Page 92 of Amnesty

“Of course not.”

“It might be nice to pick out a few things for myself.”

His gaze was warm as it swept over my face. His thumb and forefinger tugged on the ends of my hair. “Get dressed. You can ride with me to the store and spend some time shopping on Main Street.”

“I have to work!” I declared.

He made a sound. “I’ll cover the store this morning. It’s just a couple hours. You can work this afternoon.”

“I don’t think most jobs are like that,” I pointed out. I was pretty sure I couldn’t just come and go as I pleased because I felt like buying new jeans.

“Guess you’re just lucky,” Eddie quipped.

I definitely couldn’t disagree.

After a kiss, I bounded off the bed to get dressed. I had shopping to do.

As excited as I was to shop, my nose had other ideas.

And apparently, I was ruled by my nose and stomach.

On my way to the shops, I was distracted, very decisively, by the sweet and buttery scent of monkey bread muffins and the other mouthwatering concoctions at Joline and Jeremy’s bakery.

Of their own accord, my feet stopped and turned. The bell on the door jingled as I entered. I drew in a deep breath of cinnamon-scented air.

Joline popped her head around the corner and saw me, her face lighting up. “Well, look who it is!” she exclaimed and stepped around. “Good morning, Amnesia!”

“Good morning,” I chimed, gazing into the glass case.

“Where’s your other half?” she asked.

“Working. I’m supposed to be shopping, but my nose led me here.”

She beamed. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Actually, no,” I said. “Just a hot chocolate.”

“Ah, yes.” She nodded. “Eddie has become quite a regular in here in the mornings, picking up your favorite drink.”

I smiled. I loved him. So much.

“Well…” Joline gestured toward the case. “Pick something! A girl’s gotta eat!”

She had a point. “Everything looks so delicious, but you know my favorite is the monkey bread muffin,” I said, glancing at the lone muffin.

“We had a big order for those this morning. Nearly cleaned out the case. I was just in the back, making another batch.”

“Oh?” I perked up. “Maggie’s been teaching me how to cook. Is baking much different?” I loved cooking. It was quickly becoming a favorite hobby of mine. It made me curious if I would enjoy baking just as much.

She smiled. “It’s a whole other ballgame.” Lifting a section of the counter, creating a path, she gestured to me. “Come on back and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. You can have a fresh from the oven muffin when we’re done.”

“I would love that,” I said, hurrying back. “I love to cook.”

“Well, you’re going to love baking, too,” she said, guiding me into the kitchen of the bakery.

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