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“Deal.”
“Great. Let’s go,” I said as I popped out of the booth. I threw down four twenties on the table and gestured for Kingston tofollow me.
He slowly slid out of his side of the booth, grabbing his jacket as he stood. “Wait. Where are we going? I assumed you meant a desert here.”
“Nope. I’ve got somewhere even better than herein mind.”
Forty seconds later, Kingston and I slid into a store a couple doors down from TheGreen UFO.
As the doors closed behind us, I took a deep inhale, breathing in the scents of sugar and my childhood. I felt like I had just come back from pee-wee practice with Mason, sweating and craving something sweet.
The store was painted with shades of pink, yellow, and blue, making it feel as if you were standing inside of a cake. The white chairs looked like they were made from buttercream frosting, and the tables were giant macaroons. It being too late for the lunch crowd, no one was sitting. Besides us, only one other person was in the store, being rung up at the counter.
“Wow, look at that menu,” Kingston breathed out, eyes on the big board covering the entireback wall.
I smiled and searched it to see if anything new had been added. The large chalkboard held over two-hundred items, ranging from over-the-top cakes and pies to specialty ice cream and s’mores. But despite the already huge selection, there was always something new.Cool. They added alcoholic ice cream! I’ll have to come back for thatsometime.
When we got to the display case, Kingston ordered a simple sweet cream cone with chocolate sauce.
I picked something that, for all the times I’d ordered it, had never been written down on the menu. “Could I get a large vanilla milkshake? And, if you have any, could you throw a Twix bar into the blender? They’re myfavorite.”
“Sure,” the cashier said. “Let me check in the back really quick.”
While she pushed through the swinging gate behind her, I took out my phone, took a quick picture of the menu, and sent it to Drew and Mason. They would be so jealous. Next, I started typing a message on a different text chain, but before I could finish the sentence, a shout from the back of the shop drew my head up.
“What? A Twix milkshake?” an excited voiceexclaimed.
Suddenly, the gate swung open with enough force to bang into the wall, and a sphere was speeding toward my face. I whipped up my hand, and the object hit my palm with a hardthwack. Instead of the usual tennis ball, my hand held … an orange? I stared at it in confusion for a second then met the eyes of myassailant.
The thrower marched around the counter with purpose, and I moved tomeet her.
“An orange?” I asked.
“I didn’t have any tennis balls handy,” the woman said and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. She may not look it with her slight stature, but years of kneading bread and mixing batter had made her arms into solid muscle. “Riley Alina Warren. Why didn’t you tell me you were inthe area?”
“Sorry, Ms. Frey,” I said into the hair tickling the bottom of my nose. “Kingston and I were just doing an event and decided to get some lunch. Now we’re here for processed sugar.”
“Frey?” Kingston asked.
Ms. Frey let go of me, and we turned to Kingston. I’d forgotten he was there fora second.
“Sorry. Kingston, this is Madeline Frey, Mason’s mom. Ms. Frey,this is—”
“I know who he is,” Ms. Frey cut me off. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian.”
“You too.”
They shook hands, and I stifled a giggle. Kingston’s hulking figure made Ms. Frey even smaller and cuter. The same green eyes, beachy hair, and tan skin that made Mason the spitting image of a surfer dude made his mother look like a fairy.
“Mason has told me a lot about you, about all of you,” Ms. Frey said conversationally, then narrowedher eyes.
Oh, no.
Her frilly apron shook as she put her hands on her hips and glared up at Kingston. “You know, he was ready to hunt you and Jones down after that stunt you pulled. Now, I don’t usually condone that sort of behavior, but if you ever do that again, rest assured, the last thing you’ll remember before waking up in the hospital is the business end of your own hockey stick rearranging your face. And it won’t be Mason holding it, it will be me.”
Kingston’s jaw had dropped halfway through her speech, and his eyebrows now seemed to live in his hairline. His gaping mouth flapped open and close, but before he could sputter out a reply, a bell dinged, echoing around the silent shop.
“Sweet cream cone with chocolate drizzle and a Twix milkshake.” The cashier put our orders on the counter.
