Page 10 of How Sweet It Is (Willow Shade Island #3)

I put my hands on my hips and glare at Amelia as she withers in front of me.

She gives me a tentative smile. “Would you believe me if I said this wasn’t the one you gave me?”

I shake my head and pick up the plate I handed her that morning. “No. I’m not an idiot.”

She huffs. “All right, fine. I felt bad for taking one you could sell. Your bakery is brand-new. You need to make as much money as you can.” She avoids eye contact, and I know she’s lying.

A pang of hurt zings through me. “Is it me? Are you so disgusted with me that you can’t bear to eat any of my creations?”

She looks up at me, her eyes wide. “No,” she says quietly.

The front door dings, and Kiera comes in.

Amelia rushes around the counter. “Hey, I’m so glad you’re here. I need to do some accounting in the back. Can you run the register?”

Kiera slides her hands in her back pockets. “Sure.”

Amelia disappears into the back office. Kiera puts on an apron and stands beside the register. She gives me the side-eye. “What’s up with you?”

“What?” I look at myself in case I spilled something on me, but I don’t see anything.

“You’re glowering. Who peed in your breakfast cereal?”

I cross my arms, defensive. “I’m fine.”

She looks me up and down, curling a strand of her hair behind her ear. “What happened? Did you ask Amelia out and she turned you down?”

“No,” I say, scoffing, as if that was ridiculous and didn’t just happen Sunday night. Kiera looks at me like she doesn’t believe me, so I exhale and admit, “She refuses to eat any of the things I make. It’s insulting.”

Kiera frowns at me. “Not everyone likes sweets. Get over yourself.”

I laugh and take a step back. Kiera has a way of saying exactly what’s on her mind. “You’re right. I just don’t understand why she threw the cupcake I gave her into the trash.”

She thinks about it a moment. “Did she throw it away in front of you?”

“No.”

She shifts her weight and crosses her arms. “Then she wasn’t mad at you. She probably didn’t want to hurt your feelings and thought you’d never see it.”

I stare out the front window at a blue Corolla parked across the street. Kiera makes a lot of sense. “You’re a pretty smart kid.”

She barks out a short laugh and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. Really smart. I got kicked out of my house and couldn’t make it on my own, so now I live with my sister.”

I kick her shoe. “Hey, don’t do that. I’m the king of sarcasm and self-deprecation. There can’t be two of us here. The customers will get confused.”

She gives me a polite laugh. “Oh, by the way, Kiki told me it’s your birthday today. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

Kiera leans against the counter. “Sorry I don’t have a present.”

“You didn’t need to get me a present. You gave me wise advice and told me to get over myself.”

She grins at me. “Try making her your biscuit muffins. Those aren’t sweet, and everyone loves them.”

I nod, amazed that I hadn’t thought of that. “Great idea.”

A customer comes in, and I slip into the kitchen. My biscuit muffins don’t take long to make, so I get out the ingredients. I decide to make a small batch, and I whip them up fairly quickly.

I put one on a plate, carry it to the office, and knock on the door. Amelia calls for me to come in. I enter the office and set the plate down beside her laptop.

She looks up at me. “What’s this?”

“I made you one of my famous biscuit muffins. I can grab some butter if you’d like.”

She looks from me to the biscuit and back again. “Wow. It smells delicious.”

I smile and rock back on my heels. Kiera was right. I’m so glad she thought about my biscuits. “Do you want me to grab the butter?”

She smiles at me. “No, it’s okay. I’m actually right in the middle of this calculation. I’ll eat it in a second.”

“Okay.” I back out of the room and close the door. She really did look pleased that I brought her one.

I walk to my counter and grab the muffin tin. As I place the muffins in the display case, Kiera walks over to me. “Did she like it?”

“She hasn’t tried it yet. But she said it smelled delicious.”

Kiera grins and clicks her tongue at me. “Nice.”

I slide one to her. “Thanks for giving me the idea.”

She snatches it and peels off the muffin paper. “Of course.”

I glance outside and see that same blue Corolla sitting across the street.

