There’s a knock on Bernadette’s door.
It pulls me out of deep concentration on the trailer project and sends a small thrill of anticipation up my spine.
It’s gotta be Kane. It’s not like I get visitors.
I haul myself off the couch—an increasingly challenging undertaking. Even though I know it has to be him, I peep out. One of the awesome mods on Bernadette, courtesy of her previous owner, is a peephole, which is super useful when you’re a single woman on the road alone.
And even though I know it has to be him, I still feel a surge of pleased surprise when I see his face.
“Delivery,” he says, holding out a big, round Tupperware… cake holder? “Boston cream pie.”
Holy shit, he found it.
I yank open the door and have to stop myself from snatching the cake out of his hands. Or throwing my arms around him and hugging the crap out of him. “Where did you find it?”
He stops, appearing to think better of whatever he was about to say, but it’s too late. I know where that sentence was going.
“You made it?”Read More