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“Who’s stopping you?” she shot back and tossed him the fob. She understood the magnitude of this moment. Of course, the man needed to find his niece. Still, an odd partners-in-crime quality rose to the surface like they were in this together.
“Where’s the car?” Landon asked.
“You can’t miss it. It’s in the alleyway,” Madelyn replied.
“Let’s head out,” he said and started for the door.
She scanned the bakery. “Wait,” she called, then zipped toward the tray of bonbons. She ogled the beautiful chocolate decadence. Topped with a sprinkling of sea salt, these had to be the butterscotch bonbon delights.
She looked from side to side, grabbed the tray, and took off like a shot.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“You can’t take those,” a baker exclaimed.
Yes, she could.
If anyone needed an obscene amount of chocolate, it was the Singing Bonbon Bandit.
“We’re representing Cupid Bakery in a baking contest. This is research for our reality show.”
“What about your grandma? We need a note. Mr. Sweet’s orders,” the baker exclaimed.
“Grandma’s out of town. And when Grandma’s away, Harper will play. You can put these beauties on my husband’s tab,” she reeled off, moving like a lynx past a pair of slack-jawed bakers before nearly taking out the poor lawyer.
“Sorry, suit!” she called, working her way to the back door.
Did Landon even have a tab here?
No, why would he?
She honestly couldn’t name any bakery that employed a tab system, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
“What the hell are you doing?” Landon exclaimed.
“Get the door. My hands are full,” she answered, glancing over her shoulder. The bakers huddled together and threw incensed glances her way.
“With stolen bonbons,” he answered.
“They’re not stolen. They’re putting them on your tab,” she announced, loud enough for the bakers on the other side of the room to hear.
“I don’t have a tab here.”
She held up the tray. “You do now.”
The man gave her a serious dose of stink eye.
“Now that we’re doing a reality baking show sponsored by Cupid Bakery, we’re basically employees.”
“I doubt that the owner allows his employees to steal bonbons,” Landon fired back.
She had to make him understand.
“We need sustenance. And Aria might be hungry. I would have sworn she had chocolate on her face during the video call. I know a bonbon girl when I see one.”
“You plan on luring my niece out of hiding with bonbons?”
Yes, it was ridiculous. But a gal had to use what was on hand.
