Chapter 14: Counter

Delaney's heels clicked out of the shop, and the bell rang behind her.

I pushed the cold-room door open with my frozen shoulder.

Minnie was standing at the counter with her back to me, both hands flat on the glass.

The piping bag lay on its side, and the gold name sat on the cake board.

"Fragile men are the worst," I said.

She laughed, once, and it broke in the middle.

I crossed the shop and turned her around, and she was shaking.

"She sat in my shop and called you pathetic," Minnie said. "I wanted to put her face in the cake."

"You piped her name in gold."

"I know."

"It was the best thing I've ever seen."

"I wanted to scream, Nolan."

"I know."

I wrapped my arms around her, and she pushed her face into my neck.

She was cold, and I held her until she was warm.

The cash was still on the counter, in a small fan of twenties.

"Is any of that mine?" I asked into her hair.

"Every dollar," she said. "I'm counting it for your account."

She lifted her head.

Her eyes were wet, and she was looking at my mouth.

"Lock the door," she said.

I turned the lock and flipped the sign to Closed.

I came back, and she had untied her apron and dropped it on the floor.

I picked her up by the waist and set her on the counter.

A tray of cooling shortbread shifted, and a few crumbs scattered.

"Stay tomorrow," I said, with my hands on her knees.

"Rule says no morning."

"I've overruled it. Twice."

She laughed again, softer, and pulled me in by my shirt.

We kissed for a long time with the register behind her and flour on both our shirts.

I slid my hands under her sweater and found her ribs, and her skin was cool and then warm.

She pulled the sweater off and tossed it into a bin of dish towels.

I undid her bra and bent my head and took her breast in my mouth.

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