Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Freya, please take this in the nicest possible way,” I said firmly. “That’s not going to happen. Viggo isn’t my friend or my—”
“I’m…sorry. I should go. I don’t feel well.”
I sat up, instantly alarmed. “Are you okay?”
“No, I think I’m going to be sick, but don’t worry. The doctor told me it’s normal to have morning sickness at night. And the last two nights have been—I have to go.”
The line went dead.
I tossed my cell onto the coffee table and gazed up at the ceiling, willing my pulse to slow down. I wished I could do something for her. Also, I was torn between being extremely peeved and knowing I was completely responsible for this situation. I’d invited this into my life—happily.
Now…
Well, shit just got complicated.
And it stayed complicated for a solid week.
Viggo came by the shop every morning at seven a.m. on the dot. He’d order a medium-sized coffee and an apple fritter. Then he’d step to the side counter to collect his goodies and wait for a word with me. Three words, actually.
“Good morning, Dexter.”
If I was busy with a customer or occupied in the back, he’d wait. Yesterday, Janey peeked her head into the kitchen where I was helping my lead baker, Alberto, organize a tray of freshly decorated donuts.
“He’s here again,” she’d whispered. “What should I say?”
Janey was a cool, perky, middle-aged chick with short brown hair and copious tats. She managed the shop for me and had hired Meg and Dallas, local twentysomethings who happened to be cousins. Meg and Dallas traded off mornings during the week, and on weekends, it was all hands on deck. Including Alberto and his wife, Sandra. In the summer, we hired high school students to keep up with the high demand for daily donuts.
I was lucky. Business had been steady since I’d opened, which I credited to a town-wide sweet tooth and my selection of tried-and-true donuts mixed in with gourmet fare, like today’s cinnamon and jalapeño glaze—which, by the way, was freaking amazing.
Of course, the influx of tourism to the Four Forest area had been great for small-business owners in the community. This was thanks in part to Elmwood’s junior hockey camp and Wood Hollow’s brand-new Mill Depot.
Nowadays, DIY enthusiasts came from far and wide to shop for hardware and lumber and stayed for the hiking, biking, boating, lake views, and to explore the shops and diners. Wood Hollow wasn’t as fancy, kitschy, or famous as Pinecrest, Fallbrook, or Elmwood, but we were slowly carving an identity as a pretty mill town with pizzazz.
I liked to think Dexter’s Donuts contributed to the pizzazz quotient with a delicious, quality product and friendly employees who went out of their way to greet customers by name, remember their orders, and generally keep them coming back for more.
Janey was the consummate public relations pro, but Viggo stumped her.
“The guy’s an enigma. I’ve seen him around, I know he works at the mill, but that’s it. I didn’t know his name until you told me,” she’d groused yesterday morning. “Vee-go. Interesting. I bet he’s got a crush on you…just like the rest of us.”
I’d rolled my eyes. “I assure you, that’s not the case.”
“Then why is he suddenly our most punctual customer?” she’d taunted, wagging her pierced brows. “C’mon, honey, your fritters are good, but are they that good?”
Yes, but also…no. I couldn’t tell her that Viggo’s new donut habit had to do with establishing a bond or a connection. Maybe? It was awkward as fuck, but it seemed harmless enough. Honestly, I wasn’t sure about that. I was taking this one fritter at a time.
I pulled off my plastic gloves and tossed them into the trash. “Thanks. I’ll be right out.”
Janey quirked her lips in amusement. “Definitely a crush. Watch yourself, Boss.”
“Ha. Ha.” I brushed by her, fixing a friendly smile on my face as I stepped up to the side counter. “Good morning, Viggo.”
Viggo glanced up from his cell and don’t ask me how, why, or what was going on in my brain, but I couldn’t help thinking he was rather attractive in a rough and tumble kind of way. He wore a plain black tee under a green flannel shirt that was open in deference to the mild spring morning. His jeans and work boots were worn in and looked dependable and sturdy…like him.
“Good morning, Dexter,” he replied with a slight nod.
And with that, he pivoted on his heels and walked out the door. Same as every other day this week. But this time, I went after him. I couldn’t explain it other than…I needed more than three words today.
“Viggo!”
He stopped on the sidewalk in front of Mike and Sam’s Pizza, turning with a confused expression half hidden by his coffee cup. He took a sip and waited patiently for me to close the distance.