Chapter 13

13

Annika

Earplugs are my friend.

Earplugs, and aspirin, and frozen baked cheese bread—that I baked, thank you very much, because apparently I can operate frozen food—and coffee.

We're all up early and in the Duh-Nuts kitchen Monday morning for what we hope will be another sell-out day. Bailey's at the Viking range top, stirring a massive pot of secret ingredient vanilla pudding while I line up peeled bananas for slicing beside the two dozen boxes of Nilla Wafers and twelve empty pans waiting to be filled with her epic creation. Mama's kneading tomorrow's donut dough at the other worktable, and the two of them are singing Johnny Cash songs at the top of their lungs.

My headache has almost subsided by the time we flip on the dining room lights and unlock the door, but when another Rock sibling walks in two minutes later, not only does my headache come raging back, but my stomach threatens to revolt too.

"Dude, you grew up hot." Cooper looks me up and down, his sunglasses pulled down to the edge of his nose, and he gives a soft whistle. " Really hot."

Like he can talk.

He's six feet, two inches of solid muscle encased in slim jeans and a skin-tight Fireballs T-shirt, with a tattoo decorating the bicep bulging out from under his sleeve, his dimples on full display, his cheeks and chin sporting three days' worth of dark stubble.

But what he owns in the looks department, he makes up for in personality.

"Can I get two of you to go?" he adds with a brow wiggle.

"Keep it in your pants, and no," I reply.

His grin gets wider, his dimples deeper, just like Grady's.

His eyes are the same blue-green too.

They could be twins, except Cooper has about twenty more pounds of muscle and a longer face with a deeper tan.

But only just barely.

Those Rock boys give good jawline.

Dammit .

"Shitty night?" he asks.

"Galaxy donut?" I reply, gesturing to the display case full of fresh donuts. In addition to the classic glazed donut, which Bailey spent the weekend mastering when she wasn't helping run the grand re-opening, today we have a special donut topped with a smooth swirled blue, green, and black icing dotted with edible glitter, which resembles a colorful version of images of outer space.

Bailey basically absorbed all the knowledge of Pinterest and Food Network and now she's a donut prodigy from the holes to the glazes.

Bonus, they're very edibly delicious.

Having yeast donuts back in Duh-Nuts means letting Bailey stand at the fryer, but she assures me she's done far worse, which isn't actually reassuring at all.

Possibly I've already forgotten my own teen years and gotten a little uptight since high school.

"I'm not supposed to buy anything," Cooper says apologetically. "But I am supposed to talk you into a free sample of your banana pudding. And I might could be talked into buying a lot of it. Like, a lot . I mean, if it's good enough. And if you promise not to tell my siblings. Or my Pop. He's terrifying when he gets mad. Puts on his Blackbeard costume and shows up in the middle of the night in your bedroom pretending to be the Pirate of Sins Past and he just knows shit."

Cooper affects a whole-body shiver.

"Dream on," Bailey tells him from the kitchen doorway. "We know who you are."

"You want an autograph?" he asks.

"Again, dream on. Annika, do I need to make him go away?"

"Go wash dishes," I tell her.

"Not if it means you have to be alone with this guy."

"Bailey." Mama angles into the doorway too, hand on the frame, guiding herself. "Who's there?"

"Cooper Rock, ma'am," Cooper says. "Power slugger for the Fireballs. Acrobatic second baseman. Or you could just call me a god. I'm good with that."

Mama smiles. "Ah, Cooper Rock. I should've known by the ego. How are the Fireballs this summer?"

"Full of heart, ma'am. Just like your daughter."

"Did you just subtly call my sister a loser?" Bailey demands. "Because the Fireballs are bigger losers than they are…hearters."

"Bailey." I jerk my head toward the kitchen. "Can you please go find a masterpiece for us to make tomorrow?"

"One that will bring people from miles and miles around?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Victory is the best revenge," she says tartly, and she disappears back into the kitchen.

"Now. Cooper. What can we do for you?" I ask.

"Alright. You've convinced me. Sell me all your banana pudding?"

"No."

"I'd pay you good for it."

" No . I'm sorry your family is upset with us, but the people of Sarcasm deserve banana pudding too. Without going someplace where people call them assholes just for being from Sarcasm. Duh-Nuts isn't hurting Crow's Nest. So back off ."

He holds his hands up. "Dude. Mellow your yellow. First of three games against Boston tonight, and the team's gonna need some comfort food when it's over, you know?"

He says it so casually, like it's no big deal that the Fireballs will get creamed, and that their injured pride will be assuaged by banana pudding, but I don't buy it.

Cooper Rock has always been a winner.

He once challenged me to a game of rock, paper, scissors that went on for an hour because that's how long it took for him to finally come out on top in a best of two hundred and seventeen contest. He hired a professional editor for his eighth-grade submission to the county DARE essay contest. He swapped Grady's cannoli filling for garlic butter during the annual Pirate Festival's baking contest one year, because he knew his pirate hat cookies couldn't beat Grady's cannoli cannons.

Cooper Rock does not like to lose.

At anything.

And the only thing he hates worse than losing is for his family to lose.

I fold my arms and indulge in the staring contest that he's pretending we're not having.

He doesn't crack, which is unlike him, because he hated staring contests in high school, and would always say nah, that wasn't a staring contest, you just forgot to blink rather than admit that he couldn't win a staring contest.

This might take longer than I thought.

"Annika?" Mama says.

"Just a minute, Mama. We're having a little contest right now."

