Bluegrass Blessings. Allie Pleiter

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СКАЧАТЬ a chance, buster.” Dinah waved the rolling pin around to let him know just how serious she was about breaking a rib or two with it. She lunged for his hand just as he…pulled his glasses out of his pocket and held them out.

      “Glasses,” he said, fixing the expensive-looking tortoise shell frames onto his face. “Not firearms.” Now he looked even less like a criminal. More like an accountant home sick with the flu.

      “You’ve got ten seconds to tell me who you are.” Dinah hoped that even in flip-flops, she could outrun him to the police station if he tried anything. Especially after she threw the rolling pin to bruise his trespassing little shins.

      He scratched his stubbly chin. He had thick, dark hair. “Do you realize what time it is?”

      “Time for you to get out of my bakery before I call the police. I’m sure they know what time it is.”

      “Sandy said you opened the bakery at six, maybe started baking at four. That was bad enough, but it’s two. That’s just not acceptable, no matter what you may have done in the past, so let’s get that out on the table right now.”

      Sandy Burnside owned the building next door and hers as well. Oh no. Dinah put down the rolling pin and groaned. Sandy evidently did have a new tenant. A trespassing boor who decided it was okay to order perfect strangers around. “You’re Sandy’s new tenant? How’d you get in here?”

      “Can I reach in my pocket again without the risk of pummeling?” The man did so and drew out a key. That still didn’t explain anything. “I thought I heard something strange going on.”

      “My coming to work is strange?” Great. Not another one of those “the world is my territory and I must save the day” types. Dinah Hopkins was no damsel in distress and she surely didn’t take to being treated like one in her own kitchen.

      He yawned. “Someone assaulting an appliance in clown clothes at two in the morning is not strange?”

      Dinah felt a surge of regret for the purple tank top and red striped pajama pants she currently wore. She always came down from her apartment upstairs—she had a direct stairway in the back—to start the ovens and put the first batch of buns in while she was still in her pajamas. “Some stranger sneaking into my bakery at two in the morning is strange enough. Once more, for the record, who are you?”

      “Cameron Rollings. Your new neighbor. I moved in above Mr. MacCarthy’s office next door.”

      “I can’t say I care for your version of neighborliness, Mr. Rollings. And do you want to tell me why Sandy chose to hand over my bakery keys to a total stranger?”

      He raked his fingers through his unruly hair and straightened up. “Because I’m also your new landlord. I bought this building from Sandy last week while you were on vacation.”

      “You what?” He winced. She hadn’t really thought she yelled that loud given her state of shock. When Sandy had casually mentioned wanting to sell off some of her real estate holdings some weeks back, Dinah had started saving. She couldn’t put away much, but in another year, she might be able to make a small downpayment on the space that held her bakery and apartment. She’d never expected Sandy to sell so fast. While she was gone. To this guy. I hate him already. Sorry, Lord, but he stole my bakery. That’s not fair.

      “I bought this building. I’m staying in Sandy’s other apartment, the one above MacCarthy’s office, while I build a house on some of the other land I bought from her further out of town. So, I’m your neighbor for just a while but your landlord from here on in.” He took a step toward her, adjusting his glasses. Even at this hour and in sweats, he had a well-mannered look about him—something in the precision of his haircut, the elegance of his glasses, the way he carried himself. He looked like the kind of guy who wore a tie to work every day and got his shirts done at the dry cleaner.

      Lord, you know how those suit-and-tie types make me break out in hives. Why didn’t I talk to Sandy about this before now? Now I’ll never own the bakery outright. Not fair! Not fair! The plan was for me to buy the bakery and own my own building!

      “I had planned to come down and introduce myself properly,” he continued with a hint of a smile. “You know, in the daylight. Like normal people.”

      “Yeah, we all see how well that plan turned out, don’t we? How come Sandy sold to an out-of-towner?”

      “It was a sudden thing. Anyway, formal introductions and residency requirements aren’t needed to buy property in New York. Is this a Kentucky thing I didn’t know about?” He yawned again. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any coffee on?”

      Dinah glared at his dodging of the question. “I wasn’t planning on company. The bakery coffee machines take half an hour to heat up. My little, fast coffeepot’s upstairs. Where I live. Where I go back to get dressed for the day after the oven turns on. When the oven turns on, that is.” She spun in a chaotic circle, grabbing a fistful of hair in one hand. “But it’s no business of yours how I start my day. Come back at six when we open…. Hey, wait a minute, it is your business. Okay, Mr…. what’s your name again?”

      “Rollings. Cameron Rollings.”

      Dinah straightened up. “Mr. Rollings, sir, my oven is broken. That’s a landlord thing, isn’t it? You own the place, you’ve gotta fix my oven, right?”

      Rollings came over and sat on one of the stainless steel stools that stood next to the work counter. “Under normal circumstances, that’d be true. But your lease with Sandy states that you merely rent the space and all the specialized bakery appliances are your responsibility.”

      He was right. She’d completely forgotten about that because nothing had ever broken in the nearly year and a half she’d been running the Taste and See Bakery. That didn’t really change matters, because as it stood, there wasn’t anything she could do to get things baking in time to open today. Why is it the world always goes to pieces my first day back from vacation?

      “On the other hand,” he said, “if the oven in your apartment breaks, I guess that is my problem.”

      Her oven. She did have another oven! Sure, it was about one-third the size, but it was better than nothing. “My kitchen oven works. I could put some of this in there.”

      “So go put some of these…” He pointed to the tray of dough on the counter with one eyebrow raised.

      “Sticky buns.”

      “Sticky buns in your apartment oven. I suppose I can see if there’s anything to be done down here. For the sake of my future sleeping opportunities.”

      Dinah grabbed one of the two trays of dough, then stopped. “You can’t.”

      He exhaled. “I know I’m not exactly the Maytag repairman…”

      “You’re barefoot. You can’t. Regulations. You’ve got to have shoes on.”

      “Fine, I’ll go upstairs and…”

      Dinah reached down and pulled the fuchsia flip-flops off her feet and handed them to Rollings. “Here, wear these.”

      He stared at them. Sure, they had polka dots on the soles, but it wasn’t like she was asking him to walk down the street in them. Slowly, as if they СКАЧАТЬ