Cinnamon and Spice Conundrum (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

Chapter 9

Ryan/Jack

What’s that noise? I jerk awake, listening intently for the sound that woke me.

Bang! Bang!

It sounds like a gun firing! I rush to the window and fling up the blind, looking for the source of the noise. A belated thought floats through my still sleepy brain: hopefully whoever is firing doesn’t see me and shoot me.

A puff of smoke belches from the tailpipe of Sadie’s car. It emits another loud bang, then sputters and dies. She emerges from the driver’s door seconds later with Jolt at her side. I watch as she creeps quietly towards an old shed at the side of the property.

Considering how much noise her car just made, she’s going to great lengths to walk stealthily across the yard. Her footsteps couldn’t be any noisier than her junker even if she clomped all the way over the grass. I chuckle as I watch her haul an ancient-looking bicycle from the shed, just another example of how everything around here is old and decrepit. My jaw drops when she hops on, then rides off into the night with Jolt loping at her side.

“Wait! I’ll give you a ride,” I yell, but she doesn’t hear me through the glass. She’s going to bike six miles to work and then six miles back at the end of the day? In pitch darkness? What if a car hits her?

My heart rate escalates as I fling on my old man disguise, grab my keys and phone, and run to Jack’s car. It starts on the first try, chugging to life without protest. I jerk it into gear and peel out of the gravel driveway. About a mile down the road, my headlights shine on Sadie as she pedals up a hill. The woman is impressive, making the climb look easy. I make a mental note to rejoin that gym when I get home .

Pulling up beside her, I roll down my window, and yell, “Get in! I’ll drive you.”

She turns her head towards me, her eyes widening. “It’s five in the morning, Jack! Go back to bed. Sorry I woke you.” Her legs keep pumping away, and I even accelerate slightly to keep the car abreast with her.

“I hate to tell you, but your car could have woken the dead,” I shout over the noise of the car engine and the grinding of her noisy pedals. “I’m already up. Please get in, because otherwise I’m going to follow you every mile to make sure no one hits you.”

She applies the brakes, the bike skidding to an abrupt stop. I reverse the car to get back to where she’s waiting for me on the gravel shoulder.

“You’d do that? Follow me all the way to the café?” she asks as I hop out and load her bicycle into the back seat, giving her no chance to change her mind. She slides onto the bench passenger seat—Jack’s older model car doesn’t have one of those consoles—a little breathless from her ride. Jolt tries to join her since the bike is occupying the back. The big dog nudges her over closer to me, I put the car in gear, and we proceed. A tantalizing warmth spreads up my thigh at the contact with her body.

“I was worried about you. Why didn’t you just knock on my door and ask me for a lift?”

She blinks at me for a few beats. “You wouldn’t be mad? All my boyfriends made it perfectly clear that they’d never get up at five, no matter what.”

What kind of guys has she been dating? “Sadie, I’m happy to give you a lift to work. Anytime. Even at five.”

Smiling, she settles back into the leather seat, resting her head against the seat back. Wish she’d lean her head against my shoulder.

A content sigh floats from her lips. “Thank you, Jack. I’ll just rest for a few seconds. Wake me when we get there. ”

With those words, she’s out like a light, snoring softly. Jolt leans his giant head against her other thigh and starts to snore as well. My heart flips at the sight of the beautiful woman and massive canine snoozing beside me. I could get used to this.

“Can I help you bake those muffins?” I ask, leaning against the spotless stainless-steel countertop in the commercial kitchen. The rest of our trip to the bakery was uneventful, but it took me several tries to wake the sleeping duo. Now I’m just standing around watching Sadie hustle to put the already prepared blueberry muffin tins in the oven. She also mentioned something about mixing up apple cinnamon muffins before we do the advanced cash register training.

She puts her hand in front of her mouth and yawns. “Sorry! We stayed up too late playing that rousing game of Monopoly,” she says.

“Rematch this evening,” I say, still stinging over the loss.

She giggles. “Maybe if you switch to using the thimble, you’ll have better luck,” she replies with a flirty wink.

My heart leaps in my chest and I want to fold her into my arms, then kiss those sassy red lips, but there’s baking to do and the hungry locals will riot if Sadie doesn’t have their baked goods ready.

“Muffins?” I remind her.

“Oh, right. You don’t have to help, Jack. Relax and have a cup of coffee. I’ll be done in a jiffy.”

