“Sorry.” I shrug, feeling sillier than I’d like. “I guess old habits are hard to break.”
“Yes, well, break this one. It feels weird for a friend to be so formal.”
Friend. Yes, I guess Portia and I are friends. I feel guilty even having to second-guess that. Portia has always been someone I can talk to since I moved to Hideaway. It started with me using her candy in my creations, and now sometimes when we talk, work doesn’t even come up.
Have I really been so busy that I haven’t noticed?
“Jack, what’s with the stiff shoulders?” Amanda whacks her agent on the back. “You getting old on me?”
“Nah.” Jack laughs, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes orsmooth out the pinch between his brows. “Just making sure I don’t screw things up for Audrey.”
Heat hits my cheeks hard and fast, the truth sinking in—I’ve been less festive teammate and more sprinkle drill sergeant.
“Well, aren’t you the considerate one.” Amanda laughs, hers more natural. “Though I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She gestures to our gingerbread compound. “No one else has gone this big or looks this perfect.”
I follow her hand, for the first time taking in the other tables.
And while Amanda is right—ours is the biggest and most professional looking—there’s something everyone else has that mine lacks: fun.
Across from us, a teenage girl fist-bumps her dad over their slightly cockeyed gingerbread lighthouse. Next to them, a young married couple smear frosting on each other’s noses like it’s cake at their wedding. And to our left, two women from the local garden club play rock-paper-scissors to decide the color of Pop Rocks for their gingerbread mulch.
All of them are smiling. None of them are worried about perfection.
“Get ready to restart in five minutes!” Eileen shouts from the loudspeaker at the front of the community center.
“I need to look at the other tables.” Portia hurries off, but Amanda stays.
Jack gets up. “I’m going to run to the restroom.” He glances at the clock. “Or should I not chance it?”
If everyone around me smiling and laughing wasn’tenough to knock some sense into me about how over-the-top I was being, the fact that Jack would worry about inconveniencing me enough to not use the bathroom does.
“Go.” I point him in the right direction. “No need to rush. It’s fine.”
He looks startled at that last word. “Okay.” He takes two steps and stops. “I’ll be right back, promise.” Then he jogs off.
“Talk about not wanting to leave your side.” Amanda snorts. “Sheesh. He’s got it bad.”
I blink once, trying to decode her meaning. “Got what bad?”
“His thing.” Amanda looks at me quizzically. “For you.”
“I’m sorry?” My fingers worry the hem of my chef’s coat.
“Girl.” Amanda tilts her head and gives me the look only best friends and exasperated older sisters perfect. “It’s pretty obvious.”
“What are you talking about?” Unless she knows about the kiss—and even then, I don’t think anything is obvious.
Amanda gives me the universalduhlook. “Uh… he hasn’t left your side since we got to Hideaway.”
Not meeting her eyes, I rearrange my perfectly straight lines of edible glitter by color. “I hired him to take care of a legal issue for me.”
Her brows climb. “You did?”
“Yeah.” I flick a crumb off the table, as if that settles it. “And in return for payment, I let him use my Wi-Fi.”
Amanda snorts sharp and disbelieving, making a couple kids at the next table glance over. “He doesn’t need your Wi-Fi.”
My pulse hiccups. “He doesn’t?”
