“A booth?” asked Patricia. “You know…that’s not a bad idea.”
“It isn’t?” asked Pepper.
"Well, Bear Claw Bakery owns that land," said Patricia. "It just goes unused for a good part of the year. The pumpkin patch is really the only thing we use it for. I…hmm. I've got a weird idea…"
“Why does that sound like more work for us?” asked Terrence.
“What ‘us?’” asked Darius, lying, in a way — because he knew why Terrence was using the word ‘us’ even though Darius hated to admit it. They were, by circumstance, a team — at least, when it came to Patricia.
"I think we should build a booth out there, even if it's just for the season," explained Patricia. "We could sell pastries and have some overflow seating out there. It'd lessen up the load on the cafe workers. We could sell some simple stuff, like muffins, and bottled beverages. And, we would, of course, have room to show and sell the pumpkins."
“And let me guess — you want me to work it?” asked Pepper.
“Of course,” said Patricia. “You’re the one that knows the most about that patch. You handled all our pie orders this summer. You worked with our boss Jasper and the farmhands on figuring out what kinds of pumpkins to grow. What do you think we should do?”
“Well…although it doesn’t look like there’s a lot of room out there, we’ve actually got a lot of space to work with,” admitted Pepper. “The big, meaty looking pumpkins — those ones were grown for cooking. We can sell those to local restaurants that want to make their own pumpkin stuff from scratch, and we already have some restaurants interested in that.”
“We do?” asked Patricia.
"It's all in the documents," explained Pepper. "That pumpkin colored binder has all the details. We need to put aside a certain number of pumpkins for the restaurants, and maybe ten percent more just in case some restaurant has an issue with a pumpkin having a scuff or some bruising so we can replace any pumpkins as needed. We also need to make sure we save enough for ourselves — for our pumpkin pastries, and especially for our large pumpkin pie orders. We've got a bunch of Halloween and Thanksgiving orders put in. If you have me in the field, you'll need somebody else taking over my position."
“What exactly do you do again?” asked Darius.
"Pumpkins and pumpkin pies are big business," said Pepper. "Year-round, I figure out what we're doing with our pumpkins, handle major accounts with local businesses and families that have been buying from the bakery for years, and work with the farmhands on making sure we’ve got enough pumpkins to meet our quotas. I spend some time in the kitchen, a good amount of time in town, and a lot of time out in that patch.” Pepper took off her cardigan sweater and showed off her tanned arms.
“Explains why we don’t see you ‘round the shop much — but, that reminds me, I gotta get in the Hemlock Crew’s orders,” said Terrence.
“Me too — for Grizzlyfir,” said Darius. “Speaking of which…”
“Whatever comes out of your mouth better not be a last minute order,” said Patricia.
“It is, and it’s for pumpkin pies, for our early Halloween party this Friday,” admitted Darius. “Pumpkin pies, Halloween themed sugar cookies, and — “
“Fine, fine — put in an order sheet after you hang up the lights, and I’ll find a way to make it work,” said Patricia. “Finding extra bakers to work on that order this close to the date will be hard, but…”
“I can help,” said Pepper.
“You can?” asked Patricia. “Doesn’t a nice gal like you have dates to be going on?”
“Don’t you?” asked Pepper, raising a brow. “I swear, I’m married to the ghost of the pumpkin patch — and I think it’d be fine with me cheating on it for a night.”
“But you’re on salary,” said Patricia. “You won’t even get overtime!”
“Eh, well, will I get an invite to the party?” Pepper asked Patricia before looking at Darius.
“Oh — of course,” said Darius. “Yeah, of course.”
“So you’re telling me I get to bake, and I get to go to a party…where I get to eat what I bake?” asked Pepper. “Sounds great to me.”
“Hon, you really are a lifesaver,” said Patricia.
“What was that about a ghost?” asked Terrence.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” said Patricia.
“There’s just this rumor that the pumpkin patch is haunted,” said Pepper. “Of course, the patch isn’t haunted.”
“What do you mean, ‘of course?’” asked Darius. “Ghosts are real!”
“First of all, no — ghosts are not real," insisted Pepper. "Secondly — every time somebody's thought they heard or seen a ghost, there's been an explanation. Maybe it's someone working after hours — or someone stealing a pumpkin from the patch. Maybe a bed sheet flew off a laundry line and got caught in the fence — or maybe it was an empty plastic bag. The booing? The wind. The creepiness? A natural fear of the dark. There's no ghost.”
“You know, you can set these lights to flicked all spooky-like,” said Darius. “That’d make things look ghostly.”
"You guys already finished up this section?" asked Patricia, looking over the deck. "Wow! Well, Pepper — I'll get back to you with details about what we're going to do with the patch, once I talk to Jasper and get approval for construction. We'll probably have to get some building permits too. In the meantime, I'm going to keep Darius and Terrence company while we work on the other side of the deck."
