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I made a choking sound and crossed my arms, waiting for her to tell me she was kidding because this had to be a joke. It was after hours and she wanted four dozen cookies and one hundred twenty of our famous cupcakes that took hours to handcraft with fondant? She was certifiably nuts.
But she didn’t laugh. She didn’t even crack a smile, which was how I knew she was totally serious.
“Listen, there is no way we could even begin to have that ready for tomorrow. It’s just me right now, and I’d be here all night by myself.”
“We can pay,” she said, removing a matching Louis Vuitton wallet from her purse.
My eyes flickered to it, along with the diamonds circling her wrists.
“Quite handsomely,” she added, and when my gaze darted back to her face, I realized she’d caught me eyeing her wares, and my temperature rose ten degrees.
She thought she could buy an exception just because she was loaded and I’d snap it up because I was a lowly baker.
I don’t think so.
“No can do,” I snapped.
The woman’s smile faded. “Please. It’s for an event at the hospital.”
“Listen, I’m sorry, but it’s a no. If the event was so important, you should’ve ordered them ahead of time. If my parents were here, maybe they could squeeze it in for this week, but they’re not, and I can’t—”
“No. It has to be for tomorrow. Everything’s already set up,” she said, her voice rising with the likely realization she wasn’t getting what she wanted. Pausing, she inhaled through her nose, nostrils flaring as if she was trying to recalibrate her bargaining skills. “I have a very important client, and these treats are for the children’s hospital. He’ll want the best. He’ll—“
“Have to grab them from the grocery store.” I held a hand out for her to stop when she opened her mouth to argue further.
Maybe I was a jerk because sick kids deserve the best, but even if I wanted to help her, I sucked at fondant designs, which is what the cupcakes she mentioned required. I could mix it, but that was as far as my skills went.
“I’m sorry. I feel your pain, I really do,” I said, though I really didn’t, “but maybe between the local Whole Foods and the Stop ‘n Shop, you can get enough cakes for your event.”
Her blue eyes widened. “You want me to get them from agrocerystore?” she asked like I suggested she buy them from a drug den.
I shrugged, barely avoiding an eye roll because the way she was looking at me like I’d suggested something sacrilegious was just a little over the top, and she was really grating on my nerves. After all, her request was truly ridiculous. Even a subpar bakery with half the clientele would tell her the same thing.
“Well, I need to get back to work,” I said, rounding the counter and leading her to the door so I could see her out. I pushed it open and waved her toward the brisk air outside.
“So . . . good luck,” I said when she didn’t budge.
“Please, they’re for Th—”
“It won’t make a difference.”
“But . . .” Her expression turned desperate. Still, I motioned her outside, my wishes clear.
She took one step out onto the sidewalk, looking like she’d just attended a funeral. And then another. A hair further and I could slam the door closed without hitting her with it, but I could practically see the wheels spinning as she paused just outside the threshold, trying to come up with something that would change my mind. Little did she know, nothing would.
When she turned toward me once more, the movement was enough. I closed the door behind her, practically shutting it on her face while I ignored the small seed of guilt sprouting in my head. After what happened with Cranky Lady, I had enough guilt for a deluge. Besides, she’d been a pain in my butt, too, complaining about our selection and asking me to break the rules about mixing flavors. In a moment of weakness, I obliged to appease her and look where that got me. A big fat lawsuit.
So I flicked the lock shut, and before I drew down the shade, I shouted, “Have a super sweet day!”
Chapter 4
THORNE
Ipausedoutsidethedoor to the fifth floor at Lincoln Memorial Children’s Hospital. It was in the suburb of Lakeview and known for its pediatric oncology ward. The sound of footsteps behind me reminded me of my bodyguard's presence. Ever since the incident on the set of Treemont High, my agent and my mother insisted on him. Big Joe was a hulk of a man, with zero sense of humor and the personality of dry toast. Or maybe it was just me he didn’t like. It was hard to tell when he barely said two words to me since we left my hotel, which was just as well. I hadn’t even wanted him to come. A bunch of sick kids weren’t exactly what I would call a threat. But Trainer and good ‘ol Mom insisted he follow me to any staged public appearances.
So, here we are.
The door to the pediatric Oncology Ward loomed in front of me, and maybe I was a coward, but I didn’t want to go in. I had half a mind to turn around and run.
