Page 11 of Will Bark for Pizza (Bluebell Springs #1)

NINE

KIRA

If there was a better cure for a sour mood than a cupcake from Frosted Peaks, I hadn’t found it. Was I overdoing it on the sweets lately? Yes. Yes I was. Did that stop me from heading to Aspen’s bakery? No, it did not.

My stomach had been growling since Husker woke me from a desperately needed nap on my brother’s couch with a wet nose to the face. Preferable to a fucking spider on my pillow, but still.

Of the two of us, Husker was the only one to have breakfast, as evidenced by his empty travel bowl. Since Luke’s fridge was emptier than the ski slopes in July, I left my grumpy brother a note and the remnants of my celebration cookie on his kitchen counter as a peace offering.

I was semi-relieved that he went back to bed since grudgingly offering up his shower, and firmly reminding me I needed to find another place to sleep tonight.

Once I worked up the courage to talk to Dad, I’d head to the farm. I suspected Grandma Connie would happily offer up a guest room once she realized Husker was along for the ride. Those two had a special bond. Even if she was sore with me, she’d never turn him away.

But first, cupcakes.

I missed the ability to walk everywhere.

In Bluebell Springs during the height of tourist season, it was faster to walk downtown than navigate the sheer number of people from my car. I’d left the Jeep in the overflow lot earlier this morning when I walked the few short blocks to Luke’s condo.

As soon as I got my hands on one of Aspen’s legendary desserts and a desperately needed iced coffee, I’d stop by the hardware store to face Dad.

A bowl filled with water sat outside the bakery, welcoming dogs. Though her cupcakes were the most popular, Aspen made an array of goodies, which included homemade dog treats. At the moment, Husker was the only four-legged customer in line.

“Kira?” Aspen did a double take from behind the counter when she spotted me through a steady crowd of customers.

“Surprise.”

She rounded the counter, adorned in an apron covered in sunflowers and flour, and went right for a hug.

Instantly, my blood pressure lowered. Of anyone, Aspen had the right to be the angriest with me.

And yet, she was the one to keep in touch.

To hint at the end of every conversation that it’d be really nice to see me.

Until this moment, I didn’t know if she really meant it .

“What are you doing here?” Her elated expression dropped in a heartbeat as she knelt to greet Husker. “The bookstore?”

“You knew?” I asked, trying to hide the hurt in my tone, but certain I failed.

“The sign only went up yesterday. I was going to call you, but one of the ovens went out and it’s been a total disaster. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Yeah, me too.” I cleared my throat and scanned the crowded shop. “Where’s Tango?” I asked of her dog.

“Owen’s off today, so they’re at home, working on that back deck. Well, Tango is probably supervising. You’ll have to see it when it’s?—”

“Kira Jane Mason, you get over here right this instant and give your Aunt Wendy a hug,” Aspen’s mom ordered.

I was so thoroughly in my own tiny bubble, shrinking into the background avoiding the overwhelming crowd of strangers, that I didn’t even notice Wendy was working today.

She moved around the counter with purpose and enveloped me in a solid hug.

I melted into her, sucking in a deep inhale.

I did not want to lose my shit in the firm but comforting embrace I didn’t feel I deserved.

“Does your dad know you’re back?” she asked before letting me go from her stranglehold. Husker pressed his weight against her legs the second I moved, but whether he thought he was protecting me from her wrath, or suspected there were treats in her apron pocket, was a toss-up.

“I’m headed there next. Did you know he was going to do it?”

“Yes, sweetie. But he only talked to me night before last. He didn’t call you, did he?” She shook her head and mumbled something under breath about her brother being stubborn. “I told him to call you before the sign went up.”

“What happened?” I asked.

Wendy shook her head, the bandana adorned in kittens tied at the top of her head bouncing with the movement. “This isn’t my conversation to have. And even if it were, I’m still disappointed in you.”

“Mom,” Aspen said, her tone a plea.

I felt the onslaught of eyes on us. I didn’t recognize anyone in line, but I felt the judgment all the same. I owed Wendy an apology, too, but this wasn’t the time or place to get into the nitty-gritty of it all.

“You should be upset with me,” I agreed, owning up to my shittiness, despite the intense urge to run out the door and never look back.

As much as I wanted to blame Travis for the collateral damage he caused, my actions were my own responsibility.

