“Would you like it to go?” Yes, I’m trying to get him out of my shop as quickly as possible since his mere presence is a gray cloud hanging over what’s supposed to be a sunshiny day.

His gaze lifts, wry smile firmly in place. “Nah, I’ll sample the goods right here, but thanks.”

I slip my hand into a pale pink non-latex glove and pluck one of the cupcakes from the display case, then wait for him to decide on his second one.

“The lemon drop cupcake is a featured special today if you’d like to give it a try.”

“Hmm. Is it sour?” The like you is clearly intimated, though unspoken.

“It has some pucker power, if that’s what you mean. It’s a good balance of sweet and tart.”

“So exactly like its creator, then?”

Daphne chokes on a cough and turns away so she can help the next customer while I finish up with Ronan. He hems and haws for another minute before he finally decides to go with the lemon drop cupcake.

“Would you like anything to drink with that?” I set the plate on top of the glass display counter.

“Nah, just the cupcakes, thanks.” He passes over a five-dollar bill.

He braces a forearm on the glass case, despite the fact that there’s a sweet little sign that reads DO NOT TOUCH THE GLASS. Peeling the pale yellow wrapper from the lemon cupcake, he jams half of it into his mouth in one bite, making a small noise of surprise—likely a result of the sweet-tart combination of flavors. Cake crumbs litter the glass top and there’s now a small line of customers waiting.

Instead of moving aside, he continues to devour the cupcake in a less than polite manner, while leaning on the display case, making it impossible for anyone else to check out what’s available. Not that any of the waiting customers are particularly upset about it, considering the way many of them are eyeing him, probably wishing they’re that freaking cupcake he’s mowing down on.

He eats the first one in three bites and licks the icing from his fingers before he starts in on the bourbon bacon and maple one. His brows pull down on the first bite, and a deep groan follows. He chews quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Holy fuck, that’s awesome. It’s like sweet, but not? Savory, but…decadent?” He jams the rest of it into his mouth, leaving more crumbs on the glass top counter and making a general mess.

He also groans his way through the mouthful. It’s ridiculous. “Wow. That was amazing. They both were, but the bacon is the winner for me. Can I buy half a dozen of those?”

“Of course you can!” Callie appears out of nowhere. “I can help, Blaire, and you can take care of the new customers.” She gives me a slightly manic, bright smile.

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

Ronan glances at what has now become a significant line. “Oh shit. I’m kinda holding things up, aren’t I?” He winks at the waiting customers, who all happen to be women. “Sorry, ladies.”

There’s a collective murmur of “it’s okay” and “no problem” and I’m pretty sure someone says “marry me.”

I let Callie take over his order since she’s already loading up a box for him.

His little performance seems to have an impact on the rest of the customers standing in line, because every single one of them orders a bourbon bacon maple cupcake.

On his way out, he stops at a couple of tables to chat with some of the customers. I eye him suspiciously, but I don’t have time to contemplate it much since he’s created quite the backlog.

“You failed to mention Lumberjerk is also a super hottie,” Daphne mutters as she bumps my hip so she can get to the cupcakes.

“That’s because his personality ruins all the pretty,” I reply. But that’s not entirely true, because despite the jerkiness, I can still definitely appreciate how nice he is to look at, unfortunately.

“I don’t know. Is he really that bad? He came in to support you, and now everyone is ordering cupcakes by the half-dozen, so it’s not like he’s bad for business.”

I grunt instead of answering, because she might be right, but admitting it is against my current moral standards.

We run out of bourbon cupcakes so I have to run to the back to restock the display case while Callie and Daphne manage the front counter.

It’s nearly four thirty before things calm down and I can finally take a breath. I move through the tables, checking on customers. I pause to clear some plates at a two-top with a pair of women in their mid-twenties and notice a couple of pieces of paper sitting beside an empty coffee cup. Upon closer inspection, I realize it’s a coupon. For half-price wings and beer at The Knight Cap. And it’s for today.

As if on cue, the low rumble of bass coming from next door makes the floor vibrate under my feet.

I plaster on what I hope is a pleasant smile and tap the coupon. “Do you mind if I ask where you got this?”

“That super hot guy who orgasm-moaned his way through his cupcake at the display case dropped it off at our table on the way out,” she offers.

“I’m stuffed, but I would totally pretend to sip a beer so I could stare at him for a while.” Her friend pats her belly.

They both laugh and I join in, although I sound like I’m choking on a squeaky toy, or like I’ve swallowed the Wicked Witch of the West. “Do you mind if I take one of these?”

“Go right ahead! I say you should treat yourself after you close up for the night and enjoy some eye candy.” She pushes one of the coupons toward me.

“I might do that.” I wink and slide the coupon into my apron pocket, then clear their empty plates and cups.

After I drop them in the bus bin, I sidle up to Daphne at the till and slap the coupon on the counter. “Looks like our neighbor wasn’t being quite so supportive.”

Daphne scans the coupon. “Where’d you get this?”

“He gave it to our customers on his way out. Invited them to his Grand Opening. So kind and thoughtful, huh?”

“But you said that place was a construction site last week. How could it be ready to open so soon?”

“Who the hell knows?” I glance at the tables and notice that there are several women holding the same damn coupon. That slimy bastard. “But I’m going over there to confront him. Hold down the fort.” I grab the coupon, stalk around the counter and head for the door, my anger gaining steam as I step outside and notice the giant GRAND OPENING banner plastered to his storefront and the sign that looks almost exactly like mine, but reads DONE WITH TEA AND CAKES? NEED A BREAK FROM WONDERLAND? HALF-PRICE BEER IS HERE!

“Sonofdouchecanoe!” I mutter and stomp my way up the front steps. I yank on the door, expecting the same suction vacuum as last time. However, the problem must have been fixed last week because it opens surprisingly easily, almost sending me flying backward. Again, but for the opposite reason.

I recover before I end up sprawled out over the sidewalk and step inside the low-lit pub. It’s the exact opposite of my bright, airy café. However, I can easily pick out at least six tables with familiar faces—because they were all recently patrons of mine before they defected here.

I loathe to admit that in the week since I stepped foot in this place, it’s come together quite nicely. Despite the dim lighting, I can see the tables are pale pine, and the décor, although lacking in sophistication, is cozy and comfortable. And, as I predicted, there’s a red-and-black plaid theme throughout.