“Oh my gosh,” Eve repeats, though not with the same level of amusement as her gaze dips to the paper bag in my hand. “I do not want to know where your mind just went, but Nora was talking about that.” She points to the bag. “The cake is called aHairy Mary.” She enunciates the name very carefully. “A supposed London delicacy.”
“I’ve never heard of it.” I peer dubiously into the bag at something that resembles baked goods. Whiledelicacysuggests something dainty, this feels more like a brick. Puff pastry, icing, and a sprinkling of desiccated coconut. I suppose the latter is the connection to its name.
“You thought I was talking about that otherotherc-word, didn’t you?” Nora says, using the back of her hand to wipe away tears of mirth. “You’ve got yourself a proper dirty bird, my girl!”
“I think that was a compliment,” Eve says to no one in particular.
I know which I’d rather eat.
“I’m just pleased someone remembers what a Hairy Mary looks like these days.” Nora sighs. “Make the most of it, son, because when you get to my age, it all falls out.”
“Nora!” Eve spins on her heel and tugs on my hand. “Really? You had to go there?”
The old woman’s laughter follows us almost the whole way out.
EVIE
“Hey, Ted. Sorry I’m covered in dog hair.” I shift uncomfortably in the back of Oliver’s pristine Bentley, brushing at my black jeans.
“That’s all right, miss,” the driver replies jovially. Other than the occasional nod, it’s the first time he’s spoken to me. “It’s nothing that won’t vacuum.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Yara.
Oh. My. GOD! Your new Romeo is giving me such hot daddy vibes.
Oh my God. She is delusional.
“Everything all right?” Oliver asks, but my eyes are glued to my phone.
Go get some, girl! Who needs a hot girl summer when you can have a slutty one!
“Yeah, it’s just Yara.” I turn it over. “She just forgot to tell me something.”
Something: go be a big ole ho bag!
“You’re sure that isn’t coconut?” He leans and swipes his hand over my thigh.
I bite my lip as blood rushes to the surface of my skin. “I won’t be able to look at one of those again without laughing.” Or dying of embarrassment.
“Such an unfortunate name,” Oliver ponders.
“What’s unfortunate is where your mind went.”
“It was a natural jump, considering the direction Nora seemed to be taking things. We are talking about the woman who brought up BDSM the first time we met.”
“I only just realized something,” I say, turning to him. “Neither of you have any shame. You just open your mouths and say what you like.”
“And there the resemblance ends.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re also both ruthless in your own way. Tyrannical.”
He hitches a brow.
“Despotic, autocratic, know-it-all.” Playfully narrowing my gaze, I ask, “You’re sure you’re not related?”
“That is a horrifying thought.”
I glance out the window as I say, “You can also be nice, when the moment takes you.”
