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“Nothing. An old boyfriend. I guess he’s jealous.”
Suzanne looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. She seems like one of those people who stay professional at all times.
“Yes, well… It’s time to start judging the contest. If you’ll excuse me…”
She trails off.
A few minutes later, Suzanne and the mayor come around to each booth, taking pictures for the paper. When she approaches mine, she smiles, pinning a blue ribbon on the tablecloth of my booth.
“You’ve been voted Best Booth at the festival. Congratulations. And I want Sugar & Coal running the dessert tent at the holiday market in December. Call me Monday.”
Apparently, the reward for surviving fifteen hundred pastries is more pastries.
“Why, Suzanne, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Cole drawls, smiling.
Suzanne gives him a withering look and moves on.
I look at Cole.
“We’ve had our disagreements about zoning for my real estate endeavors,” he explains, and I snort out a laugh.
“Of course you have.”
Marcus kisses my temple. “Congratulations, angel.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you three. I mean that.”
Gabe opens his mouth to speak to me but then Hazel rushes over, looking harried.
“Margo, I’m so fucking proud of you, but I’ve got to go and help out at the diner. Phillip called in sick and I saw him here so I’m gonna skin him,” she mutters.
I frown. “But you work so hard, Hazel. When will you ever have time to make your own wishes?”
“No time for that,” she says dismissively. I frown. There’s never time for anything when it comes to Hazel taking care of herself. She hugs me tightly to her chest. Then she straightens up, looking at my three men. “And if you hurt her… any of you… we’ll kill you.”
The rest of the Sugarplums walk up behind her.
“Damn straight,” Del mutters.
Ivy and Joss just glare at them.
They whisk me away, whispering praises and congratulations, and I look back at Cole, Marcus and Gabe almost mournfully.
There’s time to make up later.
I start a group chat with Marcus, Gabe and Cole. I send simply: meet me at the greenhouse.
The festival is clearing out. The last of the teenage volunteers went home an hour ago, and the Wayward Hills truck has already pulled out with the uneaten pastries. Only Suzanne’s still around, counting the cash box in the pavilion.
When I check Sugar & Coal’s social media, there’s nothing but positive comments about how wonderful my pastries are. My heart swells.
Maybe Garland Falls is a good place, after all.
Marcus texts me while I’m looking at the comments: Last guest’s gone, angel. Gate’s locked.
I look down at the outfit I’d changed into. A sexy witch’s costume: a fitted black dress with a sweetheart neckline, snug through the waist and hips, ending a few inches above my knees. The thigh-high socks they’d seemed to like so much before. And of course, a witch’s hat. Over all of it, still tied, my Kiss the Baker apron.
Cole walks in first, and he pauses at the door, looking me over.
