Book club prep days were my favorite. Sure, they were also chaotic, but it was the good kind. The kind with laughter and chatter, sticky counters, and customers leaning against the bar while asking if they could sneak just one treat before the official meeting.
Mia came out of the supply room with the cart of the rest of our supplies for tonight. “You grab the rest of the napkin stacks for the tables?”
“I couldn’t find the plain ones that we use for book club nights.” She looked a little frazzled, looking back over to the supply room for a minute.
“That’s weird.” I was sure I’d just bought a giant pack at Costco when I went last. They were sold in huge stacks and were pretty hard to handle, so I remembered. No way had we used them all. “We’ll just have to use the logo ones tonight.” They were more expensive to print, but there wasn’t any other choice. It was a small corner I cut on these nights to save costs where I could.
“You got it, boss.” She made the adjustment and moved her cart to the back, where she could stock the table.
I went to flip the small chalkboard sign leaning against the counter, which read ‘Welcome to Jurassic Perk.’
Yes, I had cracked myself up when I wrote it. No, I didn’t care that Mia rolled her eyes and muttered, “You’re such a nerd” while sketching a questionable T-Rex doodle on the corner.
The menu under the sign was scribbled with our themed specials: Veloci-Latte with extra foam and caramel claw marks down the side. And for dessert: Raptor Claw Eclairs that were chocolate-glazed pastries filled with extra pistachio cream, arranged in fierce little packs in the case with raspberries marching down their backs.
Was I totally cheesy with my dessert names? Hell, yes. Did I have a blast making them up? Also yes.
By the time the first wave of my book club ladies arrived, the place was already buzzing. The bell above thedoor jingled as they filtered in, their rain coats dripping on the mat, their laughter filling every corner of the shop.
“Lila, my girl, what have you done this time?” Janice called, shrugging off her raincoat and heading straight for the pastry case.
“Just a few prehistoric treats,” I said with mock modesty. “But I warn you, the eclairs bite back.”
The room erupted in giggles, and Mia leaned over the counter. “If you eat three in a row, you’re technically extinct.”
That earned her a round of applause from the ladies, which only encouraged her sass. Mia loved the little game we’d started with the book club just as much as I did. She had been a fantastic hire for me, not only because she loved to bake, but also because she was just as devoted to the shop as I was. Mia worked long hours and was a great baker. She wasn’t as enthused with book-related ventures or organizing the stacks, but she did love the events we hosted. All in all, she was awesome.
I poured lattes, passed plates, and teased customers about whether they were Team Velociraptor or Team T-Rex. There was no such thing, but I was gaslighting them so much I started to consider making it real. Maybe next month I could set teams and make something into a competition? Something to challenge my brain. My hands moved on autopilot, steaming milk, drizzling syrups, sliding sugar cookies and eclairs onto plates, but my heart was lighter than it had been in days. Even after the break-in, even after the bruise on my cheek had only just faded toa sickly yellow, this was the kind of event that reminded me why I had poured everything into this place.
This was the distraction I needed. Sage had been trying extra hard to keep me busy, but even in the quiet moments when we weren’t together, I still found myself stressing. She and I had gone back to the cottage and straightened everything back up, but I’d had trouble sleeping there.
“This one is mine, right? I called dibs!” Marge piped up as I slid a latte across the bar.
“You did not call dibs,” her friend argued, poking her in the ribs with a cane.
“Ladies, ladies,” I intervened, trying to keep the peace. We’d gone down this road before, and things could get a little testy. “There are enough lattesfor all of you. And if not, I’ll whip up another.” I dutifully stamped their current bookmarks while they all compared their stamp quantities. Janice was ahead of everyone because she’d bought her grandson a dinosaur picture book. I hid my grin while she puffed up against the teasing accusations that she cheated.
The group chuckled, satisfied, and moved toward the large table we had pushed together on the bookstore side. Extra copies were available, each with a small green ribbon around the cover in case of late arrivals or someone needing to borrow a book. However, most members were good about bringing their own copy to each meeting.
As the last chair scraped against the floor, the bell above the door chimed again. I looked up, ready with my very best customer smile.
Maggie Holt stood in the doorway with her crutches,Sage’s steady hand on her elbow, Easton a looming shadow at her other side.
For a moment, my mind short-circuited. Maggie hadn’t been in the shop since before her fall. I knew from Sage, who gave me daily updates on her mom’s recovery, that she was doing well. But it felt different seeing her here now—cheeks flushed from the cold and her eyes bright—showing she was really recuperating. It hit me hard, the relief. After losing Grams, I’d been worried. She radiated goodness much like my grandmother had.
“Maggie,” I breathed, setting down the tray so quickly that Mia had to catch it before it tipped off the counter. “You came.”
“I couldn’t miss another meeting, Lila,” she said, her voice a little slower, a little softer, but carrying all the warmth I remembered. “I knew there would be fun I wouldn’t want to miss and the very best treats.”
“Yes,” I said too quickly, rushing around the counter to hug her gently. She smelled like lavender lotion and rain. “Only the classiest treats here.”
“East insisted on coming with me,” she added as I led her toward the back. “I think he wants to join the book club. You’ll let him, won’t you?”
Standing close, too broad for the small area of my shop, his gaze flickered around as if he were looking for threats rather than books or baked goods. His eyes finally settled on me, unreadable, and something deep in my stomach clenched before I could push it down. Everything suddenly felt warm.
“I’ll think about it. We may need to have a vote.” My smirk wasn’t even manufactured.
Mia sidled up next to me, whispering loudly enough for only me to hear. “Remember, save a horse, ride a cowboy.”
