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“Hey, lady. How are you?”
Fiona straightens, sets the frosting knife down, and steps around the table. In two strides, she wraps me in a hug. “Busy as hell, but good. You?”
“Same. The season is here.”
“I love and hate it.” We both laugh. “Thanks for coming over to pick up your order. Mia called in sick today, so Luce has been running the front alone.”
“No problem. Hope Mia feels better soon. And before I forget, Willow says hi.”
Fiona rounds the table and picks up where she left off. “Me too. And hi back.” She twirls the cake on its pedestal and smooths the frosting. “Wasn’t sure if you’d come in the front or back, so I stashed your order beneath the cases out front.”
Although Sweet Spot Bakery is coveted for its cake and flaky pastries, they make a long list of sweet and savory baked goods. Not only do I offer Sweet Spot’s scones, croissants, and biscuits in Java and Teas Me, every sandwich we make is on their bread.
A few years back, Lucy and Fiona had been overrun with customers during the season. They’d had the product but couldn’t get everyone in and out fast enough. Unfortunately, they missed out on countless sales because tourists got impatient with the wait. When it was mentioned at the town meeting, I offered to sell some of their product at Java and Teas Me. After further discussion, we sorted out the details and hatched a plan.
Since that first day, it has been a fruitful endeavor for both businesses. Once the townsfolk heard the news, if Sweet Spot was busy, they came my way.
Fiona prepped the dough for the biscuits and scones each day, delivering it in tubs. The croissants came to us rolled out and ready for the oven. My kitchen staff formed and baked the other items per Fiona’s instructions.
“Perfect. I’ll go give Lucy a squeeze, grab the goods, and get out of your hair.”
I push through the door between the kitchen and store. “Hey, Lucy—” My throat goes dry as I come to a screeching halt.
Three people back in the line, Braydon peers around the other guests, scanning the cases. He has yet to see me, but I won’t get out of here undetected.
Damnit.
Ducking to my left, I pray he doesn’t catch sight of me. But that flies right out the window when Lucy wraps up with her customer.
“Lessa,” she squeals louder than usual. She spins around and ignores the line to hug the breath from my lungs. “Thank you so much.”
Arms around her middle, I pat her back. “It’s no problem. Really.” I peer over her shoulder and release my hold, taking a step back. “Just wish you weren’t so bogged down up here. Should’ve told me earlier, I might’ve been able to lend a hand.”
“Pshh.” She waves the notion away and steps back to the register. “You’re just as busy.” She rings up an order then glances my way. “But I should hire more help. At least during the busy months.”
I move toward the cold cases and look everywhere except in Braydon’s direction. “You know which cooler my goodies are in?”
Lucy hands a receipt to the customer. “At the end.”
Farthest from the register.Thank goodness.If I’m swift enough, I can get everything on the cart and wheel it out the back before Braydon reaches the register.
I dart to the end case, squat down, and sigh at my temporary shelter. Swinging the cooler door open, I hoist out the tubs, trays, and loaves. Still on my haunches, I tug the baking cart closer and load up what I can without standing.
The familiar timbre of Braydon’s voice echoes down the line as he places one hell of an order. Lucy mills about behind the line and fills a few small boxes before handing them over. His mumbled “thank you” hits my ears, then a woman’s voice filters in.
One breath at a time, I count to ten then assume it is safe to stand. Facing the case, I rise to my full height and learn just how wrong I am when a pair of amber irises stare back at me. Not from across the room—that would be much easier to avoid. Nope, Braydon is within touching distance on the opposite side of the case.
“Oh, hey,” I say, doing my damnedest to act as if I didn’t know he was here.
He laughs and shakes his head. “Should’ve known it wouldn’t work.”
I briefly look toward Lucy, but she isn’t paying us any mind. “What?”
“Since seeing you in the coffee shop, I’ve tried really hard to avoid you.”
I jerk back slightly. “Ouch,” I say. Not that I should take offense. I am equally guilty of the same.
“Don’t mean it to be hurtful.” His eyes soften at this. “Just think it’ll be easier for both of us.”
