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Not bothering to change, he attached the leash to the dog’s collar then stepped outside the back door in his sleep shorts and a Jayhawks muscle shirt.
“Evening, Hayden!”
“Hey there, Mrs. Borgnino.” In Italian, his neighbors’ surname meant “blind in one eye.” Not so with this woman. Her probing eyes, both of them, seemed sharp any time of the day or night—like lasers, even in the fog. She also possessed a sixth sense to know whenever he stepped outside.
Oil the door, dude.
“How’s that darling puppy of yours? Is he healing up?”
“He is, thanks.” Shivering, Hayden crossed his arms over his chest while keeping hold of the leash and willing the dog to finish his business quickly. He usually gave Haystack plenty of time to roam and explore the small backyard, but now wasn’t the time. Although covered, Hayden felt underdressed.
“Are you dating anyone these days?”
My answer hasn’t changed since you asked last week.“No, ma’am.”
“Now, what’d I tell you? Call me Angela.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed. “You’re polite to a fault, young man. I know a darling girl I could introduce you to. She’s pretty but doesn’t know it and seems to have a stable career. You’d love her. Any interest in a meeting?”
All three Borgnino girls were married, so he was “safe” in that regard.
“You could have coffee together or meet her for lunch,” the middle-aged woman said when he didn’t respond. “Say the word, and I’ll be happy to set up something.”
Don’t do it.“Sure,” he said, regretting it the minute the word escaped his mouth. “I mean, let me sleep on it. I’ll get back to you.” Would thetwelfth of neverwork?
“Wonderful! I have a feeling about you two.”
I’m sure you do.
Chapter Eight
“HERE. TRY THIS ONE, SWEETIE.” Maureen at Bake Love, Not War shoved a miniature pink cupcake into her mouth.
Laughing, Violet savored the scrumptiousness and caught a runaway crumb with her pinky finger. “Mmm. Delicious. New flavor?”
“Yep. I’m calling it Sweet Pink Lemonade.” Maureen, the fifty-ish woman who owned the bakeshop, smiled. “I’m planning on making them for Easter and then through the spring—minus the bunny face. Maybe into the summer if they catch on.”
“Bunny face?” Violet smiled as Maureen held up one of the fully decorated cupcakes. “Oh, look at the little bunny ears and the adorable pink nose! The kids will go crazy for them.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. I’ll switch to flowers after Easter. Little girls still love pastels, don’t they?”
“Big girls, too,” Violet said. “Boys might want something different after Easter, though. Equal opportunity and all.”
“I’m working on it,” Maureen said as she started Violet’s latte. “I’m thinking dinosaurs and sea creatures.”
“That’d be great, or you could go with chocolate ‘dirt’ cupcakes and arrange gummy worms on top.” Violet’s brow creased. “Can you bake a gummy worminsidea cupcake? Like a surprise burst of liquid . . . gummy . . . deliciousness?”
“I’ll try it and let you know,” Maureen said. “Thanks for the suggestion.”
“Boo!”
“Ohhhhh!” Startled at the unexpected warmth close to her ear, Violet moved a hand over her heart and whirled around.Hayden.She narrowed her eyes. “I should have known. Speaking of little boys.”
He laughed. “Imagine finding you here.”
“You should be grateful I’m not holding a caramel latte now.” Violet eyed his clothing, a mistake since he looked way too good. “It’d be a shame if my hand slipped and, I don’t know, baptized your T-shirt.” She had a matching T-shirt buried in a drawer at home—KGOLD, Blessing One Soul at a Time. The Scripture reference for 1 Peter 1:7 was written below the slogan.
