Page 22 of Power Play Pursuit

I scan the baked goods again. “I’m going to start on a couple of batches of pecan pie brownies. Can you handle the front?”

“Absolutely,” she says, turning on the faucet to wash her hands. “By the way, my dad invited the three of us over for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, that’s thoughtful of him,” I say, grabbing another bag of flour from the cupboard. “But I think I’ll stay in, if that’s okay. I just want a quiet night at home. We’ve been going out almost every day this week, and at this point, I just want to curl up in front of the TV.” Not to mention I’ve been intruding on their private lives enough. I’m not going to join their family dinners too.

“Sure. I get that. Well, my first choice would be a book, but . . .” She shrugs, placing all the pastries I made in the display case.

The bell on the door announces the first customer of the day. No surprise, it’s Emma.

“Hey, guys,” she groans, her face still stuck in its pre-coffee setting. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Emz,” we both call back. “Your coffee is almost ready,” Marissa adds, grabbing a cup. “Can we tempt you with some fresh pastries as well?”

She leans forward to check out the display. “Wow, you guys are killing it with these.”

“It’s all Beth,” Marissa corrects her, turning to me.

“Give me two muffins, two brownies, and a slice of pumpkin pie. I’ll share with the girls.”

“Great. Make sure you spread the word to anyone else you come across as well,” Marissa says. “Just in case a school bus of hungry teenagers doesn’t stop by today.”

Emma snickers. “Right. This might be going a bit overboard for Warlington Lane. But with your claim to fame, anything’s possible.”

“Exactly,” I say. “That’s the spirit.”

“And if you’re stuck with any leftovers,” Emma adds, “do consider your wonderful neighbors across the street.”

It’s half past five, and to our delight, we don’t have a lot of pastries left. All our customers complimented them, and a few regulars even circled back around to grab some more. I’m glad the festive treats were a hit, and I’m already excited for tomorrow. I have a few more recipes up my sleeve.

“You should head out,” I tellMarissa, who’s clearing the two tables we have for eat-in customers. “I can close and finish cleaning up.”

“But you opened,” she says, throwing the towel over her shoulder. “And you made all of those pastries. It’s the least I can do.”

I appreciate her trying to balance the scales. It is important when you’re in business with a friend—something the girls from No Shelf Control taught us. But unlike Marissa, I have no plans tonight. “Pff, that was nothing. Just doing my part. But you should go get ready for tonight. Take the rest of the pastries too, for dessert.”

“All right. Dad and Aaron will love that,” she says with a chuckle. She places the remaining pastries into a kraft bag and hugs me goodbye. “See you later, or tomorrow.”

“Have a great night.”

Once she leaves, I finish wiping the counter, then decide to scrub both ovens as well. With all the baking I did today, they definitely need it. I’m just finishing sweeping the floor when the bell on the door jingles. Shoot. I must have forgotten to lock the door. I spin around. “Sorry, we’re clos—oh! It’s you.”

Standing in the middle of the shop is Lucas, wearing his Sharks tracksuit. “Hey, Beth. How are you?”

“Lucas, what are you doing here?” I ask, still holding the broom.

“It’s time we end this stupid game, don’t you think?” he says, his eyes darkening. “When are you coming home?”

I blink back. Is he serious right now? “It’s over, Lucas. I’m done.”

He scoffs, looking around. “Sure. Just like every other time.”

“Exactly.” I clutch the broom so hard, my knuckles are turning white. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“You don’t leave me, Beth. Don’t you get that?” He slams the wall with his open palm, causing the frame that’s hanging there to shift.

The sound startles me, and he smiles apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he says, straightening the frame. “But let’s end this stupid break. I know you still love me. Let’s just pick up where we left off.”

I take a step back. “I’m not interested.”

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