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That’s the main reason why I don’t really mind this early morning gig.
Our grandmother opened The Wildberry Bakery fifty years ago and she’s ferociously protective when it comes to her coveted recipes. She refuses to let anyone who isn’t a Westbrook into her kitchen.
In the name of protecting our family recipes, us guys take turns helping with the opening each morning. Mason’s four sisters take over the kitchen in the afternoons.
Technically, I’m the only one scheduled to handle the opening this morning. But with the wedding coming up, everyone’s schedules are a bit out of whack, it seems.
From the worktable overlooking Main Street, I glance out the window at the clouds blurring the sunrise. “Why are you here, harassing me?” I ask Cash, stifling another yawn. “Don’t you have a wedding to get to?” I glance at him. “And put on an apron. You’re dropping cat fur on the muffins.”
My brother and Meghan have two cats, and I swear, they’re both always covered in cat hair.
Rolling his eyes, he yanks on an apron and checks his expensive watch. “I’ll be out of here in a second. I’m just filling up on Meghan’s favorite road trip snacks. My bride is stress-eating.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re the one stress-eating,” Jasper remarks. “You’re jittery as fuck this morning. Admit it.”
Cash pushes out a breath, raking his fingers through his hair. “I can’t lie. I’m kind of freaking out. I just want everything to be perfect for Meghan. I don’t like seeing her all anxious and shit.”
I feel one corner of my mouth curl upward. My brother really loves his fiancée. He may be the grumpiest asshole to everyone else, but when it comes to Meghan, he’s softer than a gummy bear.
“The plan is to hit the road sometime later this morning.” Cash tells us as he grabs a plastic container to fill with frosted brownies. “When are you guys leaving town?” His eyes flit around to all of us.
Harry pauses and takes a swig from his big jug of workout mix. “I’ve got a mandatory meeting with my football team this morning. Then I’m picking Nadia up from work and we’ll be on our way.”
“Emma and Sparkle are riding up this morning with Ziggy,” Jasper says. “But I’m staying back to finish up a few things at the mechanic shop. Grams and I will be leaving tomorrow afternoon at latest.”
“What about you?” Cash asks, worry lines crinkling his forehead.
“I’ve got to swing by the police station for a few hours in the morning. But after that, I’m hitting the road. I’ll for sure be at the wedding venue by tomorrow night.”
Cash nods firmly. “Alana’s supposed to be driving up tomorrow afternoon, too.”
My pulse jumps at the mere mention of her name and I have to remind myself of my plan to give my ex-wife a wide berth this weekend. She’s the maid of honor. I’m the best man. But there’s really no need for us to hang out any more than strictly necessary.
“You assholes better not mess this up.” Cash shoots a threatening look around the room.
Harry claps the anxious groom on the shoulder. “Relax, bro. Everything will be great. Get the stick out of your ass.”
Cash piles his boxed-up goodies into his arms and heads for the bakery’s side door. “Whatever. Just don’t be late to my fucking wedding.”
Right as he’s reaching for the handle, the door pitches open and a troubled-looking Mason almost bowls him over.
“Whoa! Watch it, dude!” Cash jolts backward, juggling the mountain of overflowing boxes in his hands to keep them from toppling to the floor.
A disoriented-looking Mason blinks. “Sorry, man,” he mutters in a way that says he has some pretty big problems on his mind.
“You okay?” I ask our cousin, studying his tense shoulders and scrunched up face. The guy looks like he just saw a ghost in the back alley.
He swallows thickly and his eyebrows slash down over his eyes. “I think…I think I just quit my job.”
“Youwhat?!” Harry’s eyes spring wide in shock.
Mason yanks an apron over his head and haphazardly ties it behind his back. Then he snatches a double chocolate muffin off of a cooling rack. Then he promptly starts pacing the bakery from wall to wall to wall. “I went by the clinic early to grab my laptop before leaving town”—he gnaws off a chunk of his muffin—“and then my onion-dip-dicked boss strolled into my office”—he speaks while chewing, crumbs tumbling down the front of his shirt—“and he announced out of nowhere that he changed his mind about giving me time off for the wedding.” Mason halts his pacing to stare at us. “At the last fucking minute, guys. At the last fucking minute.”
“Damn, what an asshole,” I say. “What did you do?”
“I tried to reason with him,” Mason continues. “I told him I applied for the time off months ago, that most of my patient appointments were re-scheduled for next week and that the rest will be covered by the other doctors at the clinic. But he didn’t want to hear it…” His eyes narrow to slits. “So I told him to suck his onion dick, then I grabbed my shit and walked out.”
“Good for you, man. He deserved it. And you deserved to get that shit off your chest. For your self-respect.” Jasper holds a hand up for a high-five.