I put my hand on her shoulder, halting her flitting around the room like a busy bumblebee. My hand feels the zap of electricity as it runs up my arm. “Sadie, I’d love to help. How about a little training on how to mix up muffins?”

“Are you sure? I feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” she says. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she adds, “You could hide in the break room and take a thirty-minute catnap. ”

I sigh. “Once I’m up, I’m up. There’s no catnapping in Ryan’s world.” I instantly want to suck the words back into my mouth.

She grins. “Alrighty then! There’s no cat napping in Hawthorne’s world either!” I sag in relief that she thinks I was using my last name. What a dunce I am!

“I’ll show you the recipe and you can begin mixing while I finish prepping and putting these kolaches in the oven. Today is ham and cheese kolaches for lunch.”

My lips water at the mention of the kolaches. I haven’t had those since I was a kid.

Pulling out a wrinkled and stained recipe card, Sadie props it on the counter. “You need to measure and mix all the dry ingredients first,” she says.

I salute and get to work.

A short, stout gray-haired woman approaches the coffee counter, squinting at me through her trendy tortoise frame glasses—possibly a pair of those Warby Parkers they advertise on TV—while her steely blue eyes try to bore a hole through my forehead. Her companion, a tall, skinny woman of about the same age, purses her lips, giving me a once over from head to toe. My jaw drops. Are they both wearing the latest Tommy Hilfiger jeans? And is that a Carl F. Bucherer original timepiece strapped to the short one’s boney wrist? The guy inside me who loves his luxurious, well-fitting designer clothes wakens. I yearn to ditch the gramps disguise and wear my real Ryan clothes.

When did I become such a snob?

“You the new guy?” the tall woman asks.

“I am! Would you like some of our cinnamon coffee this morning?” The café has been open for about two hours and the rush is finally subsiding. I’m also proud to announce that the apple cinnamon muffins I mixed up are nearly sold out .

The tall lady grunts. “We heard Sadie is now offering a plain black brew. Got any of that?”

News sure travels fast around here.

I nod towards the new offering sitting on the warming burner. Sadie hid the coffee package, containing a basic unflavored blend, under the cabinet lest her clients think she offers only grocery store coffee. All her other brews are sustainable, grown to strict environmental and fair-trade standards.

“Two cups coming right up!”

“We’ll also each take a muffin,” the shorter one adds.

“Apple cinnamon or blueberry?” I ask.

“You are new here. Blueberry, of course,” the tall one says.

The duo strolls to one of the booths on the opposite side of the café. I guess they just expect me or Sadie to bring them their order.

Ten minutes later, Wilbur arrives. He smiles, waves, and makes a beeline for the two women shouting their names, something neither of them provided to me earlier. “Georgeanne! Agnes!”

I hardly recognize my fishing companion as he flirts with the two ladies. He points to one of their coffee cups, and an animated exchange ensues as I try to decipher what they’re discussing. When the discussion ends, Wilbur makes his slow, painful way over to the coffee counter.

“I hear you’ve got Folgers on tap,” he says without any greeting.

I plaster a neutral expression on my face. Is it obvious I ran to the store and purchased that particular brand?

“Sadie has added a delightful plain brew, per your recommendation,” I reply.

He grunts. “Well, get me a cup. I don’t have all day.”

This guy sure runs hot and cold. Considering he was flirting with the two women just seconds ago, he sure is acting crabby towards me. Where’s the guy who took me fishing? “Certainly, coming right up. Just the coffee? ”

He swivels towards the bakery case. “Heard those blueberry muffins are pretty good.”

“I’ll get you one,” I say, sliding over to the case.

“What other kind do you have?” he asks, peering through the glass at the baked goods.

“There’s also a few apple cinnamon muffins remaining,” I say, a touch of pride in my voice.

“I’ll live on the wild side and try one of those.”

Chuckling, I ring him up, giving him the correct senior discount, and he pays again using a combination of crumpled dollar bills and change. He trots off at an impressively rapid clip, considering his cane, to rejoin the women.

Shaking my head, I prepare Wilbur’s order. I’m starting to feel at home as I get to know Sadie’s regulars. There’s no one under sixty in the bunch. I wonder how she can attract a younger crowd, expand her clientele, and grow her business. Where do all the Pinecone Pines working-age folks stop for coffee on their way to their jobs?

I’m going to create a proposal for expanding her market and present it to her. Excitement pulses through me. I’ve been looking for a new business I can help start now that Sam’s and my start-up is well on its way. Helping make Sadie’s business more successful is just what I’ve been looking for.