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Chapter 6: Lilah
Oh fu-huh-huuuuck, I think as I roll over in bed. My head is killing me. Cracking one eye open, I can see the sun pouring through the window and it is straight torture. I definitely should have pumped the brakes on the mojitos last night.
I groan as I sit up and look around. My dress from last night is draped over the lamp. I must have thrown my bra at the laundry hamper and missed, but at least I found an oversized t-shirt to sleep in.
My heels are in the middle of the floor and... why are they all covered in grass clippings?! What the hell? I freeze as my brain starts to reboot. A memory flashes: a beefcake standing on a porch in his pajamas, grinning down at me. The smell of fresh cut grass in the air.
Oh no.
I pull my pillow over my face and scream into it as every embarrassing moment of last night floods back to me. I can't believe I woke Ben up in the middle of the night to yell at him. Oh god. I think I called him a beefcake. Like, out loud. What is wrong with me? And I definitely remember threatening to sugar his mower’s gas tank. I'm not taking that one back, though. I'll even use the expensive sugar we use for crème brûlée at the bakery. That's what he deserves for calling me 'Princess.' What a dick.
The worst part is that I'm not sure I just wanted to yell at him. If that conversation had gone differently, I think I gladly would have hopped into bed with him.
After Brooks broke up girl's night and kidnapped my sister for things I do not want to think about, we bounced from bar to bar. Men hit on Julia all night and she pretended they didn't exist, sending back drink after drink. Chelsea and Matt were all over each other and watching them together made me lonely. After their chauffeur, Sven, dropped me off at home, I stood inside my front door and fought a war with my hormones.
Telling myself I was just going to nicely ask him to stop mowing made it seem okay to go knock on his door, at least in Tipsyland. But as soon as I got there, I knew it was a terrible idea. I couldn't lie to myself convincingly enough to ignore the fact that I've been spending a lot of time fantasizing about Ben. I don't remember knocking but when he opened the door, shirtless, my (not so) carefully laid plans flew out the window.
I scream into my pillow again, equal parts embarrassment and sexual frustration.
Rolling over to look at my phone, I'm surprised to see it's 11:15 am. At least Ben kept his promise to let me sleep in. I'm supposed to be at the bakery at noon to help Olive with this afternoon's class, and I have just enough time to shower and clean up my mess from last night.
After a shower, some coffee and a coat of mascara, no one should be able to tell I'm hungover, but it only takes Olive one glance at my face to figure me out. As soon as I roll into the bakery, she's giving me the side eye. She tries to suppress a smirk as she asks, "How was the rest of last night?"
I groan in response. "Sally got us all good and drunk and then ordered another round of tequila shots. I'm dying. If I run to the dumpster, don't mind me; it's just that I like privacy when I puke."
She pats me sympathetically. "Did you put your notice in?" She's trying not to sound too eager, but I know she's excited for me to quit the bar.
"Yup, I sure as hell can't keep working with Terry. One more week and I'll be free of the most hostile workplace in Sonoma."
"Yeah, no kidding. Speaking of which, how did the slime lord take it when you put in your notice?"
I laugh humorlessly. "About as well as could be expected of that piece of shit."
Olive reaches over and squeezes my hand. "I'm so glad you won't be working there anymore. You can finally be here full time!"
"Well, I had a thought about that..." I hedge.
Olive sucks in a breath as if she’s nervous, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead she waits for me to continue.
"I want to expand the coffee roasting."
"Yeah?" Olive's eyebrow stays aloft, but her look shifts from worried to intrigued. "What are you thinking?"
"We only use the roaster for about an hour a day as it is. We could hire someone on part-time and roast coffee for local restaurants and markets. I think even a few hours a day would be enough to keep every shop in town supplied. I'm good at marketing and sales and I can finally put a little of my education to use."
Olive gives me an impressed smile. "Hell yes. Go for it."
"Really? That's it?" I ask her.
"Yes, really. It's a great idea. I don't have the time or inclination to do it, but if you do, I'm all in!"
"Well, that was easy," I mutter.
"Were you afraid I'd say no?" She shakes her head. "Lilah, this bakery is just as much yours as mine. At least in spirit." Olive grins at me, and I feel lighter than I have in weeks.
"Quitting the bar means I need to use the trust fund to pay my mortgage." I say, looking at my hands.
"Good!" Olive gives me an exasperated look and backhands my shoulder. "You should have been using it all along! Grandpa left them to us for a reason. He wanted you to have a better life than pouring tourists drinks and getting hit on by your slimy boss and half the assholes that come through town."
