“I thoroughly enjoyed the way you bent me over?—”
“Sullivan West, is that you?” Great Aunt Edie calls out from her front porch. I shuffle backward, like I was just caught with my hand down Lila’s pants. “And who is this young lady you brought along?”
CHAPTER 7
Lila
After Roxi is successfullytemporarilyrehomed at Edie’s Wildlife Rescue, the day becomes a blur.
Marley, the godsend of a woman, was ready and waiting for me when Sullivan dropped me off at the bakery. She’d not only cleaned up every last bit of evidence that a critter broke into our bakery and went on a dessert spree before I returned, but she was also prepared with an extensive list of what we had left, what we could remake, and who we needed to call about substitutes.
“I can’t believe we’re still in business halfway through this day,” I say to Marley, wiping sweat away from my brow after the latest burst of afternoon customers subsides. “Have I told you lately how amazing you are? Are you sure you don’t want a permanent job as my manager? I know I could pay you eventually.”
We’ve had a steady stream of business since we opened. It’s not exactly a line out the door likeThe Sweet Toothhas had, but it’s something. Our deliveries have also gone off without a hitch, thanks to Marley’s college-age brother Michael who’s been going nonstop since ten this morning. There’s only been a couple of disgruntled customers who refused replacement orders. It’s the best I could’ve hoped for considering the circumstances.
“The reason I peppered you with thirty-two thousand questions when you started this business was so I could catalogue all the answers for your next manager. I think it’s important that they know what desserts you can whip up on a dime and which ones need days of preparation.”
I remember that conversation vividly. I also remember the bratty way I acted when Marley refused to take a break. In my defense, I’d been baking for ten straight hours so she could photograph everything. God, I’m going to miss her when she leaves in a couple of weeks.
“You’re going to be okay, Lila. Regardless of that stupid recipe, you’re going to be wildly successful. I have the expertise to predict these things, you know. A year from now, you’re going to look back on this incident and laugh. Please tell me you believe that too?”
I’m saved from answering when the bells jingle overhead, and a customer appears.
Iwantto believe it. I want to belong here, in Daisy Hills. I want to put down roots I don’t have to pull up. I want Grandma Val to see I’m nothing like my mother so she’ll give me her blessing.
But the memory of Audrey stopping by earlier to see if we needed help still makes me a little itchy. She didn’t outright admit to hearing about the raccoon, but something in her expression told me she knew we’d had a setback. If Audrey caught wind, it’s entirely possible Grandma Val knows too.
Marley tends to the customer as I try to hide the yawn that assaults me so fiercely my eyes begin to water.
“Your bathroom sink is fixed,” Sullivan announces when the customer leaves. He’s wearing a toolbelt around his hips, one side hanging lower than the other, as if he needed any other accessories to make him look irresistibly sexy. I can’t help but picture himonlywearing that toolbelt. Well, that and thatcrooked, cocky grin that makes me instantly wet every time he flashes it my way. Who knew the grump had such a dangerous weapon at his disposalbesidesthe one in his pants?
Ever since Sull returned to patch up the hole Roxi used to break in, he’s been tinkering and fixing every little thing he can find—the janky cabinet door in the kitchen, the leaky bathroom sink faucet in my apartment, and even loose floorboard outside the world’s smallest closet that I keep tripping on.
“I see why you got into the landlord thing,” Marley says in approval.
“Got anything else you need me to take a look at?”
“I don’t think?—”
“You needed help moving that bookshelf, right?” Marley says.
“Book—oh,the bookshelf.”
“You need a break, sweetie,” Marley whispers to me. “I can hold the fort down for an hour.”
“You’re sure?”
“I see the way you’re eyeing that toolbelt.” She pats me on the shoulder. “Take the hour.”
“I can help you move the bookshelf,” Sullivan offers, that lopsided grin doing me in. He knows damn well there’s no bookshelf.
“If Grandma Val?—”
“I’ll come grab you if the Wicked Witch of the West shows up.”
With that promise, I slip into the back, where the staircase to the apartment is tucked away. Sullivan follows behind me so closely I can feel the heat radiate from his body. My pulse trips as he hovers behind me at the top of the stairs.
I reach for the knob, but his hand covers mine. His warm breath tickles the crook of my neck. Is he going to take me against the door? Probably not the safest option, considering wecould tumble down the stairs and fall to our death, though it would be briefly thrilling.