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)
I roll my shoulders. There’s always been something to juggle. Mom’s illness, Charlotte’s needs, the demands of the season. Helping to run a business is one more thing to balance, but that’s what I’ve always done. And the reward at the end of our first day will be another letter waiting for us and pride too—pride that I’ve finally begun to realize Mom’s dream. For now, though, I focus on the present.
I’m setting a heart-shaped card in front of the coconut cake, which says, When you need to get away to someplace sweet and tropical, when I hear little Converse sneakers slapping the concrete. Then Charlotte marches into the front of the bakery with a tray of cookies straight from the oven. Her tongue sticks out of the corner of her mouth; she’s so intensely focused, making sure she doesn’t drop them.
“Cookies coming through,” she calls out, as if there are more workers to warn than the three of us.
A few seconds later, Mabel follows, the ribbon now twisted through her French braid. No idea when she did that. Maybe when I was up here, organizing recipe cards? Maybe she did it in front of the dressing room mirror? The thought grips me hard, and I can’t let go of the image of her wearing the ribbon like I asked her to. It feels like a private message just for me.
I stare at her for far too long, itching to undo her braid, strand by strand, and let the ribbon fall to the floor. Roam a hand through her hair and tug on it hard, jerking her head back. Kiss my way down her throat. Her breasts. Her belly.
Why the fuck did I go into business with a woman I can’t stop thinking of naked? A woman I can’t stop touching?
I really need to stop touching her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as if I can eradicate thoughts of her that way. But I put that to bed, too, when we switch the sign to say Now Open and turn the music to an upbeat rock song. Minutes later, a bell tinkles above the door, a pretty chime, and we invite in our first customer.
It’s not one of my teammates. It’s not one of Mabel’s friends. It’s not Sarah or Annabelle. Or Theo or Mabel’s parents. It’s better.
It’s someone I don’t know at all.
Evidently, Mabel doesn’t know her, either, since she tells the woman, “Hello, and welcome to Afternoon Delight. Let us know what we can help you with.”
The woman nods and says, “Excited to be here. I heard about this on socials.”
Mabel shoots me a side-eye smile, and the excitement that someone we don’t know is here bounces back and forth between us.
When I slice a piece of coconut cake for the customer and box it up as Mabel chats with her, I’m more thrilled than I ever expected to be at being a part of this.
The woman from the thrift shop where Charlotte likes to do her back-to-school shopping arrives next, snapping up a dozen mini cupcakes in a variety of flavors. “For my employees, but mostly for me,” she says.
“As it should be,” Mabel says, and they chat for a few minutes. Looks like Mabel’s made a new friend in town. That warms my chest.
A few minutes later, Abe from The Cheesery pops in, giving a gruff hello and then picking up some shortbread for his husband.
There’s a lull after that. Tension curls in me as I watch through the garage door windows, scanning for an influx of customers.
Soon enough, the bell rings, and Lake strides in, rubbing his palms. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”
Miller and Riggs follow him, and Miller points at Lake while speaking to me. “This is his happy place. It’s his only happy place.”
Lake shoots our goalie a stern stare. “It’s not my only happy place. I’ve got a few others.”
Riggs holds up a stop-sign hand. “Don’t want to know about your happy places.”
“Guys,” I warn, nodding toward Charlotte, who’s folding napkins.
Ivan strolls in right behind them, holds out his arms wide, and says, “I will take one of everything.”
Mabel blows him a kiss. “And I love you most of all.”
Riggs asks for a slice of the London Fog cake, and I steal a glance at Mabel, giving her an I told you so smile. I knew that it would be a good one for the menu.
Mabel slices it. “Thank you so much for helping set this up,” she says, nodding to the furniture.
“Anything for the GM’s sister,” Riggs says with a wink.
They head to a table as a pack of Mabel’s friends wander in. My buddy Ford is with them. He retired from the Sea Dogs recently, and he’s here with his fiancée, Skylar, a friend of Mabel’s, as well as the rest of her crew, including Remy. She organizes a ton of community events that the Foxes do.