Page 57 of Choosing the Rejected Mate

****

The morning rush ischaos.Not normal chaos either.Romantic chaos.

Apparently the entire town has decided that because Daniel bought flowers yesterday and then spent half the evening in my bakery, every person with functioning eyeballs is allowed to comment.

Mrs.Bell arrives first, practically vibrating.“You look rested,” she says.

I hand her raisin buns.“You look nosy.”

“I’m nosy.At my age, shame is a waste of time.”

“Try knitting.”

“Tried it.Boring.Who was here last night?”

“Patricia,” I reply flatly.

“She doesn’t count.”

“She would be offended by that.”

Mrs.Bell leans over the counter, eyes bright.“Did he kiss you?”I stare at her, and she grins.“He did.”

“Pay for your buns and leave.”

“I knew it.”She’s so excited she actually claps her hands.

“I will ban you.”

“You won’t.You like my money.”

“I like silence more.”

She cackles all the way to the door.

Mr.Phelps arrives next and says nothing, which is suspicious.He buys his raisin buns, squints at me, then grunts, “Handyman fixed the loose board on my porch.”

“Congratulations.”

“He’s not useless.”

“Wow!Such high praise.”

“You could do worse,” he points out.

“Are you reviewing men for me now?”

“Somebody should.”

I give him an extra bun just to make him leave, and because I secretly like knowing someone out there’s watching my back—even if I didn’t ask him to and I won’t admit it out loud.

By ten, I’m deeply tired of the community’s interest in my vagina.Maisie, of course, is thriving.

“You’re glowing,” she whispers while restocking napkins.

“I’m sweating.It is hot near the ovens.”

“You have post-orgasm skin.”