Page 1 of Midnight Snack

chapter

one

Caroline

I gently close the door behind me, careful to not wake the sleeping dragons.

In case you’re concerned that I am either delusional or the owner of exotic reptiles, I’m neither. The dragons are the women who’ve raised me: my grandmother, Celeste, and her sister, my great aunt Cissy.

Ever since my own mother left me on their doorstep when I was nine, they’ve been doing their damnedest to mold me into their collective image.

For the record, the nickname “the dragons” is only barely an exaggeration. They breathe fire in the form of scathing criticism and malicious gossip. They guard their lair, scaring off anyone who might dare approach. Most of all, they hoard their treasure.

To be perfectly honest, I have no idea how much they’re worth, but everyone in town thinks they’re rich AF. Which has only made my life as their poverty-stricken ward all the more pathetic. Growing up, I only ever had hand-me-downs. I never had any “running around money” that I could use to “get myself in trouble.”

Don’t believe me? Here’s how bad it was: when Callie Burton (now Crawford) took over at the library, she started having school supply drives every fall, so that any needy child in Saddle Creek could start the year with fresh binders, backpacks and whatnot. The dragons always sent me there to pick up my backpack full of free goodies.

Let me tell you, that stung.

Callie did her best to make sure no child was shamed for needing help, but still … some kids took those free backpacks because no matter how hard their parents worked, new school supplies just never made the budget. I took those school supplies because my own flesh and blood didn’t care enough to shell out forty bucks for notebooks from Darius’s Office Supply out on the loop.

My point is this: don't ever let anyone tell you dragons are romantic.

Dragons are mean.

And spiteful.

Celeste and Cissy only every did one nice thing for me. They paid for me to go to culinary school to become a pastry chef.

Before you get all misty-eyed about their generosity, they only did it so that they could hold my debt over my head.

Which is why I, an otherwise independent, modern woman of twenty-six, still live with my grandmother and maiden great aunt. If I even hint at the possibility of moving out, they are quick to remind me how much money I still owe them.

Thankfully, as the years have progressed, their hearing has worsened with age, so it’s a little easier to slip out without them noticing. It is both a curse and a blessing that for the last several months I’ve had to leave the house in the wee hours of the night to get to the bakery.

More than once I’ve woken one or both of them up while sneaking out into the darkness. Those are always the very worst of days.

Today though, I make it to my car without even a grumble from the old women. My old sedan sputters to a start, and I drive through the quiet streets of Saddle Creek to the bakery I co-own with my best friends. Technically, I’m barely a partner considering how low my investment was.

Gracie and Kelsie swear they don’t mind and consider me an owner just like them, but it bothers me. You’d think I’d be used to that sort of thing because I’ve always been that girl. The one who couldn’t afford to go out with friends during school. Who got by on as little sleep as possible because I worked two jobs and had classes full-time.

But all of that is over now. I have two amazing best friends, and our bakery, Sugar Bakers, is definitely making its mark in Bluebonnet county. We’re already known for having the best apple fritters in the state.

Kelsie is already at the bakery when I arrive. No surprise there. She’s always been a bit of an early bird, but I think since she fell in love with an ex-Navy SEAL, she’s been doing her best to remind us she’s still here. Things have changed between the three of us, but only in the “now we have a big, hulking guy who hangs out with us and stares at Kelsie like she personally climbed up to the sky and hung each star” way.

Secretly, it makes me wistful, but the practical side of me runs the show. I do not have time for flights of fancy, as my grandmother would call it.

Kelsie greets me at the door with a mug of hot coffee and a smile.

“Morning,” she says.

“You know your incessant cheerfulness drives Gracie crazy,” I tell her.

Her smile widens. “I do know that.”

That makes me laugh. “Any special orders on deck today or just the usual?”

“Usual.”