Page 134 of A Taste of Vanilla

That’s not chaos. It’s building relationships.

She may be unstructured and loud, but it works for her. Mostly.

The Vipers player who laughed looks toward the bar. “Oliver! You got food tonight?”

Oliver stiffens. “No.”

Halston gasps beside me.

I look down at her as she presses one hand against her chest like he’s shot her. There’s flour on her wrist from baking just a few hours ago.

I had noticed it a while ago when she walked in carrying three bakery boxes. She was a woman on a mission.

“Oliver,” she hisses. “You cannot deny hungry athletes food after a game.”

“I can. Watch me.”

“They’re large and vulnerable.”

“They’re overpaid and loud.”

“They need carbs.”

“They need volume control.”

“We can hear you!” a player calls.

Oliver looks at him. “Then lower your voice and prove it.”

The table laughs, and Halston lights up.

I see the idea form on her face before it crosses her lips.

“No,” Oliver says immediately.

She turns to him. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I know that expression.”

“What expression?”

“The one that’s going to cost me time, space, money, or insurance. Or all four.”

Marley steps closer, her phone up. “Wait. Do it again. I need the lead-in.”

Oliver scowls at her. “I will throw your phone into the harbor.”

“You say that because you don’t support women in media,” she mumbles.

“I say it because phones are expensive and you need a threat with weight.”

Halston grabs one of the bakery boxes stacked on the bar and places it in front of her. “Late-night menu test.”

“No,” Oliver says firmly.

“Yes,” Marley says.

I say nothing. My safest strategy all evening.