"I'm gonna take a quick walk through the patch and check on things," said Pepper. "Here's hoping I don't get stung by any frikkin' bees before the beekeeper comes by. Don't forget — he owes us forty pounds of honey for the use of the land."
“There’s no way I’d forget,” said Patricia. “That honey’s amazing! And, it’s the secret ingredient in your —”
“Shh!” said Pepper, holding a finger up to her lips. “It’s called a secret ingredient because it’s a secret!”
Pepper bundled herself up again and put her empty plate in the plate collection area. She took her mug and walked down the stairs of the dock to one of the side entrances to the pumpkin patch. She'd already unlocked the patch earlier that morning. She had done the rounds once, but, it never hurt to double check on things. She wanted to get a lay of the land so she could start to visualize how the bakery could use the area.
Pepper was snug as a bug in a rug. She walked around the small decorative pumpkins and the windy, twisty gourds that they'd grown — all for the window displays of the bakery. The Bear Claw Bakery that Pepper called home was the location on the outskirts of town, at the base of the hills that were worked by the two lumber crews — Grizzlyfir and Hemlock. There was another Bear Claw Bakery location in town, but that bakery was much smaller. The larger bakery handled the enterprise contracts from local hotels and restaurants, as well as the catering orders.
Pepper walked around gingerly. She wasn’t avoiding mud puddles. She was avoiding stepping on the vines. The larger pumpkins which would be used to make pumpkin pie filling were looking good. She only spotted a couple of pumpkins that were rotted. She took some neon pink flags out of her bag and staked them near the pumpkins that needed removing. Pepper had worked the pumpkin patch for a few years, so while she was by no means an agricultural expert, she had found a system that worked for her and the farmhands and the bakery. Because Pepper’s day was spent running around town and the bakery and the patch, leaving flags to show the farmhands where there were things that needed attention made management of the patch easier for everyone.
Pepper heard a rustling. She looked up. Although Pepper pretended otherwise, she sometimes wondered if the ghost that haunted the patch was really real. She didn’t see anything. Pepper shook her head. It must’ve been the wind.
Pepper continued on her walk, ignoring the rare rustlings. It was just the wind. It had to be.
As she walked past the beehives, she noticed there were dead bees outside the hive. She'd freaked out about
it the first year she'd seen it, worried that there was something wrong, but the beekeeper had explained to her that it was natural, part of the cycle of life. Pepper knew that meant that the bees were settling in for the winter, that whatever honey was in there was meant to last them the long, cold season.
Pepper passed by the hives without needing to stop and gently swat any bees out of her line of sight. Although she liked honey and found individual bees to be cute, she didn't like encountering swarms upon swarms of bees.
Pepper turned the corner, looking over a large patch of eating pumpkins when she heard rustling again. She turned and saw brown — not the light brown of the wood beehives, but the dark brown of a grizzly bear. It was almost dark enough to be a black bear. It looked big, and mean, and while the size made her think it was a shifter, the meanness made her believe it was a feral animal.
Pepper paused. There was no way of telling whether the bear was a shifter or a wild bear — or a shifter with mate madness. She would have to exercise caution and act as if it was a wild bear. The only problem was, she forgot what she was supposed to do when confronted by a bear. Should she run, or should she yell? She didn’t have any bear spray on her — and did that even work on grizzlies?
The bear had thick, muscular legs. She was sure that the bear could catch her if she ran. The pumpkin patch was around the size of a football field. She'd have to run like a frikkin' QB if she stood any chance of winning a game of tag against a bear. Pepper was a large woman. The bear not only made her feel small but, made her realize that she was not exactly built for outrunning wild frikkin' animals.
The bear was foraging, using its nose to sniff out something.
“Hey!” called Pepper. “Shoo! Get lost!”
Pepper knew it was risky. What if the bear wasn’t a shifter? What if the bear was a frikkin’ bear? A real bear? A beast that could tear her to shreds? Sure, it had cute, nubby ears, but it also had sharp claws on its paws.
The bear looked up at Pepper, eying over the curvy woman, and it licked its lips. Its emerald green eyes seemed to flicker like hellfire in the soft morning light.
Pepper gulped. The bear had sniffed her out and looked like it wanted to eat her hole.
“Get lost!” shouted Pepper in a quivering voice. “Get away from the bees! Get away from the pumpkins! Git!”
The bear looked over Pepper and plodded forward.
Pepper picked up the nearest item she could muster lifting at all and tossed it toward the bear.
The item she’d chosen was a pumpkin, and the pumpkin didn’t reach the bear. It fell, in front of the bear, and splattered everywhere.
The bear was covered in orange goop and white seeds. For a minute, Pepper was worried the bear would lunge and eat her. Instead, the bear started making weird sounds.
Pepper turned tail and ran, ran as fast as she could. She felt vines snap underneath her feet. She slipped in the mud and reached out for a pumpkin stem and used it to get back up on her feet and she kept running. She was splattered in mud, but it didn’t matter. It was better to be muddy than eaten.
