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Her phone rang again. She rolled her eyes. “Jesus. He’s calling again. Hang on.” She answered it. “Yes?” she snapped. Her expression softened almost immediately. “Three. Yeah. Thanks.”
She hung up and shoved her phone into her apron.
“What was that?”
“He wanted to know how many tacos I wanted,” she said. “It was sweet and…weird.” She looked me up and down. “You’re not dressed like you usually are. Are you working at Leather and Ink today?”
“No. I’m working on Mia’s website.”
“You’re working on Mia’s website?”
“She hired me.” I cocked my head to the side. “When was the last time we hung out? I feel like it’s been forever and we need to catch up.”
“We definitely need a catch-up session. I’ll see you at Doc’s engagement brunch, though. If three hours isn’t enough time to drink and gab, then we’ll just have to take it to Shelly’s another day.”
“Good plan.”
Brooklyn came onto the floor, wiping her hands on a towel. “Hey! I didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Detour for caffeine and sugar so I can get cracking on Mia’s website. Thanks, by the way.”
“What did I do?” Brooklyn asked.
“Didn’t you have something to do with Mia hiring me?”
“Not really. She asked how I liked the website and how you handled changes that needed to be made. Aside from that, you sold yourself with the excellent work you did. Hey, you want to see what I’m making for Doc’s engagement brunch?”
“Yeah.”
I followed her into the kitchen. The door chime jangled and a moment later Jazz said, “Good morning!”
There were six cookie sheets on the wooden island, all full of pastries.
“They’re cooling, but then I’ll decorate them with chocolate frosting,” Brooklyn said.
I peered closer. “Are those—wait—is that a penis shaped pastry?”
Brooklyn chuckled. “They’ll be penis shaped chocolate eclairs filled with white cream because...yeah.”
“Oh my God!” I squealed with laughter. “That’s hilarious.”
Brooklyn grinned. “Dirty pasta and penis shaped cakes are so passé. I thought this would be a little different. And way more fun.”
“Well, you nailed it.”
“Speaking of nailed…how’s the sex with Duke?”
The to-go coffee cup slipped from my hand and spilled all over the island. Hot coffee splattered onto a few rows of pastry penises.
“Shit.” I made a grab for the coffee. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? It’s my fault. I sprung that question on you.” She grasped a kitchen towel and went about mopping up the mess I’d made. But it was no use—a few of the penis pastries were lost in the line of duty.
“I guess there’s no point in attempting to lie to you about it.” I hastily glanced in the direction of Jazz, but she was interacting with customers up front and hadn’t heard my exchange with Brooklyn. “How’d you know?”
“I put it together the night of the barbecue. You both came back smelling like sex.” She touched her nose. “Pregnancy, man. It’s like I have all these weird superpowers. Super smell is one of them.”
I swallowed. “Does anyone else—I mean, were you the only one who—”
