No Limos Allowed

Functional, Like a Toaster

Maisie

By the time I arrived at the shop, Main Street was already alive with bicyclists – early riders looking to claim the open space while it lasted. On the sidewalks, early walkers did the same, stretching their legs before the walkways filled to bursting.

It was still early May, and the real chaos hadn't even started. The summer months would bring larger crowds – and with them, more money.

If things kept humming, those tourism dollars would be enough to carry businesses like mine through the long, empty winter, when icy waterways made travel by ferry difficult, if not impossible.

But winter was still months away.

Today, I had cookies.

Unfortunately, this wasn't all I had.

I slipped through the back door and set the dreaded white pastry box on the long work-table in the back room. Then I pulled out the second container – larger, heavier, and warm enough to fog the plastic lid. This one held chocolate chip cookies, still soft from the oven.

Tessa had really outdone herself.

We'd both turned in early last night. But this morning, I'd woken to the scent of gourmet coffee and fresh-baked cookies.

Tessa had apparently gotten up before dawn, baking like her life depended on it. When I'd stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and half asleep, she'd smiled and said, "If you're delivering those raisin bombs, you should bring a box of something better to balance the karma."

Forget karma. I'd been stuck on raisin bombs.

It had taken me a long, sleepy moment before it had finally clicked.

She had meant the raisin pastries from yesterday that Ryder had purchased for Griff.

I still hadn't decided if I should actually deliver them, but Tessa had apparently decided for both of us.

The news had barely registered when she'd asked, "He does like chocolate chip, right?"

I'd been too sleepy to think. "You mean Griff?"

This had made her frown. "Well, I wouldn't make cookies for Ryder."

"Right." Ryder, she obviously hated. Apparently, Griff rated higher. "Uh, yeah…I'm sure he'll love them."

"Let's hope so," she'd said. "I was so worried, I couldn't sleep."

It was so thoughtful, and yet for some stupid reason, it had bothered me. She'd met Griff exactly once, and now she was baking him cookies? My gaze had strayed to the oven. "Really?"

"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."

"Ohhhhh." Something in my shoulders had eased. "Right."

"And you know what else?"

"What?"

Her gaze had become steely. "These new cookies – they'll totally ruin Ryder's prank."

Sleepy or not, I'd laughed good and hard. I had never met this Ryder person, but the way Tessa described him, it had felt shockingly good to see his plans thwarted.

"And don't worry," Tessa had added with a smile. "I made cookies for us, too." She'd pointed to the oven, where a dozen more were still baking behind the glass. "When you're ready to leave, just let me know. I'll pack the warmest ones for the shop."

I hadn't argued. The whole thing had been excessively nice, and I was starting to realize something. Until the past few weeks, I hadn't really known Tessa at all. But the more I learned, the more I felt that Delaney hadn't done her sister justice.

Of course, Delaney hadn't done me justice either, considering that she'd ditched me for no discernable reason.

Some best friend, huh?

After showering, I'd hitched my foldable trailer to the back of my bike and peddled into town, feeling kind of ridiculous, but stupidly excited to see Griff's reaction.

The shop didn't open for at least fifteen minutes, so I hunkered down in the back room with my gaze trained on the rear door. And because I was standing right here, watching, I'd left the door not only unlocked, but open just a crack as I waited for Griff.

I didn't have to wait long. Five minutes into my vigil, the door flew open, making me jump out of my skin – as if I hadn't been expecting Griff's arrival all along. But of course, I hadn't realized his entrance would be so dramatic – or strange, considering that he still wasn't moving forward.

Instead, he was standing in the open doorway, looking on edge, as if he'd been warned about the raisins – or something a lot more sinister. When his gaze landed on me, he asked, "Was that door open when you got here?"

What the heck? "No. I just opened it. Why?"

"And you left it open?"

I glanced toward the door in question. "Obviously."

This made him frown. "On purpose." He didn't phrase it as a question.

"Of course."

"But why?"

Seriously? "So you could get in."

