Page 4 of Prayers for the Prickly

“Yup, there really is.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“Gonna tell me what it is?” he asked, peering up at me with a hopeful expression.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Trade secret,” I replied, winking.

“Sure,” Olly said, giggling as he shook his head. “You’ve even got root beer and cream soda flavors.”

“Don’t forget the red cream soda. It gets offended when you do.”

We giggled at that while Olly finished perusing, his expression morphing from awe to confusion by the time he was through.

“All of these and no chocolate?” he said, peering up at me with a wounded expression. “How could you be so cruel?”

“What, no, seriously?” I said as I leaned over the case and looked inside. “Did I really forget to make chocolate?”

Olly looked again, then nodded, his smile having turned into a pout. “I don’t see any.”

It took all my self-control to keep from giggling again. “Are you sure?”

“Dude, I am always sure when it comes to chocolate.”

I hummed and straightened back up again. “Did you, by any chance, take a right instead of a left inside of the bakery?”

I couldn’t help but giggle when Olly frowned, raised each hand, made an L with the thumb and forefinger of both hands, and frowned again.

“Ummm, maybe,” Olly hedged, looking completely uncertain as he looked around.

“Everett, my littermate, is the chocolatier,” I explained. “His shop is on the opposite side of the bakery.”

His smile bloomed again, and his tongue poked out a little. “Ohh, nice! I bet you guys never have a shortage of sweets at home.”

“Nope, not when my aunts and my oldest siblings run the bakery, too.”

“Lucky!” he declared, and he was right, too, we were truly lucky to have so many talented cooks, bakers, pastry chefs, and candymakers in the family.

“So, can I wrap anything up for you, or should I just lean here and watch as your dust trail forms on your way to the chocolate shop?” I asked.

“Gregor would have my head if I raced out of here without getting him something,” Olly said as he leaned closer, voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper, despite the fact that the only other people in the shop where halfway across the room. “Don’t tell anybody this, but he’s got a wicked sweet tooth.”

“Really?” I whispered, leaning over so we could continue our conversation. “And what are his favorite flavors?”

“Watermelon, strawberry lemonade, lime, green apple, mango, blackberry, and peach,” Olly rattled off. “He loves anything lemonade flavored, just about. He absolutely hates cherry, like everything cherry flavored as well as cherries themselves. You’d think a cherry somewhere had personally slighted or even insulted him with how much hatred he has for them.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I have a ton of flavors thataren’tcherry, and they’re just begging to be bagged up and sent home with someone,” I said. “Want me to put together a little assortment for him?”

“At the rate he goes through candy, better make it a big assortment,” Olly declared. “I wouldn’t even begin to know what to choose with how many options there are. It’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It’s a dream come true. Why don’t you go get your chocolate? I’ll have everything wrapped up by the time you return. Just how big of a sweet tooth are we talking here?”

“When we were kids, our siblings used to call himThe Candy Monster,” Olly explained. “At Halloween, the biggest challenge we faced wasn’t where to go togetthe most candy, it was how tokeepit safe fromThe Candy Monsteronce we got home.”

---