Page 21 of Merry Little Sugar Rush
Joy clears her throat and walks to the pay hut. I let her do her thing, stealing a glance at the older man, woman, child, and a younger man who scoops up the boy and spins him around.
When Joy finishes paying, we start to make our way over to where my grandpa’s old farm truck is parked. I make sure to radio to the crew that I’m making a delivery so they know I’m off-site for a short time.
“We can use my dad’s,” Joy states.
“Yeah, but then I couldn’t drive this old beauty, and I’ve wanted to drive it since I was a kid,” I tell her. I leave out the part I drove it around the farm a few times when I was younger, but never legally on the roadway.
Joy climbs in the passenger door and buckles up. Once I make sure the tree isn’t going anywhere, I do the same and fire up the engine. I take the side entrance out of the farm and head toward downtown Snowflake Falls. “That man and woman looked familiar,” I say, asking without coming out and asking who they are.
“Do you remember Amy Samson?”
As soon as she says the name it hits me. “Of course. They are her parents.”
Joy nods, looking out the side window. “Amy and I became good friends after high school. She married a guy from out of town. That was Nick with them.”
“And that little boy must be her son,” I assume.
“Yes, that’s Alton.” There’s a brief pause before she adds, “Amy passed away two weeks after she gave birth. She had a brain aneurism.”
“What? Shit,” I mutter, feeling terrible for asking.
“Sally brings Alton to the bakery every Thursday after preschool for a chocolate milk and sweet treat.”
I remain silent, because I don’t know what to say. Hearing about the loss of a classmate hits me hard in the chest. I may not have finished school with Amy, but we were classmates during my time here. She was a sweet girl, and I can see why she and Joy became close after graduation.
“You can park around back in the alley,” she tells me, and before I know it, I’m pulling up to the door marked with the bakery logo and a sign for deliveries.
I turn off the truck and hop out, slipping my gloves back on to grab the tree. “Ready, Easy-Bake?”
She rewards me with a big grin that makes her eyes twinkle. “The question is, are you ready, Burkey Turkey?”
Her question feels flirty. Very flirty.
Oh, I’m definitely ready.
But I can’t help but wonder, am I really?
Am I ready for Joy Campbell?
SEVEN
Joy
I don’t knowwhy I suddenly feel playful, but I do. First with the dinner invitation, which he hasn’t accepted or declined yet, and then with the flirty question about being ready.
Climbing out of the cab of the truck, I meet him at the tailgate, but instantly realize I need to get the doors unlocked first. By the time I have the back entrance of the building opened, he’s there, tree thrown over his shoulder like some sort of holiday lumberjack. “I was going to help you carry it,” I tell him, holding open the door so he can enter.
“I got it,” he insists, offering a wink as he walks inside the building.
Closing the door behind me, Burk starts to take the tree up to my apartment. It isn’t until he’s at the landing in front of the next door that I realize the issue. He’s in front of me, and I need to get past him to get that door unlocked too.
“I guess we didn’t think this one through,” I state, just as he’s realizing the issue.
“Oops,” he comments with a gravelly chuckle that makes my nipples hard and a wave of warmth rush between my legs. “Umm, can you slip past behind me?” He turns to the side, sandwiching the tree between his chest and the wall.
“I think so.” I shift to my side and carefully try to slip behind him on the stairs. Of course, my entire front brushes his back, and even though we’re wearing coats and cold-weather gear, I swear I feel the heat of his body.
Or maybe it’s just my sudden overanxious body that seems to home in on his physique and nearness.
