Page 8 of The Ruse of Romancing

Dani

I was going to murder Mason.

Scooter had stayed at the duplex until well after noon, doing who knows what to the property.

I had never been so excited to watch someone leave as I was when Scooter climbed into his truck.

I didn’t even bother backing up the document I’d been attempting to write in, recognizing every single word on the page was the result of hunger and anger, which was not a great combination when trying to write sizzling chemistry and other worldly magic.

Not wanting to risk getting trapped at the duplex by yet another visitor who didn’t know how to park, I’d quickly snagged my car keys and left, cursing Mason the entire way as my stomach attempted to consume my internal organs.

I pulled onto Main Street, certain it would take me to the grocery store, when a cute shopping complex with a bakery, thrift shop, bookstore, and barbershop caught my attention.

My stomach growled at the thought of fresh-baked bread, and I pulled into the parking lot on a whim, nearly cutting off the car behind me in my haste.

I’d get lunch first and then grocery shop.

And maybe I’d visit some of the other stores in the complex.

Food, books, and thrifting, it was like the universe was rewarding me for putting Poppy’s bracelet on this morning.

I glanced at the accessory that hung from my wrist, still wincing slightly at the color combination that really wasn’t my style and did not match my blue sweatshirt.

I was most definitely ascribing too much power to the inanimate object, but I wasn’t willing to risk another karma attack like yesterday by taking it off.

And maybe it would help me write. I mean, it hadn’t helped when I was back at the duplex, but maybe it needed time to warm up or something.

Entering the bakery, I was greeted by the incredible smells of fresh bread and coffee.

This was clearly the right decision as I stood in the bright, happy space with pink walls, surrounded by baked goods, home decor, and framed beach scenes created by local artists.

The bakery name, Sugar and Sea Bakery, was written on the wall in pink looping neon lights that added to the welcoming ambiance.

“Hello and welcome to Sugar and Sea Bakery! I’ll be right with you.” A cheery female voice called from the back of the shop.

I took the opportunity to consider my options, quickly scanning the glass case containing pastries and the shelves of bread behind it.

Above the bread shelves was a chalkboard menu boasting lunch items. I salivated at the offerings, certain my stomach was about to start eating whatever remained of my internal organs if I didn’t eat real food soon.

My phone was vibrating incessantly in my pocket, telling me I’d found a patch of service. I would respond to messages as soon as I had food. I was worried any responses I sent now would have an unhinged amount of snark and frustration that my cousins and sister definitely did not deserve.

While I could acknowledge that my emotional state was primarily due to hanger, it would not prevent me from slipping a very long, very sharply worded note under Mason’s door when I got back to the duplex.

He should have tried harder to warn me about Scooter.

Not to mention how my inability to communicate with the outside world all morning as a single woman staying in a remote location had added to my stress.

There had been some odd noises, supposedly created by Scooter, that I hadn’t been a fan of.

I was tempted to share some of my thoughts with the landlords about their caretaker grandson, but I’d give my food a chance to kick in before messaging them. I’d learned from experience that I did not handle setbacks well on an empty stomach.

Lucy’s offer to help me find new accommodations played through my mind but I hesitated. I could only imagine how much a last-minute rental located this close to the beach would cost, assuming she could even find anything. I’d give the landlords a chance to fix the wifi before calling Lucy.

A woman in her sixties stepped into view, her dark hair peppered with gray and pulled back into a ponytail.

She wore a bright pink apron dusted in flour with the words Sugar and Sea Bakery scrawled across the front.

She reached up to nudge her hot pink glasses back up her nose, leaving a streak of flour.

“I’m Joane and welcome to my bakery. How can I help you?” Joane gave me a wide smile. I instantly liked her, something about her reminding me of my Grandma Sue and her ability to make any situation brighter. Even if Grandma Sue would never be caught dead in a flour-dusted apron.

“I’m Dani and you can help me by recommending something for lunch. I’m starving.” My stomach gave an angry gurgle at the statement.

Joane chuckled and waved to the menu above her head. “Sounds like it! You came to the right place. Do you prefer soup or a sandwich?”

“Yes,” I said, the combination of a rich soup with a hearty sandwich sounding heavenly. “I’ll also probably need a dessert and loaf of bread.”

