Page 117 of Offside Rules

I’m not sure which shade of pink we’re discussing anymore, but I listen.

When we get back to The Commons, she comes upstairs with me and she falls asleep in my arms.

Chapter Twenty

Baylor

I sold the last lemon cheesecake cupcake to a man who came back because his wife said one wasn’t enough.

I respect her.

Now the display is empty, the lunch crowd is thinning, and I’m wiping frosting off the counter before I close Sprinkles for the afternoon. Three hundred cupcakes yesterday would’ve sounded impossible a month ago. Today, I’m annoyed I didn’t bring another dozen blueberry honey.

Across the lot, people are carrying their lunches back toward the office buildings. Somebody’s sitting on the curb eating chili, and the waffle truck beside me still has two customers waiting.

"Sold out?" its owner calls when I lower my serving window.

"Everything."

"Should’ve traded you before the rush."

"I offered. You said you were watching your sugar."

"I make waffles for a living. You should’ve known I was lying."

I laugh and lift a hand to wave goodbye. The woman at the chili truck waves back from behind her window.

"See you tomorrow, Baylor."

"Save me some cornbread."

"Save me a cupcake."

I point at her. "Deal."

Inside, I secure the empty trays and check that the ingredient containers are closed. My hands are still a little sore, but everything takes less time when I’m not trying to find room for leftover stock.

There isn’t any.

I take a picture of the empty display and send it to Wolf.

Me: Sold everything. Even the blueberry honey you said needed more frosting.

Wolf: Congratulations, Cupcake. Imagine how fast it would’ve gone if you’d listened to me.

Me: You’re no longer invited to tastings.

Wolf: Pretty sure I did well at the last one.

I look at the message, then shake my head, smiling while I put my phone away.

He’s referring to last night. I know he is.

I finish checking the back, grab my water, and climb into the driver’s seat. Sprinkles starts on the first try, which is becoming normal enough that I almost forget to be grateful for it.

Almost.

My phone rings before I put her in gear.