laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s true. If two people find a happy ending because they eat my grandmother’s cookies, then I think it’s wonderful. For them, and for business.”
Flynn arched a brow. “Happy endings? Over cookies?”
“Not much of a romantic, are you?”
“No. I’m a practical man. I do my job, and I don’t dabble in all this—” he waved his hand “—fanciful stuff.”
“Me, too.” Sam laughed, the chuckle escaping her with a nervous clatter. “Well, not the man part.”
“Of course.” He nodded.
What was with this guy? He was as serious as a wreath without any decorations. Sam laced her fingers together and tried to get comfortable in the chair, but more, under his scrutiny. The sooner this interview was over, the better. “What else did you need to know?”
“How long have you been working here?”
“All my life. Basically, ever since I could walk. But I took over full-time when I was nineteen.”
Surprise dropped his jaw. “Nineteen? Isn’t that awfully young? What kind of business person could you be at that age?”
“You do what have to, Mr. MacGregor.” She sipped at her coffee, avoiding his piercing gaze. He had a way of looking at a woman like he could see right through her. Like Superman’s X-ray vision, only he wasn’t looking at the color of her underwear, but at the secrets of her soul.
She pushed the plate closer to him. “I think you’d really like the sugar frosted cookies. They’re a Joyful Creations specialty.”
Again, he bypassed the plate in front of him, in favor of his notes. “Did you go to culinary school?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t. I was working here. Full-time.”
“Having no life, you mean.”
She bristled. “I enjoy my job.”
“I’m sure you do.” He flipped a page on his notepad, bringing him to a clean sheet of paper.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not here to tell you how to run your business.”
“And yet, you’re judging me and you hardly know me.”
Flynn folded his hands over his pad. “Miss Barnett, I’ve been covering this industry for a long time. Talked to hundreds of bakers and chefs. This is the kind of business that consumes you.” He let out a laugh, another short, nearly bitter sound that barely became a full chuckle. “Pun intended.”
“My business doesn’t consume me.” But as the words left her mouth, she knew Joyful Creations had, indeed, done that very thing, particularly in the last few weeks. The business had taken away her weekends. Vacations. Eaten up friendships, nights out, dates. Left her with this empty feeling, as if she’d missed a half of herself.
The half that had watched her friends grow up. Get married. Start families. While she had toiled in the bakery, telling herself there’d be time down the road. As one year passed, then two, then five, and Sam hit twenty-five, and tried not to tell herself she’d missed too much already. She had plenty of time—down the road.
There was a reason she worked so hard. A very important reason. And once she’d reached her goals, she’d take time off.
She would.
“I watched you earlier. And I’ve watched you as you’ve talked about this business. I can see the stars in your eyes,” he went on. “The Travelers’ magazine article has probably put the lofty idea in your head that you can become the next McDonald’s or Mrs. Fields Cookies.”
“It hasn’t,” Sam leapt to say, then checked her defensive tone. “Well, maybe a little. Did you see those lines? It’s been that way nonstop for two weeks. I’m sure you’ve seen many businesses that became mega-successes after something like that. Don’t you think it’s possible for me to hit the big time?”
“I have seen it happen,” he conceded. “And let me be the first to warn you to be careful what you wish for.”
She leaned back in her chair and stared at him, incredulous. Ever since she’d met him, he’d been nothing but grouchy, and now here he was, trying to tell her how to run her own company. “Who put coal in your stocking this morning?”
“I’m just being honest. I believe in calling the shots I see.”
“So do I, Mr. MacGregor,” Sam said, rising. If she didn’t leave this table in the next five seconds, she’d be saying things to this man that she didn’t want to see in print. “And while we’re on the subject of our respective industries, I think yours has made you as jaded and as bitter as a bushel of lemons.” She gestured toward his still-full plate, and frustration surged inside her. With the busy day, with him, and especially with his refusal to try the very baked goods he was writing about yet already judging. “Maybe you should have started with the cookies first. A little sugar goes a long way toward making people happy. And you, sir, could use a lot of that.”
CHAPTER THREE
“WELL, I WAS WRONG.”
Flynn bit back the urge to curse. “What do you mean, wrong?”
“I replaced the air filter. And it turned out, that wasn’t it. That means, I was wrong.” Earl Klein shrugged. “It happens.” He put out his hands, as if that explained why Flynn’s car was sitting inside Earl’s Tire and Repair on a lift six feet off the ground, a jumble of parts scattered below.
“Did you fix it?” Flynn asked. Of all the people to end up with, Earl would have been Flynn’s last choice. He had asked around once he left the bakery, and it turned out the hunting cap guy he’d seen earlier owned the closest garage to Flynn’s broken-down car. Although, given how circular a conversation with Earl was turning out to be, Flynn was beginning to regret his choice.
Earl stared at Flynn like he had all the intelligence of a duck. “Does your car look fixed?”
“Well, no, but I was hoping—”
“Your fuel filter needs to be replaced. I usually have one for your model on hand, but used my last one yesterday. Damnedest thing, too. Paulie Lennox comes in here, his car was running fine, then all of a sudden—”
“I don’t care about Paulie Lennox. I don’t even know him.”
“Oh, you’d know him if you see him. He’s six foot seven. Tallest man in Riverbend. Sings in the church choir. Voice of an angel. Ain’t that weird for a guy that big? Must have organ pipes in his chest.”
Flynn gritted his teeth. “How long?”
“How long are his vocal cords? Damned if I know. I’m no doctor.”
“No, I meant how long until my car is fixed?”
“Oh, that.” Earl turned around and looked
