Welcome to the Neighborhood

NO PRETZEL PARKING!!!!!!

The sign on the front of the model train hobby shop boasted black capitals and a bevy of exclamation marks. In case any customer grew confused, the words were also underlined in thick black Sharpie.

Gwen Richter shook her head as she hugged a huge metal bowl containing chilled baking dough to her chest. Today was her first day running the Pretzel Palace, a business venture she planned to franchise after taking over from Gus Bartley, who was probably living his best life at the Two Oaks golf course right now.

She’d already found her best life. Or so she had thought. Big city, bigger dreams. But she had been wrong. 

She chewed her bottom lip as she stared down the sign’s angry capitals. “Boy, somebody’s uptight.”

“I’m sorry?”

Gwen had muttered the words to herself, but apparently, she wasn’t as alone as she had thought. Someone had heard her and taken offense. She spun around to find a man glaring back at her, his arms folded across his chest.

“Gwendolyn Richter.” He spit the words out like squares from an unsweetened cacao baking bar. “I should’ve known. Let me guess. Back from the bright lights of Houston to grace us poor townies with your presence?”

She squinted. He sounded as if he knew her. But she certainly didn’t recognize him. Or did she?

She searched his face, looking past the dark waves, admirable biceps, and stormy scowl. Then she drew in a quick breath.

“Trevor Mann?” She scarcely believed the name that breezed past her lips.

“Oh, so you do remember me. I’m shocked.”

A welcoming committee, he wasn’t. Not that she could blame him. She had been righteously horrible to him in school. She could say it wasn’t her fault and that her treatment of him had all been a misunderstanding, but that would be a lie.

She’d dealt him damage out of her own insecurity. Ten years away from the hallowed halls of Wildwood High, however, had prompted a major attitude adjustment on her part. The world post-graduation hadn’t ushered her in with the fanfare she had expected. Instead, she’d had to fight tooth and manicured nail for every single open door.

Hours of toil and tears lay behind the door that had showcased her big break. First Runner-Up, Season 3 of Billionaire Bake-Off. Even though Gwen’s pumpkin spice cake hadn’t been enough to clinch the competition, she had scored a date invite from the judge, gorgeous Will Wadsworth, after taping.

“I should’ve chosen you.” Will’s warm breath—and British accent—had tickled her ear as they’d hugged goodbye. He smelled like coconut and cedar shavings. “Fancy grabbing a bite to eat after this?”

Had she been flattered? You bet your high-heeled boots. Once upon a time, she might’ve been intrigued by jet-setting and flashing cameras. But she had turned him down.

“Oh, come on,” he had cajoled. “You’re not dating someone else?”

“Engaged, actually.” The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

“To whom?”

“Someone I used to know.”

He had pressed for a name, and she had finally given him one—Trevor Mann.

She didn’t know why she said it. Why she chose Trevor, of all people. She had tormented him in high school. He’d had a crush on her then, and she had used the knowledge to cut him down. Who knew why, other than the sway of group dynamics. He had every right to hate her.

When she had said his name to Will, Will had laughed and released her from his embrace. “Lucky man.” Or had it been “Lucky Mann”? 

Little did she know at the time, but a hot mic captured the moment for finalé outtakes. Within twenty-four hours, a clip had been plastered online and gone viral.

Trevor didn’t seem like the type to camp on social media. Maybe he hadn’t seen it?

Gwen hugged the baking bowl to her chest a little tighter as she eyed Trevor.

How could she tell him that her feelings toward him had changed

since he saw her last? She didn’t dream of billionaires or a home on the Houston skyline. She wanted simplicity. No stoplights or traffic jams.

She wanted life in a small town. Somewhere like here, with someone like him.

“Why did you say it?” Trevor’s words fell like stones. So, he had seen. “Thought you’d embarrass me on a national scale? Nerdy Trevor Mann, the last guy in the world you’d date? Well, joke’s on you. My shop had customers lined up around the block for months after that show.”

She exhaled a long-held breath. How did she tell him she wasn’t the same insecure girl he had known before? How could she erase ten years of well-founded suspicions? It seemed impossible. “I’m sorry.”

Two words. One olive branch.

An avalanche of emotions displayed on his face. “You think that makes everything…” Then, “That’s been a long time coming…”

And finally, “Thank you.”

She nodded toward the paper on the front door. “Is that sign for my benefit?”

Trevor stared at the “no pretzel parking” sign for a long time. Then he crossed the lot to pull it down and crumple it into a ball.

He stood right beside her now. So close she could feel his warm breath on her face. It took only a smidge of imagination to imagine a first kiss. But she was getting ahead of herself. “It’s fine. Forget it. Let the past be the past.”   

And the future? What of it? She gathered the courage to say the words she’d often thought in her mind.

“For what it’s worth, I should’ve chosen you.”

The surprise in his eyes was evident. “Like then? Or like now?”

“Yes.”

How the tables had turned. She’d been open and vulnerable with her feelings. He could cut her down in an instant if he chose. He’d be justified.

Her breath stalled in her chest when Trevor leaned even closer. His mouth quirked into a grin. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”