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“Har, har,” a young woman said from a mouthful of cupcake at the coffee counter next to the pastry case. She didn’t bother to look up from the magazine she was reading but lifted her arm up in the air and shot the guy the bird.
“Oh, right. That last one. Sassy, I believe they call her. Appropriate name,” Stevie said, shooting me a wink. “And that’s just the one set. Don’t even get us started on their cousins.”
The woman behind the magazine had a hard time not choking on her cupcake before pulling down the mag to greet me.
“Hi, Nico. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sassy Wilde. West is my big brother. Ignore Stevie. He’s not very subtle when he flirts.”
Stevie huffed and lifted his nose in the air, twirling around and pretending to busy himself at the coffeepots.
I waved to her across the open space between us. “Nice to meet you, Sassy. Are you sweeter than your brother? He’s a bit rough around the edges.” What the hell? Why did I say something so rude to a stranger?
Sassy’s eyebrow rose as she looked at me, but she still kept a smile on her face. “Oh really? What has dear old Weston been up to?”
“Nothing, never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. That was inappropriate.”
“No, no. Go on. Tell me what he’s said. I’ll tattle on him to Grandpa, and he’ll get the whooping he so clearly deserves,” she teased.
The thought of anyone but me whooping Weston Wilde’s muscular ass was unacceptable, and the idea of me spanking him was… well…
“Nico?” Sassy asked, breaking me out of my reverie. I wondered if she could tell what I’d been imagining in my head.
“What? Oh, no. He’s just… I think he just wants the best for Pippa, you know? And he knows I’m not good with babies,” I explained in a rush before trying to change the subject. I turned back to Rox. “Hey, so apparently there’s a rumor going around that you guys would like to get paid. I brought the checkbook, and Honovi said you all should have the time sheets here for me.”
What I didn’t mention was that, apparently, Adriana hadn’t been the best at managing her shop’s finances and there wasn’t even enough money in the accounts to make payroll. I’d had to deposit some of my own money on the way to the shop just to make ends meet. I’d spent several of Pippa’s nap times trying to make heads or tails of her convoluted system and finally realized it seemed like a sheer lack of basic bookkeeping knowledge was at fault. It didn’t come as a surprise, considering she hadn’t gone to college or anything. It was impressive she’d managed to accomplish as much as she had without a degree. I knew how hard it had been for me under the same circumstances.
Stevie handed me a mug of coffee and gestured to the pastry case with a quirked brow. “Like somethin’ sweet?” he drawled.
I smiled gratefully and pointed to a thick chocolate-chip cookie. They looked like the ones my mom used to make, and the first bite proved they were, indeed, my mom’s special recipe. I shouldn’t have allowed the groan of ecstasy to escape my lips, but it was out before I could stop myself. I thought I heard Stevie whimper.
Rox shoved the guy aside and told him to make himself useful washing some dishes. She poured herself a cup of coffee and gestured me to a small table against one of the big picture windows by the front door.
“So, Nico, we’ve gotten an order for one of Adriana’s hand-painted cakes,” she began.
“Okay?”
“And, well, I can’t do it. It requires artistic skills that I can’t fake even if you paid me in tattoos,” she said with a smile.
I smiled at her. “You know… I could pay you in tattoos. That’s not a bad idea,” I teased.
“Unfortunately, my bank doesn’t accept those at mortgage payment time. But if you had your shit here, I’d hire you to do one in a skinny minute. The closest ink to Hobie is practically all the way to Dallas.”
“Hm, food for thought. Tell me more about this cake.”
She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through photos while she spoke. “Adriana had killer drawing skills. Must run in the family. Anyway, she made these cakes that had hand-drawn images on them. She called them painted cakes.”
She showed me several photos of cakes with beautiful decorations. Most of them were floral designs, but some were of animals or cartoon characters for children.
“Wow, those are killer,” I agreed, scrolling through for more.
She let out a breath and smiled sympathetically. “Right. So do I tell the client Sugar Britches doesn’t do painted cakes anymore? People come from all over for them. And she was able to charge an arm and a leg for them too. It was great money.”
