Page 21 of Cinnamon Roll Set Up

Miles: Could have been anyone

Georgia: It’s romantic

Georgia: You’re romantic

Georgia: And now that I finished the book I can devote myself to findingyoursecond in command

Miles: Yay?

Georgia: That’s right, yay!!

Chapter 7

Miles

A battle raged in the café’s small kitchen this morning. Rival pirates searching for the same lost spaceship pursued each other over a dead planet, unaware of the intrepid adventurer already looting the ship’s riches below.

All imaginary, of course.

I never expected baking would be such a good brainstorming activity. There’s something about the routine of mixing ingredients and rolling out dough that flips a switch in my creative brain. In my body, I’m pouring icing over scones, but in my mind, I’m creating something entirely different.

After I put the last tray of baked goods in Dogeared’s display case, I grab my phone so I can dictate the chaos in my brain before I forget it. Tonight, I’ll add the transcript to the loose outline of the book I’m working on. Eventually, I’ll actually start writing, but I like to let the ideas percolate for a long while before I get words on the page.

I stifle a yawn as I unlock the front door and flip the sign toOpen. Since Hannah quit, I’ve been in the store full time most days—baking by five and closing up at six. I need to hire someone new to fill in the gaps, but with everything going on inmy writing world, dealing with interviews is low on my priority list.

Customers file through all morning. With our minimal selection and small dining area, we’re not a hotspot for the morning rush. We have our regulars, though. Mostly other bookworms and a few people too impatient to wait in a larger coffee shop’s line.

My aunt Cece waltzes in just before nine. She greets the couple in the café—it never ceases to amaze me how many people she knows—before wandering over to me.

“Miles, you’re looking dapper, as always.”

I glance down at my jeans and sport coat combo. Fashion has never been my thing, but I’ve found a few pieces that work for me.

Or…I think they do. It’s not like I consult anyone. Maybe I should.

I run my palms over my pale blue button-down. “How are you, Cece?”

“Just awful. I’m halfway through a regency romance one of the book club gals recommended, and everything’s fallen apart.” She sighs like a heroine in a period drama. “I need a palate cleanse before I can go on and find out how they resolve it. Maybe some Stephen King?”

I have to laugh at her chaotic TBR. Most people have specific results they want to get out of reading and gravitate to certain genres that deliver it. Not Cece. She can swing from a dry non-fiction to an intense thriller to the funniest rom-com without flinching. She’s the purest bookworm: she just lovesreading.

“You know where to find the horror.”

Waving a hand over her shoulder, she sashays down an aisle. She returns a few minutes later with a paperback of one of King’s short story collections.

“Good choice. Those are some of his most frightening stories, in my opinion. I try not to think about them in the dark.”

“I’ll be prepared to be scared. And I’ll take one of your vanilla scones, please.”

I bag up a scone and the book and hand them to her. “On the house.”

She manages to look shocked, even though we have this conversation every time she comes into the store. “You’ll do no such thing, Miles Elliott. When I’m in here, I’m not your aunt. I’m a paying customer.”

I fight back a smile and take the cash she pushes my way. “As you wish.”

I well realize I’m in business here, but it’s uncomfortable to charge friends and family. It’s lucky I don’t have many of either, or the bank would have foreclosed already.

“Lydia told me you agreed to the Kissing Corn Maze. It will mean so much to the Cortez family.”

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