Page 17 of The Gingerbread Bakery
‘I know. I suggested paint and sip, but they didn’t go for it.’
Annie smoothed her hair back into her signature ponytail. ‘It’ll all be fine. And I’ll keep you posted on my search for Estelle. My guess is I’ll be sipping a PSL with her by ten.’
‘I hope so. Bye, Annie.’
‘Bye, Haze.’
Annie took a minute to tidy her apartment before setting out on her quest. It only took a minute because the space was so small, but she loved her little attic apartment. She lived on the third floor of an old Victorian house that had been converted into several apartments. She loved the slanted ceiling and the way the light came in through the front window every morning. She had everything she needed here. Her cozy bed, her kitchenette, good for heating up soup or tea and not much more, and a clawfoot tub, which was perfect for soaking after being on her feet for hours. It was her oasis after a long day.
And most importantly it washers. She’d spent years living with her parents while she got her business up and running. She was barely making enough money to buy ingredients in those first few years; she certainly couldn’t afford rent, too. And then she’d been saving for the lease on her shop, the new equipment she’d need, and the money to actually pay an employee.
Owning a bakery was her dream, but it was an expensive one.
After years of working for it, she wouldn’t trade her baking empire for anything. Annie strongly believed that everyone should have a passion in life. It could be anything, bird-watching, writing fan fiction for your favorite small-town TV show—where you make every character a werewolf—photographing the squirrels that live in your backyard. Whatever gets you out of bed every day. It just so happened that her passion for baking translated into her career, which was a mixed blessing.
Now, her other passions were napping whenever possible and watching reality TV. Not that she would admit to either of those things. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.
She grabbed her coat from the hook by the door and slung her bag over her shoulder. When she opened the door and found a man standing on her doorstep, she yelped.
‘Damn it, Mac. What the hell are you doing here?’
He looked as shocked as she was, apparently not expecting her to be charging out the door right as he was about to knock.
‘Logan sent me.’
Annie frowned. She did not have time for this. ‘He sent you for what?’
‘His tie and cufflinks.’
‘Why the hell would I have—’ Oh, right. She did have those things. As a close friend of the bride and groom, Annie had been helping them both. She’d forgotten that Logan had ordered a tie and special cufflinks but had them sent here so Jeanie, a notorious snoop, wouldn’t see them. She had already ruined the surprise proposal Logan had planned. He, at the very least, wanted a part of his outfit to be a surprise. Annie had thought it was cute at the time, but now she was annoyed. And extra annoyed that Logan had sent Mac of all people.
‘Shouldn’t you be ice fishing or something right now? How are you the only groomsman available for this task?’
Mac smirked. ‘You really think I’d agree to sitting outside freezing my ass off trying to catch a tiny fish I have to throw back anyway? No, thanks. And Bennett’s parents just got into town this morning. They’re all out to breakfast at the Pancake House. So, I told Logan I would run some last-minute errands for him.’
Annie sighed. ‘Fine. Wait here.’
‘You’re not going to invite me in?’
She rarely invited anyone in. Her place was too small, and her bed took up most of it. It was awkward to have people over and then expect them to perch on your bed. But she also couldn’t remember where she’d stashed Logan’s stuff, and it would be weird to leave Mac standing outside on the tiny landing by her door. Even though her instincts told her to slam the door in his face.
But she was still on her best behavior.
‘Fine,’ she huffed. ‘Come in. But don’t touch anything.’
He chuckled a little as he followed her inside. ‘God, Annie. You act like I’m going to come in and start rifling through your underwear drawer.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past you.’
‘I typically like it to be consensual when I see a woman’s underwear.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Like the last time I saw yours.’
She flung a pillow at his head, and he chuckled as he caught it. ‘The last and only time,’ she reminded him.
‘Oh, I’m well aware of that, darling.’
