“Yeah. Ya’damn right it is.”
“Very well. Excuse me.” Gray pushed to his feet and headed for the door.
“Hey. Is that it? Where ya going?”
Gray opened the right-side door then paused to look back over his shoulder. “To prepare for battle, of course.”
“Eww, that’s bad. Here, smell.” Maizie held the half-gallon milk container under Cherri’s nose.
“No way. Why would I smell it after that face?”
Maizie shrugged. “Morbid curiosity. C’mon, make sure I’m right.”
“Fine, but if you wanna test your other senses, trust me, the oven
“Yeah, yeah, funny. Whatever, Whoopi, just take a whiff.”
Cherri poked a finger against the bridge of her wire-frame glasses then leaned in. “Oh yeah, jeezy-peezy that’s bad. That’s about two days past bad. That’s so far gone it can hardly see bad in the rearview mirror. It’s so bad-”
“Enough. Got it. Thank you.” Maizie flicked the switch on the garbage disposal and dumped the chunky remains.
“Just makin’ sure you don’t ask me to check again.” Cherri’s pretty brown eyes narrowed with her smile, her round face seeming more so as she pulled her shoulder-length black hair into a tail then tucked it under a white hairnet.
She reached around Maizie and twisted open the cold water. “You’re gonna ruin that thing. You’re supposed to have water running when you use the disposal.”
“That’s an urban myth.”
“No, the married guy who left his family for his nagging lover is an urban myth. This is just common sense.”
The cowbell over the front door to Red Hood Bakery stopped Maizie’s retort. Both she and Cherri turned to see who’d entered.
“Whoof.”
Maizie elbowed Cherri. “That’s exactly what I said when I first saw him.”
Granny’s Armani-wearing wolf guided the glass door to a close behind him, stopping the spring hinge from slamming it shut.
Pale blue eyes swung around to meet Maizie, connecting with an impact she felt all the way down to her toes. He smiled. Sort of. The very corners of his perfect lips curled ever so slightly, just enough to soften his face but not so much she could be sure of the expression. He looked away, scanning her small showroom.
The shop wasn’t much, but Maizie was damn proud of the little place. She could still remember the day they’d finished the script on the tall front windows,
Display cases made an “L” counter along the side and back wall. They were filled with cakes, cookies, cupcakes, scones, pies, confections and almost everything else Maizie and Cherri made. An enormous wood hutch she’d found at a garage sale took up other side, displaying two three-tier wedding cakes, a huge bread bowl filled with different kinds of bread, a couple of cheesecakes, a few decorative plates of various cookies and a silver- framed picture of her and her parents.
Mr. Armani Suit paused for a moment staring at the photo. His hand lifted like he might pick it up, but then stopped. He turned away, noticing the small guestbook table below the far front window, with the basket of business cards and flyers stacked on top and went to it. Using the pen next to the open guestbook, he signed.
“Afternoon,” Cherri said.
Maizie elbowed her.
Cherri scowled and rubbed her side. She mouthed, “What?”
Maizie mouthed back, “I’ll tell you later.”
To which Cherri crinkled her brow. “Huh?”
“She said she’ll tell you later.”
Both women jumped at the masculine voice, snapping their attention to Granny’s wolf.
“I’m sorry. You are?” Maizie said.
“Lupo. Gray Lupo.”
“Get. Out.” Maizie almost snorted. She stopped herself.
“Pardon?”
“Oh. No. Sorry. It’s just, Lupo, that’s Italian for wolf, right?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I think it is.”
He frowned. “Interesting.”
“You have no idea.”
“My thought exactly.” Gray’s cool blue eyes swung up to meet hers. Their gazes locked and Maizie had to remember to breathe. Her hands went hot and moist in a second, her body warming fast. His gaze dropped to her mouth so she couldn’t help the urge to wet her lips. He tracked the sweep of her tongue, his long lashes flicking up, revealing a flash of masculine hunger that sent a delicious tingle tripping all the way down to her sex.
Cherri’s elbow poked her side. “Shake your head, your eyes are stuck.”
Maizie snapped her mouth shut, straightened, drying her hands down her apron. “I’m sorry. Welcome to Red Hood Bakery. How can I help you?”
Gray smiled, and not one of those maybe I-think-it-could-be-a-smile, but a real cheek-pinching grin. He even laughed a little, his gaze dropping away for a minute, face flushing.
When he looked back to her, his laughing grin had faded to a sexy, easy smile. He tilted his head to the side, just right, so the sun, streaming through the front windows, glinted off his pale eyes and sparked in the silver of his hair.
“Great shop. Yours?” He had a radio voice, smooth and sexy-the late-night jazz hour by candlelight.
Then Maizie remembered this DJ was trying to swindle Gran out of her land. “I think you know the answer. Is there something I can get for you?”
His familiar scowl returned, the same one he’d worn at the nursing home. Her bitchy tone was better than cold water.
He went all businessman-stiff. “Ms. Hood, I’d like to speak to you about a matter concerning your grandmother.”
Oh, she should’ve seen this coming. Couldn’t charm the old lady out of her land so let’s try seducing the granddaughter. Okay, so he wasn’t actually seducing her, more like smiling really sexy and looking at her with those pretty eyes and using that perfect mouth and those big hands…
“Why am I not surprised?”
“You shouldn’t be. Ester and I have been friends for years. I care for her and, quite frankly, I’m worried.”
“Worried about what? That she’ll sell her place to someone else?”
“Yes. Well, in a manner of speaking. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
Maizie followed his nod over her shoulder to Cherri and then farther back to Bob standing in the doorway to the back prep-room. Damn, Bob was wearing his blind-guy glasses again instead of the eye patch. Always freaked out the other drivers, but the missing eye was just bad for business.
“Bob, where’s your hairnet?” His long, stringy blond hair was a health violation waiting to happen.
“Van.”
“How ’bout you go put it on? Cherri, give’im a hand, okay?”
Cherri glanced at Bob then back to Maizie, mouth drooping. “Seriously?”
“No. Just make sure it’s a hairnet this time and not an old onion bag.”
Bob gave his trademark hemp-boy chuckle. “Ya. Gettin’ those flaky onion peels outta my hair was a bitch, man.”