"What's wrong with knocking?" he asked. "It's what I normally do." He made it sound like he'd been knocking for weeks, when in reality, this was only his third day on the job.

"I'm not against knocking," I said with an awkward laugh. "I just figured it would be easier…for you, I mean." And then, there was the matter of the cookies . But I didn't want to say it because suddenly, I was feeling a little silly.

His gaze swept over the back room like he expected to find a burglar making off with a bike. "Just because it's easy, it doesn't mean it's smart."

Did he just call me stupid? I was staring now. "Wait…what exactly are you trying to say?"

"Nothing. But I'd still keep it locked."

Again with the locks? I mean, yeah, we were talking about doors, not bikes, but the similarities remained. Didn't he get it? The island was one of the safest places in the whole country. I almost sighed out loud. "It's not like that here."

"Bull," he said. "It's like that everywhere – maybe not as much, but it's still there."

I felt like I was being scolded in my own business, and I didn't appreciate it. "You do realize, this shop has been in my family for years."

"Yeah, so?"

"So they didn't always lock it – I mean, not while someone was here, anyway."

"Yeah, well times change," he said. "And it wasn't just unlocked. It was open."

I saw what he meant. During the day, we left the rear door unlocked all the time, which made it easier for Griff to go in and out. But it's not like we left it wide open for anyone to simply waltz in.

Of course, the door today had been open barely an inch. "Trust me," I said. "It's fine."

His expression said otherwise. "Maybe. Maybe not."

I felt my eyes narrow. "What does that mean?"

He let out a long breath. "Look, I've seen a couple of guys eyeing the shop. Maybe it was nothing. But maybe it wasn't."

"Eyeing it how?"

"The usual," he said. "Walking by too slow, looking too long, passing by more than they should."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "You do realize this is a tourist town, right?"

"So?"

"So people walk by here all the time. And the strip isn't that long, which means they pass the same place over and over." I almost rolled my eyes. "You know, the same people."

"Yeah? And sometimes they don't belong."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Call it a hunch."

" Or paranoia," I said. "And why didn't you mention these 'suspicious' guys earlier?"

"Because I only saw them the one day."

Skeptical or not, I was still curious. " Which day?"

"My first on the job."

"See?" I smiled. "They're probably long gone."

He looked unconvinced. "We'll see."

" And ," I persisted, "you still should've mentioned it."

"Maybe. But I didn't want you to worry if it was nothing. I know you've got a lot on your plate." His voice softened. "Just be careful, alright?"

Whether he was being paranoid or protective, that last part made my heart go just a little gooey. It was unusual and maddening and – heaven help me – kind of sweet.

But if he cared so much, why did he clam up whenever I tried to make friendly conversation? I'd been trying to not take it personally, hoping it was a simple clash of small-town friendliness versus big-city armor.

But that was only one theory. My other theory was that he clammed up because I tended to ramble when I was nervous. And honestly? Griff made me nervous all the time – not because I was scared of him, but because he was getting under my skin in ways I didn't dare contemplate.

About the two guys he'd mentioned, I wasn't worried. Sure, there was the matter of the fallen bikes, but the longer I thought about it, the more I figured that was Trevor's doing for his own secret reason.

Maybe I'd worked him too hard.

Maybe he thought it was funny.

Or maybe it had been an honest accident, and he'd been in too big of a hurry to clean it up. Hey, it happens to the best of us, right?

As far as the two strangers, it sounded like Griff was grasping at straws. He wasn't local. I was. And I'd worked at the shop for long enough to know that the island drew all kinds of characters with all kinds of walking habits.

But I didn't want to argue – not this morning when I had a surprise. I summoned up a smile. "Forget the door." I pointed toward the two containers of baked goods sitting right there on the table. "Look."

He looked where I pointed but said nothing.

I rushed to fill in the silence. " One of those is a delivery from the bakery – something from your friend – Ryder, I think?"

Griff let out a scoff. "Oh, yeah? I can't wait to see what's in there." He said it like the box was radioactive and maybe ticking, too.

