I wave the offer away. “We both know that won’t work. Especially not with you moving an hour away. I can totally handle this.” I motion to the naked cupcakes. I can definitely do all the baking, but I’m worried about how it’s going to impact everything else. Running a business is a lot of work. Especially with all the paperwork and keeping track of inventory and ingredients. It’s been nice to have the help while it lasted. “Anyway, let’s check this out.” The box is unusually light, so maybe it’s sample napkins or something. The company we bought ours from routinely does that.

I fold back the flaps and a balloon with the word BOOM! floats out, heading for the ceiling. Paul and I give each other a quizzical look as a second balloon rises out of the box. Both of them pop at the same time and suddenly I find myself covered in a shower of hot pink glitter.

“Oh my God! The cupcakes!” I shriek and try to push Paul out of the way so I can save the open box from the glitter bomb, but it’s too late. The cakes are already sparkling. I shout a bunch of nonsense profanity, because Paul’s hard work and two dozen of my income source are now trash.

“What the hell is this stuff?” Paul raises his hand, about to run his fingers through his hair.

“That was a glitter bomb! You can’t do that in here! You’ll make it worse!” I guide him to the back door, hoping to minimize the damage.

“A glitter bomb?” Paul asks as I help him shake the glitter out of his hair and brush it off his shoulders.

I give my own head a shake. My palms are sparkling. “Glitter is the herpes of crafting. It’ll be everywhere for weeks! I’ll never get rid of it.”

“Who would send you one of those?”

“How the hell—” I stop mid-sentence and glance next door. “That sonofabitch. First he steals all the goddamn glory last night and now this?” There’s only one person I can think of who would do something like this. Freaking Ronan.

I spend the rest of the day trying to clean up glitter between customers, but it’s literally everywhere and anyone who comes into the shop is an immediate victim of a glitter attack. Thankfully I have a couple of short breaks between the lunch and afternoon rush, so I have time to de-glitter my café. Apart from a mangled pumpkin spice one and the glitter-covered ones that weren’t for sale I manage to sell out of cupcakes.

I’ll be closed on Thursday for Thanksgiving and will have a skeleton staff the day before and through the weekend so Callie can spend the holiday with her family. I would try to get out of my own family obligations, but I haven’t been home to visit since I opened Buttercream and Booze, and my dad would be disappointed if I didn’t come for dinner. As much as I don’t love their interfering ways, or their general bossiness and insanity, I do love them.

Ronan stops in as I’m shutting down for the day, grinning like a fool. “Hey, super star! You get my awesome present this morning?”

I don’t return the smile. “I sure did.” I spin around and grab the box of ruined cupcakes from the shelf behind me and set it on the counter in front of him.

He tips his head to the side, and lifts his hand as if he’s about to touch my face. I jerk back. “What’re you doing?”

“You have some glitter on your cheek.”

I throw my hands in the air. “I have glitter literally everywhere. It’s even in my damn underwear!”

Ronan’s smile turns into a grimace at my unnecessary overshare, and his face falls even further as I flip the box of cupcakes open. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right. Thank you so much for your kind, thoughtful gift.”

“I figured you would’ve opened it in your office.”

“Well I guess you figured wrong.”

He chews on the corner of his plush bottom lip. “I’m so sorry, Blaire. I thought it would be funny.”

I cross my arms. “Do you have any idea how impossible it is to clean up glitter? I’m going to be finding sparkly crap where the sun doesn’t shine for weeks.”

He fishes his wallet out of his back pocket and glances at the menu board where the price list is posted. He peels off four twenties.

“What are you doing?”

“Well you couldn’t sell those today, could you?”

“Not covered in glitter, no.”

“So I’m paying for them because even though they’re bathed in glitter they smell fantastic and I bet you would’ve sold them if they hadn’t been ruined.”

“You really don’t have to do that.” But I could use the eighty bucks right now, which is sort of depressing. He obviously feels bad if he’s willing to fork over the money I lost as a result of his prank.

“Yes I do. I honestly didn’t mean to make such a mess of your day, or cost you potential revenue.” He pushes the money toward me and picks up one of the glitter-covered cakes. He proceeds to shake it off, and then he tries to brush off the rest of the glitter, which means he ends up getting it all over his hands.

“You’re not going to eat that, are you?”

He gives me a look. “And let it go to waste?”

“It’s not even decorated.” Wow, he must really feel bad.

“Sure it is, with glitter.”

“Glitter isn’t really digestible, or particularly safe to eat. Might be advisable to leave the top if you’re going to give that a whirl.”

He reluctantly pries the top off, then takes a huge bite and chews exaggeratedly. His expression is priceless and he makes a lot of noises, some of delight and some of surprise. “It’s a little—”

“Gritty?”

He nods and raises his hand in front of his mouth. “But still delicious.”

It’s hard not to laugh. “I do have one left over that’s mangled but isn’t covered in glitter.”

“Really?”

“You can have it on one condition.”

“Sure. Anything.”

“You help me de-glitter my counter space.” It’s clear that he really didn’t mean to cause me problems today, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to make him suffer at least a little for it.

I hand him a damp cloth and he goes to work wiping down all the surfaces that still hold traces of glitter. The best part is that no matter how careful he tries to be, sparkles get stuck to his face. I guarantee he’ll be glittering all night long, like a disco ball.

On Wednesday morning I’ve just arrived at B&B when Ronan comes busting out the back door. He looks frazzled and exhausted. His hair is also an unusual mess. It’s actually quite sexy, to be honest. Like he rolled out of bed and came straight here. His clothes are even rumpled. “Hey. Hi. I’m so glad you’re here.”

This is a new greeting. “Um, it’s nice to see you, too?”

“Can I ask you a huge favor? Please?”

“Ahhh. Now the friendliness makes more sense. What do you need?”

“I’m supposed to get a whole load of Thanksgiving supplies delivered this morning, but the guy is running late and I have to take my grandfather up to my brother’s. I’m supposed to leave”—he checks his watch—“ten minutes ago. And Gramps hates being late for stuff and I have to drive four hours there and back. I tried to call Lars, but I doubt he’ll get the message until it’s way too late.”