Page 42 of Witchful Thinking

“Eh, don’t lie,” Lucy interrupted him. “It’s not a croquembouche; it’s a pile of crooked cream puffs and tears.”

“It’s okay. The tower’s there.”

“It’s not a tower. It’s more like a three-story oceanfront condo.” Lucy huffed. She cradled her face, a large bandage apparent on her right hand.

Alarm raced through Alex. He took her hand in his and lightly examined it. “Lu, what happened?”

“Sugar burns like hot glue. I learned that at three this morning.” There was a thread of hurt in her voice. He didn’t let go of her hand, wishing he could take away some of the pain. He could get used to holding her and not letting go. Her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion. Concern bounced inside him.

“You haven’t slept.”

“I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten. I don’t know if I have a bra on.”

His eyes dipped down to her chest, then snapped up to her face. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“This is my third cake; my kitchen is wrecked, Shadow hates me, and I have cream everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” he asked in an interested tone.

“Every. Where,” she said pointedly, a note of heat in her voice.

Alex held her stare. Suddenly, he didn’t care about cake, pie, or cookies. Lucy blinked, the heat ebbed, and the moment passed. She took in the space, the other bakers, then removed her hand from Alex’s. He tucked his hands into his pockets to keep from missing her touch.

“I—don’t…I don’t know what’s going on anymore,” Lucy said tiredly. “I just want to get this over with.”

It bothered him. All the joy she’d had for the cakewalk when they’d spoken at the beach seemed to have been drained from her. He wanted to bring back that joy somehow.

“I’ll set up your table,” he offered.

She glanced around at the other tables, horror-struck. “I forgot my design bag at home. I was worried about getting here on time,” she said in a whisper.

“Is there anything in your car you can use?”

“Maybe.” Lucy went to her car and returned with an overstuffed trick-or-treat bag.

“I found Halloween classroom decor in my trunk,” Lucy said, a little breathless. Alex dug into the bag, pulling out the black and gray spiderweb-printed tablecloth. She lifted the cake while Alex put down the cloth, straightening it out. They worked together in perfect harmony to arrange the table. No one else helped, but they watched with amused, haughty looks. The baker next to Lucy watched the arrangement with a curious stare. They were short and lithe, with dark-brown skin, and wore a dark gray jumper. Their hair was neatly clipped down to show off the shape of their head.

“What’s your table’s theme?” they asked.

Lucy scattered a handful of plastic spiders on the cloth. She thought for a second, then said, “Tower of Scream Puffs.”

Their face lit up. “I like it.”

“You do have an eye for design,” Alex said.

Lucy stopped and graced them both with a bright smile. “Thank you.”

She came around, stood next to Alex, and faced the table. He took out a garland of pumpkins connected by vines from the bag.

“Too much?” He held it up.

“Just enough,” Lucy said.

He handed her the garland, which she took from him. “It won’t stay without tape. We might need scissors.”

The baker next to her reached into their pocket and pulled out a roll of tape and craft scissors. They handed them to her.

“Thank you—”