“Oh no,” she muttered.
He returned two seconds later, casually holding a box of neon-colored shot glasses.
Lynn blinked. “What are those for?” She hadn’t exactly pegged him as her next drinking buddy.
“Cake toppers,” Brock said with a grin, clearly enjoying the mix of horror and delight on her face. “Too soon?”
“I hadn’t planned on making tequila-flavored frosting,” Lynn said, then burst into laughter, the image of Beth’s reaction playing out in her head. “Oh my gosh, can you imagine?”
Brock raised an eyebrow like he absolutely could.
“But NOOOOOOOOOooooo,” Lynn said dramatically,wagging a finger at him. “Go put those back! We are being nice to our siblings!”
“Aren’t we, though?” he asked, twirling the box in his hand. “Because I feel like this could be a subtle reminder to put God first in their marriage… Maybe we throw a cross between the shot glasses? Real spiritual moment. Ya think?”
Lynn burst out laughing. At her reaction, Brock kept going, feigning confusion.
“What? Is it too much?”
“YES!” she said, still laughing. “And people are always sayingI’mtoo much!”
Without missing a beat, she pointed down the aisle. “March, preacher boy.”
“Alright, alright. No tequila-frosted sermons. Message received.” Brock raised both hands in surrender, still grinning.
Lynn spun on her heel. “Crap! The cakes! We have to grab those layers. I will lose it in this grocery store if we leave without them.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve witnessed a spiritual breakthrough in a supermarket,” Brock muttered, jogging to catch up.
“Less talkie, more walkie, Reverend Briggs!”
They tore down the aisle like the final leg of a relay, dodging a confused stock boy and a less than impressed mother of four with a cart full. They slid into the bakery pickup counter like they were crossing a finish line. Lynn slapped the counter with pride.
“Eight layers. Four chocolate, four vanilla. Please tell me
they’re ready.”
The woman behind the counter looked startled, then nodded slowly. “Y-yes... they’ve been waiting for you.”
“Just like the Lord. Always waiting for you to choose Him.”
Lynn elbowed Brock in the ribs.
CHAPTER 38
Brock and Lynn fumbled through the kitchen door like two kids sneaking in past curfew—arms full, balance questionable, and laughing like old friends. Brock stumbled over the threshold, his stack of cake boxes lurching like a Jenga tower mid-game.
Lynn hissed as the boxes wobbled. “Don’t you dare drop those cakes or I will murder you in your sleep!”
“Have you ever thought of starting your own baking show?” Brock asked, using his shoulder to nudge the stack upright again. “You could call it The Angry Baker.”
They shuffled into the kitchen like a two-person juggling act, placing the boxes down one by one with breathless sighs and muttered praise reports. Lynn exhaled dramatically, bracingboth hands on the counter like she’d just finished a marathon.
“I’ll have you know, I have thought of my own baking show—but that name won’t work.”
“Why? Not colorful enough for you?” Brock asked, pushing the boxes a little farther back with casual precision.
Lynn stuck her tongue out at him. “It won’t work because there’s already the cutest pre-teen alive with her own YouTube channel named The Angry Baker. I can’t compete with that kind of cute spunk and sass.”
