Chapter 25 Days Like This #2
I roll my shoulders. There’s always been something to juggle.
Mom’s illness, Charlotte’s needs, the demands of the season.
Helping to run a business is one more thing to balance, but that’s what I’ve always done.
And the reward at the end of our first day will be another letter waiting for us and pride too—pride that I’ve finally begun to realize Mom’s dream.
For now, though, I focus on the present.
I’m setting a heart-shaped card in front of the coconut cake, which says, When you need to get away to someplace sweet and tropical, when I hear little Converse sneakers slapping the concrete.
Then Charlotte marches into the front of the bakery with a tray of cookies straight from the oven.
Her tongue sticks out of the corner of her mouth; she’s so intensely focused, making sure she doesn’t drop them.
“Cookies coming through,” she calls out, as if there are more workers to warn than the three of us.
A few seconds later, Mabel follows, the ribbon now twisted through her French braid.
No idea when she did that. Maybe when I was up here, organizing recipe cards?
Maybe she did it in front of the dressing room mirror?
The thought grips me hard, and I can’t let go of the image of her wearing the ribbon like I asked her to.
It feels like a private message just for me.
I stare at her for far too long, itching to undo her braid, strand by strand, and let the ribbon fall to the floor. Roam a hand through her hair and tug on it hard, jerking her head back. Kiss my way down her throat. Her breasts. Her belly.
Why the fuck did I go into business with a woman I can’t stop thinking of naked? A woman I can’t stop touching?
I really need to stop touching her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as if I can eradicate thoughts of her that way. But I put that to bed, too, when we switch the sign to say Now Open and turn the music to an upbeat rock song. Minutes later, a bell tinkles above the door, a pretty chime, and we invite in our first customer.
It’s not one of my teammates. It’s not one of Mabel’s friends. It’s not Sarah or Annabelle. Or Theo or Mabel’s parents. It’s better.
It’s someone I don’t know at all.
Evidently, Mabel doesn’t know her, either, since she tells the woman, “Hello, and welcome to Afternoon Delight. Let us know what we can help you with.”
The woman nods and says, “Excited to be here. I heard about this on socials.”
Mabel shoots me a side-eye smile, and the excitement that someone we don’t know is here bounces back and forth between us.
When I slice a piece of coconut cake for the customer and box it up as Mabel chats with her, I’m more thrilled than I ever expected to be at being a part of this.
The woman from the thrift shop where Charlotte likes to do her back-to-school shopping arrives next, snapping up a dozen mini cupcakes in a variety of flavors. “For my employees, but mostly for me,” she says.
“As it should be,” Mabel says, and they chat for a few minutes. Looks like Mabel’s made a new friend in town. That warms my chest.
A few minutes later, Abe from The Cheesery pops in, giving a gruff hello and then picking up some shortbread for his husband.
There’s a lull after that. Tension curls in me as I watch through the garage door windows, scanning for an influx of customers.
Soon enough, the bell rings, and Lake strides in, rubbing his palms. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”
Miller and Riggs follow him, and Miller points at Lake while speaking to me. “This is his happy place. It’s his only happy place.”
Lake shoots our goalie a stern stare. “It’s not my only happy place. I’ve got a few others.”
Riggs holds up a stop-sign hand. “Don’t want to know about your happy places.”
“Guys,” I warn, nodding toward Charlotte, who’s folding napkins.
Ivan strolls in right behind them, holds out his arms wide, and says, “I will take one of everything.”
Mabel blows him a kiss. “And I love you most of all.”
Riggs asks for a slice of the London Fog cake, and I steal a glance at Mabel, giving her an I told you so smile. I knew that it would be a good one for the menu.
Mabel slices it. “Thank you so much for helping set this up,” she says, nodding to the furniture.
“Anything for the GM’s sister,” Riggs says with a wink.
They head to a table as a pack of Mabel’s friends wander in. My buddy Ford is with them. He retired from the Sea Dogs recently, and he’s here with his fiancée, Skylar, a friend of Mabel’s, as well as the rest of her crew, including Remy. She organizes a ton of community events that the Foxes do.
“Amazing work,” she says of the bakery when I give her a nod and say hi.
Lake snaps his gaze in her direction, lingering longer than I would have expected. It’s like seeing her in this context throws him off.
After that, I can’t clock everyone’s reaction, because I’ve got cookies to serve.
Things slow down again after that, followed by another rush.
I’m glad, so damn glad, this one isn’t full of family or friends.
There’s Luis from some clothing shop on Main Street.
Then the woman who runs the Green Pantry, along with her kids.
Next comes the barista from Rise and Grind, saying our cookies are better than the ones in her shop.
After that, someone I don’t know comes in, and then a whole lot of other strangers.
Soon enough, someone I know well strolls in.
Sarah and her towhead toddler son.
“Hey,” I say to the woman with the blonde pixie cut and the tattoos snaking down the pale skin of her arms. Mabel arches a curious brow, but then Charlotte waves and says, “Hi, Mom. Hi, Benny.”
Mabel waves too, and smiles, and my shoulders relax.
Huh.
