Page 6 of Ginger Snapped
There was not, in fact, a run on the library at 9:00 a.m. Or even at 10:00 a.m. I did have a few regulars who drifted in around eleven, and I pretended I didn’t notice their disappointed expressions when they wandered off to the coffee cart we had in the corner. Usually there would have been a tin of fresh-baked cookies there, but I’d forgotten to grab them in my haste to get out the door this morning. I’d made a mental note to bring them tomorrow.
Thinking of cookies had me thinking about Finn Kelly, and I wondered idly what sort of entry he was planning for the competition.
Not that I was worried. There were always one or two new faces who tried their luck, thinking they had what it took, but I was confident I had this thing locked down, just like every other year. No cute, charming redhead was going to sashay into town and steal my title.
Hewascute, though. And it had seemed like he was at least trying to make up for his earlier behavior when I’d seen him at the store. Still, now that he’d entered the contest he was technically my opposition, no matter how appealing he was.
And I didn’t even know if he was single, so the whole thing was moot. Although he’d saidhewas new to town, notwe,like you might if you had a partner, so it was possible he was available.
Why was I spending my time thinking about Finn Kelly anyway? I was meant to be reshelving the books in my library cart, but somehow I’d just addedMoby Dickto the gay romance shelf—which was a whole other kind of dick.
I took the book back and trundled my little cart over to the correct section and willed myself not to think about Finn, or his dick, and whether he was a true redhead.
I didn’t even likethe guy!
Fine, he was objectively attractive, and he had a certain careless charm, but the problem was that when he made those teasing comments of his, I couldn’t decide if he was flirting with me or mocking me, and it was the not knowing that had discomfort swirling in my belly. I didn’t know which I hated more—the idea that he was making fun of me or that I might actually be too socially inept to see it.
There was a reason I preferred my own company.
By the time I’d shelved the rest of the books, catalogued some new arrivals, and helped Mr. Kennedy put a request in for theTwilightseries while holding a serious discussion on the merits of vampires versus werewolves—obviously, werewolves were better—it was time for lunch. I grabbed my coat and scarf from the back of my chair and was just heading out the library door when I heard Sherri exclaim, “Oh, aren’t you the sweetest!”
“Well, I baked these last night and thought I’d drop them by as a thank you for making me feel so welcome yesterday,” a warm, familiar voice said. “It’s a family recipe.”
I froze just outside the library door. Why was Finn here? And why was he bringing Sherri gifts—bakedgifts?
Don’t get me wrong, I liked Sherri. And she did a great job running the front desk. But I couldn’t think of a single reason for Finn Kelly to be dropping off—whatwashe dropping off, anyway? I made my way over to the reception desk, and what I saw took my breath away.
Finn was holding a plate of shortbread cookies. Some of them were decorated with adorable fondant blue and white penguin faces, and others were iced with a marbled effect to look like different-colored Christmas tree ornaments—including some unmistakable rainbow ones—and they wereflawless. The perfectly matched stripes on the main part of the cookies were offset by piped white icing between the colors, with equally perfect curled fondant ribbons perched on the top, and the surfaces gleamed with a sprinkling of sanding sugar. Every edge was level, every surface smooth, every penguin’s expression bright and cheerful.
Every single cookie was its own little piece of perfection.
I told myself I wasn’t jealous of the skill it must have taken to make them look that good—but I totally was.
“Cameron!” Sherri said, beaming at me. “Look what Finn brought in! Aren’t these themostdarling things?”
Finn turned at the mention of my name and grinned, almost like he was pleased to see me. “Oh hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Why would you?” I said.
Finn’s smile faded and Sherri looked between the two of us, her brow creased.
Okay, that had probably sounded rude. “I just meant I never told you I was a librarian, so how could you be expected to guess?” I clarified hastily. I turned my attention to the cookies he was holding and gave him a tentative smile. “These look really great. Top-notch decorating work.”
Finn’s face lit up. “Thanks.” He held the plate out to me. “Can I tempt you?”
And wasn’t that a loaded question?
I picked up a rainbow-patterned bauble cookie with a striped fondant ribbon and bit into it. I wasn’t expecting anything more than an ordinary shortbread cookie, but I moaned as the shortbread melted in my mouth and vanilla and butter and possibly fairy dust danced across my tongue. Fuck me, it should have been illegal for something to taste that good. I took a second bite and moaned again, and Finn’s grin widened. “I’m guessing you approve, if those noises are anything to go by.”
“'S’incredible,” I said, stuffing the rest of the cookie into my mouth and hating how good it was.
Sherri picked up a cookie of her own and nibbled at the edge, then let out a sound that I was pretty sure only her husband had heard before now.
Dammit. Finn really could bake.
Sherri finished her cookie with a satisfied sigh and chased the last crumbs from the front of her blouse with a fingertip before saying, “Those are amazing, Finn. Mind you, I’m not surprised they’re good. After all, youarea celebrity baker!”
What?