“I’m going to be in town for a few days. Can we grab a coffee soon?”

Wendy’s hardened expression softened as she fished a treat out of her pocket, and offered it to Husker. “We can. You still drink iced coffees?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s more iced coffee running through my veins than blood these days.”

“I’ll make you something to-go.”

“I want more than a coffee date,” Aspen said as Wendy returned to her place behind the counter. The line of customers had grown out the door since I came in, but my dear friend didn’t seem in a hurry to dismiss me.

“I’d like that. ”

“I’m off Friday afternoon. Maybe we could go paddleboarding?”

Instantly, the image of a certain sexy stranger flashed in my mind.

His intense, yet kind hazel eyes. The heavy stubble dusting his chiseled jaw.

The tattoos snaking up his left arm and covering his chest— had there been a black panther?

The water droplets clinging to his sculpted muscles.

The way his wet jeans hung low on his hips, revealing?—

“Kira?” Aspen’s chuckle brought me back to reality.

“Yes. Friday. Sounds great. So great.”

“You okay?”

“Yep!” Husker tilted his head at my higher than usual octave.

With any luck, I’d never run into the sexy stranger ever again.

I wasn’t here for that. After everything I went through with the last sexy stranger who managed to charm me, I officially swore off men for the foreseeable future.

Until I had my own shit together, I didn’t need the complication.

I didn’t trust the complication. Maybe I never would again.

“You look good as a redhead,” Aspen said. “How long ago did you do that?”

“A couple weeks ago.” During our paddleboarding adventure, I’d tell her why.

But I could tell by their growing line of customers that it was time for me to scoot.

Two women I didn’t recognize dashed around behind the registers as though there were rockets on their shoes.

There was no chance of Aspen escaping for a short break right now.

“I like it.”

“Thanks. Mind if I grab a cupcake to-go? ”

“I know just the one you need,” Aspen said, her smile genuine.

Wendy set two iced coffees on top of the bakery case as Aspen boxed up a cupcake. “One for your dad.”

“Thanks,” I said, meaning it, the dread from earlier returning.

“Can I give you a word of advice?” Wendy said.

“Of course.”

“Just listen.”

Aspen handed me a pink box with the Frosted Peaks logo on top.

“I think this will hit the spot.” I nodded. “How much?—”

“See you Friday,” Aspen said, sending me a warm smile before she returned to the crowd of customers, and all but ignored any attempts to do more than leave a tip in the jar.

Husker zigzagged his way down the sidewalk, weaving between amused tourists as we headed toward an outdoor area with several picnic tables down the block.

The only open table was tucked in the far corner near a wall of hedges separating the makeshift community picnic area from an alley, and we made a beeline for it.

First, the cupcake. Second, the hard conversation with my dad.

Husker plopped his butt on the ground, his gaze darting between the box and me. Not to my surprise, Aspen included a couple of her dog-bone-shaped treats, even though she knew I’d share my dessert too.

“Take it nice,” I said semi-sternly to Husker .

As if I hadn’t said anything, he went in for the chomp too quickly, and I snatched it back.

“What did I say?”

He looked at me, those pitiful brown eyes promising he’d do better if I’d just give him the damn treat already.

This time, he was gentle in his pilfering of the bone-shaped morsel.

I returned my attention to the cupcake—some type of lemon concoction by the look and intoxicating aroma of it—but before I could successfully tug it free from its cardboard holder, a voice from the nearby alley caught my attention. I froze, certain I was hearing things.

“I’m not doing it, Madeline.”

Husker perked instantly, popping to all fours as he scanned the area for a voice he recognized as well.

“No fucking way,” I murmured.

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The gruff baritone voice was the same one I heard when I surfaced from my near-drowning experience last night.

I had pegged him for a tourist, though reassessing that assumption now, I couldn’t peg why I thought that, other than he mentioned having a place to stay.

He knew how to get to Ghost Lake, on Uncle Karl’s hidden road, nonetheless.

It’d been a number of years since I called Bluebell Springs home, and even then, I didn’t know everyone in town.

He might be a transplant, or simply someone who graduated years ahead of me.

“Kyle would never let you do that, and you know it,” he continued, gravel crunching beneath heavy, pacing footsteps .

I slowly peeled back the wrapper from my cupcake, and Husker snapped his attention back to me.

“Don’t bring the twins into this.”

Twins?