Cupcake Overload (Cupcakes 2)

The lighting in the place was low, but not dark, and there were twinkling fairy lights hanging throughout the room. There was a small stage toward the front corner of the store, with an acoustic guitar propped up on a stand in the middle.

The overall vibe was kind of hipster, kind of hippie, and I absolutely loved it.

I walked closer to the pastry display, because I had to see what Cynthia had to offer, and let out a little gasp when I saw the giant cupcakes on display.

I was wiping the drool from the side of my mouth when I noticed the handwritten sign on top of the counter.

Register for a “library card” and your first cup is free.

No wonder people had been coming here instead of Starbucks or The Coffee Bean, since their first cup was free, and you got to drink it in this cool-ass store with big-ass cupcakes.

I got in line to register for a library card, get a free coffee, and maybe one of those cupcakes, when I saw a young teenaged boy dart out from across the room.

“Stop!” the woman behind the register called, but I knew she’d never be able to chase after the boy in time. Not in that dress, so I spun on my heel and ran after him.

The door chimed as I stepped outside and looked down the street. I turned my head to the left just in time to see the kid turn a corner and disappear. I took off, thankful to Bran for getting my ass into some semblance of shape.

I turned the corner and looked down the block, just as the teen climbed into a window of a house about four down from the corner. I assumed it was his home and kept after him, slowing as I got close, so the loud pounding of my footsteps wouldn’t alert him to my arrival.

I looked around the neighborhood, which was a little rundown, but still looked well-loved and populated, and noted that there were no cars in the driveway. Keeping my footsteps light, I eased up to the window, keeping my ears peeled for any sign of approach.

At first I didn’t understand what I was hearing. It sounded like slurping or someone getting slapped, so at first I was confused. I looked in the window just as he emitted a low moan, and I realized I was looking at a teenaged boy masturbate.

“Shit,” I muttered as I ducked below the window, thinking of how much trouble I’d be in for watching a kid choke his chicken.

I mean, it’s some sort of rape or something, isn’t it?

“What the fuck?” the boy yelled, and I looked up to see him staring down at me from the open window, a look of horror on his face.

After about a second, the horror turned to something else, and I knew he was getting turned on at the thought of being caught.

Great, I thought, a budding exhibitionist.

“Cover yourself,” I ordered, busting out my best mom voice as I stood and stepped to the side of the window, so as not to involuntarily see prepubescent junk.

“What are you doing?” the kid asked, luckily keeping himself mostly inside the house and covered.

I surmised he was about sixteen, with a shock of red hair and a smattering of freckles.

“What did you take from the store?” I asked, looking down the street and hoping no neighbors had called the cops on a perverted peeping tom.

“What?” Red asked, obliviously shocked that I’d followed him from the store.

“Give me what you took from the bookstore, and I won’t press charges,” I replied, eager to get the hell out of there. “If you give it to me, we won’t call the cops, or tell your parents.”

He ducked back inside for a minute. After two, I worried that he’d called my bluff, but a second later he was back, a stack of books in his hands.

“Jesus, how many times have you stolen from there?” I asked, then bit back a laugh when I saw it was a stack of historical romance novels, the covers portraying women in various stages of dress, bosoms heaving.

“Don’t tell my parents,” the kids begged, and I took pity on him, nodding and taking the books before walking down the driveway.

“Don’t steal again,” I called out, then added, “From anywhere. If I catch you again, I’ll tell your parents and the cops. That’s a promise.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he called, making me feel even more gross and creepy.

When I got back to the store, the brunette met me at the door, her eyes wide as she took in the stack in my arms.

“Wow,” she said, impressed. “You got them all back.”