Did I think she’d be jealous? Wonder if she was curious about my relationship with Sarah?
For fuck’s sake, man, you’re thinking about her far too much.
I clear my throat. “Mabel, I want you to meet Charlotte’s mom. This is Sarah. And Sarah, this is Mabel.”
Dammit, just saying her name makes my lips twist in a smile that might give me away. I school my expression. “She’s the genius behind this entire place. She had the idea, the name, the concept, the colors, and the foundation for the menu. The marketing. I’m just lucky to be along for the ride.”
Mabel blushes and waves a hand like she’s done none of those things, but I can tell she’s happy. It radiates from her. It’s in the color that stains her cheeks beautifully, and it’s in her hand that pushes my shoulder playfully.
“Don’t let the humble act of his fool you,” she says to Sarah. “He is a pretty damn good baker, and he keeps me organized and balanced and…” She stops to look at me. “He’s my biggest cheerleader.”
Sarah’s quiet for a long beat, then she smiles and finally says, “Sounds like you two are a perfect match.”
I flinch, wondering if Sarah’s onto us. But Mabel simply laughs. Charlotte scurries out from around the counter to show Benny around the bakery.
“I need to fetch the batch of cookies I’ve been baking,” Mabel says, and when she takes off into the kitchen, I watch her go, the pleated skirt of the dress I got her swishing against her thighs.
When I turn back to Sarah, she’s giving me a smug smile. “You like her.”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“So I was right. You do.”
Why bother to deny it? She’s figured it out already. “Yeah, but it’s complicated.”
“She’s Theo’s sister,” Sarah says thoughtfully, but she doesn’t sound like she’s chiding me, more like she’s just making a basic observation.
“I’m aware. And I’m not going to do anything about it.”
Well, I’m not going to do anything about it again. Not after the basting brush. I’m really, truly stopping this time.
She sighs. “Corbin, that’s not what I was going to say.”
“What were you going to say?”
Sarah checks behind her, then glances toward the door to the kitchen. “That I know you’ll do the right thing.”
My gut churns. Pretty sure it’s too late for that. I’ve been doing the forbidden thing too often and making excuses for my choices.
“Thanks for letting Charlotte spend the day here. Means a lot to me,” I say, shifting gears.
“Of course. I want to see this succeed too. I know it will,” she says, then nods to the display cases. “And I’ll take some of the monkey bread and a half dozen cookies. An assortment.”
“Thanks, Sarah,” I say, grateful to focus on the food order rather than her spot-on assessment.
When the treats are packed, Charlotte folds her apron and tucks it away in a drawer, then reminds me of my schedule for tomorrow.
“Yes, I know I have morning skate, and then a game.”
“See you on Monday after school,” she says, then leaves.
My gut twists once again when Theo enters with his parents a little later.
Mabel told me recently about how they aren’t terribly supportive.
All my protective instincts kick in. I stand a little taller, move a little closer to her, like I can shield her from something.
Their disapproval? Their lack of support?
Well, whatever it is, I’m going to look out for her.
And I’m going to do whatever I can to make this go smoothly.
“Welcome to Afternoon Delight. How can I help you?”
And as if I summoned it by wanting to help her, a crowd pours in. That’s good. Since Mabel won’t be able to spend too much time tending to two people who don’t entirely support her with our shopfront full. And it’s good too, because her parents can see how successful this bakery will be.
Her mom scans the display case with skepticism, but maybe some hope? I’m not quite sure.
As Mabel waits on them, her mom says, “Don’t forget the food services option, just in case,” and Mabel answers with only a smile. I wonder what that’s about, but then Theo raps his knuckles on the counter, and I give him my full attention.
He looks around with approval. “Impressive.” Then he nods toward his sister. “And look how happy she is. Fuck Dax. He was wrong.”
Wait, was this all about proving someone wrong?
“Did you encourage me to do this because you were pissed at her ex?”
Theo shrugs in admission. “A little. But I knew you wanted to do it too, and she needed a partner, and it all worked out. And it worked out for me too, because I let the producers of the show know exactly what I thought of them and this store’s success is proving me right.
But mostly I want her to be happy, and I think she is. ”
Right. That’s true.
I glance at Mabel, and even as she chats with her parents, she seems…enchanted with this place.
This—Afternoon Delight—is exactly why I need to stop messing around with basting brushes, and thieving underwear, and taking towels just to get a whiff of her.
Because this bakery is her happy place, and I don’t want to mess it up by pouring out this overwhelming bucketful of feelings in my chest. This pride. This admiration. This fondness. This lust. This wanting. Better to stop it.
I will. I really will.
As closing time nears, there’s a commotion outside the bakery, and I spot a head of frizzy hair. Pretty sure that’s Joni. She stands shoulder to shoulder with a guy with a shiny bald head. Something about him looks terribly familiar.
It clicks.
Her Did you hear…? yesterday makes sense as I see her smiling and snapping a photo.
Did we hear that Ronnie Legend was coming to Cozy Valley? Because he’s here.
And no way will I let him ruin Mabel’s moment. I will do whatever it takes for her.