Twelve Wicked Nights by Nadia Aidan

Author:Nadia Aidan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2010-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

After all these years, and everything we’ve shared, you should be able to trust me. Justin’s words had haunted her all day. It wasn’t so much what he said but the expression on his face when he said it. No matter what she did or how hard she tried, the pained look in his eyes would not leave her mind. He seemed hurt that she refused to open up to him, but how could she tell him the truth? He was leaving in a week, and as much as she wished otherwise, he just wasn’t capable of loving her—at least not the way she wanted him to. Justin wasn’t ready to put down roots and invest the time necessary to have a solid relationship. She snorted at the thought of her own hectic lifestyle and endless hours at the firm. Hell, she wasn’t so ready either.

“Isabella!”

She jumped at the sound of the shrill voice behind her and stopped kneading the dough beneath her hands.

“What is it, Mama?”

“The dough. There’s far too much flour in it,” Maggie cried as she pointed her finger toward the large lump in her hands. “I was going to bake a rack of cookies before I left for the day, but I can’t use that dough.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to be at bingo in half an hour, and there’s no time for me to fix this. You’ll just have to start over and bake them yourself.”

Isabella cursed under her breath when she realized her mother was right. She’d added too much flour, and now the dough was hard and stiff—something she would have realized had she been paying attention.

Her mother clucked her tongue. “Where is your head, Isabella? You’ve been distracted all day.”

“I know where her head is,” Celeste crooned as she breezed into the kitchen, her tiger-gold eyes twinkling with laughter.

“I know where her head is,” Isabella mocked under her breath in a sing-song voice. “Shouldn’t you be out working the cash register?”

“I came back here to see if you need help, and obviously you do. Why don’t you go hold down the register while I fix things back here?”

Isabella glared at Celeste, who pretended to ignore her as she slipped on an apron.

“I don’t need any help—” She stopped midsentence when two pairs of wide eyes swung in her direction. All right, maybe she did. After all, she’d already spilled a sack of flour and broken a glass pie dish, and now she’d ruined a lump of dough. Handling the money was definitely looking as if it would be a bit safer for everyone in the end.

“I better get going if I don’t want to be late,” her mother said, looking at her watch again. “Do you two think you can handle things until closing?” Isabella thinned her lips into a tight line when Maggie directed her question to Celeste.

“We will be just fine,” Isabella assured as she ushered her out of the kitchen and toward the front door of the bakery.

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