Page 19 of A Cowboy Sugar Cookie Kiss
“I will change the music.” My stern warning shuts them both up.
“Why don’t we all have an early dinner break? Take off the same agreed upon amount of time. Return at the same time.” Maggie takes a tray out of the oven. It’s neither her grandmother’s traditional cookies or my grandfather’s swig cookies. The massive colorful green and red swirl batter cookies are the size of softballs. I’ve never seen a cookie quite like them. And I’m genuinely intrigued.
“I’m not leaving.” Betty slides another tray down their counter.
“Me either.” My granddad slides a half empty tray down our counter. It’s all about the dramatics with these two. “I’ll have the smoked chicken wings. I checked the menu. Level One. At Up in the Woods Grill.” My granddad knows his food. I’ll bet he has the menus to each restaurant inside the lodge memorized and knows exactly where he’s eating every single meal. “And a coffee and water. Get yourself whatever you’d like.” He dismisses me just like that.
I glance down at my tray of cookies. My eyes blur. Fetching food is the break I need. I untie the back of my apron and hang it by the door. “Anyone else want anything?”
“Don’t offer them your services.” My granddad isn’t usually a grumpy old man, but Betty brings out the worst in him.
“Granddad, I’m not participating in your feud. Ladies, can I pick you up something to eat.”
Maggie pauses from peeking underneath one of her cookies using a spatula. “I’d eat some wings.”
“You certainly will not,” Betty squeaks. “He could poison us.”
Maggie lets out a small laugh then tries to tame it back. “That’s a little drastic.”
“Not to kill us. To make us sick to our stomachs. Put us in the toilet all day and night. Then take all the credit for our cookies.” Betty’s theory is ironic, considering I eat her treats from her bakeshop at least once a week.
Maggie doesn’t hold back her smile. “You were going to let me eat the breakfast he brought this morning.”
“You brought them breakfast!” Granddad roars.
“As he should. He got my little Maggie drunk as a skunk last night.”
“That was actually Sadie. Sadie got me dru—” Maggie’s eyes flutter to mine. “Drinking. Sadie got me drinking. I wasn’t drunk.”
“You were a little drunk.” I pinch my fingers together.
“I think she still is.” Betty sniffs the air around her granddaughter. “You smell like booze. Go get us chicken wings. But don’t interact with the enemy.” Betty winks at me when my granddad isn’t looking. Now I get it. She’s playing the part of the evil recipe thief in front of my granddad. I’ll never understand these two.
“You want us to leave you two here? Alone? Together?” Maggie carries her tray to the cooling rack. She slides her cookies under trays of our grandparents cooled cookies.
“Yes,” Betty says.
“What’s the issue?” Fred inquires.
“Besides the fact you two might very well kill one another?” I can think of a dozen follow up reasons.
“Get going.” Granddad snaps a towel against my leg.
“Hurry up, child.” Betty yanks the bow on the back of Maggie’s apron.
“This is not a good idea,” Maggie protests, as Betty shoves her toward the door.
“Don’t dawdle, child. He will beat you to the restaurant.”
“I didn’t realize this was a race.” I hold open the door.
Betty pushes her granddaughter out, then steps in front of me. “You’re the spitting image of your grandfather at your age.”
“Thank you.” She doesn’t mean it as a compliment.
“And just as damn smug.” She folds her arms over her chest, purposely blocking me from leaving.
I press my lips together hard, trying my damnest not to smile. I don’t wanna feed the fire. But I also want to walk with Maggie to the restaurant.