"I'll be sure to say a nice eulogy and bury you both right here after you each die before blinking," she says. "Since I assume you mean a staring contest and you're not making out with Grady's brother while I can't see you."

"All I want is for her to go apologize to my brother." Cooper's gaze doesn't waver, and his eyes aren't even getting shiny with the need to blink.

He probably practices this in the mirror, since I doubt he'd practice with anyone else who might beat him.

"I'm not apologizing when I didn't do anything wrong," I tell him.

"You hurt him."

"He hurt me ."

"But you're the bigger person of the two of you, so if you're ever going to be friends again, you have to go to him ."

I want to growl, because I know he's right, and I suddenly feel like my entire high school experience was a lie built on coddling Grady's ego, even though I know that's not true. He had a few insecurities, but who doesn't? More often, he was fun and reliable and smart. And smiling. Always smiling.

Always bringing me baked goods, even though he knew Mama was the best baker in the world, because I just want to see the day that you finally think I've made something as good as her.

Always telling someone from Shipwreck to shove it whenever one of them called me an asshole.

Always grabbing me by the cheeks, saying, Annika, look at me, it's okay if your papier-maché Coliseum isn't to scale, because you've already earned your A, and you're missing out on the last good sledding of the season. What would you rather have, the A+, or the memories?

"I have responsibilities that are bigger than soothing someone's ridiculous idea that he's the more injured party here," I say quietly.

"C'mon, Annika. I know you miss him too."

"I don't have time to miss him."

Mama clucks her tongue.

Cooper smirks.

And the bells jingle on the door as a dude with a huge camera pushes inside. "Coffee. I need—whoa." His sleepy eyes flare wide. "You're Cooper Rock," he says, and he lifts the camera and starts snapping pictures.

"What in the—hey! Hey! Get out." I step out from behind the counter as the camera flashes and the guy starts firing questions.

"What are you doing here, Cooper? Is this where you always get donuts and coffee? Can you turn to the left so I can get those awesome donuts behind you? Why are you so far from Copper Valley? Is Darren Greene with you?"

" Out! " I order.

Cooper's smile has vanished, and he's doing his best to avoid the guy getting a picture of his face.

"Mama, call the sheriff," I call over my shoulder.

"Solid gold," the photographer is gushing. "Solid fucking gold."

"That a baseball player would be in a bakery? Get out before I have to show you my combatives training. Shoo. Shoo ."

He backs off as Cooper finally dives behind the bakery counter.

"Jeez. Know where I'm not getting my coffee," he grumbles. "You seen her? Honey Wellington? The heiress who bought the winery? Can't miss that blond hair. She dating any—ow, ow, OW! "

"Oh, excuse me, I'm sorry, I guess my foot wasn't watching where it was going."

"Let go of my ear!"

"Quit trespassing in my bakery!"

"I could sue you for harassment."

I toss him out the door and lock it behind him, standing there glaring until he moves on, but not until after he's snapped so many pictures I have dots in my vision.

"What the hell was that?" I bark at Cooper.

He doesn't answer.

But Bailey does.

"Oh em gee, Annika! We have paparazzi in town," she squeals. "Sarcasm is going to be famous ! And you're going to be the cranky bakery lady with resting bitch face in the background, but we'll be famous !"

"Who's Honey Wellington?" I ask.

My head hurts. My heart hurts. My past hurts.

Swear it does. All of my memories. They hurt.

"She's that heiress who bought Sarcasm Cellars," Bailey answers. "You know? The one Liliana talked about all night—oh. Right. You passed out drunk in the charcoal face mask and missed that part. Anyway. Honey, the heiress, is in town now and apparently the paparazzi are here to chase her."

I sigh and pull out my phone to send Liliana a warning text as all of the details about the winery and its owner come filtering back into my brain.

I also politely inquire if we'll be seeing paparazzi every morning.

"Where did Cooper go?" I ask as I put my phone away.

"Out the kitchen door," Bailey replies. "I squirted the back of his shirt with some of the whipped cream from the banana pudding though. He didn't notice. It'll get smashed all over his seat and stink up his car for weeks."

" Bailey ," Mama and I sigh together.

She grins. "I only get to be a teenager once. Don't ruin it for me. Also, I can't wait to hear what happens when pictures of him in our bakery make their way to Shipwreck. Good thing I have our next brilliant idea. You ready for this? Pirate Unicorn Fingers. Like ladyfingers, but decorated like unicorn pirates with candy corn horns. And better tasting. Boom. And you're welcome."

I rub my temples again, and realize I'm smearing donut icing all over my face in the process.

Something has to change. I have enough on my plate with Mama and Bailey and the bakery, and even though I have everything color-coded in both my planner and on the calendars hanging on the walls in both the Duh-Nuts kitchen and also in the kitchen at Mama's house, I'm running out of colors to keep my life straight.

I can't keep up a passive-aggressive war of baked goods with Grady amidst paparazzi crawling through Sarcasm too.

At least, not for long.

Three more days, I tell myself.

In three more days, if I still feel horrible and can't stop thinking about Grady, and if his family keeps stopping by, and if Mama and Bailey keep bringing him up, then I'll find some way to meet him on his turf to talk.

Even if it's just to agree that we're both moving on politely with no more of this ridiculous bakery war stuff going on.

But maybe he'll come to me again first.

Three more days.

Yeah. That sounds like an excellent plan.

And with that issue pushed back on my to-do list and highlighted on my calendar for not today , I go unlock the door again for Roger, who's peering in now after the paparazzi guy headed down the street for the diner.

Another day, another new normal.

I've got this.

I think.