Page 67 of Matthew
“Oh, please,” Callie said, scratching his ear. “Like you didn’t have breakfast twenty minutes ago.”
Tater gave a hopeful yip and tried to stand on his back legs to peek into the pastry box.
“Down,” Maggie said, gently nudging him aside. “You know these go straight to your hips, Tater, and extra weight isn’t good for your tiny legs.” She sighed. “Fine, you and your soulful eyes,” she muttered, ripping off a tiny piece to toss to him. “But now you have to do an extra walk before lunch to work it off.”
Callie shared a piece of her muffin with Sammy, then tipped her head at her sister. “Speaking of work, you promised me bookkeeping help.”
“Which I fully intend to deliver,” Maggie said, tossing each dog a small carrot chunk from a pouch in her purse. “There, that eases my conscience a little. And, dear sister, I shall get on the books as soon as I stabilize my blood sugar. I can’t perform accounting miracles on an empty stomach.”
Callie snorted but didn’t argue. The back office was already a mess of folders, invoices, and last month’s receipts that hadmultiplied like rabbits in the dark. If Maggie wanted to tackle that chaos armed with a glazed twist and moral superiority, fine by her.
“So…” Maggie settled into the chair opposite her and tore into a maple bar. “You and Matthew.”
Callie froze mid-bite. “What about us?”
“You tell me. Grandma Jo was ready to propose on last night.”
Callie groaned and dropped her forehead to the table. “Please don’t remind me.”
“I’m simply saying, if you wanted family approval, you nailed it. Mom’s already assigning him imaginary bonus points. And Grandma Jo? She’s practically ordering a dress for the wedding.”
Callie lifted her head with a dramatic sigh, but the heat rising in her cheeks was very real. “You’re ridiculous.”
Maggie grinned. “Nope. Observant. You’re glowing, Cal. Even under stress. The way he looks at you? That’s not casual.”
She tried to brush it off, but Maggie wasn’t wrong. Matthew had a way of making her feel important, alive, protected without smothering, and grounded, even as the world around her threatened to fall apart.
“He came out of the diner while I was still in the parking lot last night,” she admitted quietly.
Maggie’s sparkling gaze widened. “And?”
“And we kissed.” The heat in Callie’s cheeks increased. “Well, actually,Ikissed him. And no—before you ask—my lips were the only thing that touched him.”
“For now.”
Callie groaned and shook her head but couldn’t help the smile curling her lips. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe. But I’m happy for you. And don’t even try to act as if you’re not already in deep.”
She glanced down at her coffee, swirling the contents in slow circles. Maybe she was.
Maybe that was the scariest andbestpart of all.
They settled into their morning routine with coffee, sugar, and a soundtrack of Maggie’s muttered judgments on Callie’s filing system. It was almost normal. Almost easy.
Until the bell above the front door jingled, and Callie heard a familiar voice call out, “Morning, Callie!”
Both dogs jumped up. Sammy’s tail thudded against the floor while Tater let out a series of high-pitched barks, ready to sound the alarm or demand affection. Possibly both.
She stood, brushed crumbs off her jeans, then swiped her half-eaten muffin off her desk on her way to the front, dogs racing ahead. “Hey, Everett.”
The older man lived across the street. He was widower now and stopped by regularly. He owned a very impressive blueberry farm, and when she and her sister were kids, he used to let them raid the bushes. She’d always picked twice as many as Maggie.
Callie glanced down at the muffin in her hand and smiled. Blueberries were her jam. “What’s up? You looking for compost or conversation today?”
He chuckled, already leaning down to ruffle Sammy’s ears and accept Tater’s frantic sniff inspection. “Neither. Figured I should tell you about the truck.”
Her heart lurched. “Truck?” She blinked. “What truck?”
