Temptation Trails (The Haven Brothers #3)

“Snickerdoodles.”

“That will be a nice addition. We haven’t offered them in a while.”

I hesitated. “These are grain free.”

She raised her eyebrows, adding a few creases to her lined forehead. “Oh, honey. That can’t taste good.”

“Trust me. They will. I’ve been working on this recipe and I think I have it down.”

She made a noncommittal noise and I knew she wasn’t sure if she believed me. Doris had a hard time with change.

I glanced at the timers. “A few more minutes and you can try one. If you hate it, I’ll toss them all.”

But I’d keep trying to get the recipe right. I was determined.

She scooted a stool to the stainless-steel island in the center of the room and sat. “Fair enough. You have good instincts, I should trust you. So…” Her tone changed, taking on a conspiratorial note. “How was your date?”

“Oh, it was great.” I didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “I hung out by myself at the tavern, which was almost empty by the way, so I couldn’t hide or pretend I wasn’t pathetically waiting for a guy who was clearly going to stand me up. I babbled at the bartender so much, he gave me a free shot of whiskey, probably to get me to be quiet. Then Garrett didn’t show. Said something came up at work.”

Her mouth dropped open and she wrinkled her nose, as if in disgust. “That won’t do.” She started digging through her enormous red handbag. “I need to call Louise.”

“It’s okay, I’m not mad about it. It’s probably not even his fault.”

“What do you mean? He stood you up, of course that’s his fault.”

I shook my head soberly. “No. It was my bad luck.”

Gasping, Doris froze with her hand still in her bag. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. That has to be it. I’ve had too many good things in a row, it was bound to happen.”

“That dratted mirror.” She gave up her search for whatever she’d been looking for. Her phone, presumably. “It’ll get you every time.”

“I know.” I nodded slowly. “It always finds me.”

Aunt Doris was the only person in my life who believed in my bad luck streak. Which wasn’t too surprising. I’d probably gotten my superstitious nature from her. I certainly hadn’t gotten it from my mom. She was far too practical—a very literal thinker. So was my older sister. I was the odd one in the family. The creative one. The weirdo with funny habits and rituals that no one else seemed to understand.

Except Aunt Doris. Like me, she’d been the odd one in her family. Odd enough to leave her family decades ago when she’d moved to Tilikum, a small town in the central Washington Cascades, and opened a bakery. Coming from a family of scientists, doctors, and at least one psychologist, choosing the life of a small-town baker had seemed downright radical.

Growing up, I’d spent time with her whenever I could. Despite having two children, my mom hadn’t married either of our fathers, shouldering the burdens of single motherhood and a busy career as a research scientist. Doris didn’t have children of her own, and had often made the drive to Tacoma to pick us up and taken us to stay with her in her quaint small town. It gave my mom a break and gave me my deep love of baking.

And probably my propensity to toss salt over my shoulder, always knock on wood, and never, ever walk beneath a ladder.

One of the timers caught my eye. It had stopped dead with one minute and twenty-seven seconds left.

And that was why I always set two.

“Anyway,” I said as I peeked into the oven to check the cookies. “Don’t worry about Louise or the date. It was for the best. I shouldn’t be dating until I’m sure the mirror curse is over.”

“And you shouldn’t be dating Garrett Haven at all. Standing you up on the first date is a red flag in my book.”

“True.” I put on two oven mitts and took out the cookies. They looked perfect—slightly browned with crisp edges. I set the baking sheet on the island and the scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted into the air.

“They do look pretty,” Doris said. “And they smell good.”

I tilted my head to regard my handiwork. They were perfectly uniform, just the right size and shape. “Let’s hope they taste as good as they look.”

“Doris?” a voice called from the front of the bakery. “Are you back there?”