handing her a copy
of the Astoria Sun. “He tells about the fire and our thefts and has asked the public to help us identify
the notorious ‘Cupcake Bandit.’”
“Do you think it will draw people into Creative Cupcakes to search for our thief?”
Kim asked.
“Well, it’s a better idea than chasing down our mailman,” Andi teased. “I still can’t
believe you did that. Usually, I’m the impulsive one. Must have had something to do
with Nathaniel offering you a ride on his motorcycle.”
“I wasn’t thinking,” Kim admitted. “The chaos with the fire, then the threat of losing
all my paintings . . .”
“And the fact Nathaniel showed up,” Andi added with a grin, “all worked together to
discombobulate your sensible head?”
Kim nodded and set the photo of their mother down. “The anniversary of Mom’s crash
always drives me a little crazy, too. Next week marks ten years.”
“I wish she could see us now, see Mia, and be at the wedding,” Andi said, her voice
soft. “Jake and I have decided to get married in September.”
“That gives me three months to find my own apartment,” Kim said, “or I’ll be sleeping
in the Cupcake Mobile.”
Andi laughed. “Guy said he did that before he opened his tattoo parlor and sold the
truck to us.”
“Not that I’d like to share his fate,” Kim said, and she meant the words in more ways
than one.
While sleeping in a drafty, rattling, antique hunk of metal on wheels would not be
fun, going through life until she was old and gray without ever a taste of romance
seemed far worse.
N ATHANIEL LOOKED FANTASTIC in his navy blue T-shirt and gray-striped board shorts. She should have pinned him
as more of the surfer-adventurer type than the kind that works out in a gym.
When he’d arrived in front of Andi’s small Victorian cottage on the hill to pick her
up, his approval rating had skyrocketed in her heart higher than any of the previous
men she’d ever dated, including Gavin.
First, Gavin had never sent her roses. Second, he was the type who may have bought gym shorts. Third, his smile could never have out radiated
the one on Nathaniel’s face when he looked at her.
Goodbye, Gavin; hello, Nathaniel.
To top off what was sure to be one of the most glorious days of her life, the sun
was rising over the Columbia River without a single cloud to block its path.
“Thank you for coming with me,” Nathaniel greeted her.
“Thank you for asking,” she replied.
Nathaniel grinned. “Thank you for giving me the chance to ask.”
“No motorcycle today?” she asked, glancing toward his truck parked at the curb.
“The pickup is better to transport the rosebushes to the festival,” he said. “And
as delightful as it is to have you hold on to me from behind, I’d prefer you sitting
beside me where I can look at you.”
The Annual Running of the Trolls started at 8:30 a.m. from the Clatsop County Fairgrounds
parking lot. They had chosen the 5.75-mile run over the shorter 1.5- and 3-mile paths
to stretch out their time together before they’d both have to work the festival later
that afternoon.
“No fair,” Kim said, her voice coming out in a rasp. “Your legs are twice as long
as mine.”
“I could pick you up and carry you,” he teased.
“Let’s walk.”
“And chance being caught by a wandering troll? I’ve heard they can be quite nasty.”
“I thought trolls were afraid of sunlight,” she countered.
“ Ja, but they still roam the shady forests.”
“I trust you’ll protect me from being eaten,” she said, as they slowed their pace.
“Eaten? No, they won’t eat you. On Midsummer’s Day they’ll club you and torture you
into giving up your pickled herring, boiled potatoes, and strawberry cakes.”
Kim laughed. “Maybe in Sweden, but I have yet to see a troll in the Astoria−Warrenton
area. How long have you lived here?”
“A year. I followed my brother. He came to
George Simpson, Neal Burger