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“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Ian said, his brow still popped. “Did you send Cole some tarts?”
“What?” How the hell did he know that? “I…don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” he echoed doubtfully.
She brushed her hands off on her apron. “Maybe. I, maybe… I might have—Why are you asking?”
“Because he just posted an Insta story from his studio with a shitload of Glazed boxes.”
“He did? When? Where?” She spun in a circle, patting down her pockets, leaving flour smears on her jeans. There weren’t any mirrors in the kitchen, so she couldn’t say with any certainty, but she was pretty sure her cheeks were currently flushed pinker than those boxes, heat prickling between her toes, surging up her thighs. “Where the hell is my phone?”
“Don’t hurt yourself, Mom. You left it on the front counter.”
Peeling off her apron, tying her hair up into a knot while a hot flash tore through her, she set the timer for the bread and walked to her son, flattening his hair until he swatted her hand away.
“I’m out,” he said, heading toward the door while she snatched her phone from the counter and unlocked her screen.
“Where are you going?”
He fluffed his hair back up. “Brendan’s. He made a new server last night.”
“Oh. Okay. Great,” she said absently while opening Instagram. “Sounds fun.”
“Later, we’re going to order two hundred pizzas and charge them to your credit card.”
Looking up from her phone, she winked. “Save a slice of pepperoni for me, smart guy.”
“Will do.” When he opened the door to go, he nearly ran face first into Maude Alice.
“Hello, Ian,” she said, looking extremely put together in slim yellow capris and a flowing floral blouse, her sleek, silver hair brushing the tops of her shoulders.
“Hey, M.A.,” Ian replied, putting his earbuds in on his way out. “See ya.”
“I hope he knows he’s the only person I let call me that.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder at Ian while he started off down the sidewalk. “He’s lucky he’s so cute.”
With deep regret, Mira turned her phone face down on the counter. “Don’t let him hear you say that. The C-word has been permanently banned in this bakery.” She fanned her face, the last few embers of her hot flash fading.
“Is that Maude Alice?” her mom called down from the stairs.
“Sure is!” Maude Alice called back.
“I’ll be right down!”
Sniffing the air, Maude Alice asked, “What is that?”
“I’m making brioche for a grilled cheese special next week.”
“Will it be done when we get back?”
“Should be,” Mira said. “Want me to save you some?”
“Please. Thank you, dear.”
Wiping down the counter, Mira asked, “How are the newlyweds?”
“As obnoxiously happy as you might imagine. I think Ashley has forgotten we have any chairs at Bluebird at all with how often she insists on sitting on Madigan’s lap.”
“Get a room, right?” Mira said with an airy laugh, wondering what it would feel like to have Cole’s lap always available for sitting.
