Sweet Tooth (Zaftig Dating Agency Book 33) by Jane Fox

Sweet Tooth (Zaftig Dating Agency Book 33) by Jane Fox

Author:Jane Fox [Fox, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-03T18:30:00+00:00


3

Troy

“What took you so long?” my sister Shelly yells from the kitchen as Maya and I walk through the door. “The kids are starving!”

Shelly walks out of the kitchen and stops when she sees Maya. “Hi!” she says. “I didn’t realize Troy was bringing a friend.”

“Neither did we,” Maya says. “Hi, I’m Maya. I made the tart. Troy was the unfortunate recipient of my emotional meltdown when he stopped to pick it up.”

Shelly’s face lights up. She’s almost as bad as Mom.

“I’m his sister Shelly,” she says, extending a hand. “Did you really make this beautiful tart?”

Maya’s cheeks flush. “I did.”

“But her real speciality is cakes,” I add.

Shelly looks at me with undisguised glee. “Well, we’ll have to get one of those next time.”

“Uncle Troy!” My niece and nephew fling themselves against me, each wrapping around one of my legs. “You’re here!”

“And you brought a pretty girl!” says Marie, who’s five and prone to saying whatever pops into her head.

“Maya, this is Marie and her little brother Jamie.”

“Hi!” says four-year-old Jamie. “Do you like Legos?”

“I love Legos,” Maya says, crouching down to Jamie’s eye level. “Do you?”

“Yeah!” Jamie says, clearly impressed with Maya’s conversational skills.

“Why are we all hanging out in the foyer?” my mother asks, coming out of the kitchen. “Oh!” she says, her eyes widening as she sees Maya. “Hello, dear. I’m Carla Ingraham.”

“Maya Hernandez.”

“Are you related to Cristina Hernandez, by chance?”

“Good guess,” Maya says with a smile.

“Your aunt might have told me about you when I called to order the tart,” Mom says.

Leave it to my mother to get someone’s entire life story when she’s placing an order.

“You’re very welcome here, Maya, but I’m bursting with curiosity about how it happened.”

Maya looks at me.

“She was having a bad night,” I explain, “and I know it’s nearly impossible to have a bad time at an Ingraham dinner. So I invited her. I’m sorry, I should have texted you.”

“Not at all, dear,” Mom says. Her tone clearly tells me I’m dismissed as she shifts her attention to Maya and slides an arm around her shoulder. “I hope you like eggplant parmesan,” Mom says. “We’re almost ready to eat.”



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