I walk to the front window and squint, trying to see inside the car.

There’s a man in the driver’s seat. He’s just sitting there.

It gives me a creepy feeling, and I motion toward the window.

“Was that blue car sitting out there when you came in?”

Kiera looks outside. “Yeah. Some guy was sitting in it.”

I peer out the window again, trying to make out the facial features of the man sitting in the car. Recognition hits me, and the hair stands up on the back of my neck. It’s Rafe, sitting there watching my bakery.

Anger rises in me, and I pull out my phone and call my brother, Noah. He answers on the second ring. “What’s up?”

“What can I do if I think someone is stalking one of my employees?”

Kiera looks up from the register and mouths “Stalking?” at me. I run a hand over my hair and look back out the window.

“What’s going on?” Noah asks.

“There’s a guy sitting in his car out in front of my bakery. He’s been sitting there for at least an hour.”

Noah grunts like he can’t believe I called him because of that. “What makes you think he’s stalking one of your employees?”

“It’s Amelia’s cousin. Everything about him is fishy.” I feel a little bad saying that, since the only thing he’s guilty of is acting about as unlike a cousin as a person can act.

“Fishy how?”

Great. Now I have to say it out loud. “He was putting his arm around her the other night.” Yes, it sounds just as lame to my ears as I’m sure it does to Noah’s.

“Is he parked illegally?” I can hear the annoyance in his voice.

“No.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do. It’s not illegal to sit in your car on a public street or put your arm around your cousin.”

“So, he can come watch her at work, and that’s not creepy?”

“If he does something illegal, call me.”

I hang up with Noah, frustrated that he isn’t taking this seriously.

Kiera taps a finger on the counter. “What’s going on?”

I jerk my thumb out at the Corolla. “Amelia’s cousin’s been sitting in his car outside. It’s unnerving, and Noah doesn’t think it’s a big deal.”

Kiera studies me. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with her cousin sitting in his car?”

I huff and cross the bakery storefront before coming around the counter. “They’re only cousins by marriage. You should have seen him the other night. His hands were all over her.”

Kiera’s mouth makes an O shape. “I get it now. You’re jealous.”

I laugh and shake my head. “No way. I’m just concerned. I mean, it’s weird that he’s sitting out there in his car, right?”

Kiera cranes her neck to look outside. “Well, kind of. Unless he’s waiting for her to get off work. Maybe she needs a ride.”

I motion to the window. “Waiting for over an hour? And she has her own car out back.”

“I guess you’re right. It’s kind of strange.” Kiera picks up a pen from the pen cup at the register and twirls it. “But maybe it’s nothing.”

I have a feeling it’s not nothing, but I don’t want to harp on it, so I let it go. “Maybe.”

“What are you doing tonight for your birthday?”

I sigh. “Amelia and I are working on the books tonight.”

Kiera makes a face. “Wow. Adulting sucks.”

“Which you’ll know soon enough.” I go back into the kitchen and clean up my kitchen mess. By the time I’m done, Kiera has closed out the register and left.

The office door is closed, so I knock on it.

“Come in,” Amelia calls.

I walk in and notice the plate I gave her with the biscuit muffin on it is empty. “Did you like my biscuit muffin?”

She smiles at me. “It was delicious.”

I look around the office in case she hid it somewhere, but I don’t see it. “Really? You ate it?”

“Of course.”

“It’s not stuffed in this drawer?” I tug on the drawer, but it’s locked.

Amelia looks at me with wide eyes. “No. It’s not in there.” Her bottom lip twitches.

I was just joking, but now I’m convinced she locked it in the drawer. What is going on? I stare at her. “Unlock it.”

“It’s not in there.”

“Prove it.”

She looks to the floor. “I lost the key.”

“What the actual heck?” I reach past her and pull open the middle drawer, the one where I keep the key.

It’s sitting exactly where it’s supposed to be.

I pull it out and unlock the drawer. I already know what I’m going to find, but for some reason it still hurts when I slide it open and see the biscuit muffin sitting there on top of a pile of papers.

I turn to her, staring daggers at her. “What is going on?”