Page 50 of Checking Mr. Wrong
I pause mid-bite and wave my sugary treat in the air. “This is about cupcakes. Don’t drag Asher into this.”
Neesha grins, clearly enjoying herself now. “Whatever you say, Mabel. But if you’re going to keep pretending you’re not interested, you might want to slow down on your sugar intake.”
I glare at her, but it’s half-hearted. The truth is, she’s annoyingly perceptive, always has been, and I hate that she might be right. I shove the last bite of the cupcake into my mouth, determined not to give her the satisfaction of a response. But as I chew, her words linger, settling somewhere deep in my chest like the weight of a question I’m not ready to answer.
Neesha slides the remaining cupcakes to the side, starting on a new batch with the kind of focus that says she’s not done with me yet. “Well, you know you’re going to see him tomorrow night because he’s going to be at the bachelor auction.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Oh, I know. I’ve been trying to arrange interviews with all of these guys and trying to do it around schedules between bachelor auctions, Maple Fest, games here, games away, and of course, filming for their social media and other press they have to do in downtime. And please don’t get me started on all of the charity campaigns happening to save this town. It means everyone is busy doing all the things, all the time and it’s chaos…I mean, come on!” I drop my hands with a huff. “I don’t understand why I even came back here. I’m trying to write a story and I feel like I’m herding cats.”
“You sound like Lorelai onGilmore Girls.” Neesha laughs, shaking her head as she pipes frosting onto a fresh tray ofcupcakes. “You need to put some of that energy into bidding tomorrow night.”
“Ha, ha.” I wave my hands in protest. “No, I’m not going to be bidding on anything. Too murky with me writing about them. I’m going with my mother purely for the enjoyment factor of being at a bachelor auction in small-town Maple Falls. Because the only,onlyreason we’re having one is because we have ice hockey players here. It’s not because we have a bevy of single men who are ready and willing to mingle.”
“Trust me, I know.” Neesha’s laugh deepens, her shoulders shaking. "But, stay open. They might not be that bad.”
“Are you referring to the lineup of bachelors for tomorrow night?”
“You’ve already taken one of them for a test drive…”
“No, ma’am.” I smack the counter, sending a puff of powdered sugar into the air. “Not today. You hate ice hockey players. You’re supposed to be helping me right now.”
With a mischievous smile, Neesha hands me another cupcake. “Look, red velvet, your favorite.”
I pluck the tiny treat from her hand, knowing all too well her ploy is to shut me up, as the bell jingles on the door at the front of the bookstore. A few seconds later, Willa appears with a huge smile.
“Hello, ladies,” she says as she sashays her way up to the counter, moving her camera bag from one shoulder to the other. “Neesha, may I get a large coffee to go?”
“You got it,” Neesha says, stepping away.
“Looking for more birds?” I ask, pointing to her camera equipment.
Willa shakes her head. “Not today. Today’s agenda has me roaming the town, taking photos of small-town life.”
“And Maple Falls is the muse?” I ask, biting my cheek so I don’t start laughing.
“You bet she is,” Willa says, looking at me likehow dare you ask this. “The buildings, the people, the scarecrows outside of thebusinesses, banners and bunting swathed across buildings, touting a new team and Maple Fest…” Willa sighs, a romantic expression taking over her features. “It’s small-town charm at its finest. I’m going to take a series of photos and maybe put together another book.”
Neesha’s back, sliding the coffee across the counter. “Well, if you do, I’ll supply the cupcakes for your next launch.”
“I wouldn’t want to have a party without your cupcakes, how’s that?” Willa says, making Neesha puff up with pride.
“Speaking of a party,” I say as I reach into my bag, “this envelope appeared in our mailbox yesterday. Ashlyn managed to get her dad to sign the consent form you needed.”
Willa let out a whoop of joy and grabs the offering from my hands. “See? Imagine having this happen in New York. I stumble into a store for coffee, and not only do I see one friendly face, I find two. I announce a book, and I’m offered cupcakes. I need a form signed by the mayor? Voilà, it’s done. Small towns, you do not mess around with them.”
As Willa dances in a circle, I think about what she’s said. “You’ve got a very good point.”
“I know I do, and I keep saying the same thing to Neesha. City life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” While Neesha jokingly rolls her eyes, Willa motions for the two of us to come in closer to her. “I also have news. Fun news.”
“We could all use fun news,” Neesha says. “Spill it.”
“Remember the other day when I said I’ve got some surprises in store?” Her smile grows until I swear I can see all of her teeth. “Well, Noah and I have been talking about doing something crazy. Like, nuts-for-this-town crazy. Since I left my job as editor, I’ve missed that part of my life. I loved being a part of the news, and even though I was roaming and doing freelance sports photography, I was contributing in some way.”
Neesha and I exchange a knowing look, the kind you share when someone is speaking a language you’ve lived.
“I think we both get it,” I say, encouraging her to continue.
“Well, you know how the TV station in the next town over has been in trouble?”
