Her breasts. Then down her belly to cup her…
“Thank you so much. I promise I won’t disappoint you,” Sidney said, looking at Tish. She tugged Kit, who then released her hand and laughed away the awkward moment. “I’ll see you Monday at opening, then.”
“An hour before,” Tish said, correcting her.
“Right.” Sid gave her a bashful smile and nodded her exit. Kit fixed on Sid’s cute little bottom as she disappeared into the crowd.
Seconds later, Tish touched her shoulder. “Well, that had to be the quickest job interview I ever held. I hope she doesn’t turn out to be a serial killer.”
Vinnie shook his head. “I’m glad Big Apple doesn’t hold interviews fordriverslike that.”
Tish scoffed. “You okay with this?” she asked Kit. “A girl with a degree from a culinary school has ambitions, especially if it’s a second degree. It means she’s pivoting from one career to something new. She won’t want to work the front counter forever.”
“I’m aware, and I have no plans to change careers.” Kit eased away and rearranged the macarons display. “And everybody starts on the ground. I was in that position once myself. It can be fulfilling.”
Tish eyed her sharply as though unconvinced of Kit’s comfort. “If I decide to let her try out her stuff in the kitchen, am I going to hear complaints?”
“Not from me. Nothing wrong with that.” She answered too quickly. What could she say, though? Tish paid the bills, signed the paychecks.
Tish glanced at a grinning Vinnie. “No, not at all. I’m sure you’ll do well on your first day as trainer, seeing as how I have some orders to fill next week and you were rather enthusiastic about hiring her.”
“I’m sorry if I pulled rank on you, but we need a better customer-facing person on the floor.” Kit unrolled the resume in her grip and read it again. What brought a girl from Wyoming all the way to Virginia? This area held a large military population, but Sidney listed no prior service. Kit didn’t see a ring on her finger. Divorced, perhaps? “Why let a good one get away?” she asked.
Especially a good-looking one.
“Well, I hope your Spidey sense is fine-tuned on this gal,” Tish said. “Since you’re on an authoritative high, there’s one more thing you can do for me before Monday morning.”
“What’s that?”
Tish arched an eyebrow at her. “Fire Gloria.”
Chapter Two
“I start Monday morning. I’m so excited! They’re gonna work me up front to start, but I’m sure after a while I’ll get to spend time in the kitchen.” Sid looked down into her mobile screen at the shadowed face staring back at her. “If you think about it, since they hired me it means business is good so Tish will have to let me help.”
“I’m happy for you, Sid, but don’t get stuck doing a job you don’t want. If you hit a glass ceiling, have a plan. Damn, where the hell are you?” The scene on her phone shifted back and forth, and the man on the other end squinted.
Sid looked over her shoulder to seek whatever activity her brother presumably caught. She’d come to The Woolf’s Den, a gay bar on the outskirts of town with a higher lesbian patronage than the rest, to indulge in a celebratory cocktail. With Wyoming two hours behind her, she thought to make a quick call to Roman and apprise him of her progress on the employment front. Looking down the bar counter, she saw nothing that appeared out of place, just people sipping drinks after a long day.
She turned back to Roman’s miniaturized face. “I’m out having a martini. It’s the weekend, after all.”
“Lezzie bar?” Roman grinned a full set of teeth, and Sid huffed. She’d come out as bisexual to her family in high school, yet her brother teased her with good nature every chance he got. Clearly his idea of such a place included hot women in thongs serving whipped cream body shots to everybody who walked through the door. Not that she didn’t appreciate the kinds of movies Roman watched to get that idea in the first place, but she liked socializing among all women. The Woolf’s Den was a classy place with great food, patronized by all kinds of people.
“Yeah. The nude ramen noodle wrestling tournament ended before I called you. Sorry.”
Roman pushed out an exhausted laugh. “Whatevs, sis. Get your kicks however you want. Listen, you let me know when you get promoted. I want to see my little sis on the Food Network winning a cake war. I gotta motor. Talk later in the week?”
“Will do. Love you.” She rang off without saying goodbye and sipped her drink. The bartender had made her Cosmo a bit heavy on the vanilla vodka as she requested, and it cut the tartness of the cranberry juice. Sid checked out the taller woman’s lingering stare when she’d set the dewy glass in front of her.
When not using her phone, she fixed her gaze on two bottles high on the shelf, as though discerning the liqueurs The Woolf’s Den offered. She’d bounced between the beach and Dareville over the last few years, having come to Virginia to earn her culinary school degree, yet still felt like the new girl in town who couldn’t make her way around. Outside of classmates she saw regularly and a few baristas at her favorite coffee joint, Sid knew few people, and she wouldn’t exactly consider those men and women friends. Tonight marked her first actual visit to the Den, and even here she had trouble making eye contact with the staff to order a lousy drink.
She sighed. She needed to work on her shyness, of course, if she expected to impress Tish Richmond. Manning the counter of a busy shop meant answering questions from customers and communicating often with the kitchen. If her new boss suspected discomfort every time Sid turned her face away from somebody, she might question if Sid could represent them on the sales floor.
It also mattered to her that people didn’t mind having a member of the LGBTQ community ring up their chocolateorders…not that she’d introduce herself that way.Hi, I’m Sid. I’m bi.Would you like to try our chocolate-dipped toffee bites?
Coming out in a small Wyoming town proved to be an adventure, to say the least. Not everybody expressed support, and she imagined the people back home thought she moved away to avoid a scandal. In truth, she wanted to live near the sea. She found affordable prospects in California, closer to home, but a pastry chef friend had graduated from Hancock, and Sid trusted her recommendation.
She sipped deeply from her martini glass and flagged down the bartender for a refill. The alcohol helped a bit this time. She didn’t flinch when the woman rewarded her with a wink.
