Ignite (Cloverleigh Farms #6)(25)

“Hello,” she greeted them, her smile warm and welcoming. “What can I get for you?”

“Is Winnie here?” Hallie asked.

The woman looked surprised, then she laughed. “Not today. Do you know Winnie?”

“Yes, she’s our next door neighbor.”

“We met her yesterday,” Luna said excitedly. “Does she work here?”

“No, but she comes in here a lot. She’s my daughter.” She lowered her voice and spoke behind the back of her hand, like she was telling them a secret. “She says she comes here for me, but I think she just likes the free cupcakes.”

The girls laughed as I approached the counter. It smelled delicious in here—like sweet, buttery cinnamon rolls were in the oven. And something about the scent reminded me of Winnie . . . maybe because of the cupcake we’d shared last night?

“So you must be Hallie,” Winnie’s mom said, pointing to Hallie. “And you must be Luna.”

“Yes,” Luna said. “But how did you know?”

“Winnie told me all about you last night at the party.” She looked up at me with gray-green eyes that crinkled a little at the corner and smiled. “Hi. I’m Frannie MacAllister.”

“Dexter Matthews. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too. I was sorry to hear about little Luna’s allergic reaction. I have sixteen-year-old twins, and one of them has terrible food allergies.” She hesitated, her expression turning apologetic. “I’m a client of Naomi’s at the salon, and we’ve chatted a little about the challenges of dealing with them. She was in here this morning, and I asked how Luna was—judging by her reaction, she hadn’t heard about it. I’m sorry if I caused any friction.”

Now it made sense. “No worries,” I said easily. “We’re divorced, but I spoke with her this morning.”

She nodded and turned her attention back to the girls. “Well. What can I get for you? And don’t worry—no nuts in anything!”

While the girls asked her about every single muffin, roll, and pastry under the glass, I checked my phone again to see if Chip had gotten back to me. He had—a couple minutes ago, he’d texted that they were just waking up and planning to have breakfast with his mom, sister, and stepdad at nine, but could swing by my place around eleven. All I had to do was give him the address.

I sent it to him and asked him to text me when he arrived, since we might already be at the pool. He immediately responded that was no problem and he’d see us soon.

“What about you, Dexter?” Frannie MacAllister asked once the girls had chosen their breakfast. “Can I get you something?”

I glanced at the display case and ordered a slice of quiche.

“Good choice,” she said. “The ham and gouda is one of Winnie’s favorites too. She might have even created this recipe—she’s an excellent cook.”

“Daddy is a terrible cook,” Hallie announced. “He tries, but he burns everything.”

Frannie laughed. “Winnie’s dad isn’t a very good cook either. But he’s good at other things, like I’m sure your dad is.”

“He’s good at putting out fires,” said Luna proudly. “He’s a firefighter.”

“That is a very important job.” Frannie smiled as she took a slice of quiche from the tray. “Now, will this be for here or to go?”

“To go,” I said, still a little wary of running into Winnie. “Thanks.”

A few minutes later, we were sitting in the church parking lot, the girls eating their muffins in the back seat, me devouring a slice of quiche in the front, trying to avoid getting anything on my white shirt. “Girls, could you please stop telling everyone you meet embarrassing things about me?”

“What kinds of things should we tell them?” Luna asked.

“How about saying nothing at all if you don’t have anything nice to say? Wasn’t that what Bambi said?”

“It was Thumper who said that, Daddy,” corrected Hallie.

“Whatever. Just no more telling people things like I snore or I swear or I have hair in my nose.”

“But you do,” Luna said with a laugh.

“Tell them about the hair on my chest. I like that hair.” I finished off the last bite of crust and checked the bag for a napkin. “Or my muscles. Can’t you guys tell people what big muscles I have?”

“We could,” allowed Hallie, “but muscles aren’t as funny as hair. And we decided we don’t care if you swear anymore.”

“You don’t?” No more napkins in the bag. I opened the glove box.

“No, because we need money in the box for Future Cat. So swear all you want.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, unable to find another napkin anywhere.

“That’s a dollar-fifty, Daddy.”

“A dollar-fifty!” I turned around and looked at them in the back seat. “You said yesterday the F word was only a buck.”

Hallie smiled sweetly. “Prices go up on Sunday.”

“Because of Jesus,” added Luna.

Turning around again, I grabbed the wheel and slumped down in my seat.





After church, I stood on the steps next to fucking Bryce for ten solid minutes while Naomi looked the girls over, as if she was expecting to find evidence of neglect. “You’re sure you’re all right?” she kept asking Luna.