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“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“I’m going to kick his ass. We had this talk—I thought he wasn’t this big of an imbecile! Are you telling me he’s being a dick becausehe thinks you don’t deserve your business?!”She looks like she might actually go kick his ass. “That’s insanity! Your baking isamazing. You can’t help that your dad is the mayor. That’s so not fair!” I shrug, unsure of what else to do.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“No. Please, don’t. I don’t . . . I don’t want that. I don’t want him thinking I’m gossiping about him. Again. That would make it worse.” I’m panicking over the thought of her running to Ben to tell him what an ass he is.
She stares and I wonder how fucked I really am. Hattie doesn’t seem to have any kind of filter whatsoever.
Panic rises in my throat.
This lease is for five years.
Five years.
I don’t think I could handle five more years of this man hating me more than he already does.
“Alright,” she says. “But let me know if he keeps it up. I’m serious. He might be my best friend, and I might work for him, but that won’t stop me from beating his ass.” I lift an eyebrow because she’s about half the size of Ben. “Trust me, I could take him. He’s scared of me.”
“Hattie,I’mscared of you.” She smiles.
“Good. I like it that way.” I laugh and shake my head as she winks.
“So did you come over for a cookie? Or do you want a coffee?” I ask, turning to get something for her.
“No, no, you’re good. I grabbed something this morning, and I can only do so much caffeine. Makes my hands shake.” She wiggles her tattooed fingers in the air.
“Yeah, that would be bad for a tattoo artist.”
“The real reason I came over is to let you know about the Coleman Ink auction coming up at the end of the summer.” I quirk an eyebrow in interest. “It’s a big thing, fancy dresses and a big silent auction, crazy amounts of food—”
“I can donate cookies or a cake if you want.” Hattie’s smile widens, appreciation and friendliness filling the room.
“You’re a good one, Lola. I will definitely be reaching out for that. But we also need silent auction items. Nearly every business on the boardwalk participates and donates something, but since you’re new, I figured I’d stop by, get my fill of sugar and butter, and I’d tackle the task of asking you for him.”
“For him?”
“Ben is usually the one who does it. It’s his cause, anyway.”
“Cause?” I sound like a parrot.
But whenever my brain moves to the topic of Benjamin Coleman, it short circuits.
I keep telling myself it’s with anger and frustration.
I’m starting to wonder how true that is as I remember the way my body felt when his thumb brushed my collarbone.
The way I felt when he kissed me.
Nope, nope, nope, Lola. We decided we would in no way remember that kiss, even if it was possibly the best one you’d had . . . ever.
“Ben raises money to fund scholarships for low-income kids who are graduating high school and going to college to pursue the arts. Music, art, dance, theater . . .”
“Tattoos?” Hatties smiles.
“That too. Last year we funded four full rides. He’s hoping to get six this year.”
“Wow! That’s amazing.” My mind wanders to all of the political fundraisers I’ve helped run over the years, filling in the role my mother left when she passed. Money that went to ads and lined the pockets of insiders and heavy hitters in the political scene.
