Nolan
The smell of fresh pastries envelops me the moment I push open the door to Get Baked. The bell chimes above my head, announcing my arrival to the handful of patrons already seated with their morning coffees and treats. I scan the line, five people deep, and contemplate whether I should try my luck cutting to the front. My stomach growls in protest of waiting, having skipped breakfast so I could get out the door and grab a workout with Weston.
"Don't even think about it, Nolan King." Gabby's voice carries from behind the counter, her eyes narrowing playfully as she catches me sizing up the line. "Back of the line, even if you are too hot for your own good."
I raise my hands in surrender, chuckling as I take my place behind an elderly couple debating between scones and muffins. "So much for special treatment," I call back.
"You get enough special treatment in this town," she quips, sliding a coffee across the counter to a businessman who barely looks up from his phone.