Page 19 of Time for Change

So what’s wrong with seeing someone who’s a few years younger than me?

Well, maybe it’s the fact she’s more than a few years. Somewhere around ten or more to be exact, and I can’t seem to get that out of my head. Should it matter? No. As long as we’re both of legal consenting age, why should a number botheranyone? Except I can’t get over the fact I have a kid that could be about half Stevie’s age, and that just feels…off.

I run my hand over my face before climbing into my truck. It’s finally Friday, a welcomed reprieve from a long workweek. The end is in sight.

I just have to get through the day—working at Burgers and Brew, where Stevie might very well be as well.

That should be interesting.

I drive toward the restaurant and pull into their back parking lot. They don’t open until eleven, so I’ll be slipping in the back entrance, which is just down the hall from the break room. Hopefully it’s a quick fix, but something tells me it won’t be. I’ll have to climb up into the drop ceiling and dissect the issue. There’s a chance I’ll have to replace wiring, but fortunately for them, each room is on its own breaker, so it’s not like they have to shut anything down while I work.

Unless the problem extends outside of the break room.

Parking my truck near the door, I fire off a text to Isaac, letting him know I’m here so he can open the door. By the time I climb out of the cab and head to the box on the bed to retrieve my toolbox, the door is open. “Good morning,” Isaac says, offering a friendly smile over a cup of coffee.

“Morning.”

“Coffee’s on in the kitchen, and Lyndee brought over a few sweet treats for breakfast. Better get in there before Jameson does or they’ll all be gone,” he states.

My mouth waters. Both Gianna and Christian love going to the bakery across the street and picking out their own pastries, and even though I’m not hungry, I’m not missing the opportunity to indulge in something Lyndee has baked. “Sounds good. Thanks,” I tell him as I pass through the doorway and into the back hallway.

I set my toolbox down in the break room, but let my nose carry me toward the kitchen. I push through the door and find Jasper standing at a metal workstation, putting the final touches on what looks like a…pie?

“There. You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, blowing an air kiss at the dessert.

“Sorry to interrupt. I’ll just grab a quick pastry and leave the two of you alone,” I tease, reaching for one of Lyndee’s homemade bear claws and taking a huge bite.

His eyes narrow as he gazes over his shoulder at me. “I’m going to tell Jameson you ate the last bear claw.”

I snort and shake my head. “Do you think that’ll stop me from telling everyone you were just seducing a pie?”

He huffs and moves about the kitchen, grabbing a white box to place the freshly baked pie inside. “My wife claims hers is better. Still. Even after all these years. I’m entering this into a baking contest at the nursing home this afternoon. This pecan pie is going to win me a huge write-up in the paper and twenty-five dollars to the hospital gift shop,” he boasts proudly, even though I’m certain it’s not about the gift certificate.

Smiling, I lean against the counter and take another bite of my treat. “And I take it she’s entering too?”

“She enters every year and wins. Well, her seven-year winning streak is coming to an end this year, baby,” he says, grinning from ear to ear as he closes the box containing his prized pie. “I’m entering anonymously so she won’t know who defeated her until the article comes out.”

“You two are the sweetest,” I tease.

“Oh, there’s nothing sweet about this, except for the taste of victory.”

The door opens and Isaac walks in, adjusting his necktie. “You’re really going through with it? I thought you weren’t allowed at the nursing home anymore.”

My eyes widen as he tsks. “It was a stupid ban. Meant nothing. Besides, they’re under new management.”

“You were banned from the nursing home?” I ask, not sure if I want to laugh or cry at the admission.

Isaac chuckles. “For upending a table.”

Jasper scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “That table…fell over all on its own.”

I give in to the desire to laugh.

“Whatever! It accidentallyfell over,” Isaac starts, making air quotes with his fingers, “when you walked past it.” He turns to me and adds, “That’s when the activity director asked him to refrain from attending baking competitions in the future.”

“Well, that lady retired, and the place is being managed by a new company,” Jasper announces proudly.

“That’s why you’re entering anonymously?” I find myself asking, causing Isaac to bark out a chuckle.

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