Page 36 of Karma's Kiss

“Love the outfit.”

He’s talking about the chef’s hat that rises a foot over my head and the apron I was forced to put on when I arrived that readsDonut Worry, Be Happy.

“Be careful or Mom’s going to enlist you too.”

He holds his hands up. “No can do. I’ve got to be at a house a couple blocks over for a twelve o’clock appointment.Air conditioner’s blown. Maybe next time.” He winks before pointing at a brownie bar. “How much for one of those?”

“Ten dollars.”

“TEN DOLLARS?!” He laughs as he pulls out his wallet. “That’s highway robbery.”

“Proceeds go to children. Don’t be selfish. Here, give me that twenty, actually. Stacey says whoever has the most sales by lunchtime gets a prize.”

I point to the porcelain figurine of a cat playing with a ball of yarn that’s sitting in the center of the bake sale table. I don’t want it. Where would I put it? It looks like something a grandma keeps in a dusty china cabinet. Hell, Stacey probably pulled it out of herowndusty china cabinet this morning.

Still, I’m competitive and I want to win.

David withdraws the twenty, and I yank it out of his hand before he can think better of it. He chuckles as I pass him a brownie bar.

He can’t wait to take a bite and then proceeds to talk with his mouth full. “Heard you and Sawyer had a second date.”

“Who told you?” I slip the twenty into the stack of cash inside my apron pocket.

“Sawyer.”

I peer up at him to see he’s grinning like a fool.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” I press.

“Why would it be weird? Have you forgotten that I had to reconcile the fact thatMatthew Masonwas going to be my brother-in-law up until recently?” His face contorts with disgust. “You think I’m going to put up a stink aboutSawyer? Talk about a fucking upgrade.”

“Language, David McCall,” Stacey snaps from down the table.

“Sorry, Ms. Wolfe.”

David and I both had Stacey as our tenth grade English teacher. She could make the burliest football player quake in his boots if he dared turn in an assignment one day late. Honestly, she still scares me a little.

“Heard he slept on Mom’s couch last night,” David goes on.

Sawyer fell asleep while the cookies were still in the oven, and once I was ready to head upstairs, he looked too cozy to disturb. I tugged off his boots and covered him with a big fuzzy blanket. When I woke up this morning, he was chatting with Queenie in the kitchen while they drank coffee together. His hair was all kinds of crazy and his shirt was rumpled. It didn’t matter though; he looked over and smiled at me, and I felt just as out of sorts as I had the night before.

“How do you like your eggs, Sawyer?” Queenie asked.

“Whatever’s easiest. I’m not picky.”

Queenie giggled and I rolled my eyes and Sawyer grinned, staring at me as I walked toward him and stole the coffee cup right out of his hand. “Give me that. I need it.”

“It’s black,” he warned just as I forced down an egregiously large sip. I pulled a face and handed it right back to him.

“That’s not black coffee, that’s tar. Queenie, how many scoops did you put in the machine?”

She waved her wooden spatula at me from the stove. “Listen, if you’re gonna criticize my coffee, you can march your butt down here and make it yourself.”

Sawyer and I raised our eyebrows at each other as we stifled our laughs. The whole thing felt dangerously easy, like he was already part of the McCall clan.

“Yes,” I tell David now, sounding unemotional about it. “He crashed on the couch because he was helping make cookies. End of story.”

“Sounds scandalous,” he teases before stepping back to allow a new customer to take his place. The bake sale ends in a fewminutes, and people are making a mad dash for any last-minute items.

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