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“Do you think I should let Scott go down on me a third time?” She giggled. “He just asked me again.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”
“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” Her laughter was even louder. “I’m calling because I just had a brilliant idea about your dating dilemma.”
“I’m listening.” I braced myself for a dose of her insane logic. The last time she had a “brilliant idea,” I ended up on a date with a man who “forgot” to tell me that he had three kids. And a wife.
“I think you should stop looking for a serious guy and have fun for the rest of the winter,” she said. “Like, focus on the physical and let the rest fall into place, if it’s meant to be.”
“You mean, I should be more like you?”
“Ha!” She snorted a laugh. “No, you’re too guarded to be like me. I mean, you should just go out with an attractive guy, hit it off, and have hot sex without the expectation of all that romance.”
“I’m not twenty-four anymore, Amy.”
“You’re not eighty-four either, but you damn sure act like it sometimes.” She scoffed. “A few rounds of pounding are exactly what your body needs right now.”
“Do any of your friends know that you talk like this?”
“We all talk like this.” She laughed. “Anyway, I think it’s time to put a stop to the speed dating thing for a while and try something different.”
“Tinder and OkCupid aren’t happening.”
“I wasn’t talking about those.” She started clacking away at her keyboard. “Let me see if I can find this local thing Hannah was telling me about earlier.”
“I’m not interested in dating any of your friends’ exes,” I said, getting off at my stop.
“My friends’ exes would never date you.” She laughed. “Trust me.”
I started to head toward where I’d parked my car, but I couldn’t resist stopping by my bakery. As Amy’s fingers continued to clack against the keyboard in my ear, I walked up the white and pink steps that led into Sifted Perfection.
All of the kitchen counters were set for tomorrow morning—every measuring cup, utensil, and bowl perfectly placed in front of the staff members’ assigned recipes.
“Please don’t tell me you’re about to spend the rest of tonight baking.” Amy groaned as I turned on the oven. “I can hear the clicking of the stove.”
“Of course not.” I lied. “I stopped by to make sure the staff put everything away properly.”
“Um hmm. Anyway, after we go to The Wish Tree next weekend, I’m going to take you to The Blind Eye Dating Service. It’s downtown and both Hannah and Alice landed sexy guys after their first time using it. They did a good job matching personalities, too.”
“Sounds amazing.” I rolled my eyes. Every speed dating event I attended promised the exact same thing, and apparently all of my best matches were assholes.
“They have a section on the personality form about how often you like to receive oral on a scale of one to ten,” she said. “I’m going to write in twenty to make sure you have the best chance at finally experiencing that.”
“What?”
“This is going to be a lot more fun than I thought,” she said. “I’ll fill this out for you by next weekend, since I don’t trust you to do it alone. Have a good night baking!” She hung up before I could tell her that I was more than capable of filling out my own form.
Sighing, I unlocked the cabinet that held my late grandmother’s cookbook.
I flipped through her wise pages, caught sight of “Run, He’s a Bum Bonbons,” and put on my apron.
Another one bites the dust …
ALMOND CLOUD “GET ME OUT OF HERE” COOKIES
1 ¾ cups almond paste
2 large egg whites, lightly beaten
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon almond extract
¼ teaspoon salt
confectioners’ sugar, for dusting
NATHAN
CEDAR FALLS, COLORADO, was a perfect example of what happened when a group of wealthy idiots decided to build a holiday-themed town. A cross between Park City and Aspen, it was home to a multi-million-dollar tourist industry and the most overbearing holiday traditions I’d ever witnessed.
To the residents, “winter” wasn’t just a season, and a holiday wasn’t just a holiday. It was something that needed to be adored and talked about for hours on end.
In this town, the days between November through March were to be cherished with endless hot cocoa and sweets in front of the overly expensive lodges, shopping sprees for new winter wardrobes that cost thousands of thousands, and calls to my office about utter bullshit.
“Officer Benson, do you think you could be a fill-in judge at my kid’s holiday costume contest tonight? It’s an emergency.” “Officer Benson, what do you think about that new restaurant on the Square? Do you think it’ll still be open next Christmas?” “Hey, Officer Benson, I know you said to stop calling you, if it wasn’t a real emergency, but I just wanted to say it’s good to have someone like you in charge. Would you mind being my guest at my kid’s winter play?”
