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What Georgia hadn’t planned on was being so distracted by the pending order that she completely forgot to turn her timer on.
“Dammit!” When the undeniable scent of burning buns reached her in the back office, Georgia pushed her chair back with a slam and rushed to the oven, but it was already too late. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
She used an oven mitt to grab the pan and toss it directly into the sink. “Lindsay,” she called to the front of the shop. “No honey buns today. I just…”
Georgia pressed her fists to her eyes in an effort to keep the tears at bay. It was all just too much. Between caring for her grandmother, who up until recently still lived with her and whose health was declining at a frightening rate, to running the store that she was clearly totally under qualified to run, to actually doing most of the baking, which she wasveryunder qualified to handle, she was absolutely sure a nervous breakdown was imminent.
“Not today,” she muttered under her breath. “I don’t have time to fall apart.”
She left the burnt mess in the sink and went to the front of the shop to take inventory, because no matter what she’d just said, Georgia knew she’d be making yet another batch of the best-selling honey buns. She couldn’t afford not to.
Lindsay, her best and most reliable employee, was serving slices of cake to a mother and her young daughter, so Georgia moved around to the display case. They were down to only one honey bun—and there was no doubt it would be gone within the hour—a small selection of muffins, half a dozen cookies, and a tray of scones.
It wasn’t dire yet. But it wouldn’t take long. And the signature buns would have to come first.
But she needed a moment to compose herself before heading back into the kitchen. Truthfully, it’s not that Georgia hated baking. She didn’t. In fact, when she was a young girl in her grandmother’s kitchen, there was nothing she’d loved more. That was before the added pressure of everything else was added on. If she could just get ahead, then maybe she wouldn’t feel so behind.
Georgia almost laughed at the simplistic breakdown of her problems that were anything but simplistic.
She’d naively thought that moving Grammie into a care home would relieve most of the stress, and it had—on the surface. Now, she simply worried about her grandmother and whether she was being cared for properly or whether she was confused or scared. And every moment she could, Georgia visited Grammie. But it never felt like enough.
She took a moment to stretch her arms overhead and survey the rest of the small bakery. Business was steady, which was a blessing. The tables were full of patrons enjoying their fancy coffees and various baked goods. Sweetie Pies had been a destination for the locals and tourists alike since Georgia was a little girl, and she was thankful for their continued patronage even with the changes she’d made. Which, for the most part, was an inconsistent supply of all the favorites. But she was working on it.
Georgia dropped her arms and rolled her neck. She was about to turn back into the kitchen when an old green and blue school bus, with some writing that was partially obscured by a pine tree on the boulevard, came to a stop with a puff of smoke in front of her store.
“What the actual—”
“Georgia. Can I get your help for a minute?”
Lindsay grabbed her attention, pulling her away from the window and the gaudy bus. She turned to focus on her employee and for the next few minutes found herself engaged in a conversation about what to bake next—honey buns; what was selling the best—also, honey buns; and what they could do without for now—scones. But not for too long.
“Do you want me to go into the back for a bit?” Lindsay asked. “It might do you some good to be up front and interacting with customers for a while. I can do the buns. You look like you could use it.”
“Do I look that bad?” Georgia was only half joking, but the look on her friend’s face took her aback. “Okay, point taken. Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”
“Hey, do you know what that bus is all about?” she asked Lindsay before she could disappear into the back. “I’ve never seen it before.”
Georgia and Lindsay both turned to look out at the bus. The hood was up now, and she could make out what looked like two sets of legs standing in front of it as smoke billowed out in puffs.
“Whatever it is,” Lindsay said, “it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere soon.” She shook her head.
“Can you read it?” Georgia moved from side to side and strained her neck, trying to see past the massive evergreen. “Something pies.” She shook her head. “Are you kidding me? A food truck selling pies? In front of Sweetie Pies?” Georgia tried to swallow back her frustration. “It’s taking up the entire front of our store. You won’t even be able to see us from the street.”
Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “It doesn’t really seem ideal, does it?”
“No.” Georgia bit back a sharp retort. “Not at all. It has to move. Can you watch the counter for a second? I’ll be right back.”
She left Lindsay behind and stormed straight out the front door. As soon as she was clear of the tree, she could see the bus clearly.Scotty’s Pies.
There was a cartoon painting of a man juggling what looked to be hand pies painted under the words that sparkled. So maybe it was a little different from what they sold in her bakery. But it didn’t matter—the monstrosity still had to move.
She heard voices around the side of the bus and moved toward them. “Hey,” she said when the back of two men came into view. “You’re going to need to move this thing right away.” She sounded far bitchier than she’d intended to, but if it got the job done, she didn’t care. “It’s blocking my shop and—”
The two men turned to face her. She recognized Brody from Birchwood right away, but it was the other man she focused on. The mop of sandy-blond hair that flopped over his left eye, just a little bit. The familiar blue eyes that locked on her. And the lips she knew intimately curled up in a grin.
“Hi, Sparkles.”
ChapterTwo
