Forever Wilde in Aster Valley (Forever Wilde 9)

“I’ve heard she’s a raging tyrant,” I teased. The road up the mountain to my house was dark, so I paid close attention to the edges where an animal could dart out at any time. “You should quit.”

“Then who would run this shitshow? No. It’s better that I stay. No one else could do it the right way.”

Even though she was joking, we both knew there was truth to her words, and she wasn’t the only one in our family who felt that way. When I was in elementary school, she’d developed a software program for use in human resources departments. It had taken off so quickly, I’d grown up as one of “five kids,” where the fifth child was my mother’s growing company.

I’d inherited her entrepreneurial spirit as well as her controlling tendencies, but where she thrived on the cutthroat corporate world, I’d felt suffocated by it. After spending a decade growing my original Chicago bakery concept into a national chain with my parents’ encouragement, I’d finally learned an invaluable lesson. It was okay to choose happiness over corporate success.

“Delegating isn’t a four-letter word, you know,” I told her. “You might at least consider giving Selina more responsibility on the financial side.” My sister was already a VP at the software company my mom owned, but she was desperate to do the financial analysis work she’d gone to business school for. It was hard for Mom to let go and see Selina as a capable businesswoman rather than her little girl.

“Believe it or not, I met with her just this morning and handed over the reins on all the financials. She is officially the CFO of MomTech as of today.”

I grinned at the company nickname my siblings and I had started using years ago. “That’s great news. Congratulations to the both of you. No wonder you called me. You’re probably using it as a distraction to keep from yanking all your files back from Selina’s greedy hands.”

“Hush. I didn’t call to talk about me or your sister. I wanted to see how it’s going there. How are you handling the holiday rush?”

I threw the truck into Park and sat looking out at the frozen branches in the trees in front of my driveway. The bright light from my headlights made everything eerily beautiful. Winter was never this “clean” back in Chicago. It reminded me of a winter wonderland.

“Handling it just fine. We took some of our usual products off the menu and replaced them with the holiday treats. That worked well. The cookie decorating classes were amazing. Even though they made for a long day, it was a nice way to get out and meet people, just like you said. I have my last one this week, but I think I’ll offer it again around Valentine’s Day.”

“You can always hire someone to do that part for you,” she suggested absently. “Spend that time back at the shop filling more orders.”

“Mom,” I barked, trying to get her attention back. “Why would I do that? Do you remember why I left Chicago?”

She sighed. “To break your poor mother’s heart?”

“Mm. Close. To get away from a life that wasn’t making me happy. Working that hard wasn’t making me happy.”

“And are you happy now, kamari mou? So far away from everyone and everything?”

I stepped out of the warmth of the truck and into the starry night. When I turned to walk to the house, I caught a glimpse of the view of the valley past the glass-and-steel house. Lights from town sparkled in the crisp, cold air, and this far above the main thoroughfare, there wasn’t even any road noise. The mountain around me was silent.

I pictured the sweet man I’d met earlier at the bakery. Miller Hobbs. His perfectly tidy clothes and his sad eyes. His radiant smile and sexy blond hair styled just so.

“Yeah, Mom. I think so.”

She paused for a beat. “Sounds like there’s something you’re not saying.”

I laughed as I let myself into the house and turned on the lights. The view was still there, only now it was across the room and through the wall of glass in my living room. “There’s a lot I’m not saying.”

“You know… your sister ran into Clay last week. Said he asked about you.”

I thought of my ex’s habit of showing up when he found himself between relationships. Over the years, there had been several times he’d turned up for a “quickie for old time’s sake.” After saying yes the first time and then seeing the disappointment on his face when I’d left to go to work, I’d sworn off ever doing it again. He may have said it was casual, but he hadn’t meant it.

“I hope he’s well,” I said, meaning it.

“He looked good. It made me wonder if… well, now that you presumably have more time, maybe you could give things with Clay another chance. I’d like to know you had someone there to take care of you. A mother worries, you know.”