I would never, ever dream of doing something like this. But my…uh, friend there—Bennett Wade—he’s kind of an asshole and is used to getting his way. Normally I’d say he deserves to get the door slammed in his face. But he really only wants a cookie for his mother—it’s her birthday tomorrow, and she’s a fan of your delectable treats.” Taylor offered her most winning smile.
The woman quirked a brow while her eyes sized Taylor up. “Did you say Bennett Wade?”
Taylor nodded.
“The Bennett Wade?”
“Yeah?” she said in a so-what tone.
“Won’t you come in, dear? You can invite Mr. Wade in, too.” Ms. Luci leaned around Taylor and waved Bennett over.
Sonofabitch! The high and mighty bastard had been right; he really did get what he wanted by saying his name. He probably just hadn’t gotten the chance to introduce himself when he’d made his earlier attempt.
Bennett exited the car and walked over.
“Mr. Wade, thank you for coming all the way to my home. It’s such a pleasure to meet such an important man. I’m very sorry about before.”
Seriously? This is annoying.
Bennett and Taylor followed Ms. Luci inside.
“What did you say earlier about that ‘free pass,’ Ms. Reed?” Bennett whispered to Taylor from behind, taunting her.
She shrugged. She would not give him the satisfaction of saying he was right.
“Well, thank you, Ms. Reed,” he whispered. “Whatever it was you said, the point goes to you this round.”
“Didn’t realize we were keeping score,” she whispered back.
“What’s the purpose of living without winning?” he retorted.
They entered Ms. Luci’s traditional country-style kitchen—white cupboards, big butcher-block counters, ceramic rooster ladle holder, and an oval table in the corner large enough for eight—but with top of the line professional appliances, including several banks of ovens.
“Who are they?” An older man was seated at the table. He had leathery, sun-beaten skin and an enormous mustache and was wearing a turquoise cowboy hat and red cowboy boots. One eye protruded slightly and moved out of sync with the other while he studied them.
Then, something moving near his feet caught Taylor’s attention.
“Oh. It’s a…pig,” Taylor said. “In the…kitchen.” She seriously hoped they did all of their baking at the shop.
The pig gave a loud snort.
“No,” Ms. Luci said, shooting a caution-filled glance at Taylor. “That is Muffin Top, Sebastian’s dog.” She winked.
“Uh…” Taylor glanced at Bennett who had on a poker face. How the hell did he do that? Zero reaction to this strangeness. Zero. “Sorry. It’s a…very nice dog?”
“Sebastian,” said Ms. Luci, “this is Taylor Reed and Bennett Wade. They’ve come for a cookie.”
“We just shipped out the last batch to Houston,” he said. He also had a thick accent. “We won’t have more until—”
“Sebastian,” Luci interrupted sweetly, “be a dear and go into the pantry. Bring me out the tins I’ve set aside for the Sunday brunch we’re giving.”
Sebastian’s one big eye got bigger. It was not pretty. “But those are for—”
“Now, you know I made a few extra,” she said. “So we’ll just borrow one and—oh—can you grab those chocolate nutty wafers, too? They’re in the red tin next to the jams.”
Grumbling something about “puercos” and “mujeres” Sebastian disappeared behind a door at the far end of the kitchen next to the refrigerator. The pig just sat there staring at Taylor as if waiting for a treat.
Ms. Luci leaned in and whispered, “Sebastian was kicked in the head by Miss Happy Pants, our horse, so we try not to upset his pig—it thinks it’s a dog.”
That makes…well, no sense, but okay. And now she was wondering if the horse was named after the café or if it was the other way around. It was a pretty unusual name for a bakery. And a horse, too, now that she thought about it.
She made a quick mental note to Google the café again later.
“Sure. No problem. It’s a dog. By the way, your home is lovely, Ms. Luci,” Taylor said.
“Thank you, dear. I spend winters at my ranch down in Tecate, Mexico, but this is our home from spring until our gran fiesta in July.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely.”
“It is, my dear. A thousand people come from all over the world for my party. In fact, I think you should both come.”
“We couldn’t impose, Ms. Luci,” said Bennett firmly.
Luci narrowed her dark eyes at Bennett, then reached into a drawer next to her sink, pulled out an envelope, and shoved it at him. “I. Insist,” she said coldly.
Bennett looked at the invitation. “I’m not sure that July is—”
“You want cookie.