Epilogue Mountain
It’s opening day for the Butter Bliss Bakery.
The town has shown up in support of the local business and Granny Jo.
She’s refused to miss it, propping herself outside the store in a comfortable chair.
A blanket drapes over her lap, and she smiles at every person who stands in line, thanking them individually when they exit the bakery with boxes of prepared sweets.
Inside, I watch Cami in her element. She’s ringing up customers and packing their orders, thrilled to see the long lines and smiling faces.
I’m here helping, sorting through the trays of baked goods and helping stock the glass cases as they empty.
The women baked for a week to store up enough for the grand reopening.
My woman has worked hard, but I’ve never seen her happier.
I wink at her as she pops a quick kiss on my cheek, reaching for more cinnamon rolls. It’s hard to believe this place was a charred ruin six weeks ago. We’ve rebuilt it in record time.
Scythe enters the shop with Hayride. He’s walking slowly, and I know he’s still recovering from the gunshot wound to the gut. A grimace flickers over his features as he follows Scythe around the lines.
“I’ll be back, Cami.”
“Okay.”
She’s not too worried. There’s plenty of help.
I walk toward my club brothers, snatching a few cookies on the way, and we exit the bakery, moving away from the lines.
“Pink suits you,” Scythe observes, and I laugh.
“It does.” I’ll do anything to make Cami happy and watch that beautiful smile grow wider. She loves seeing me in the apron with the Butter Bliss logo.
“You’re practically glowing,” Hayride teases.
“I am. No shame in it either.”
He agrees.
Scythe’s smile fades. “Virus found more information on the Allenites. Church tomorrow at noon.”
I appreciate that he’s not doing it today. With the reopening, I’m busy. I don’t want Cami to be overwhelmed, and Granny Jo needs me. “Understood.”
Hayride seems distracted. He ticks his head toward the crowd. “Who’s that?”
Scythe and I turn at the same time, wondering who he’s talking about. There’s a woman with a camera, taking snapshots. Normally, that wouldn’t be cause for alarm. But she’s not taking photos of the crowd or the fall decorations. She’s not aiming her camera at the changing foliage.
She’s taking pictures of club members and our motorcycles lined up on the street. I watch as she gets too close to the bikes. She’s not a tourist.
This feels wrong.
Scythe growls. “Go find out what she wants, Hayride.”
He nods, leaving us to approach her.
“That’s strange,” I observe aloud.
“It’s suspicious,” Scythe agrees. “I don’t like it.”
“Got a weird feeling about her,” I admit. “What if she’s connected to those Allenites?”
“We need to find out. I’m not taking any chances. If she’s gathering intel for those freaks, we have to stop her.”
I glance at the woman and Hayride. She’s running away from him, and he’s chasing her. When she flips him off, I know she’s gonna be trouble.
Hayride looks pissed.
It’s never a dull moment in Raven’s Crest.