“Like you don’t inhale them when I bring them home?” Grace countered.
“Fine. They’re pretty good,” I admitted. “But I prefer the snickerdoodle cookies,” I confessed.
“I don’t know who you are,” Grace teased with a shake of her head and a giggle.
Taking the opportunity, I scooped her up and tossed her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry before smacking her ass.
“What was that for?” Grace questioned as she held fistfuls of my shirt.
“It was there,” I offered vaguely as I stepped through the gate and into the yard behind the house.
When I set her down, Grace wove her arm around my waist. “You should get chickens,” she declared, and I had no idea where that came from.
“Chickens?”
“Yeah. How awesome would it be to have fresh eggs every day?”
“Chickens are a lot of work,” I told her, but her idea did have merit. Besides, it wasn’t like I didn’t have the room.
“And a baby goat! Oh, we should get a baby goat!”
“Okay, okay. Calm down, Doctor Dolittle. Let’s just get Daisy through the first week then we can go from there,” I tried to reason but Grace’s enthusiasm was infectious.
“Fine,” Grace pouted, and I chuckled. This woman was something else and I couldn’t imagine ever letting her go.
We made it to town and after a stop at the Seed and Feed to pick up what we needed for Daisy and a few other things, we visited the Clever Cookie. While I took a call, Grace chatted animatedly to Morgan, the owner, before finally emerging with a stack of boxes.
I ended my call and pocketed my phone before taking the boxes from her. “How many are we feeding?” I teased as I set them in the truck.
“I was hoping we could stop by the B&B on our way home,” Grace mentioned off-handedly as she chewed on her fingernail.
The fact that she just called my place home meant she could ask for the moon right now and I’d find a way to give it to her. If she was even considering calling my place home, I was a step ahead right now.
“Absolutely,” I assured her, pulling open her door and helping her in.
We pulled down the drive and it was chaos. It was so busy at the B&B that I almost felt guilty for commandeering so much of Grace’s time. If she was needed here to help her sisters, then this is where she should be.
“Wonder what’s going on?” she asked as she jumped from the car and rounded the hood waiting for me.
“Let’s go find out,” I suggested.
We were halfway across the lawn when Grace stopped and spun on her heel, almost wrenching my arm right out of its socket. “I forgot the goodies,” Grace explained before dropping her hold on my hand and jogging back to the truck.
A moment later, she was back at my side carrying a navy box filled with something that smelled delicious.
We walked up the steps together, and I pulled open the screen door.
As the bells overhead jingled announcing our arrival, someone called out. “Be there in a second.”
“It’s just me,” Grace replied.
“In the kitchen,” the voice came again.
Grace handed me the box as she started down the hall, and I followed along like a love-struck puppy.
We turned the corner and stepped into the kitchen, and I could barely believe what I was seeing. It was like a tornado had ripped through here. The countertops were buried beneath trays of baked goods, dirty bowls, glass jars of flour and sugar, and Georgia looked ready to pass out.
“What’s going on?” Grace asked, her voice trembling as she took in the scene before us.
