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"I know. I bet Grandpa would have punched Terry for me."
"Yeah, that and he would have bought the bar and destroyed Terry publicly as a parting shot." Olive laughs as Brooks, her fiancé, strides into the kitchen looking for her. Her entire face lights up when she sees him.
"Ready for lunch?" he asks, pulling her toward him. I pointedly look down at the almond flour I'm scaling out for the Macaron Madness class. Olive and Brooks are disgustingly cute together. I'm happy for them, obviously. I mean, I did kind of nudge them together when they both had their heads up their respective asses. But sure, maybe I'm a little jealous. They're clearly made for each other, and I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to find someone like that.
My own experiences with dating have been so catastrophic that I don't know if I can make myself try ever again.
Luis, the head baker, interrupts my pouty thoughts with a very tactful, "Who hit you with the hangover stick?"
"Ha-ha. I would be fine if Brooks hadn't kidnapped Olive from girl's night. She's the voice of reason and the one who switches out my drinks for water when I get too tipsy. All my drunk actions and subsequent hangover are Brooks' fault." I scowl at my future brother-in-law, but he just laughs.
"Yeah, but she really likes it when I kidnap her."
"Ew," Luis and I say in unison.
Olive laughs and smacks Brooks on the chest. "Give me a second. I'll meet you up front."
He kisses her adoringly and walks back out the way he came.
"You could have switched out your own drinks last night. That's what I always do when I go drinking with Sally. If I didn’t swap out some of my martinis for water in a martini glass, I’d never make it through a single night. I swear, that woman has the alcohol tolerance of a rhino," Olive says as she wraps the sheet tray of chocolate chip cupcakes.
"And take responsibility for my own actions? Hard pass," I joke. "Besides, how would I embarrass myself in front of my hot-as-fuck neighbor? It's not like you can wake someone up in the middle of the night to yell at them sober."
Olive's hands freeze mid-task as she turns to look at me with enormous eyes.
"Noooo. What did you do?"
"Matt and Chelsea asked Sven to drop me off last night. I was all worked up because Ben woke me up two weekends in a row with the stupid mowing. I mean, who even mows their lawn every week? Anyway, I was all salty about it and I drunkenly decided I should tell him to knock it off."
Olive leans her elbows on the counter and covers her face with both hands, groaning at my poor decision making. Yeah, she knows where this is going.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I try to defend myself. "So anyway, I woke Ben up at 3 am. Or maybe he was already awake? He said he wasn't sleeping, and I doubt he'd lie to make me feel better. I tried to tell him off, but he just thought I was being funny. He wouldn't stop grinning at me. I think I yelled at him to put his dimples away. I definitely called him a beefcake and poked him in the chest."
Olive is laughing so hard she's wheezing as she asks, "Holy shit, dude. What did he say after you assaulted him?"
Just recalling it makes me scowl. "He called me Princess and said he'd let me sleep in today."
Olive cackles. "He called you 'Princess' and you let him live? If one of our brothers had called you something like that, you would have destroyed him."
"Yeah, well, I took the high road and left instead," I say, holding my head high and trying to preserve the last shred of dignity I have left.
"You say 'took the high road' but I know you and I've seen you drunk. You mean you shrieked at him and stormed off."
"I hate you sometimes, you know that?" I tell her.
She hugs me aggressively, pinning my arms to my sides and kisses me on the temple. "You love me all the time. You just hate that I know you so well." She squeezes me even harder when I grumble at her. "Say it! Say you love me!" she demands.
"Fine, fine! I love you!" I huff. Olive laughs and lets me go. Luis shakes his head at us from the back where he's taking inventory. "Go eat with Brooks," I tell Olive, shooing her out of the kitchen and taking the tray of cupcakes from her. She blows me a kiss as she heads out front.
Luis is muttering in Spanish, something about "chicas locas."
"I heard that!" I tell him.
"You're just like your sister," he says, rolling his eyes at me.
