Page 8 of Their Romantic Chalet

“How about we get this into your truck, we get our ice cream, and then I’ll help you take it to the shelter.”

She thinks about it, still anxious about breaking the rules by leaving her job—as I check my phone—nineteen minutes early.

“I assure you. I know Hannah enough to know she won’t care.”

“Fine, but if I get fired from my first job, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to live with myself.”

It takes a better part of twenty minutes to even get everything squirreled away and loaded into the back of the bakery’s truck.

“Well then, Mr. Rule-breaker, lead the way to the ice cream,” she says, gesturing my way.

“Oh, I’m so bad,” I say as I start to lead her toward Cookie’s and Cream. “I jaywalk.”

“Wow,” she says, feigning being impressed. “You just don’t care.”

“I’m so bad, that I had a beer when I was twenty years and ten months old.”

“You’re a menace to society and need to be stopped, Hawk.”

“Yeah, well, who’s going to stop me? You?”

“No. I think I’m just going to end up going down a dark path with you instead. That does seem more fun than the alternatives.”

Cookie’s and Cream is some place I stop by often. She’s got this most delightful fudge caramel blend that makes me betray my manly man status. Cookie herself is an older woman, jovial in nature. She lights up as I approach with Lavender by my side.

“Oh, Hawk, who’s your new friend? I’ve never seen her around here before.”

I smirk, taking Lavender’s hand. She doesn’t fight me. “This is Lavender. She’s Hannah’s new assistant, I believe? Is that right? What’s your title?”

Lavender shrugs. “I think I just help her out wherever she needs it? I need to ask her what to put down when it comes to tax time, I guess.”

“Whatever she does, I’m sure she does it as lovely as she looks.” With how Lavender is blushing, you’d think Cookie was trying to put the moves on her.

“You got anything special today? Any recent new creations?” I say as the two of us approach the counter and look through the glass at the various flavors set before us.

“Mint Cookie Swirl here. Soft as a baby’s butt.”

“I wouldn’t use baby butts in describing ice cream, Cookie.”

“That does sound good, though,” Lavender speaks up. “Give me a triple-scoop cone of that.”

I look at Lavender, impressed. “Going big immediately, huh?”

“I love ice cream, too, and I haven’t had really good cone in a while.”

“You know what? I’ll have the same. That does sound really good.”

A short time later, we’re both greeted with our big, heaping cones.

We sit down and start enjoying them. Lavender is going so fast on hers, I’m surprised she’s not reeling from intense brain freeze.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying it.”

“I told you, it’s been a while. And this stuff is way better than a lot of haughty fancy places. The kinds that charge you ten dollars for, like, a small cup of it.”

“Do you sample those places often?”

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