Page 37 of Half Baked

Wes checks his phone as I put together the order for him. Glancing up, he mutters, “Definitely those scones, Hayden would be pissed if I didn’t get those.”

I can’t escape the man today. But who better to fact check his potential games than a friend and coworker?

“Does he actually eat them?” I place my hand on my hip and wait.

It doesn’t take long for Wes to realize he’s stepped in the middle of something. Looking back down at his phone, he sheepishly replies, “Well, yeah. I didn’t think it was a secret though.”

“What about these, will he eat these?” I motion to the rocky road cookies.

“He did at the last town meeting,” Wes shrugs.

“I didn’t give him one at the meeting.”

“Ivy did. Is this a big deal? I leave town for a few years and you all start acting weird,” he grumbles. Then, lifting his gaze over my shoulder, Wes spots the crate of strawberries on my prep table. “What are you making with the strawberries?”

“Nothing, now. My mixer doesn’t work anymore.”

“Damn, I love that strawberry pretzel thing you make sometimes.”

“The strawberry pretzel pie?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it. But this all looks great. Thanks, Poppy.”

“Sure, have a good day.”

“You too.” Wes starts across the lobby, cramming a cookie in his mouth as he leaves.

Maybe strawberry pretzel pies are worth considering for my menu. It’s the only fruit I don’t have a plan for anymore. But I can’t do them right after the lemon tarts, they’re too similar of a look. Pulling up my episode plan on my phone, I look at what can be switched out.

It’s no use, though. I can’t seem to focus, my thoughts distracted by the confirmation that Hayden loves my baking. I think back to the morning he admitted as much to me. The morning he took care of me.

Every day that passes, I start to doubt myself more and more. I doubt that I’ve ever really known him, and I can’t help but think about how I really want to know him.

Chapter 17

Hayden

“You’re good to go.”

My eyes widen as the commissioner hands me a manila envelope. When he called this morning to request a visit to the new department, I was waiting for another problem to arise. The only reasons for a visit would be bad ones, I assumed.

But upon his arrival, he walked into the open common space and immediately thrust the documents my way.

“That’s it?” I ask in disbelief. “We just start now?”

“That’s it, Mr. Thompson. Good luck. This is an exciting service for our county.” He extends his hand to shake mine.

It’s funny, for someone so excited to have the service, he really dragged his feet and delayed it from operating. I bite my tongue and flash a cordial smile, reaching for his hand as well.

“We’re glad to be able to provide such a program. And I appreciate you bringing this in person.” I hold up the envelope.

“Well, it just seemed right. No point in wasting more of your time by waiting for the mail to deliver it.” The commissioner flashes me a sheepish grin that helps to loosen the tension in my jaw a bit.

But as I bid him goodbye, leading him to the door, he stops and turns to me. “You know, I thought it was a mistake seeing the Thompson name coming through for something like this.”

My teeth clench once again. “Something like what?”

“You know, something you don’t get rich from.”

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