Moving on, I put some extra pep into my voice. "But the other one, that has homemade cookies – chocolate chip."

He didn't exactly jump for joy. "Yeah?"

"I bet they're still warm if you want to try one."

He eyed the container but made no move. "Nah, I'm good. But thanks."

I frowned. "You do like chocolate chips, right? I mean, if you don't, that's okay. I know how you feel about cranberries, so…" I let the sentence trail off, hoping he would fill in the gap.

After a long, awkward moment, he said, "Yeah. Chocolate's good."

Well, that was underwhelming. I tried again. "And they're all for you – to take home or whatever." I'd been trying to keep it light, but my voice had turned weirdly hopeful, and now I felt a little absurd.

Finally he smiled. "So you made these?"

At his smile, my stomach gave a little flutter, and I spoke without thinking. "I wish ."

Oh, crap. Now that sounded weird – although for the life of me, I couldn't quite figure out why. I rushed to continue. "I mean, no. I should've told you that from the start. They're from my roommate. Tessa."

He perked up. "Oh, yeah?"

His sudden interest caught me off guard. Still, I nodded. "She works at the coffee shop near the ferry dock. I think you might've met her once?"

He nodded. "A blonde, right?"

Of course he remembered . Tessa wasn't somebody you'd forget, especially if you were a guy. My cheeks warmed as I replied, "Uh, yeah."

He glanced in that general direction, but made no further comment. Even so, I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He was definitely interested, but I had a sinking feeling that it wasn't in the cookies.

I tried to laugh. "She thinks she might've messed up your last order, and this was her way of making it up to you."

When Griff still said nothing, I kept going. "And, as far the box from the coffee shop…" I gave the dreaded box a furtive glance. "The good news is, no cranberries." Under my breath, I murmured, "But you might find a raisin or two. Or a million."

Whether Griff heard or not, I had no idea. He wasn't even looking at the raisin box. He was eyeing Tessa's cookies with renewed interest. "So…those are from your roommate?"

Hadn't I just said so? "Yeah…she baked them this morning."

Finally, he walked to the table and removed the top from the plastic container. He reached for a cookie and took a modest bite. He gave a slow nod and said, "Good cookie."

I should've been thrilled. And I was…mostly.

Still, I couldn't help but notice that he hadn't even tried one until he learned they were from Tessa. I gave myself a mental kick. Oh, come on. I couldn't know that. Not for sure .

More likely, I'd worn him down by not going away. I forced another smile. "Yeah, I know, right? I mean, I sampled a few for breakfast."

"Tell her thanks, alright?"

"Yeah, totally." I ran a nervous hand through my hair and tried to sound like it was no big deal. "Well…anyway, I guess I should open the shop, huh?"

I turned away, heading toward the front room, feeling confused and deflated for reasons I didn't quite understand.

But then, Griff called out after me. "Hey Maisie."

My heart skipped, and I turned to look. "Yeah?"

"So…about Tessa. What's her story?"

I froze. For a second, I thought I'd misheard. "What do you mean?" It felt like someone had dimmed the lights, even though nothing had changed.

His tone was overly casual as he replied, "I just mean, what's she up to?"

The question bothered me more than it should have, and I felt myself swallow. Griff and I had spent hours together at the shop. During all of that time, he had never once asked for my story.

But of course, I wasn't Tessa.

I didn't have a perfect face and perfect hair. I didn't make perfect cookies with the perfect amount of chocolate chips. I didn't say the perfect thing at the perfect time in the perfect tone to make guys notice.

I was just a regular girl – not hideous, but not a knockout either. And I certainly wasn't golden.

But that was fine. I wasn't shiny. I was something else. I bit my lip. I was…functional…like a dependable toaster.

I squared my shoulders. But so what? Not everyone could be golden.

And besides, it didn't even matter. It's not like Griff and I had that kind of relationship.

We worked together. That was it.

I mean, it's not like I'd been interested.

But if that were true, why did I feel like someone had just knocked the wind out of me?