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Her expression remains blank. “Good for your dad. I’m sure it’s special to him.”
“It is,” I reply, bobbing.
A tight smile appears as she says, “We should hold on to whatever is special to us. Don’t you think?”
Maybe I’m reading too much into things, and this chick is just strange. But it’s like she’s insinuating to something about me.
“Um, I guess so,” I tell her, playing it off. Relief washes over me when a group enters the bakery. “Well, I hope you enjoy your sweets. Please come back soon.”
She doesn’t say anything, just turns and leaves.
Geez. Whatever. Thanks for the purchase.
Traffic has decreased by the time Dad and Isaiah return later. They both look tired.
I text Brandon while they load empty containers from the van.
Dad comes to the front of the bakery once he’s through, and Isaiah gets started on making fresh batches of cupcakes.
“Thanks a lot for giving up your Saturday to help your old man,” Dad says before pressing a warm peck to my forehead. “I really appreciate it, Kay.”
I smile at him. “It’s fine, Dad. I’m happy to help.”
“Sticking around until closing?” he queries.
“I asked Brandon to pick me up.”
He slowly nods. “I see. Did you have any trouble today?”
“No. It went well. We’re out of cranberry muffins, croissants, and bagels. So not much for anyone stopping by before closing.”
A long sigh seeps out. “That’s how it usually goes on the weekend.” He pats my shoulder and moseys behind the register when a customer enters.
I watch the encasings while I wait for Brandon, wondering if he likes other things aside from croissants.
My heart rate climbs when his Mercedes pulls up minutes later, and butterflies kick off a carnival in my tummy when he enters and flashes me a smile.
“Hey, Brandon,” Dad greets. “How’s it going?”
“Good, Mr. McNeil. How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you.” Dad nods to the remainder of macaroons, brownies, and blueberry muffins. “You two grab something before you go. My treat.”
I open a small bag and ask Brandon, “What would you like?”
He frowns while staring at the blueberry muffins. Snapping out of it, he cuts to the macaroons and says, “I haven’t had those in a while.”
“Take a few,” Dad encourages. “You like coconut?”
Brandon smiles and tells him, “I sure do, sir. Thank you.”
I place a few macaroons into the bag and add a muffin for myself. Then wave to Dad before heading out with Brandon.
He snacks on the sweets during the drive to Charleston.
So far, he seems to be in a good mood—no sign of the pissed persona.
“Um, are you not mad about today?” I confirm.
