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Page 35 of Huckleberry Hill (Saddles & Spurs #1)

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Bakery

Midmorning the next day, I parked downtown a block away from Sweet Teeth. When I got to the bakery, I saw a line out the door, snaking down the sidewalk.

“What’s going on?” I asked the woman who was in front of me. “Why’s there a huge line?”

“You don’t know?” she asked in surprise.

“I don’t.”

“Sweet Teeth went viral on social media. I drove here from Sandpoint. I hope they don’t run out of cinnamon rolls.”

I raised my brows. “I had no idea.” I stepped out of the line and then headed toward the door.

“No cutting!” someone shouted.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said back. “I just need to use the restroom.”

It was a lie. With a line winding out onto the sidewalk, I was sure Gracie was overwhelmed. When I went inside, I saw her at the register. Her hair was in a lopsided ponytail and her cheeks were flushed.

“Gracie,” I greeted. I attempted to sidle up to the bakery display, but there were four customers squashed together in my way. “Hey, Abby.”

“Hadley!” Abby sent me a panicked look.

“Put me to work.” I rolled up the sleeves of Declan’s flannel shirt.

Gracie tossed me an apron. “You know how to work an espresso machine, right?”

“Absolutely,” I said with a grin. “I worked at an Italian restaurant, remember?”

“Great. I’m moving Abby to the register so I can get to the back and make some more donuts.”

“Hey, we’d like to order,” a middle-aged man grumbled.

“Absolutely, sir,” I said, working my way behind the counter. “Tell me what I can get you.”

Gracie handed me a marker and said quietly to me, “Abby posted on social media and we went viral.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said. “You need reinforcements.”

“I need more hands,” Gracie agreed.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. “I’ll make some calls.”

“Bless you.”

“I’m still waiting,” the man said.

“Right,” I said. “What would you like?”

He rattled off a drink order with five different customizations. I glanced at Gracie and cocked an eyebrow.

“City folk,” she mouthed.

I nodded and smiled. And then I got to work making his drink.

Abby started taking orders and ringing people up and getting them their baked goods.

She wrote drink orders on the to-go cups and set them in a line at the espresso machine.

I was a decent barista and while I was steaming milk, I called Wade and told him to get over here and help. I called Muddy next.

I picked up a cup and glanced at the drink order and frowned. “What’s a Huckleberry Mist?”

“Our version of a London Fog,” Abby explained. “Instead of Earl Grey we’re using local berry tea.”

“A London Fog, huh?” I asked with a wry smile.

“We were curious and looked it up.” Abby shrugged and turned her attention to the next customer.

Wade showed up ten minutes later with Chelsea in tow.

“Holy cow,” Wade announced.

“Tell me what to do,” Chelsea said.

“Talk to Gracie.” I pointed to the back kitchen.

Muddy arrived ten minutes after that and began to help Gracie. Chelsea cleaned the tables and made sure the coffee bar was well supplied. Wade checked that the bathroom was clean and there were enough paper towels. Then he was on trash detail.

More trays of baked goods came out of the kitchen, much to the delight of the eager customers who were no longer annoyed because the line had begun moving at a good pace.

Time blurred and by the time it was 3 p.m., all of us were exhausted. The line was only five people deep. We finished serving them and then had a much-needed lull.

Gracie walked over to the front door and closed it, locking it and flipping the sign over to read Closed .

“I was not ready for that,” Gracie said as she pulled out a chair from a café table and took a seat. “Nothing like that has ever happened.”

“I need food,” Abby said. “But I’m too tired to move.”

“There are a few meat pies left over from the rush,” Gracie announced.

“Tell me where they are and I’ll get them,” Chelsea said.

“Counter in the back.” Gracie stood. “I need to use the restroom.”

“Should I heat them up?” Chelsea asked.

“Don’t bother,” Muddy said. “I’m starving. I’ll eat mine room temperature.”

“Same,” I said.

Chelsea headed to the back, and I looked at Wade. “So that turned into something?”

Wade grinned and shrugged.

I kicked his foot. “That’s for getting my boyfriend drunk last night.”

“I’m guessing he doesn’t need a place to crash,” Wade said.

“A place to crash?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

“He texted yesterday, midmorning, I guess. And asked if he could sleep on my couch.”

“He didn’t tell me that,” I said. “He just said he asked you to be his friend. But that was last night at the bar.”

“I told him I would be his friend,” Wade said. “So he doesn’t need my couch anymore?”

“He doesn’t need your couch.”

“What did I miss?” Gracie asked, when she returned.

“My dad got my boyfriend drunk last night—with Wade’s help.”

Gracie raised her brows. “Boyfriend?”

“Declan,” I clarified.

“Well, well, well,” Gracie said with a grin. “It looks like that test drive turned into a buy. I’m going to need all the details to that story. Not just the headlines.”

I laughed. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

“Someone’s standing at the door,” Gracie said as she looked to the front of the bakery.

“We’re closed,” Muddy announced. “Tell them to go away.”

“I will, but politely.” With a groan, Gracie got up and went to answer it. She unlocked the door and opened it.

“Hi, Dr. Swanson,” she greeted.

My ears perked up and I looked at Muddy.

“We’re closed to the general public after a crazy fluke of a rush,” Gracie said. “We all needed to catch a break.”

“I drove by earlier and saw the line,” Dr. Swanson said. “I thought I’d come back. But you’re closed now, so I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Nah, come on in. We have a few pastries left and the espresso machine survived the gauntlet.”