“Well, obviously! Can I recommend the tomato basil soup with the sourdough grilled cheese? The cheese comes from a local dairy, and I can personally attest that the sourdough is the best in all of Oregon.” She peeked at me over her glasses, waiting for my response.

“Oo, yes please! And can I add...” I scanned the rows of bread and treats, quickly making my decision, “a peanut butter bar and a loaf of cinnamon swirl bread? Oh, and an iced coffee.”

My taste buds still flinched when I thought back to the instant coffee I’d drunk earlier. I needed good caffeine stat if I was going to stand any chance of writing today.

“You got it.” Joane rang up my purchases, handing me my receipt and waving me over to a nearby table.

I settled at the worn round table, enjoying the faint sounds of a song I’d listened to regularly in high school. If I’d brought my laptop with me, this would be the perfect place to write, especially if Joane’s baking tasted half as good as it smelled.

The promise of food seemed to ease my hanger, so I took the opportunity to catch up on my messages, ignoring a handful of pointed texts from Avery asking about my word count and wanting to see a first chapter. I hoped she’d take my silence as a sign that I was in the groove and making progress.

Going on a trip to Oregon made it exponentially easier to avoid her.

I also typed out a quick email to my landlords explaining the internet situation, though I abstained from making any comments on their grandson’s terrible behavior.

I’d give Mason one more chance before throwing him under the bus.

Now that I was getting food, I was feeling less murdery and could acknowledge he’d tried to warn me about Scooter last night.

He hadn’t tried nearly hard enough, but he had tried.

“Careful, soup’s hot,” Joane said a few minutes later, setting a bowl of soup and a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich cut into two triangles in front of me.

“I pre-sliced your bread and put your dessert in a to-go container, just in case.” She raised a brown paper bag with the bakery’s logo and settled it on the table as well.

“Thank you! This looks wonderful.”

Not quite sure where to start, I reached for one of the sandwich triangles and dipped it in my soup.

As I took a bite, flavors exploded on my tongue, and I groaned.

I wasn’t sure if the sandwich was really that good or if I was just that hungry, but I decided it didn’t matter as I swallowed, dipped my sandwich again, and took a second bite.

It was a good thing I was the only customer in the bakery, otherwise I’d be scaring away anyone in my immediate vicinity.

“Slow down and chew, hon. The food isn’t going anywhere,” Joane said with a laugh, watching me as if she was afraid I’d choke.

“Sorry,” I mumbled around another bite of sandwich, lifting my hand to cover my mouth while I chewed. “I haven’t eaten much today, and this is literally the best thing I’ve had since landing in Oregon.”

“Where are you visiting from?” Joane asked, settling into the seat across from me.

“Utah. I just got here yesterday.”

“Well, you picked the best place in Oregon to visit. How long are you staying?”

“Hard to say,” I said, slowing down in my rush to eat now that the first few bites had hit my system. I paused to take a drink of coffee, content now that I was getting fed and caffeinated. “I’m working on a project and hoping a change of scenery will get my creative juices flowing.”

“Oh, you’re an artist?” Joane asked, her eyes lighting with interest.

“Not exactly.” I shook my head with a laugh, picturing my terrible attempts at illustrating my own covers back when I’d considered self-publishing. “I’m an author on deadline for my next book.”

“Really? Have you written anything I would have heard of?” Joane propped her chin in her hands, leaning across the table as she listened. Her expression was inviting, the lines around her mouth and eyes clearly from laughing and smiling.

“Maybe,” I hedged, not sure if I wanted Joane to be familiar with my book. Life would be so much easier if I could fly under the radar while I worked here. “It’s a romantasy, you know, romantic fantasy.”

“Those are my favorite!” Joane gushed. “My son runs the bookstore next door, and he can’t get the latest romantasies in fast enough.

I keep asking him when the next Danielle Baldwin book will be in.

That woman knows how to write a story! The way Hypatia and Petros clash, but secretly pine for each other,” she leaned back into her chair with a dramatic sigh, pressing one hand to her ample chest, “it’s simply the most divine torture. Have you read it?”

I gave a small half smile, deciding to trust Joane with my identity and project.