Even now, I wasn't quite sure. But it wouldn't be Maisie if I could help it.
At the doorway, she blinked several times like my word salad of karma and raisin bombs had made her a little dizzy.
Slowly, her gaze strayed to the box of defiled bagels that I'd whined about just last night. Probably, she was replaying our conversation and wondering if my crackup had started right then and there on her couch.
Had this been only twelve hours ago?
It felt like longer, because during those hours, I had walked all over the island, kissed Ryder Vaughn, and learned that my mom was in Paris blowing Delaney's money.
Oh, and I'd baked cookies – all chocolate chip.Was that a good thing? Or a bad thing?
When Maisie still said nothing, I asked, "Hedoeslike chocolate chip, right?"
She reached up to rub at her eyes. "You mean…Griff?"
The cookies weren'tonlyfor Griff. I'd made a bunch for us, too. And yet, as I'd been baking my little heart out, I'd been thinking a lot about sharing some with Ryder.
It was like that fudge fantasy all over again. But this time, instead of strolling with peanut butter fudge, we were strolling with fresh-baked cookies and gourmet coffee, made by somebody more talented than myself.
But that was silly, right?
And besides, Ryder wasn't the reason I'd gone all Betty Crocker in the middle of the night. By the end of it, my thoughts had gotten so jumbled, I could've been baking cookies for Evan Carver for all I knew.
Sleep deprivation – it really wasn't my friend.
So of course, I had to sort it out yet again, telling Maisie, "Well, I wouldn't make cookies for Ryder."
Or at least, notonlyfor Ryder.
Hopefully.
Maisie still looked half-asleep. "Right." She gave an uncertain nod. "I'm sure he'll love them."
She meant Griff, obviously. But my brain had other priorities – like picturing Ryder, possibly shirtless, munching on a warm, gooey cookie while undressing me with his eyes.Yup, this was definitely a problem.
Shoving aside the distraction, I replied, "Let's hope so. I was so worried, I couldn't sleep."
This at least was no lie. Except my worries had nothing to do with cookies and everything to do with my mom and karma and those three amazing kisses I'd shared with a certain somebody who I definitely wasn't baking cookies for.
But now, Maisie was looking worried, too. "Really?"
Crap.I hated to upset her. This was part of the reason I wouldn't be telling her about that phone call with my mom or about locking lips with her employee's friend.
The whole thing felt like a ticking time bomb, especially the part with Delaney. When my sister learned about the missing money, she'd surely blame me – unless, of course, I had the chance to explain it first.
But that wouldn't happen if Maisie told her beforehand.
All this to say, I knew when to keep my mouth shut for the sake of everybody involved. Still, I had to saysomethingto explain my impromptu bake-a-thon.
Finally, I landed on the perfect excuse. "Yeah, I mean, I have to give him the raisin things, right? If I don't, let's say Ryder complains, I could lose my job."
Likethatwould be a tragedy.
I'd been doing a lot of rethinking, and the job had come up short. In fact, I'd donesomuch rethinking that I'd texted Skip two hours ago and told him I'd be late for work.
And when he'd complained?
I'd told him to dock my pay.
