“No can do,” Gracie replies, wrinkling her nose. “My ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend just started working there. Remember?”
Right. Nothing could have prepared me for the amount of drama I’d learn about from hiring a twenty-year-old. I’m only forty-six, but Gracie makes me feel ancient.
“But aren’t you dating her ex-boyfriend now? Surely it all cancels each other out.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I bite my tongue and check the clock above the counter. I have a little over fifteen minutes until my meeting, which gives me just enough time to stop in across the street on the way.
“I’m heading out. I should be back in an hour, two tops,” I say, grabbing my denim jacket from the hook as I rush out the door, skipping across the street and tugging it on.
Most people would call me crazy for preferring Wyoming’s all-over-the-place weather to sunny California, but I like seeing the passage of time in the turn of the leaves. Things fall apart, people die, and dreams fade into nothing, but the world keeps turning and the seasons keep changing. It’s comforting.
Although The Enchanted Bakery is technically a Christmas-themed bakery, Noelle has done an amazing job of making it not feel overwhelming. There are pine boughs, holly, mistletoe, twinkling lights, and pinecones everywhere, and the place smells like apples and cinnamon, but it all comes together tastefully.
To say it’s taken off since she opened last year—on Christmas Eve, of course—would be an understatement. I’ve had a steady stream of customers since openingÉpices et Sucré, but the bulk of my business comes from orders for special occasion cakes. I’d bet money that Noelle makes just as much from her café as she does from her bakery orders.
From the second she opens the door to the second she locks it, the place is packed. It’s busy enough that I have to take a deep breath, focusing on the gaps between customers as I weave my way to the front. I swear she could quadruple the size of the café and still not have enough space for everyone who wants to eat in.
I hover by the end of the counter for a moment until someone comes close enough for me to speak to them.
“Hey. Bryce, right?”
Gracie’s ex’s new girlfriend raises a brow. “Yeah.”
“Shay Harland. I ownÉpices et Sucréacross the street.”
Recognition dawns on her face, but she doesn’t speak any further, so I continue.
“I was hoping you might have a bottle of cherry red MiraColor food color I could borrow.”
Bryce shrugs. “I don’t know.”
For the love of god. “Is there someone I could ask that might know?”
She points over her shoulder at a door. “You can go back.”
“Thanks.”
The kitchen door is framed with a garland of baubles, and there’s a kitschy “Santa’s Elves Only!” sign that looks hand-painted. It’s cute.
I push the door open and swallow at the sight of the bustling kitchen. It’s a world away from my quiet kitchen across the street—but somehow more organized, considering there are at least five people working in here.
No one looks up as I close the door behind me. I recognize the level of focus in the eyes of the woman piping macarons closest to the door, and I know better than to interrupt.
I peer around, looking for someone who doesn’t look like they’re in the middle of something, but there’s only one person not actively mixing, decorating, or slicing.
Noelle is standing in the back corner, flicking through some kind of paperwork. She’s not who I would have chosen to ask, but she’s my best option, so I carefully move across the kitchen and stop in front of her.
She looks up, confusion that’s quickly replaced by annoyance, flickering on her face.
“Hi!” I say brightly, but that just seems to piss her off more. “Bryce said I could come back.”
Noelle looks over my shoulder at the door, her lips in a thin line, and something tells me Bryce isn’t going to be in her good books.
“Can I help you?” she says without looking back at me.
I don’t know how old she is, but Noelle is a lot younger than me. Yet, somehow, she makes me feel like I’m about to be scolded by a teacher or something. I’m not sure where her family is from, but her dad and uncle both have thick southern drawls. Noelle’s accent is deep and rich, with only a little twang now and again.
