She shook her head. The bell over the front door jingled, indicating a customer. She left to help, and I got back to work, thinking.

I’d expected to drive to Cutthroat on Saturday night, drop off the cake at the wedding venue and then continue on to the rehearsal dinner. The wedding was at noon on Sunday, so after the reception I’d be able to return to The Bend. I’d only have to spend one night. Less than twenty-four hours with my family… and others.

I’d dated Edward Klein while I was away at college, meeting him over the summer before my senior year. I’d returned after graduation and learned he’d been cheating on me. Needing to escape, I’d fled to The Bend and Aunt Jean, the only sane blood relation I had. That had been years ago. I hadn’t left, instead opened the bakery. I was settled here. Content.

Dateless. I was over Edward but returning to Cutthroat and dealing with my family was hard. Going back and seeing Edward on top of everything else because he was the best man… not fun.

Now I’d have to stay the whole weekend. Mary was right. I needed backup in the form of a red headed hottie. A guy who was nicer—and hotter—than Edward. Glancing at the clock, I wondered when Thatcher would be at the Lucky Spur, because I had some begging to do. Since I told my mother I had a date, there was no way I could show up to the wedding without him now.

4

THATCHER

Saturday night

It wasn’t even late and the bar was busy. The weather was good and everyone wanted to be out on the patio by the river. The garage doors I’d put in when I renovated the old mill were open. The band was setting up and the place would fill even more in an hour when they got going. I was helping the bartenders keep up with the orders and while I was focused on the beer I was pulling, my thoughts went to Astrid, as they had all day.

We hadn’t talked long after the auction, only solidifying that she’d text me later in the week with details about the where and when of her sister’s wedding. All I knew was that it was in Cutthroat next Sunday.

I could understand why a woman would want to have a wingman going to an event when an ex was going to be there. I didn’t know anything about the guy, but he must’ve done a number on her. The fact that Miss Turnbuckle was in on it validated that he was an asshole. There was more to this story. But what?