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“Mother! Leave me alone, for the last damn time.” It was definitely a mistake to involve her. “Why don’t you, I don’t know, go polish a knife or something? Anything. Just don’t breathe over my shoulder like that. It’s distracting.”
“I’m only trying to help.”
I’m halfway through theJfor Junie when the door swings open and Junie herself walks into the shop with her grandmother.
Just like we planned—only, she’s a few minutes early, or—shit.
Am I running late?
That never happens.
“Distract her,” I hiss, nodding at the door.
My mother heads over to divert them while I painstakingly work with my archnemesis to ice out the rest of her name. TheEis the hardest letter. It looks a little like a child wrote it, but I have just enough time to shove the piping bag to one side and throw the apron over my head before Junie comes in.
“Hey!” She gives me a kiss on the cheek and stops. “Wow, it smells good in here. Don’t tell me this was you?”
“I’ve been telling you for weeks I was going to bake you something,” I grumble.
She glances down at the cake and her eyes bulge. “Whoa. It looks seriously good. Dex, don’t lie to me, did you really make this?”
“Of course I did. I can touch frosting without bursting into flames, you know,” I say, unsure whether I’m relieved or offended she doesn’t think I can pull off a simple cake. “I told you I was going to learn.”
“And no one helped you? Not even a little?” She looks over at my mother. “You didn’t help him, Delly?”
“Actually, she got in the way,” I say.
Mom raises an eyebrow. “I’ll admit baking isn’t my strong suit, but we’re going to fix that today. Right, Jo?”
Jo Winkley gives me an unsubtle wink.
In the last four whirlwind months together—this time for real—she’s become one of my biggest supporters.
“That’s right,” she says cheerfully. Luckily, Junie doesn’t notice anything off even though Jo is possibly the worst liar I’ve ever met.
“I can’t believe it,” Junie says again, looking down at the cake. “You made this for me. All by yourself.”
“Okay, now I’m definitely offended.”
“No, I’m impressed.” She reaches up and kisses me again, this time on the mouth. Lightly, because two old women are watching, but it’s a definite promise for later.
If everything goes according to plan, we’ll have a lot more to celebrate then.
“Get ready for shock and awe. You’ll never taste another cake like it—and I don’t mean that in a bad way,” I promise, putting it into one of her boxes and heading through the door.
“Should I have 9-1-1 ready?”
I flash her a severe look that says she’d better not.Redheaded brat.
Junie waves to Jo, who pretends to give my mother a few pointers on a cinnamon banana bread cake. I’m sure that’s in the cards at some point, but not today.
First we have destiny to deal with.
Junie chatters happily beside me as we head to park just a few blocks away.
It’s fall now, and the trees gleam like torches in the russet haze of sun, brilliant red and yellow and orange that paints the evening with an otherworldly glow.
As I lead her to a table under a tree, I even spot a couple cardinals in the branches.
