Hearts Like Ours | Red View Romance #1

🍎 Eleven

Layla didn't stick around to chat with Kenzie and Marshall after the second half of their workout. The anger from her conversation with Dawson meant she wanted to go harder, wanted to push herself to her limits, but she couldn't do that while teaching a class. It only left her even more frustrated.

She wasn't lying when she said she'd love having them as clients, and she also wasn't lying about not being busy— her parents and Colin's really were taking care of every aspect of the wedding, from the venue and her dress to her bridal party.

Colin's parents wanted symmetry at the altar, and that was proving to be quite the issue thanks to Layla's lack of friends. So far her bridesmaids consisted of three Foster Fitness employees, who she had a suspicion were being paid extra for the trouble. If anyone thought about putting juice-bar-girl into the lineup, she was worried she'd go into hysterics at the absurdity of it all.

But what was she thinking, inviting to take Kenzie and Marshall on as clients? She hadn't been, because she was so swept up in the success of the program so far and the fact that Dawson had tagged along again. She'd extended the invitation to the couple while Dawson was still being cordial. Before he'd doused the endorphins from her run in flames and sent her blazing. To put it simply, before he'd turned back into a know-it-all jerk.

Signing Marshall and Kenzie on would mean keeping contact with them for the foreseeable future, which wouldn't give her much breathing room from Dawson. Even if she never saw him, even if they never mentioned him, just knowing he was around would be enough to suffocate her.

Wedding talk would've been enough to sour her good mood all on it's own, but his attack on her morality really sealed the deal. She needed to get away for awhile, if for nothing more than to completely eliminate the chance of seeing Dawson again until dinner.

She retired to her room to shower and put on a little makeup, then changed into her most comfortable pair of jeans and a kelly-green tank-top. After slipping on a pair of sandals she headed through the house with taught shoulders, worried that she'd run into Dawson every time she turned a corner. When she finally made it into her car she let out a long breath, turning on the AC to fight the heat of the dying summer.

She cranked the radio on the drive to Red View, filling the thirty minutes with mind-numbing pop music that did very little to lift her spirits. Even the rolling hills and open, cerulean sky couldn't make a dent in her bad mood.

Soon enough she was rolling into Red View, still with a scowl on her face. With the way the orchard ran and the fact that she worked every day, she forgot it was the weekend until she arrived and saw how lively the small town was. Families sat outside of an ice cream parlor while nearby, groups of teens sat at the tables in front of a quaint café. Women filtered in and out of a boutique while two older men stood in front of the barber shop having what looked to be quite the in-depth conversation. Cars occupied almost every space of the parking lot for the market that sat further back off the main road.

It was a wonder, seeing how even in what was probably its busiest moment, Red View still seemed so empty compared to New York. The lack of honking horns and too-brave pedestrians made her smile. She'd thought for so long that she'd seen nearly everything the world had to offer. It wasn't until she got to Red View that she realized she'd hardly seen any of it at all.

She parallel parked in front of the bakery, its old-fashioned sign and goodies in the window calling out to her. Like she told Dawson, she allowed herself a treat now and then, and this morning definitely called for one. She unbuckled her seatbelt with a huff—why was she thinking of him again?

The bakery was bright inside, with pale blue walls and well-lit display cases filled with delicacies. Customers sat at the round tables placed neatly in the small space, chatting away over muffins and scones. Behind the counter, past the register, she could see back into the kitchen where workers were busy molding dough and icing cookies. The fragrance of it all made her mouth water, and had her heading straight for the rack where single slices of cake were presented on fancy doilies just waiting to be bought and savored.