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I grin. “Of course I do, but that’s not the point. The point I’m trying to make is that you’re going to be okay. You’re going to be a kick-ass editor, move your way up to whatever comes next, sign the next big-name author, meet all the celebrities who you’ll tell wild stories to about your friends all the way in North Carolina. Some might even find us interesting enough to want to do a TV show about us. I mean, Ella and Owen’s story would make for some epic rom-com shit on screen.”
Ella gives me a little shove. “Says the person who’s dating a billionaire.”
I smirk. “Dating, fucking. I guess the two can go hand-in-hand.”
Piper rolls her eyes. “Don’t pretend you’re not head over heels for Bentley. We’ve never seen you like this with any other guy.”
“Like what?” I ask, almost nervously.
Piper taps her chin. “Oh, I don’t know. How about how blissed you’ve been for weeks and you’re not continually smiling because you know you’re hilarious, but because you’re truly happy with life and the work you’re doing and the people in it. Or what about all the times you’ve slept over at Bentley’s house these last couple months and how many times you’ve had him at yours. A place where no man ever has stayed a full night until Bentley.”
Okay, she has a point, but I’m just not there yet. My heart has only been cracked open twice. It’s not often I let someone in far enough to make a dent in my feelings. While I think Bentley is the right kind of different, I’m still hesitant to admit big emotions for him.
“Point made, my friend,” I say before going back to my chair and grabbing my wine glass from the cupholder.
Ella shakes her head and grins at Piper. “She reallyisgonzo over Bentley. I’ve never seen her speechless.”
I scoff. “I am not. I’m just parched.”
I finish off my wine and before I can refill my glass, my phone pings with a text.
My Fucker: Celia is in over her head. How do you feel about baking?
Me: If it’s dick cookies, count us in.
My Fucker: I’ll see you soon then.
Piper and Ella are staring at me when I realize I’m grinning too big to be normal. Instead of addressing what I know they’re thinking, I change the subject.
“Are either of you down to help Celia make dick cookies before we call it a night?” I ask.
Piper laughs. “Absolutely, but I’d help even if it wasn’t dick cookies.”
Of course she would. That’s why we love her.
* * *
Within thirty minutes,we’re inside Celia’s adorable bakery and prepped for work with freshly washed hands, hair covered with tacky nets, and matching pink aprons covering our fronts. The best part, though?
Bentley is wearing the same as all of us women.
Yes, my big, sexy man is donning a pink apron and looking seriously hot.
Celia claps her hands excitedly. “Okay, everyone knows what they’re supposed to be doing. I’ll be bouncing between each of you in case you have questions while also rotating cookies in and out of the oven. With any luck, we’ll be out of here in a few hours.”
She cringes, and I know she feels bad since we all need to be up early tomorrow, but it’s not that big of a deal. At least, not for me.
I throw an arm around her. “Don’t stress so much. We have Sunday to sleep in.”
Celia’s head shakes. “You might, but I’ll be here baking for the storefront and packing all of these cookies shipments.” Then, she groans. “Shit, I need more help. Who knew dicks could cause so many problems?”
Ella, Piper, and I all raise our hands at the same time, and laughter fills the room.
Well, at least from everyone without a dick. Bentley, however, is already back to work, kneading dough like a champ.
Things quiet down, and everyone goes back to their workstations, eager to get all the things done so we’re not zombies tomorrow for the big event.
Celia joins me, inspecting my work. “It feels really wrong to compliment your penis-decorating skills when you’re dating my brother, so I’m not going to, okay?”
