Chapter 9

“Thank you. You may resume the task at hand,” she said, walking off with the bottle.

Dakota rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a sigh like a tire going flat; which was a good analogy of how he felt. This whole cake fiasco was consuming his every waking moment, and some of the sleeping ones, too. Just last night he dreamed of being chased down one of those never-ending hallways, only to be caught, pinned by a fork, and sliced up and eaten all by a giant marble cake.

Wearing a wedding dress, of all things.

“I need to get a grip.”

* * * *

Later that evening as Dakota confirmed pistachios did not belong in cake, at least at his bakery, the chime over the door sounded. A quick glance at his watch warned him closing time was drawing near and his experiments would have to wait until later. Pushing aside the unappealing confectionary, Dakota looked up, only to have his good mood squashed. He quickly ditched the slice of cake out of sight beneath the counter.