It was a wild, free feeling… and I liked it.
There might have been other ways I could prove myself, but when it came to my expertise as a baker, I was in my element.
Ella raved about the pieces, of course, only adding to my satisfaction and private delight. By the time I was done for the day and wiping down the counters, my shoulders felt like there was a knife between them and my fingers ached, but it was all worth it. The tall baking rack I had in the main baking area was chock full of beautiful and edible decorations. Sugar flowers with delicate petals bloomed next to swirl after swirl of cream-colored royal lace. Trays of sweetly decorated heart-shaped cookies werecarefully placed at the bottom, ready to go into the cooler as soon as everything had been cleaned up and I could head home.
The cakes I’d made ahead of time were already in the cooler on cake boards and crumb coated, frozen and ready for their part in this performance, so there was just one more thing to do before I left for the night. Junie hadn’t wanted fondant, but real vanilla buttercream, and I’d been happy to oblige. With practiced expertise, I mixed a huge batch of rich frosting, barely tinted pink, swiping a quick taste to be sure the flavor and consistency were as smooth and flavorful as they could be. As soon as I put the tasting spoon in my mouth, I closed my eyes in total bliss.
More perfection. Awesome.
The cake was going to be the greatest thing I’d ever done, and my cookies would stand up against the epitome of any culinary delights Connor MacDowell was going to try to present at the wedding. I covered the frosting bowl, then lugged it into the cooler and stashed it toward the back. I vaguely remembered Ella saying good night to me as she headed out the front and locked it behind her, so I wiped down my work area and gave the floor a quick mop. After a quick check of the trash, I wasn’t surprised to see there was a single bag left to go out.
I was still humming ’80s pop tunes when I lugged the bag through the back door, propping it open so I wouldn’t have to worry about it shutting behind me and locking me out. A quick toss of the bag landed the contents into the dumpster. “Two points,” I said into the frosty air with a giggle. “For thewin.”
I was about to turn to go back inside when I heard a voice.
“Oh, come on, now!”
It sounded frustrated and very familiar.
Whirling, I scanned the back of the building. There was no one there, but I was absolutely sure I’d heard Connor MacDowell’s voice. I grabbed the chain from inside and hookedit on the handle to keep the door open before slowly drifting to the side alley, glancing across the street… and saw Connor standing outside with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.
“Typical Connor,” I muttered.
I was about to turn and go back inside my bakery and leave him to his silly temper when I heard him holler again. I could see he was glancing from side to side, and realized he was looking for something. Wishing I’d grabbed my jacket before emptying the trash, I hurried to the end of my building and crossed the street. His store was dark except for a light in the back. He must have been working in his kitchen, like me. The myriad lights in his sign were still on though, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
He could land a 737 with the amount of light glowing from those bulbs.
“Hey, is everything okay?” I stopped in front of him, a bit breathless from the cold as I hugged myself to stay warm.
Connor looked down at me, as though seeing me for the first time. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
He actually looked terrifyingly handsome—even with the scowl.
Connor sighed. “Ms. Bell, I’m trying to—”
I held up my hand to stop his words. “You know what? Never mind. I just thought I’d be neighborly. My apologies. Good night, Mr. MacDowell.”
I turned on my heel to leave. Behind me, I heard him call my name, but I ignored him as I crossed the street. It was too cold to stand outside and bicker with someone. I’d just reached the side alley when I heard it.
A horrible, sickening crash…from inside my bakery!
My mouth opened in shock. I’d left the back door chained open so I wouldn’t be locked out. What had I been thinkingjust walking away like that? Wild images of feral raccoons or foraging possums filled my head as I sprinted toward the door and hurried inside. Grabbing the broom by the wall, I quickly scanned the room as I crept farther inside the kitchen.
When I spotted the offending animal, my jaw dropped open, and I let out a blood-curdling scream of impotent fury.
It was Angus! That little creep!
Grumpy little Scotty dog Angus, and he was ignoring me completely as he snuffled across the tile floor, gobbling the bits of tasty wreckage in his path. I swiveled from looking at the chair next to the baking counter, to the disaster that now lay sideways on the floor, where an evil little black dog wolfed down the remnants of my hard work.
The baking rack where I had so carefully positioned the dozens of sugar flowers, elaborately decorated cookies, and hours upon hours of sugar lace decorations, was still upright, at least. But two of the trays had crashed to the floor, spreading their contents over the tile. And the culprit? None other than the hungry little dog.
Hours of effort and expertise I’d worked on so carefully had scattered in a random debris field the dog was ingesting as fast as his little mouth could move.
Destruction and disaster had just sabotaged my hopes and dreams.
And Angus was right in the middle of it all!
