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She exhaled a heavy breath and nodded. “I promise.”
Fifteen
May
What are you doing, loser?
I rested my chin on my arm as I stared at the ingredients for my next creation. I was trying to make something exciting out of vanilla without it being too sweet. Oh, and without making me nauseated. Taking the cap off my vanilla extract made me want to hurl.
Probably because I’d been making everything vanilla for the last few weeks.
I reached for my phone and read the text one more time.
Kinleigh.
That was usually code for let’s do something crazy. Usually that included far too much wine and too little self-control. Then again, the last time I’d lost control, there hadn’t been any alcohol involved. Just lust and a handful of condoms. Oh, and an Irish accent that I kept dreaming about.
No big deal. Even if time kept slipping away with barely a handful of texts between us.
My wild Irish fling. He was the drifter and I was the small town girl who was his port in a New York storm.
How very rockstar of him and very stupid of me.
Didn’t stop me from looking for his blue eyes in the crowd.
I set my phone down and spun it in front of my supplies. I sighed, then stood and gathered them all to tuck into my storage bin. I slid it back into the cupboard and picked up my phone.
Trying to make vanilla exciting.
That’s not possible.
So I’m learning. I’ll crack it though. What’s up with you?
I’m bored. The rain has chased away all my customers. I also have to update my website and I’m avoiding it like Mrs. Conroy. Entertain me.
I snorted. Mrs. Conroy liked to make everyone in town crazy. Busybody with a capital B. I should be working on the backup flavors on my list, but I didn’t feel like getting my blenders out to make sorbet.
Meet me at BA in twenty.
Yes! Cya in a few.
At least I’d get coffee out of the deal. And the drive into town usually cleared my head when I hit a wall.
I stuffed my feet into my outrageously pink galoshes that matched my slicker, then grabbed my keys and purse on my way out the door. If I didn’t change out of my bum clothes, Kinleigh couldn’t talk me into going to the bar. Then again, if I kept taste-testing my ice cream, I’d need to hit up my bestie for a new wardrobe of elastic-waist pants for the summer.
Flowing tops for the win.
My brother’s truck pulled up just as I got to my car.
“Hey.”
August reached back into his truck. “Hey. I got that spray paint machine you asked me for last week.”
Excitement brewed despite the late spring soaking we were getting. “Finally.”
“Hey. It takes time to order these things. Not like Home Depot is around the corner.”
I wrinkled my nose and flipped my hood up on my slicker. “I know. Thanks for getting it for me. It’s supposed to be gorgeous tomorrow. Maybe you can help me do a base coat?”
