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“Maverick, that’s a lot of money.” I closed the distance between us and touched my hand to his arm. “And it’s going to make a huge difference to more than just my grandma.”
“I know.” He smiled. “I’ll let you go to bed. You’ve got another long day tomorrow.”
“I have,” I agreed, following him out to the stairs. “Will you stop by in the afternoon if you’re not busy? I think I figured out the recipe for the cupcake and I want you to try it.”
“You did? When the hell did you have time to do that?”
“Here and there.”
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked at me. “Piper.”
“All right, all right. I kept a little bowl of batter and sporadically seasoned it and wrote it down on a hot pink Post-It note that’s now on the fridge downstairs,” I admitted. “I just kind of added stuff as I made other things, but I think it turned out really well.”
“I don’t have to frost it again, do I?”
I grinned. “I am never letting you frost anything in my kitchen ever again.”
“Good plan.” His smile matched mine. “Am I allowed to kiss you, or is that too much like dating for you?”
“I don’t know. If you keep doing really nice stuff, it’s going to make it hard to not date you.”
“Noted. So I shouldn’t buy your grandmother flowers for the garden, then?”
I swatted at his chest, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me close. His lips covered mine before I could protest.
Like I had a protest.
I shuffled forward so my body was pressed right against his. I didn’t have a single drop of alcohol in me unlike last night, so a part of me wanted to see if I still got butterflies as his lips moved against mine.
Spoiler alert: I did. A lot.
I had all the right tingles in all the right places, too.
Maverick pulled back and smiled. “Goodnight, Piper. I put the leftover curry in your fridge.”
I fought back a laugh. “Thank you. That was kind.”
“I made more than normal. At least now I know you won’t starve.”
I dipped my head and laugh. “Shut up.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – PIPER
RULE THIRTEEN: IF SOMEONE CAN’T HANDLE YOU ON THE FIRST DAY OF YOUR PERIOD, THEY DON’T DESERVE TO DATE YOU.
Ever since I’d woken up, my day had gone to shit.
Within ten minutes of being in the bakery, my stomach had started cramping like nobody’s business, and two ibuprofen and a trip to the bathroom later, the reason why had shown up.
At least I wasn’t pregnant.
I had to look at the bright side, or I’d cry.
After that I’d burned two trays of cookies, dropped a bowl of bread dough, and spilled my coffee in a buttercream icing mix.
If you asked me, the universe was telling me to haul my ass back to bed.
Unfortunately for me and the universe, that wasn’t an option.
Felicity saved me when she came in at seven-thirty and sent me upstairs to sit down for half an hour. In that time I managed to squeeze in a quick shower and get changed where she promptly banned me from my own kitchen for the next few hours and said she had it.
I wasn’t sure me on my period and tourists was a good idea, but I really didn’t have much of a choice. I did need to get out of the kitchen for a little while.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
I’d never needed a day off as much in my life.
Thankfully, the bakery wasn’t as busy as the day before. It was still packed, but not line-down-the-street kind of packed.
After lunch we reached a lull, and I took five minutes to swap with Felicity since she’d already eaten. I made a quick sandwich and, when I was done, sent her home. There was no dough to make for the following day since we were closing and there was more than enough here for the rest of the day, so there was no need for the two of us to be here.
I was also hoping I could close early. If this lull stayed, that was exactly what I was going to do. Then I was going to go to the grocery store, buy eight pints of ice cream, seventy bars of chocolate, two bottles of wine, and half the potato chip aisle.
Then I was going to eat it all.
Then I was going to moan next week when I’d put on eight pounds.
If I were on the internet, I’d hashtag that thought as girl problems.
Another small wave of customers came in, and I rang them up one by one. When they left, another lull ensued. Apparently, the craziness of the morning had been confined to before lunch.
It was no bother. I’d just pack up the remaining baked goods and take them to the retirement home. I did it every now and then when there was a few too many things left.
