Page 44 of The Great Maple Mistake

Alex bobs his head from side to side. “Not as often as we once did, but yes. We still do. We used to sneak in through a hole in the perimeter fence until Drake caught us jogging the fairgrounds, back when he first came to town. He knew we hadn’t entered through the main gate and was hyper security conscious. Rightfully so, being a world-famous celebrity.Anyway, he made us show him the hole in the fence, and he had it closed off. After that, he gave us access to the compound so we can run here anytime we want. But now that he’s taken over, it seems like more is going on here, and it’s not as convenient as it used to be.”

An image of Finn and Alex sneaking in through a hole in the fence makes me chuckle. “You two are trouble.”

“We have been since kindergarten.” Alex’s grin is impish and adorable, making my chest feel full. I have an unreasonable urge to haul him into my lap and squeeze the stuffing out of him. Instead, I pull into a parking spot, and we get out of the SUV. I take his hand, and we stroll toward the booths, my excitement growing as we get closer. He gently tugs my arm. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Absolutely. You’re the expert here. I’m the newbie.”

He gestures to the far end of the market. “Coffee and donuts first. Then we can wander around and shop.”

I bring the back of his hand to my lips and kiss it soundly. “You have the best ideas.”

He steers us in that direction, and as we get close, I can smell the delicious aroma of dark roast. “Oh god, that smells incredible.”

“Right? I love the smell of coffee.” We get in line as I try to take in everything at once. The market is already bustling with activity, even though it’s just now eight o’clock. I’m so engrossed watching people that I miss when it’s our turn to order. Alex tugs on my sleeve and grins. “What do you want? I’m buying.”

I could argue with him, but it’s pointless. I’ll let him get the coffees, then I’ll buy the donuts. It all works out. I glance at the menu board, recognizing most of the drinks from Special Blend’s main location in town. “I didn’t know Caspian had a second store here.”

Alex nods. “It’s only open when the farmers’ market is.”

That makes sense. And probably isn’t too much additional work. I point to the last two entries on the menu board. “What’s a red eye and a black eye?”

In a deadpan voice, Alex explains. “Well, a black eye is when you get bruising around the eye after you suffer an injury to the face or head.”

“Very funny.” I nudge him. “Smart-ass.”

He laughs. “Better than being a dumbass.”

“True.” I grin at the older man behind the booth. “What’s a red or a black eye coffee, please?”

The guy looks excited to share the information, even though I’m sure he’s been asked this same question a million times. “They’re like regular drip coffee, but the red eye has one shot of espresso for every six ounces of drip, and the black eye has two shots for every six ounces.”

I point at him. “That. Give me a black eye please.”

Alex laughs and nods. “I’ll have one too. Thanks, Mark.” Alex hands over the money. “I see you’re on our roster for the cook-off.”

Mark nods. “Yup. Looking forward to it. I’ve been working on my recipe.”

Alex takes the change Mark hands him and puts it in his pocket. “I can’t wait to taste it.”

“Are you judging?” Mark goes to work making our drinks, and it’s obvious he’s an expert at using the intricate coffee machine at the back of the booth.

“No, but I feel that I should be able to sample the entries because I organized it.”

Mark snorts as he pushes buttons and turns levers. A few minutes later, he hands us each a to-go cup. “Thanks for stopping by, and I’ll see you next week at the competition. Have a great time strolling through the market.”

I switch my coffee to my left hand and take Alex’s with my right, lacing our fingers together. “Donuts next?”

“Definitely.” Alex tugs me in the direction of a colorful stall with a line that’s a few people deep. There are lots of adults holding up young children, who are all focused intently on something happening within the booth. As we get closer, I see what has them so fascinated. They’re watching the donut machine squirt dough into a river of oil, and a high school-aged kid wielding chopsticks, flipping the donuts with a flourish once one side reaches golden perfection. We get in line, and by the time we get to the counter, our coffees are the right temperature to drink. Alex steps forward. “Hi, Dan. I’ll have three of the little maple-glazed donuts and three with powdered sugar, please.” Alex turns to me, his expression eager anticipation. “How about you?”

This menu is short and self-explanatory. Mini donuts, donut holes, and churros. Varieties offered are maple-glazed, maple dough, powdered sugar, and plain. Thank god. “I’ll take a dozen plain donut holes and a churro.”

Dan turns and calls out to the kid flipping donuts in the fryer. “Noah, three glazed, three powdered, twelve holes, and a churro, please.” He smiles at me. “Do you want maple or chocolate dipping sauce for your churro?”

For a moment I’m so stunned that he’s offered the maple, I can’t reply. Then I find my voice, smiling like he’s given me a wonderful gift. “Chocolate, please.”

A moment later, Noah ‘fixes’ the situation for me. “Cody’s allergic to maple.” Dan makes an ‘oh’ face while Noah grabs six donuts fresh from the oil and dunks three into a glaze, placing them in a box. He grabs three others that are already coated in powdered sugar and slots them in next to the others, then hands them to Alex. Dan counts out twelve donut holes and tosses them into a paper bag, slides the churro into a brown papersleeve, and then pours chocolate sauce into a small container with a lid. He puts everything into another, larger bag, and hands it to me. I take it with a much less enthusiastic smile. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Noah.” Alex chats with the teen while I pay for our food. “I saw you’re on the cook-off competition roster. Are you excited?”

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