“High praise,” I say as I walk over to the sink and wash my hands again.
I want to text the guys about this, but I’m not picking up my phone with icky hands. After all, I need my phone for as long as possible, and it’s already six years old. That’s basically ancient in cell phone years.
It’s a weird feeling, wanting to fill them in on something happening in my life. But I want them to be part of this.
Knox will be thrilled, I’m sure.
“I could use you around here, you know,” Tansy says.
I dry off my hands and turn to face her, leaning back against the sink. “You have my number. You can call me in anytime.”
“How does thirty an hour sound for emergency call-ins like this? I know it’s not much, but it’s all I can spare right now.”
I don’t hesitate. “That rate is just fine. You need anything else done around here before I head out? Got another rush you need to prep for?”
That’s when she grins, and her next question makes me almost swallow my tongue.
“Depends. How long will your pack let me keep you today?”
Lia
My traitorous heart slips inside my chest as the next words claw up my throat like thorns on a rose stem.
“We’re not pack.”
Tansy doesn’t blink. “That’s not what the town is saying.”
I stare at her across the stainless-steel counter. The scent of butter and sugar hangs thick between us, threatening to smother the words trying to work their way out of my mouth.
With the last tray of Danishes done, I have nothing to distract myself away from the moment. Tansy stands there with flour dusted up and down her arms, all over the front of her apron.
“Well, then the town needs a hobby,” I finally manage to say.
Tansy’s laugh is bright and unapologetic. “Oh, honey, you’re the new girl in town. You are the hobby.”
I turn to the sink and grab a washcloth and some soap. If I can’t bake, I need to clean. My hands need something to do.
I’ve never done well in the spotlight under pressure.
It’s why the back room of a bakery suits me just fine.
“We’ve just been spending some time together. That’s all,” I say as I wring out the water from the washcloth.
“Mmm. Is that what bowling night was?”
I pause. “What?”
“Or, the sunrise lookout Knox took you to?”
I slowly turn to face her. “How do you know about that?”
Tansy’s smile is knowing. “Or the private dinner at Walker’s vineyard.”
The hair on the nape of my neck prickles. “How do you know all of this?”
She gives me a look. “This bakery is basically the town’s news station. People stand at the counter and they talk. I listen while fulfilling orders. It’s basically the first stop on the gossip train in Honeysuckle Grove. My grandmother was very proud of that fact.”
My legs feel dizzy.
