Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
His grin grows bigger. “It’s my first as the official GM.”
My jaw drops. “Holy shit, congratulations, man. That’s fantastic. You got it.” I clap him on the back in a side hug. “Let me take you out to celebrate. Both of you.”
Mabel’s eyebrows shoot up, but she nods a yes too. Another stolen moment, and I’ll take it.
Thirty minutes later, the three of us are in a booth at a bar, toasting to my friend. Once we set our glasses down, he says offhand, “Oh, I heard something about the two of you.”
Shit. Tension shoots down my spine. Mabel’s eyes widen in worry. Is this going to be another one of Theo’s ambushes? I didn’t see it coming. Not sure how to handle it either.
The happiness effect vacates, and now I’m only feeling the I’m a guilty liar effect.
But he whips out his phone and shows us pictures that Tiffany and Brittany posted and tagged us in. It’s Mabel and me wedged between the pickleball twins. The caption reads: Cutest couple ever, but didn’t stop us from destroying them like we destroyed their smash cakes! Yum!
Okay, that’s not bad, but I brace myself for whatever he heard. I stare at the screen, so I don’t have to meet his eyes. Looks like Ronnie reposted it on his social, tagging us and saying: And she can bake a fierce cake.
That’s good, and yet, I can’t quite relax. “What did you hear?” I ask the screen.
“Zakiya at the thrift shop texted. I guess the town thinks you’re dating.”
I snap my gaze up.
Mabel gulps. “Does this mean we’re fake dating for the town now?”
My pulse spikes annoyingly. With hope. Seriously fucking irritating.
Theo scoffs. “Up to you. I said it was none of their business. You two are adults and you know what you’re doing, and then I said, if you like each other that really is no one’s business.”
Wait. Is that his way of approving of something between us? Like giving some sort of blessing? Holy shit. The clouds part. The sun shines. This is too good.
But then I remind myself I’m not seeking his approval. Because I’m not telling him about these feelings. Mabel has already made it clear romance isn’t on the table for her. That this thing between us is after dark. It’s only an arrangement. And that’s not the kind of thing you need to mention to someone’s brother, no matter how close you are with him.
When he gets up a minute later and heads to the restroom, I turn to her. I really shouldn’t take this chance here, I really shouldn’t. But she’s irresistible. “You look so fucking sexy in my jersey.”
She nibbles on the corner of her lips. “So good I bet you’ll slip out in the middle of the night and come over to the firehouse.”
And that would seriously help the happiness effect.
36
ANYTIME FLING
MABEL
I step out of the shower, half expecting Corbin to walk in on me again, and definitely wanting him to.
But I resist checking my phone for a text. We didn’t make official plans for a midnight visit after all.
I simply offered a suggestion, then I left before they did. I have no idea if he’ll come or not. I dry off, spend some time on my skin-care routine—since I toted all my essential lotions and potions and serums here—then head into the mostly bare sleeping quarters that I’ve turned into my temporary home away from home. Moonlight streams through a window, casting a soft silvery light across the floor. The walls are sad though, bereft of artwork, photos, or posters that would make it feel more like home.
I grab a sleep shirt from the suitcase next to the bed that I stuffed my clothes into. As I tug it on, I wonder if I should get rid of my place in San Francisco and properly decorate this place.
But then I’d be living in Cozy Valley, on top of this bakery, where I work.
That feels like too much, too soon. I should wait and see how things go with Afternoon Delight.
I sigh as I stare at the bed waiting for me, covered with the white and sage green blanket that Corbin brought over the night we opened.
I’m not tired though. My brain is racing from the hockey game, my brother’s excitement over his job, the pickleball post Ronnie reshared. And the effect of it—I’ve already gotten some orders for Christmas cookies thanks to the socials exposure.
No way can I sleep now.
But I’m also…waiting for him. Wondering if Corbin is going to take me up on my offer to slip over in the middle of the night.
My fingers itch to check my phone. I give in, grabbing it from the bed.
My shoulders sink. There are zero new text messages. I fling it back on the mattress.