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“And I’m assuming you didn’t get any new family through your marriage?”
“God, no. Sorry, that was mean. I mean—”
“It’s not mean if they were assholes,” he said, passing me the first finished coffee. I cradled it, letting it chase the chill out of my fingers.
“They kind of were.”
“Then it’s good you’re free of them as well as that asshole husband,” he said, grabbing his coffee and the little open box printed with cute pumpkins and ghosts and filled with breads and donuts.
“What’s the new bread?” Cain asked the girl.
“Cinnamon bun bread.”
Cain shook his head. “If I come back for more, don’t serve me,” he said.
“I’m afraid that goes against policy,” she said, shooing him away so she could help the next customer.
Sticking to the fall theme, The Hollows had bales of hay to sit on around wood barrel tables. Cain led us there without asking so he could put the food down for us both to browse the selections.
“This is a sample box?” I asked.
“It’s usually only one of each. But she knew what I was asking for. What are you trying first?”
“I’ve been fantasizing about the apple cider donuts, so it has to be that,” I said, reaching for one. “I like that they don’t roll them in sugar here. I went to Vermont once,” I told him, leaving off that it was an anniversary trip that Perry complained about the whole time because he wanted to go somewhere tropical. “When I visited the cider mill, their donuts were just like this.”
I’m not proud of the moan that escaped me at my first bite, but there was no helping it, either. It was every bit as good as the one I’d had at the mill.
“You weren’t wrong about this food being dangerous.”
“I know. I’m gonna have to hit the gym more if I don’t slow down.”
“It’s okay. It’s getting cold. An extra layer of fat is in order. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself with how much junk food I’ve been eating lately.”
“I get the feeling that your husband is the Michelin-Star kind of diner.”
“Yeah. And I grew up instant-ramen-all-day poor. So that kind of dining was, yeah, not for me.” But it was all I was able to eat, so I ate it.
“What’s your favorite food since moving out on your own?”
“Fries. I missed fries. And mashed potatoes. Tots. Basically, I like potatoes. And pasta.”
“Carbs are the ultimate comfort food,” Cain agreed.
“Exactly. Okay. Which bread did you like best?”
“Banana. But I have a feeling this cinnamon thing is gonna knock it out of the top spot.”
We were both finishing up the pumpkin bread and reaching for the cinnamon one when a woman appeared out of nowhere, tripping over her own feet and nearly falling into Cain. Who remained completely unflappable even as I gasped and jumped.
“Told you those heels weren’t going to be a good idea with all the hay,” he said.
I was surprised by the surge of jealousy I felt as I looked up at the golden-kissed brunette with that playful look in her eyes I’d always envied in other women.
“And I told you that sacrifices must be made for beauty. Is that the cinnamon ones I’ve been hearing about?” she asked, reaching down to take a piece from the corner to pop into her mouth.
“Georgie, this is Aviela. Aviela, Georgie.”
“Hey, girl. Look at you with your sensible, but stylish, low boots. You are a smarter woman than I. Okay. You two kids have fun. I’m going to get more of that bread.” She stumbled again, paused to straighten her dress, then kept going.
