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)
“Of course. Animals to corral,” she says with a wink, like it’s an inside joke. “Cookies to make for them. I get it.”
That’s when I realize this is what I’m up against with my business here in Cozy Valley. People know me as the daughter of two prominent university professors. The ditzy daughter who publicly screwed up.
What was I thinking? That I could suddenly change the way they perceive me?
“That was a mistake,” I say. Maybe it’s best to own it.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Joni says. “You were just doing your thing. Like that time you tried to parallel park and ended up on Mrs. Henderson’s lawn.” I wince at the reminder but don’t bother to point out that I was learning to drive then, and who doesn’t knock over a mailbox or two along the way?
Still, best I change the subject before this trip down Memory Lane drags up more of my past. “Anyway, how’s everything going here? Shop looks great.”
“It is great, but you know, I wanted to tell you your ex is a real wiener, and he can just kiss off.”
And if I’d thought I was going to escape the Romance Beach incident, I just learned I was wrong about that too. “Thanks?”
“I mean, really. Some things you should keep to yourself. That man needs to learn to shut his trap. So what if you like to do things how you like to do things? And I swear I’ll never use that meme,” she says, and I wince again, knowing that somewhere out there, I’m a meme.
“Appreciate that,” I say, wishing we could just move along.
“Honestly, I say we should name a sugar cookie after you. We can call it…the Llama Lover.”
Oh shit. She sells cookies here, too, of course. Is she going to think we’re competing with her? I’m not serving coffee though. I don’t even want to learn how to make coffee. I want to send people here. A quick scan of her display case tells me she mostly sells muffins and scones, along with some sugar cookies that look like they’re from a grocery store.
“What do you think about that?” Joni asks with wide eyes.
“That’s something to think about,” I say, avoiding a real answer.
Behind me, someone says, “I don’t think we need to name cookies after Mabel.”
I blink and turn around at the strong, confident voice of the man I’ve gone into business with.
“Hi,” I say, and it’s a little embarrassing that I’m kind of breathless as I roam my gaze up and down Corbin. He’s wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt. He seems to like gray and dark blue. That’s all I ever see him wear. He’s not clean-shaven today. There’s a few days’ worth of stubble lining his jaw, and it’s unfairly hot. Like him.
“But, Joni, if you need a new cookie supplier, I might have someone for you in a few weeks,” he adds, and holy shit, I could kiss him.
Her eyes sparkle. “I’ve been looking for one! I’ve had to get these at the local supermarket,” she whispers, pointing to the cabinet.
Ha. I was right!
“I’ll be back. We’ll talk. For now, I’ll take a drip coffee. And whatever Mabel wants.” He taps his phone at the register and pays for our drinks before I can even grab my device from my back pocket.
“Of course,” she says brightly to him, while I mouth a thank you. Joni keeps talking as she takes Corbin’s to-go cup. “And how is your sweet little girl doing?”
“She’s great. I’ll pick her up from school later.”
“Such a smarty-pants. And did I hear that there’s something happening down at the old firehouse?”
Yep, small towns have long memories and a lot of interest in everything.
“Did you now? Whatever did you hear?” Corbin asks evenly.
I keep a straight face, enjoying how he’s pretending he doesn’t know a thing about it.
“Just that there’s something happening there. Maybe a new fire station? I do love me a firefighter.” She wiggles her brows.
He sighs heavily. “A hockey player just can’t compete.”
Joni laughs. “Well, hun, there’s something about a man who can save both you and your cat.” Then she turns to me. “Am I right?”
“Yes,” I reply, but only because I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. I’m on the outside here. They’re insiders.
A few minutes later, we leave the coffee shop with our drinks. “Thanks for the coffee and the save,” I say to Corbin, but it comes out a little listless because that interaction reminded me that people here see me a certain way. It’s not like the townspeople hate me. It’s not like I have a bad reputation. But I definitely have a reputation for being…scatterbrained. I hate that.
“Anytime,” he says, then looks me over with avid curiosity, gesturing to my outfit. “Is this for the fashion, or is there a game later?”