Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
I worked on the stuck valve until it finally came loose. After fixing the tap, mead-making tasks kept me busy until the lunch rush picked up, and then I was on my feet nonstop until it was time to head out to the Retreat for the… shit. The dog birthday dinner.
Since the pet store was already closed, I swung by Nat’s Sweet Buns to pick up a cake instead, where my cousin Kurt was doing the same thing.
“You’d better not be getting a pupcake,” Kurt warned with a grin. “I got here first, and I’m going to get all the credit.”
I nudged him to the side so I could see what was left in the display case. “Fine, I’ll get a…” I spotted my absolute favorite thing. “The Oreo cheesecake,” I told Natalie with a smile of thanks when she came out of the back with Kurt’s order already boxed up.
“Oh, shoot.” Her eyes widened. “That’s the last one—lots of folks having Fourth of July barbecues this weekend, you know? And JT Wellbridge just called and put it on hold. He’ll be by to pick it up soon.” She gave me an apologetic shrug. “I guess maybe Brantleigh Pennington’s as much of a sucker for them as you are.”
Brantleigh? Was going to eat my cheesecake? Fuck no.
The smile from earlier froze on my face. My teeth felt weird and too big for my mouth. I slowly covered them up and nodded. “’Course. ’Course he is. Who… who wouldn’t be? That cake is… great. Simply… wonderful. Obviously.”
Poor Nat felt bad. “I have your second favorite here. The red-velvet cake. Want me to box it up?”
Irrational rage overtook me like a flash flood. “No, actually. I really need the Oreo cheesecake. Nothing else will do. I’ll give you a hundred dollars for it.”
Nat blinked at me before looking at Kurt to see if this was a joke, but Kurt didn’t notice because he was busy looking at me like I’d sprouted two extra heads. Needless to say, I’d never done something as… as… Wellbridge as throwing down over a bakery cheesecake, but apparently, there was a first time for everything.
“Ah… but…” Natalie began.
I put on my best Honeycutt smile. “I know JT asked you to hold it, but today is my brother’s…” I said the word “dog’s” too softly for her to hear, “birthday, and, well… we really need that cake.”
She bit her lip. Clearly, she didn’t want to upset a Sweet Buns regular like the Wellbridge family, but she also didn’t want to upset me. I tried a different tactic.
“JT will understand, I promise. Just tell him I needed it for Moose, okay? If he gets mad, he can get mad at me. He owes me one.”
In fact, by my accounting, he owed me a lot more than that.
“Oh, right.” Natalie’s face cleared. “I forgot the two of you were tight.” She reached into the case for the cheesecake.
“What?” I squeaked. JT and me? Tight? Was there a dog whistle in here, or was that high-pitched noise coming from me? “No, no, no. We weren’t… We never… We didn’t… I barely know the guy!” I blurted.
Okay, that was just plain dumb. Fortunately, Natalie had already disappeared into the back to box up my ill-gotten gains.
Kurt shuffled next to me. “So. That’s interesting.”
“Shut up.”
“You don’t know JT Wellbridge? The guy you played an absolutely cutthroat game of softball against yesterday? The guy who’d buy up all of those little chocolate caramel candy things you liked, back when we were kids, just so you couldn’t have any? The guy you almost went out on a date with in high—”
“No,” I gritted out with a glare. “We do not talk about that.”
Kurt held up his hands. “Okay. Alright.” He mimed zipping his mouth shut. “Just saying, you were tight in a way, weren’t you? Even if you weren’t exactly friends.”
I frowned. “No. Just… hush. Look, I needed the cake, and I’m not going to let JT Fucking Wellbridge serve it to—”
The bell over the door tinkled.
Please don’t let it be JT. Please don’t let it be JT.
“Hi, Natalie, I’m here to pick up an Oreo cheesecake.”
I let out a relieved breath. It was not JT.
Trent Wellbridge came in looking harried and sunburned. He wore plaid Bermuda shorts and a golf shirt. His gray-blond hair stuck up through the opening of the hot-pink visor on his head, and the sunglasses hanging from his collar gave his portly frame the false appearance of a little cleavage.
Before Natalie could stammer an apology, I reached out my hand for a shake and plastered on the Honeycutt smile again. “Hi, Senator Wellbridge. I’ve already got the cake. I told JT I’d pick it up for him. Have a great day!”
I quickly tossed some cash on the counter and grabbed the box, bolting out of the shop while Trent Wellbridge’s jaw still hung open in surprise.