Pepper ran all the way back to the bakery, and she didn’t stop until she reached Darius and Terrence and Patricia, who were on the other side of the deck, hanging up lights.
“Pepper!” called Patricia, as her employee ran over. Patricia, like Pepper, was a large and in charge woman, and while they were both sassy women, athleticism was neither of their strong suits.
“Bear…in…pumpkin…bear,” Pepper said, between gasps.
“A bear? In the patch?” asked Darius.
“Yes — and…ran,” said Pepper, sitting down. “Not sure if wild…”
“I’ll go check it out,” said Terrence, nodding to Darius.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” said Patricia, holding Pepper, arm around her shoulders. “I bet it was just some stupid frikkin’ shifter.”
“Hey, girl — what was that about stupid shifters?” called a voice.
Pepper looked up. There was a man in a flannel shirt standing near the deck, in the service area.
“Some frikkin’ bear nearly ate me right up!” said Pepper. “So, excuse me if I’m not feeling especially charitable toward wild frikkin’ animals!”
“Sounds like a wild bear,” said the man.
“And what makes you think that?” asked Pepper.
“A real werebear would see a woman like you and ask her out — not eat her up,” said the man. “Name’s Oliver.”
“Oh, the tool boy,” said Patricia.
“Ahem — tool man,” joked Oliver. “Not the first time I’ve been called a tool, and probably won’t be the last. I’ve got Darius’ tools in the truck.”
“You’re Grizzlyfir?” asked Patricia.
“Actually, I’m Oliver,” sassed Oliver, raising a brow as his blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “And you’re…?”
“Pepper, Pepper Reed,” said Pepper. “If you work for Darius, that means you’re…”
“A lumberjack?” asked Oliver. “Yes — and I’m a bear.” Oliver flashed his palms at Pepper. There were dark marks on his palms in the shape of a bear’s paw.
“Don’t worry, Pepper — this one seems tame enough,” said Patricia.
“For now,” said Pepper, looking over Oliver. He was buff — real buff. His thick thighs bulged against his jeans, which should’ve had a looser fit, and his arms were nearly busting out of his flannel sleeves. He looked good — real good.
“Oliver’s actually one of the guys you’ll be working with,” said Patricia.
“I don’t recall you telling me I had guys I was supposed to be working with,” said Pepper, furrowing her brow. “What on earth would I need help with? Having someone taste-test my pumpkin pies?”
“That sounds like a very, very delicious time — but I was more thinking that you and I could build a booth together,” said Oliver.
“Oh — that project,” said Pepper, shaking her head. “Sorry. I got all worked up from that bear scare. Of course — the booth.”
"I do a lot of custom projects around Grizzlyfir," said Oliver. "I thought we'd set up a booth, and maybe some tables and chairs, for starters."
“That sounds great,” said Pepper.
“Too bad you couldn’t help build the booth for the River Festival,” sassed Patricia.
“I had another project I’d committed to,” said Oliver, before looking at Pepper. “I never, ever break my commitments."
Darius and Terrence came back.
“I’m telling you, it was one of yours,” said Darius, shaking his head.
“And I’m telling you, you can’t tell that kind of thing by scent alone!” said Terrence.
“If you’d just let me follow the dang trail, then I’d —” started Darius. “Oh. Oliver. Hey. I see you’ve gotten acquainted with Pepper.”
“Yes sir,” said Oliver. “Tools are in the back of the truck. You need help with this?”
“Nah, you’re free to go,” said Darius.
“Well, then I must take my leave,” said Oliver, pretending to tip an imaginary hat at Patricia and Pepper. “Duty calls.” Oliver did an intricate bow and then a turn and walked back to his truck.
“He’s cute,” said Patricia, nudging Pepper.
“Yeah — and I’m busy,” said Pepper. “All I’m interested in doing is making sure that our pumpkin patch is ready for business.”
“And that it stays bear-free?” asked Patricia.
“Okay,” admitted Pepper with a grin. “There’s one bear that I’d allow into my pumpkin patch…but just one.”
“Plus — he seems to think you’re pretty cute,” said Patricia.
“Why is that such a surprise?” asked Pepper, raising a brow.
“Because you’re covered in mud, hon,” said Patricia.
Pepper looked down. She'd forgotten she'd slipped in the mud. It was all over the front of her clothing, and she was sure there was more on the sides and the back.
“Don’t tell me it’s �
�� “ started Pepper.
“On your face, in your hair,” said Patricia. “It looks like you lost a fight against a cup of pudding. If he still thinks you’re cute after seeing you like this, well…he might just be a keeper.”
About the Author
I’m Sable Sylvan. The only thing I love more than reading hot paranormal romances is writing down my fantasies and sharing them with readers like you.
Catalog: www.amazon.com/author/SableSylvan All my books are available for FREE under the Kindle Unlimited borrowing program. I appreciate all reviews — positive or negative!
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xoxo,
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Miss Muffet’s Bears: Freshly Baked Furry Tails, Book 2 Page 13
