Junie sighed and looked a bit worried. “Well, I guess you can still bring them then. We’ll just set them out next to the special chocolates Mr. MacDowell is making.”
Because clearly, my cookies didn’t cut it anymore. Not without the extra glitz and glamor of Sweet Shoppe custom-made confections.
“Fabulous,” I growled.
She blinked at me once, then backed up a couple of steps toward the door. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you Saturday with the cake. Bye, Ivy. Thanks for understanding!”
I watched her hurry out the door and scurry past the window down the sidewalk. Suddenly, the glittering lights outside and the cheery holiday decorations were a source of rage… even more so when my gaze fell on the garishly glowing place across the street.
And I felt something raw and terrible snap inside me. Red spots danced in front of my eyes, and I had a momentary thought that perhaps I was having a stroke. But when the spots cleared, I was still raging mad.
Not a stroke.
An epiphany!
Hands shaking, it took two tries to yank open the front door of the bakery, my whole body vibrating as I stood on the threshold, glaring my fury across the street.
It was time Mr. Gorgeous-Jerk and I had it out once and for all!
16
Islammed the bakery door closed behind me and sprinted across the cobblestones, almost getting hit in the process by Mr. Reardon in his beat-up Ford pickup. He shouted and waved out of his open window, the sounds of Randy Travis playing from within. I mumbled an apology I didn’t mean and kept running. Almost getting flattened by Mr. Reardon was enough to calm me down a little, and I only used half my strength to shove The Sweet Shoppe’s front door open.
It was still enough force to make it bounce off the wall with a satisfying bang and cause every eye in the packed store to turn and stare at me.
Including Connor MacDowell himself. He was standing behind the counter, with Gracie behind the fancy coffee machine, her mouth formed into a wordless O of surprise at my arrival.
“Well, good afternoon, Ms. Bell,” Connor’s voice rang out over the now quiet storefront. “What can I do for you? It’s a little chilly to be outside without a jacket, isn’t it?”
Hands clenched into tight fists, I marched over to his counter while the people in the room parted like the Red Sea before me. “Oh, I’m plenty hot. We need to talk!”
“Seems we need to do that a lot, you and me.” He gestured around the room. “Unfortunately, I’ve got a packed house, I’m afraid.”
“Ha!” I shouted. “Didn’t stopyoufrom storming into my place last week and making a fool of yourself, did it?”
The man had the gall to chuckle at that. “Is that what you’re doing here, then? You want to return the favor and make a fool of yourself?”
I paused at that, unsure of my next move. He must have thought I was done fighting because he turned and smiled at Mrs. Harrison, one of my former best customers. Who refused to meet my eyes at the moment, her smile wavering and nervous. “Now, what can I get for you, ma’am? Would you like to sample my latest creation?”
“Oh, laying it on thick, aren’t you?” I demanded.
Once again, the room went silent.
Connor arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
From somewhere behind him, I heard Angus growl.
“Don’t pretend to be all Mr. Nicey-Pants with them and be all Mr. Jerkface with me! You know what you’ve been doing!”
Connor threw back his head and laughed. “Mr. Nicey-Pants and Mr. Jerkface? Lass, you need to learn to color up your language if you’re gonna take on a Scotsman. Get some grit.”
At that, several customers snickered.
“Oh, yeah?” I said, feeling myself getting all worked up again. “You want me to get some grit? Well, how’sthisfor toughening up?” I reached down, snatched a mound of chocolate mint ice cream from a stunned customer’s bowl, and threw it at Connor—hitting him square in the forehead with a satisfying and explosivesplat.
I heard the gasps around me, but I was so mortified by what I’d done, I had to grab onto a nearby table to keep from fainting. My rage left me in a rush of regret and horror. Where had that come from?
Connor slowly swiped his fingers over his face, his gaze never leaving mine as he flung the ice cream away. Fire danced in his eyes, and I took a step backward. “Oh, no,” he intoned, his voice low. “You don’t get to do that and then run away, lass.”
