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“I’ll bring home the bacon and you can fry it up.”
“It’s like you’ve got a wife in the 50s,” she quipped.
“I’ll get the supplies and pick you up from school. Okay?”
“Okay. Just…you and me, right? No one else?” she asked.
I frowned. “No one else? What do you mean?”
“I mean no Duke and no Savage.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Why Waverly Jean, I do declare. You actually want to spend time with your older sister?”
“Shocking, I know,” she teased. “But I actually like you.”
“You do? Huh. Who knew.”
“Come back tomorrow, my answer might have changed.”
“Little Punk,” I groused, causing her to laugh. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
“Willa,” Waverly hissed, hoisting her new black backpack over her shoulder and glaring at me.
“What?” I demanded.
“Stop walking that way.”
“Stop walking what way?” I asked.
“You know.” She mimicked an exaggerated hip wiggle only seen on model reality shows or the fashion runway.
“I don’t look like that,” I said.
“Oh, please. Did you have to wear a leather skirt and heels?” She rolled her eyes and pointed to the group of high school boys sitting on a brick wall. “They’re staring.”
“Got it.” I slumped my shoulders and then shuffled like Lurch from The Addams Family toward the entrance of Waverly’s school.
“Willa!” she snapped.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I said. “And we’re kind of on a time crunch here. Your first bell is in fifteen minutes. Let’s get inside and talk to your principal.”
“Did you have to wear that?” she muttered as she scuttled ahead of me.
I sighed. Waverly would’ve been upset if I’d worn jeans and a hoodie.
“Cut the ‘tude, dude,” I called after her.
“You know what,” she whirled, “I’ll handle this myself. Okay? I’ll talk to the principal and if I have problems, I’ll let you know. I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll be here at 3:30,” I promised her.
She gave a haphazard wave and disappeared inside.
Chapter8
It wasn’t eveneight in the morning and I felt like I’d already had a day. I shot off a text to my boss at Leather and Ink and asked her to give me a buzz when she had a moment, and then I drove to Pie in the Sky.
A cheery bell jangled in greeting as I walked into the bakery that had recently expanded to include a café. Jazz was behind the counter, her brown braid slung over one shoulder, a welcoming smile on her face as she handed a customer a to-go cup and a paper bag full of baked goods.
