Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
They were obviously still here in the building. Their supplies were sitting beside the display, waiting for their return. Curious, I looked at the materials.
A cart containing various icings. An airbrush machine and several containers of various-sized cupcakes. I had a sweet tooth I could never satisfy, and unable to resist, I reached in and took a small vanilla one, rolling it in the white buttercream and popping it into my mouth.
The cake was a flawless bite of vanilla. Rich, but light—exactly the way it should be. The buttercream was whipped, with a flavor I couldn’t place but liked very much. I shut my eyes as I chewed and swallowed, almost groaning with delight over the utter perfection of the cake and frosting. It was the best I had ever tasted.
There was no choice. I had to have another one. I took a larger one, rolling it in the icing again and munching on it as I stared at the masterpiece. Brought to life with cake and frosting.
And talent.
One branch drooped a little, and I reached down to tuck it into position, shocked to realize it wasn’t a twig, but edible. Inspecting it, I discovered most of the sculpture was real. The few flowers and branches woven in were for structure and to hide the inner supports. It was fabulous.
I leaned closer, continuing to scrutinize the work, when I heard a gasp behind me. I looked over my shoulder, freezing at the vision bearing down on me. The woman was like an explosion of rage as she rushed my way.
“What are you doing? Get away from that!”
I began to straighten, shocked as she slapped my hand like an errant schoolboy, causing the treat in my fingers to begin to fall. Luckily, she caught it, but she was incensed. “Oh my God, you’re eating the cupcakes? I need those!”
I indicated the table. “It looked as if you were done. I didn’t think one would be missed.”
She cast her eyes over the trays. “You had two!” she spat, indignant. “I should have you arrested!”
“For stealing a cupcake? That’s a bit over the top, I think.”
“They aren’t your cupcakes,” she protested. “It’s just rude.”
“It was the best cupcake I have ever eaten.”
That deflated her anger until she saw the icing and the obvious well I had left behind in the bucket. Her anger returned in a flash. She shoved the half-eaten cupcake at me and waved her hands as if shooing away a pesky bird.
“Take it and go. Don’t touch my cake!”
Her cake?
She pushed at me ineffectually. “Get away!” she repeated. “What the h-e-double-hockey-sticks are you doing in here anyway?”
I blinked, not moving, finding myself enraptured by her fury.
H-e-double what?
She barely came to my chest. I outweighed her by eighty pounds easily. I could pick her up and carry her without breaking a sweat. Snap her neck like one of the twigs she was so angry over my touching. She was younger than me. A lot younger than my thirty-eight years. Dressed in yellow overalls with a black T-shirt underneath that had stripes on the arms, she resembled an angry bee, and I was obviously disturbing her little hive. Smears of icing decorated the bib of her overalls. Her brown hair was chaotic and messy, falling from a bun held haphazardly away from her face by chopsticks. Curls escaped and danced on her forehead and around her face like corkscrews. Her dark eyes were wide in fury, her cheeks flushed. I noticed more icing on her skin, and I was surprised to feel the urge to grab her face and lick it off.
Her anger brought me out of my odd thoughts.
“If you’ve made a mess of this, I will hunt you down and destroy you,” she seethed. “If I’m short a cupcake, I will make sure they know it wasn’t me. And don’t touch it. I saw you poking at it.”
“I merely touched a branch that was drooping.”
“I merely touched a branch,” she mimicked. “I’ll barely touch you with my foot in your ass. Now, back away!”
I held up my hands in supplication, trying to hide my amusement. If it were anyone else speaking to me this way, they would face my wrath. But I found her misplaced ire oddly endearing. I liked her spark.
“You think this is funny?” she snarled. “I’ve been creating this for days. Weeks. And you come in and touch it? I have no idea who you are, but I will get you fired!” she threatened.
“I don’t work here, Little Bee,” I said, wanting to provoke her a little more. “Put away the stinger.”
She reacted exactly the way I thought she would.
“Don’t call me that. You’re trespassing.” She pointed to the door. “Get out, or I’ll call the police.”
I felt my lips quirk. She was so angry she was shaking. I found it adorable, which was odd.