He wanders off to the next group, offering more drinks.
“Is that normal?” I ask.
Tobias nods. “He owns the bar next door to the bakery.”
“Oh, neat.”
“Neat,” Tobias repeats the word teasingly. I turn to poke him, but he catches my hand and spins me around. “You have to be faster than that.”
“I think your abs broke my finger,” I say.
I know I should move out of his hold, but he’s got one arm draped across my chest as he holds me against him.
I absorb the moment for a minute longer, but when I’m ready to tell him this should be in our off-limits rules, a commotion erupts at the end of our row.
“I told you not to do that.”
“It’s not ruining anything. You’re overreacting.”
“They’re here to bake, not drink.”
“They can do both. Relax.”
“Do not tell me to relax. If you want your own event, take it up with the town next year.”
“It’s really not that big of a deal, Sadie. Here, do you want one? It could help you relax.”
Sadie, I assume since that’s what Hudson just called her, rears her head back as if he’d slapped her.
“Gross, no.”
“Come on,” Hudson says, leaning in. “You know you want it.”
“Don’t mind them,” the lady next to us says, having caught me watching the show. I feel bad that I was staring, but they made it hard not to. “Those two have been at each other’s throats since the day they could walk.”
“Oh, did they use to be friends or date or something?” I ask.
“Oh no. Never. Hudson is good friends with Sadie’s older brother, but Hudson and Sadie have always been?—”
“Are we all ready?” Sadie’s voice commands us to the front of the tent.
“Ready!” someone shouts, and Sadie smiles.
“Perfect. Let’s get baking!”
* * *
“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it,” Tobias says, reaching for the dough.
“It’s fine.” I raise my elbow to make him back off.
“Seriously, let me try.”
“Need I remind you of your baking skills, Tobias Banks?”
“We’re just mixing the ingredients. I can’t mess that up.”
“Um, an eggshell in the first batch of cookies you ever made for me begs to differ.”
