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“What are you guys doing?” I ask and then yawn. I clearly overslept.
“Harley invited me over for blueberry cream cheese French toast, but it was all a ruse to get me to help out.” Avery motions to the empty plate with blueberry smears on it and the mountain of puffy stars.
“The brunch was incentive, not a ruse.” Harley gives Avery the side-eye before turning back to me. “We printed all your orders and the shipping labels. All the boxes are ready to go, and we set up an assembly line so we can help put things together. If you want us to.”
“You didn’t have to do all of this.” I feel a little guilty that they’re picking up my slack.
“We know we didn’t have to,” Harley says with a smile. “We wanted to. Well, I wanted to, and Avery wanted French toast casserole.”
I glance around the living room, which is literally covered with my craft supplies. “You know, I sort of expected business at Spark House to pick up, but I didn’t realize my Etsy store would too with this Holt Media connection.”
“It’s great all the way around.”
“We’re booked all the way into late fall next year. Maybe now is a good time to look at hiring on someone to help with the administrative stuff,” Harley says absently.
“We don’t need to do that. We’re handling it.” There’s a bite to Avery’s tone. “Maybe you should hire someone to help you with this stuff if you’re feeling too overwhelmed. Like a student or something.” Once again what I want or what I enjoy doesn’t matter.
When we took over for Grandma Spark, she left Avery in charge, despite our unanimous decision rule, but there are times—like right now—when it feels a lot like she’s abusing that power. I don’t want to start a fight when she’s here to help, so I leave it for now. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Did you know you have over two thousand reviews and a four-point-eight-star rating?” Harley interjects as she curls another flower petal with a pair of sheers and sets it with the others.
“I do?” Last I saw, I had a thousand reviews, although I’m usually looking at my orders and everything else takes a back seat.
“You totally do. You should have some French toast and drink your coffee before you start tackling this stuff,” Harley suggests.
“Wanna cut me another piece too?” Avery calls out as I head back to the kitchen.
I cut two pieces and return to the living room, dropping into one of the chairs that isn’t covered with my projects. “Can I have my phone back? I should probably check for new orders.”
“I did that an hour ago, so you should be up-to-date. Also, Jackson messaged early this morning, so I messaged him back to let him know you were sleeping in and we were hoping you wouldn’t be up until closer to noon.”
“You messaged him back as me?”
“No, I messaged him on your phone, but told him it was me. Don’t worry, I didn’t read your text messages. Although, I did see the preview and from that one sentence it seems like that man is a smitten kitten.”
“He’s a smooth operator, I’ll give him that.” I balance my plate on my lap and slide my fork through the crunchy, buttery, French toast concoction. I hum in contentment as the flavors hit my tongue.
“Things are okay, though? You believe him when he says there’s nothing going on between him and Selene?” Harley asks.
“I can’t imagine that he would still want me to come to the charity event if they actually were together. He gave me the option to skip it, but I have that piece going up for auction, and honestly, I think it would drive me batty if I didn’t go, knowing that Selene was going to be there.”
“You don’t trust him?” Avery asks with a frown.
“It’s not that.” I stab another bite of French toast with my fork. “I just don’t like that they have a history, and he would be at the event and she would be there, and I wouldn’t. I can see someone taking pictures and posting them on social media of the two of them together. And then there would be all this speculation, so I told him I’m going. Which I think is the right thing to do. I’m nervous, but I’ll deal with it.”
“So basically, you’re jealous and you’re willing to deal with whatever media crap comes your way so you can stake your claim on him.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Haven’t we already gone over this before?” Avery cocks a brow.
“I just don’t understand how that woman could be happy sleeping with Jackson and it not being anything more than that!” And now I sound indignant. Maybe because I am. “I find it offensive that this woman has been with my boyfriend and never truly appreciated what she had. He’s the whole package and more! He’s kind, caring, attentive, understanding, and he’s the first man to give me multiple orgasms. Who willingly sleeps with other people when they already have someone so amazing? Someone who takes what they have for granted! That’s who.” I stab the table with my finger and leave behind a sticky fingerprint.