“You sure?”

“You’re a local.” Gracie stepped back and let Dr. Swanson through the door. She was a beautiful woman with high cheekbones, dark brown hair, and bright blue eyes.

She also looked no older than thirty.

Gracie took her hand and led her farther into the bakery.

“Hi, everyone,” Dr. Swanson greeted. Her gaze turned to me. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

I stood up from my chair and held out my hand to her. “I’m Hadley Powell.”

“Hadley,” she murmured. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Dr. Swanson.”

“Please. Call me Jane.”

We stared at each other for a moment.

Muddy jumped in, “You know Abby, right?”

“Of course I do.” Jane smiled at the young woman. “Every morning she makes me a latte with a leaf pattern drawn in the foam.”

I looked at Abby. “You have to teach me that.”

“Sure thing.” Abby beamed. “Would you like a latte now?”

“Sounds great,” Jane said. “And whatever pastry is left over.”

“There are a few.” Abby got up. “How about I make up a box for you?”

Chelsea finally returned with the individual meat pies on several plates. “Sorry, I decided to heat them up in the toaster oven. They’ll be better that way.”

She set the plates down along with a stack of napkins.

Wade introduced Chelsea to Jane and the rest of us dug into the food.

“How much do I owe you?” Jane asked.

“On the house,” Gracie said through a mouthful of meat pie. “Damn, who made this batch?”

“I think it was Muddy,” Abby said, handing off the coffee to Jane, along with the bakery box.

“These are better than the ones I make,” Gracie said.

“Secret ingredient,” Muddy said with a wink. She tapped her temple. “All up here, too.”

“You really do need to write those recipes down,” I said.

“Make a cookbook,” Chelsea suggested. “Because these pies are insane.”

“A cookbook,” Muddy murmured. “Hmm. That’s an interesting idea.”

Jane took a sip of her latte. “Guess I better get going. Nice meeting you, Hadley. Chelsea.”

“Bye.” I waved at her.

Jane left and Abby locked the door after her.

The moment she was gone, I looked at Muddy. “How old is she?”

“I don’t know,” Muddy remarked. “I didn’t ask.”

“Why does it matter how old she is?” Gracie asked.

I didn’t want to air my family’s business, so I lied and said, “She’s a vet. Vets are in school a long time. I’m just wondering if she skipped a grade or something.”

Abby reached for her meat pie. “She’s thirty and divorced.”

Gracie looked at her. “How do you know that?”

Abby rolled her eyes. “I make her coffee every morning. We talk.”

“And she told you she was thirty and divorced?”

“Her ex-husband called her to wish her a happy birthday last month,” Abby said. “She was in the bakery when it happened.”

“What else do you know?” I asked.

“I know a lot of things,” Abby said loftily. “But I’m not at liberty to share.”

We finished off our meat pies and then we helped Gracie clean up the destruction of the bakery.

“What are you going to do if there’s a line tomorrow?” I asked.

“Call for reinforcements?” Gracie asked hopefully.

“I don’t mind coming in early,” Muddy said. “Help you prep. If you want.”

“I want,” Gracie begged.

Muddy looked at me. “You’ll feed the chickens and collect the eggs?”

“Sure thing,” I said.

“I’m not a fan of early morning hours,” Wade said. “But I can get another bartender to cover me for a few nights and help you out, too. Better count on me midmorning, though.”

“And me,” Chelsea said.

“You guys are incredible,” Gracie said, breaking down in tears. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. Ignore me.”

We said our goodbyes and then Muddy and I left the bakery.

“Where did you park?” I asked.

“Few blocks down. There weren’t any spots on the street,” Muddy said. She pointed in the direction she’d parked.

“I’m down that way too.” We walked together. “So, Jane’s nice.”

“Very nice.” She looked at me and grinned. “And almost twenty years younger than your father.”

“She could be my older sister,” I muttered.

“But she’s not,” Muddy said. “Does it change how you feel about your father dating?”

I thought for a moment and then shook my head. “I was just surprised. I thought he’d be with someone closer to his age. I didn’t think he’d go for a younger woman. A much younger woman.”

“She’s pretty.”

“She is,” I agreed. “Good with animals.”

“And sexually at her peak.”

“Muddy!”

“What?” She shrugged. “It’s true.”

“I know, but ew. I don’t want to think about that .” I paused. “You think he’ll get back together with her?”

“Not unless he decides marriage is on the table.”

“Does she want kids?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Well, why would she care about marriage if kids aren’t on the table?”

“People get married and don’t have kids.”

“Yeah, but more people get married to have a family. It’s just the way of it.” She looked at me and quickly looped her arm through mine. “I’m sorry, sugar. I wasn’t thinking. Ignore me. I’ve entered the phase of my life where I have no filter and I say whatever’s on my mind.”

My lips twitched. “You’ve been that way for as long as I can remember. So you can’t use the age excuse.”

“Still, I’m sorry about what I said. It was thoughtless.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I have to get used to hearing things like that. From people I love as well as strangers. I can’t expect people to curb what they say.”

She fell silent and didn’t say anything else. We got to the truck and I opened the driver’s side door.

She hugged me and held me for a long moment before letting go. She pulled back to look at me. “I’m proud of you, Hadley.”

“For what?”

“For being you.”

She squeezed my shoulders and then dropped her hands.

“See you at home,” I said. “Drive safe.”

I got into the driver’s side seat and shut the door. My phone pinged with a text.

Dad

Your present got here.

Me

On my way home.