Chapter 12
12
F eeling better about my talk with Dad, I opened the back door to my bakery at 5:00 the next morning and slipped inside. I trusted my dad to smooth things in a way I didn’t know how. He was much more diplomatic about these things than I could be, and that’s part of the reason he was such a great mayor.
At 6:00, Ella strolled through the back door and hung her purse on the empty hook. She tied her apron around her without a word, then turned to me, a determined look on her face.
“So?” She didn’t hold back, though she seemed more caring than pushy. “How did it go yesterday after I left? Did you go over there and give Connor MacDowell a piece of your mind? Thumbscrews? The rack?”
I snorted. “Thumbscrews and torture rack? No. But I told him the purpose of Jingle Junction was to uplift everyone, to have the town succeed, and also to invite tourists in. We didn’t really promote competition because there was something for everyone to do.”
Ella crossed her arms over her chest and shot me an ‘oh really’ sort of look. “And how did the big guy take that?”
I bent over and drizzled icing onto the warm Danish in front of me. “He told me he believes in competition, and I had better learn to keep up with him.”
“What?” Ella exclaimed, her eyes wide in shock. “He didn’t!”
I set the pastry aside and grabbed another. “When I talked to Dad about it, he told me there wasn’t much he could do about the coffee, because we’re not an official coffeeshop. He did say he’d talk to Connor about the details of his contract and get him to back off selling cakes.” I turned and smiled at Ella. “I think that’s a pretty good compromise. I’m happy with that.”
Ella snorted. “Huh. Really? I can’t wait to see how Mr. Competition reacts to your dad’s suggestion. He doesn’t seem like the sort to give up that easily.”
My stomach did a small flip, and I covered my belly with my hand before going back to icing Danishes. “You think he’s going to be mad?”
That was all I needed. I already felt like he didn’t like me. Having someone hate me over something having to do with business and money and competition was horrible.
The piping bag full of icing suddenly burst in my hand as I squeezed too hard.
Ella didn’t comment, though she did roll her eyes while I let out a little exhale and started scooping icing into a new bag. She filled her own, piping red frosting onto a chocolate-cherry cupcake. “Oh, yeah, Ivy, I think he’s going to be mad. I’d bet my boots on it.”
I tried not to think about the knots in my stomach as the morning rolled on and the customers came and went. Every now and then, I’d glance out the window to see if I could catch a glimpse of Connor MacDowell. At noon, I had Ella run down the street to pick us up sandwiches from Holiday Hoagies, though I wondered if I’d be able to eat a bite. After the early morning talk with Ella, my appetite was basically non-existent.
I’d just handed a customer a raspberry scone when the jingle of the bell caught my attention. I looked up from behind the display case, a smile of greeting on my lips for my next customer.
And froze when I saw Connor MacDowell in the doorway, a thunderous look on his face.
“We need to talk,” he growled.
My gaze landed on Betty Dorion, town gossip, sitting at a table by the window. You better believe she was glued to the exchange, her natural sense of being a blabbermouth likely honed in on the instant tension Connor’s attitude created. I knew by the time Connor MacDowell left, the entire town would have the nitty-gritty details of our conversation to chew over at length.
Well, like it or not, he was the one causing trouble. I would just do my best to stay calm and hope he did the same.
“Maybe we can go in the back and talk?” I offered. That would at least get us out of the sight and ears of the very nosy Betty.
Why, oh why, had I told Ella to run down the street and get us a sandwich? If she were here, she’d tell Connor a thing or two, but I was the only one in the bakery. Well, me and a roomful of openly curious customers.
“Unlike you, Ms. Bell,” Connor said, “I have no problem saying what I need to say right here, between the two of us.”
Connor strode toward the counter, and I could feel myself shaking, partially from nerves but mostly from the waves of anger that shocked me so much I froze in place and trembled. I did not want Betty Dorion to witness this. Heck, I didn’t want anyone to witness this exchange, but especially not Betty. When I took a step backward, hitting the counter where the espresso machine sat, Connor locked eyes with me.
Typically, I saw a hint of amusement lurking in his eyes whenever we had an exchange. This time, I didn’t see any humor.
“Candy is my business. Has been for over a decade.” He strolled behind the counter, and I felt like I was being pulled into him. “That’s a sweet. So, yes, I consider all sweets my domain.” He stopped in front of me, arms crossed. The fact he thought he had the right to just step behind my counter and speak to me that way in my bakery? He was lucky my body seemed to be locked on the spot. “It’s my business, Ivy Bell, and I’ll run it the way I see fit. And I’ll kindly ask you to stay out of my business.” This time when he leaned in, it was for my ears only. “I’m not your daddy, lass. Your family doesn’t have any special power over me. Next time, I won’t be so kind.”
I could feel my pulse quicken as I glared at him. “I think you’ve said enough, Mr. MacDowell!” No way was I attracted to the odious, overbearing man! That attraction could take a hike, along with the arrogant Scotsman and his little dog, too. “You need to leave. Or I’ll call the police and have you removed.”
He straightened and laughed. “Are you using my own words against me?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and mimicked his pose, on fire inside and perfectly fine with that. “Maybe. Get out, before I have you removed.”
He arched a brow. “ Now the little cat decides she has claws?” He stepped back from me, his eyes never leaving mine. “Heed my warning, Ivy Bell. It’s the last one I’ll give. Then, the gloves come off…” He gave me a wink. “And we’ll see what it’s like to really play dirty.”
“Fine!” I yelled at his back as he strode to the front door. “And stop winking at me!”
His deep chuckle was his only response.
But I got the feeling he’d just declared war.