Page 13 of The Ruse of Romancing
“Might as well shave that too. Looks like I’m getting a fresh, summer look.”
Davie got to work, gently lecturing Charlie as he did about respecting client’s preferences and needing to rein in his enthusiasm.
“Charlie, I know you just want to do a good job, but if you don’t stop acting like an overeager puppy, you’re not going to make it far in the business. You’re lucky Mason’s handling this so well.”
A snort from Art sent the Gossip Gang into another fit of hysterics. They really were worse than a group of middle-aged women. I could only imagine how they’d be recounting this episode to everyone who stopped by the shop today. Fingers crossed a group of kids decided to spray paint a building or Mrs. Olsen hit another fire hydrant with her car, anything to shift the gossip away from me and onto another subject.
Chapter 6
Dani
Iwasgoingtomurder Mason.
Scooter had stayed at the duplex until well after noon, doing who knows what to the property. I had never been so excited to watch someone leave as I was when Scooter climbed into his truck. I didn’t even bother backing up the document I’d been attempting to write in, recognizing every single word on the page was the result of hunger and anger, which was not a great combination when trying to write sizzling chemistry and other worldly magic.
Not wanting to risk getting trapped at the duplex by yet another visitor who didn’t know how to park, I’d quickly snagged my car keys and left, cursing Mason the entire way as my stomach attempted to consume my internal organs.
I pulled onto Main Street, certain it would take me to the grocery store, when a cute shopping complex with a bakery, thrift shop, bookstore, and barbershop caught my attention. My stomach growled at the thought of fresh-baked bread, and Ipulled into the parking lot on a whim, nearly cutting off the car behind me in my haste. I’d get lunch first and then grocery shop. And maybe I’d visit some of the other stores in the complex.
Food, books, and thrifting, it was like the universe was rewarding me for putting Poppy’s bracelet on this morning.
I glanced at the accessory that hung from my wrist, still wincing slightly at the color combination that really wasn’t my style and did not match my blue sweatshirt. I was most definitely ascribing too much power to the inanimate object, but I wasn’t willing to risk another karma attack like yesterday by taking it off. And maybe it would help me write. I mean, it hadn’t helped when I was back at the duplex, but maybe it needed time to warm up or something.
Entering the bakery, I was greeted by the incredible smells of fresh bread and coffee. This was clearly the right decision as I stood in the bright, happy space with pink walls, surrounded by baked goods, home decor, and framed beach scenes created by local artists. The bakery name, Sugar and Sea Bakery, was written on the wall in pink looping neon lights that added to the welcoming ambiance.
“Hello and welcome to Sugar and Sea Bakery! I’ll be right with you.” A cheery female voice called from the back of the shop.
I took the opportunity to consider my options, quickly scanning the glass case containing pastries and the shelves of bread behind it. Above the bread shelves was a chalkboard menu boasting lunch items. I salivated at the offerings, certain my stomach was about to start eating whatever remained of my internal organs if I didn’t eat real food soon.
My phone was vibrating incessantly in my pocket, telling me I’d found a patch of service. I would respond to messages as soon as I had food. I was worried any responses I sent now would have an unhinged amount of snark and frustration that my cousins and sister definitely did not deserve.
While I could acknowledge that my emotional state was primarily due to hanger, it would not prevent me from slipping a very long, very sharply worded note under Mason’s door when I got back to the duplex. He should have tried harder to warn me about Scooter. Not to mention how my inability to communicate with the outside world all morning as a single woman staying in a remote location had added to my stress. There had been some odd noises, supposedly created by Scooter, that I hadn’t been a fan of.
I was tempted to share some of my thoughts with the landlords about their caretaker grandson, but I’d give my food a chance to kick in before messaging them. I’d learned from experience that I didnothandle setbacks well on an empty stomach.
Lucy’s offer to help me find new accommodations played through my mind but I hesitated. I could only imagine how much a last-minute rental located this close to the beach would cost, assuming she could even find anything. I’d give the landlords a chance to fix the wifi before calling Lucy.
A woman in her sixties stepped into view, her dark hair peppered with gray and pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a bright pink apron dusted in flour with the words Sugar and Sea Bakery scrawled across the front. She reached up to nudge her hot pink glasses back up her nose, leaving a streak of flour.
“I’m Joane and welcome to my bakery. How can I help you?” Joane gave me a wide smile. I instantly liked her, something about her reminding me of my Grandma Sue and her ability to make any situation brighter. Even if Grandma Sue would never be caught dead in a flour-dusted apron.
“I’m Dani and you can help me by recommending something for lunch. I’m starving.” My stomach gave an angry gurgle at the statement.
Joane chuckled and waved to the menu above her head. “Sounds like it! You came to the right place. Do you prefer soup or a sandwich?”
“Yes,” I said, the combination of a rich soup with a hearty sandwich sounding heavenly. “I’ll also probably need a dessert and loaf of bread.”
“Well, obviously! Can I recommend the tomato basil soup with the sourdough grilled cheese? The cheese comes from a local dairy, and I can personally attest that the sourdough is the best in all of Oregon.” She peeked at me over her glasses, waiting for my response.
“Oo, yes please! And can I add...” I scanned the rows of bread and treats, quickly making my decision, “a peanut butter bar and a loaf of cinnamon swirl bread? Oh, and an iced coffee.”
My taste buds still flinched when I thought back to the instant coffee I’d drunk earlier. I needed good caffeine stat if I was going to stand any chance of writing today.
“You got it.” Joane rang up my purchases, handing me my receipt and waving me over to a nearby table.
I settled at the worn round table, enjoying the faint sounds of a song I’d listened to regularly in high school. If I’d brought my laptop with me, this would be the perfect place to write, especially if Joane’s baking tasted half as good as it smelled.
The promise of food seemed to ease my hanger, so I took the opportunity to catch up on my messages, ignoring a handful of pointed texts from Avery asking about my word count and wanting to see a first chapter. I hoped she’d take my silence as a sign that I was in the groove and making progress.
