the contents of a messy closet. Grant Tranton was a criminal. He was probably on the run. There would be no partnership. No advance check. And, God, no bakeshop.

It was over.

She grasped the doorjamb for support, feeling lightheaded and so very, very stupid. “Thank you for your help.”

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

She met his gaze. “No. I don’t think so.”

*

Jordan checked her watch. She was eight minutes late, which was pretty good for her. The restaurant George had picked for dinner was one she’d never been to before, but had all the foodies in the area raving. She didn’t have much of an appetite these days, but she’d try to eat something to be polite.

She’d been back in Chicago for a couple of weeks now and hadn’t spent much time with George outside of work. But then again, she hadn’t spent time with anyone outside of work.

She pushed her sunglasses onto her head and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the restaurant. As she headed to the hostess stand, she was quickly intercepted.

“There you are, beautiful person.” George pulled her in and kissed her cheek loudly. “We weren’t expecting you for another seven minutes.”

“Because I’m generally—”

“Running fifteen minutes behind schedule, yes. It’s my job as your friend to be acutely aware of your shortcomings and love you despite them. And voila, I do. Are you ready to meet the love of my life?”

She smiled at George because his eyes were dancing with excitement and it was adorable. “I am. You’ve been talking this guy up for weeks. I have to see if he measures up. You know, in my job capacity as your friend. See how that works both ways?”

“You’re very astute. Right this way. Our table, and the very handsome Robert, await our presence. Be nice, whatever you do.”

She batted her eyelashes. “I’m always nice.” Plastering a smile on her face, she followed George to their table. Robert’s back was to them as they approached, but when he saw George, he stood politely and turned.

She froze. Absolutely speechless, that’s how she felt.

He, on the other, looked nervous. “Hey, Jordy. Good to see ya.”

“Little Bobby.” She turned to George in shock. “You’re dating Little Bobby? Robert is Bobby?” Worlds were colliding. She swiveled back to Bobby. “You’re seeing George? I didn’t know you were—Wait. We have to rewind. That makes you gay. You’re gay ?”

Bobby offered a small smile and shrugged. “No one knew except me. And, well, George. He seems to have a way of just knowing things.” He exchanged a private look with George who motioned for them all to sit.

“So all of this time you two have been seeing each other? Since your stay in Applewood?” Jordan looked from one of her friends to the other. Her mind was still scrambling to catch up.

George offered her an apologetic look. “Guilty. But in all fairness, we were taking things slow.”

“At my request,” Bobby supplied. “I’ve known who I am for some time now, but I never acted on it in any sort of official capacity like this. And until I met George, I thought I never would. I was planning on bachelorhood for life. This is so much better.”

Jordan shook her head. “I don’t know what to say. I’m floored.” Except as she saw the happiness between them, the genuine warmth of their stares, she found the words. “I love both of you dearly, and once the shock subsides, will be so very happy you’ve found each other. I’m mystified, but in a really good way. To new beginnings.” She raised her glass to the two wonderful men in front of her, who clinked their glasses and beamed back at her.

And for the first time in weeks, the smile on her face felt genuine. “I’m still the best friend though, right?”

“Right,” they answered in unison.

The rest of dinner consisted of talk about Journey, location scouting, and an agreement on some last-minute equipment purchases. They were scheduled to start shooting their first project in just five short weeks, and Jordan couldn’t have been more ready. Anything to distract her mind from the very acute sense of sadness she’d been inundated with these past few weeks.

George settled his chin onto his hand. “There is one more thing I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“I don’t think anything you could say will shock me more than you already have. Go for it.”

“I’m moving to Applewood.” He raised a hand to preclude her from interjecting too quickly. “Robert’s got the bar to run, and I’m perfectly capable of commuting. It shouldn’t change my role in the shoot at all, as most of it will be on location anyway. It just means on office days, I’ll have to wake up a little earlier to make the drive to the city. I’m capable of driving. I’ll even sing in the car.”

She thought it over in amusement. “George Underwood living in small town, USA. Someone should make a film about this . Who needs suicide forests?”

Bobby slid her a hopeful look. “You could move home too, Jordan. Make your parents happy.”

“That it would. But I think I’m best right where I am.”

George studied her. “You’re not over her, you know. Molly. And don’t look so surprised. I filled Robert in on all the details, and he brought to the table a few details of his own. We’re on to you. You act like it was just a little fling, a blip in your history, when we all know it was much more than that.”

“It was more than that. But it’s done now. The movie’s over.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Why are you running?”

She tossed her napkin onto the table. “You know what? There’s a lot there and I’d rather not get into it.”

“But look how miserable you are,” Bobby pointed out. “It’s written all over your face. Molly’s too. And now that Flour Child’s closing, she’s been even more withdrawn. Barely shows her face anymore.”

Jordan paused as her stomach dropped out from beneath her automatically. “What do you mean it’s closing? When did this happen?”