Hallie’s bakery. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Joel pulled a brown cookie with visible chunks of apple and carrot from his pocket, ignoring me. Sure enough, Maisie ambled back over, taking her sweet time.
“Here, man.” He held out the cookie. “You do it.”
“We’re spoiling our herd now? Only the finest for our champion bloodlines?”
Joel eyed me as if I was the biggest dumbass he’d ever worked for. Probably true. “Suit yourself.”
Sure enough, Maisie walked straight over, taking the treat like I didn’t exist. When she nuzzled my ranch manager’s pocket for more, he chuckled. “Sorry, girl, that’s the last one.”
Then, she snorted at me, pawed the ground, and trotted away.
Which is how I ended up here, parked in front of The Kindly Crumb, about to buy horse cookies from one very sexy Hallie Emory. After starring in last night’s dirty-as-sin dreams, I can’t get the woman out of my head. I woke up twice, hard as a rock and frustrated as hell.
I force myself out of the truck before I lose my nerve. Delaying the inevitable won’t change a damn thing.
The bell rings above the door, announcing my arrival like a damn trumpet.Hello, Stone Ridge. I’m here to buy cookies for a spoiled rotten horse because apparently carrots aren’t good enough anymore. That’s how we do things at Sawyer Farms. Want a champion quarter horse? We’re your team. Want your self-respect intact? Can’t help you there.
Pausing at the doorway, nobody pays me any mind except the two people helping customers behind the counter, who nod in acknowledgment. I don’t see Hallie anywhere, which is a good sign that I can avoid her this trip.
I’ve never been inside this bakery, so I glance around to take it all in. It spans what used to be three storefronts and has more cases than I was expecting. It’s huge. There’s a bread section, a donut section, sweets in the middle, and an entire section devoted to organic animal treats on the left. All the way to the right is what looks to be a wedding cake area with tiered displaysamid ivory linens and sample table settings, where a young couple is having their tasting, poor unfortunate souls.
I will never tie the knot. I don’t want someone telling me what I can and can’t do for the rest of my life. If I want to drop everything and fly to Chicago to catch a Cubs game, I will. Doesn’t matter that I’m a Rangers fan. Point is, I don’t want to have to ask permission to live my life. And most married men I know tell me that shit whenever I suggest a group night out or a quick weekend away.
A set of saloon doors swings open behind the counter, and out steps Hallie Emory, the scent of warm sugar and butter following her.
“Hi, Colt. Here for Maisie’s cookies? Joel called in the order.”
“Makes sense.”
She taps something into the register, the display glowing between us. “That’ll be $122.77.”
You’ve gotta be kidding me. “I’m not paying that.”
Her eyebrows squinch together, and she purses her lips in a confused half-smile. “It’s the standard order? I even put in an extra half-dozen treats for free. Maisie’s my girl.”
“I’m won’t pay that much money for some horse cookies.” I double-down, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s highway robbery.”
Hallie watches me with interest as she leans across the counter, the glass display case to our right lined with perfectly arranged pastries: cinnamon rolls the size of my fist, croissants golden and flaky.
“You don’t know what’s in the cookies, do you?”
I snort. “Gold nuggets?”
“Might as well be. Maisie’s got a special supplement mix prescribed by her vet. I bake them into the cookies since she refuses to eat them in her meals.” She pulls out two large striped boxes. “The prescribed cookies are in the green bags.”
Now I feel like an ass. I should have asked Joel more questions before I headed over here.
“I’m sorry, Hallie. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst.”
“I accept your apology. Hold on a sec.” She walks over to the cupcake case and comes back with a tiny strawberry cupcake. “This is for you. Hope your day gets better.”
She hopes my day gets better? Her glittering blue eyes hold mine across the counter, her strawberry-blonde hair curled in perfect waves. When our hands touch, electricity sparks between us, and I’m suddenly wishing I had talked to her more in high school.
The drive back to Sawyer Farms passes in a blur, the delectable cupcake sitting on the seat of my truck like a prize I didn’t earn. It smells of vanilla and sugar, like Hallie herself. I eat it at the first stoplight, and damn if it isn’t the best thing I’ve tasted in months.
When I get back to the ranch, I head straight to the pasture and call out to Maisie. Her bluish coat shines in the sunlight as she trots close, and when she sees the treat in my hand, she steps forward confidently and takes it.
