Page 79 of Believing Again

Chapter 24

Payton

I don’t know why I do it to myself. As much as I love to bake, running my own bakery was exhausting. Six days a week I was out of bed at idiot o’clock, pouring my heart and soul into boring white bread and multigrain rolls. Not what I’d envisioned when I’d done my apprenticeship. It wasn’t the hours that wore me down, but the lack of creativity. I experimented all the time, but in this tiny hick town that didn’t even register on Google maps, so far no one had really dared to embrace anything with even the slightest semblance of difference. Today though, today would be different. At least I hoped it would.

As I swirled the vanilla icing onto the top of the fluffy red velvet cupcake, I set it on the tray with all the others. I’d probably gone overboard, actually I knew I had, but this was just so much fun. My first consolation for a wedding cake.

Mia was the first friend I’d made when I’d arrived in town. Something about the disgusting coffee everywhere served, she’d barrelled through the doors pleading for a decent cup on my first day open. Even though I had no confidence in the ancient machine, I got it up and running and handed her a latte.

Not five minutes later, she stepped behind the counter and silently hugged me. It was weird as hell and just as awkward, but every day since at nine thirty in she comes with a book or a magazine, sits in the corner booth, and downs her caffeine. One of the things that surprised me most about Mia, besides her unfiltered personality, was her ability to put away the calories and seemingly not suffer for it. Me on the other hand, if I so much as looked at a cupcake, my ass expanded.

Today she was coming in, not only for her latte, but to choose a flavour for her wedding cake. With her wedding not far away and the whole town gossiping about the details, I had no doubt Mia would do something to surprise them. Hell, they were all still in shock—and just quietly some of them more than a little ticked off—that the tiny gym owner from Melbourne had scored the town’s only cop. I couldn’t blame her, Derek was sexy as sin and everyone with eyes could see that.

Grabbing the tray of cupcakes, I stepped out of the kitchen and made my way over to Mia’s booth. It’s funny, in the few weeks I’d come to know her, I’d already named this booth hers. Setting them down, I grabbed a couple of glasses and some water for the table as well as napkins and forks.

Ducking back into the kitchen, I yanked off the dirty apron and tossed it in the hamper, before selecting my lucky one from the back of the door. I needed this. Not only to make me feel like this wasn’t the biggest waste of time in the world, but I needed it financially. Owning and operating a bakery in a small town wasn’t as profitable as I’d believed.

“Where’s my latte?”

“Coming, Mia!” Tying the strings behind my back, I shuffled out the front, waved a quick hello as I stepped behind the ancient machine. I kept my eyes on her while I steamed the milk and watched the way her whole face lit up at the sight of my creations.

That, right there, that’s what I missed the most.

Impressing someone.

Someone appreciating my work.

Someone actually wanting me to do my best.

“Is Josie joining us?” I called, wondering if I should start her mocha too.

“Actually the hussy didn’t even bother to come home last night,” Mia called out across the shop. Thankfully it was just us in here this morning, so Josie’s business remained hers. For now at least.

“Oh.”

“Let me call her. She was supposed to be here…”

“Who was supposed to be here?” Josie asked, breezing through the door with a smile on her face like the cat that got the cream.

“Who the hell’s clothes are you wearing?”

Placing the coffees down in front of the ladies, I poured myself a glass of water before nervously shifting into the booth across from them. I shouldn’t have been nervous. Mia was more than a customer; she was a friend. And as far as I knew she wasn’t looking anywhere else for her cake. This wasn’t a trial, it was a simple, painless flavour selection.

“No one’s.”

“Josie…”

“Fine. They’re Nate’s.”

“Start talking.”

The End.