Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Her eyes widen. “Let me guess. Do you use vanilla straight from the bean instead of an extract?”
Retreating toward the door, I tap the tip of my nose. “Bingo.”
“Thanks, Maren.”
“You’re welcome.”
Before reaching the break room, I peek into the hangar to see if I can spot my favorite single dad. When I come up empty, I turn. “Oof!”
Plunk!
Taylor cringes at the eight cookies scattered at our feet. His cringe intensifies when he sees the one stuck to my pink blouse. Finally, he eyes the two still protected by the plastic on one side and the plate on the other. “Shit, Maren. I’m so sorry. I was looking at my phone and—”
“No biggie. I turned too quickly and—”
Ozzy steps around the corner, zipping his coveralls. He smiles at me, but it fades when he sees the mess on my blouse and all over the floor.
Taylor squats and picks up the cookies. “Were these for us? I’m such an oaf, Maren. God. I’m sorry.”
“They were for Ozzy’s daughter. I think I got her in trouble the other day.” I change my story on the fly. Hopefully, no one will ask Hillary to corroborate it.
Ozzy’s gaze slides from Taylor’s quick cleanup to my shirt. “You made Lola cookies?”
“I did.”
“What can I do to make this right?” Taylor stares at the cookies. “I’ll put them in the break room. I think there’s a three-second rule, right?”
Ozzy smirks at me.
I tear my gaze from him and smile at Taylor. “Go for it. And don’t worry about it. I have more at home.”
Well, Jamie does, unless Fitz already inhaled them.
“Uh . . .” Taylor nods to my shirt.
I peel the gooey cookie from it. “Really, it will wash off,” I assure him.
Taylor shakes his head. “Sorry, Maren,” he mumbles, heading toward the break room.
“As a rule, I refuse to have anything go right around you,” I say, giving Ozzy a toothy grin.
“Maybe I’m just bad luck.” He easily encircles my wrist with his big calloused hand.
With a silent gasp, I part my lips. I’ve been daydreaming about his touch—conscious, well-thought-out daydreams.
He lifts my hand and takes a bite of the cookie. “Damn, Maren. That’s a good cookie. A badass pilot and a baker.”
I’ll correct him later, when I’m not wearing chocolate or burning up from his touch. I open my hand to let him take the rest of the cookie. He releases my wrist and snags it, popping the other half into his mouth.
Lucky cookie.
“I should take off my shirt,” I murmur.
He licks the chocolate from his lips, eyes flared.
“What I mean”—I clear my throat—“is I should get home and stain treat this shirt. That sounded like I wanted to flash you.”
“Do you?” He lifts a serious eyebrow.
“Flashing feels like a third-date thing. We’ve only had one date,” I say with a nervous laugh.
And you need to ask me for a second date!
“The cookies were a kind gesture. Lola would have loved them, but don’t worry about her. I took her for pizza and let her get dessert. And Sunday, she had a softball game in the afternoon, which ended with ice cream.”
“Such a good dad.”
He smiles. “I was thinking about stopping by your house on my way home, if I got out of here on time. But now you’re here, so I don’t have to worry about interrupting your evening plans.”
I think he’s just saying that to be polite since I brought cookies. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I know.” He shrugs. “But it’s true.”
I nod slowly. “Okay. Sure.” I glance down at my shirt. “Well, I’d better sneak into the restroom to clean up a little before I finish my errands.”
“I’ll see you around,” he says, opening the door to the hangar.
“Yeah, see you around.” I hide my dashed hopes behind a smile before sulking toward the restroom.
After doing a little damage control to my stained shirt, I head to my car, replaying my conversation with Ozzy. He wasn’t going to stop by my house, but the opportunity presented itself to say it and not look like he was ghosting me, so he went for it. I can’t blame him.
As I reach for my door handle, something on my windshield catches my eye. Six yellow flowers are attached to it, with the stems tucked behind the wipers, along with a folded note.
I take the note first.
The arrowleaf balsamroot is part of the sunflower family. The root can be made into a respiratory aid tincture. Hope you love them!
Ozzy x
That part of the note is in blue ink, but there’s a PS in black ink.
PS Thanks for the cookies. What an unexpected surprise. Drive safely.
I glance over my shoulder before turning in a slow circle with the note pressed to my chest. He had to have scribbled a quick PS and run everything out here at record-breaking speed. And while I don’t see him anywhere, I can’t help but wonder if he’s hiding somewhere, watching me.