Page 54 of The Score We Never Settled

My lips fall into a flat line because, of course.

“And replaced,” I mutter as Agnes begins to unload my wagon. “Is this enough? I can bring more?—”

“Oh, plenty, Layla,” she beams, examining the lemon dump cake I brought, her favorite. She bites down on her lower lip in thought. “I don’t think I’ll let anyone buy this, though.”

My mouth decides to quirk because:evil little plan incoming.

“Uncle Ben was mentionin’ that,” I fib as I help her unload the wagon. “I think he said he was gonna swing by.”

She shows zero reaction to his possible appearance, but I’m not fooled. Agnes knows that if she shows an ounce of excitement, it would be her name that could be tossed around town over morning coffee tomorrow.

“Your Uncle Ben doesn’t need nothin’,” she lightly scolds, giving me a mini-glare to warn me to stop him from doing so. “He has a niece who can make him anything, whenever he wants.”

“He wants to support the church, of course.”

She sends me another withering look but gently places the cake next to the others and comes back to help with the others. “You doin’ alright, girl?”

“Really good. I’m tryin’ this new bourbon cherry crumble pie that I think will knock the socks off?—”

“I mean with Briggs being back in town.”

Why would she ask me that?

It should be Cruz she’s asking me about, not Briggs.

But, just like Agnes, I’m an expert at keeping my cool. I show no sign of distress, continuing on with unloading my wagon as she and I pass each other while placing the desserts on the tables underneath her tent.

Someone at the bonfire snitched.

“Lord,” I remark with a small shake of my head. “I’m about to call my insurance agent to make sure my coverage is up-to-date on the bakery before he burns the whole town down.”

“The boy did have a knack for trouble.”

“Eh, well, with Cruz in town, we should see a little gossip, huh? Your favorite.”

Yeah, okay, I’m not the most subtle.

Nonetheless, we can call an apple an apple here because everyone knows that she and her partner-in-crime, Maebelle, run this town on whispers and hearsay.

Agnes stops mid-step toward the wagon, like she’s completely shocked I’d ever say such a thing, but I don’t stop moving.

It’s just that no one openly calls her out on her spreading of tidbits and how she can make Magnolia Ridge chomp at the bit over a story.

“Ya act like I search for it, honey,” she rebukes lightly, following me with her eyes, as I move things around.

“We definitely have enough characters in town to do that work for you.”

“We do,” she confirms. “But there’s nothin’ like a little love story that’ll have the town buzzin’.”

I make a face. “I’m not datin’ Cruz again.”

Agnes doesn’t miss a damn beat when she returns with, “I wasn’t talkin’ about Cruz, honey.”

Okay, that’s it.

Turning on my heels, I’m ready to squash that idea before Agnes begins talking to Maebelle about it—but, let’s be real here, she probably already did—when another body shows up next to her.

One with perfectly put together wavy brown hair and sharp green eyes.