Our Star-Crossed Kiss (The Rooftop Crew #4) - Piper Rayne Page 0,1

my impatient sigh—“you can be strong and brave too. Speak your mind and never keep anything inside.”

“Maybe we should offer an advice booth for you to man when our clients come in.”

My mom rolls her matching-to-mine blue eyes. “My son, the comedian.”

“Let’s go,” I say, holding the door handle.

“Oh fine.” My mom walks over and pats my cheek before she walks out.

“Hey, Madison, let’s change the backdrop to the black.”

She nods. “Got it.”

I shut the door to the studio and walk over to where my mom’s sitting in a waiting room chair.

“When the red light is on, you can’t come in. We’ve been over this.” I point at said light in case she missed it the first hundred times I’ve shown her over the past five years. If I could move her bagel shop so it wasn’t just a block away from the photography studio, I’d do it.

“I gave that girl a confidence boost. You tell them they’re beautiful when you shoot them, right?”

“Why are you here?” I change the subject because my mom needs to stay out of my business.

She nods as if she forgot what was so urgent she had to bust into my session. She opens her purse—which holds everything from tampons she hasn’t used for five years because of menopause to pain medicine and a mini sewing kit. Retrieving a folded piece of paper, she straightens it by laying it across her chest and running a hand down to get the crinkles out.

I hold out my hand and she places it in there once she’s satisfied it’s as flat as it will get.

Calling all businesses!

Come down to the mercantile mart this Saturday between 9-5 with the one dish your restaurant is known for—and get a chance to be on the Food Channel’s series Tastes of Small Towns. If you’re chosen, you head to the semi-finals next week, where our celebrity guests will pick winners for the breakfast, lunch, dinner, and treat segment. If you win, you’ll appear on our episode featuring restaurants and shops in Cliffton Heights, New York.

See you this Saturday!

I hand the flyer back to my mom. “You want to do this?”

She nods. “But you know your dad. He’ll say it’s a waste of time.”

My dad is more the type of guy who thinks, “I make the bagels and you eat them, or you don’t. They’re the best and if you don’t think so, you can take a hike.”

It’s why he and Mr. Erickson couldn’t keep The Bagel and Schmear Shop going. They’d argue about which mattered more—the bagel or schmear. My dad, Chris Andrews, was the bagel guy, and Mr. Erickson was the schmear guy. But because a stupid fight tore the business and their two families apart, Cliffton Heights residents can now choose Andrews Bagel if they want a better bagel than cream cheese or The Bagel Place if they want great cream cheese with an okay bagel.

“So?” My mom raises her eyebrows. “Will you go with me? I’ll bake them fresh and I’ve been working on this cream cheese recipe, but…” She doesn’t have to say it. It doesn’t compare to the Ericksons’ recipe.

“I’m sure they’ll be there too.”

There’s no way their daughter Evan, the brunette I just envisioned on that bed five minutes ago, will pass up the opportunity to be advertised on national television. I might not know everything about her like I used to, but she’s smart and bold. Hell, she’s probably already camped out in front of the mercantile mart to be the first in line.

Chapter Two

Evan

“Where are you going this early?” My sister, Elsie, plops down on the stool, looking half asleep. “I don’t mind the mid-morning shift, but you owe me for this.”

I finish the last tray of bagels. “I owe you? Remind me to pay you back that favor tomorrow when I wake up at three a.m. so we have product to sell to pay for your college. All you have to do is unlock the doors and take orders. Mom will be in after she drops off Eli at school.”

“But you know she’s going to talk to his teacher foreeeever. And last time Mr. Tettlebaum yelled at me because I put too much cream cheese on his poppy seed bagel,” she whines because that’s what Elsie does. “There was a huge line of witnesses.”

“This is one morning. Please, just handle this.”

“But why? Tell me what you’re keeping from me? Are you surprising Brock?” Her eyelashes flicker up and down in a dreamy state.