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“Gigi, seriously. What else am I supposed to do with those twenty minutes?” she deflects. “Sit around and watch the scones bake when there’s a perfectly beautiful man just waiting for me to fly down the stairs and jump on him like a primal tigress? Don’t you agree I have a duty to embrace my inner tigress?”
I fight a grin. One thing I’ve learned about Abby in the past few months—she’ll say anything for a laugh, and if you let her know she’s getting to you, she’ll never stop.
It’s amazing to see her blossom post-Hawley. Even more amazing to see Hawley’s frozen food empire begin to crumble after he was sued by three former girlfriends, all alleging he stole not only their recipes, but several family heirlooms.
But seriously, right now this woman needs to give me the goods before I perish from curiosity. “Of course, I believe in honoring the primal tigress,” I say, “but West is more concerned with health code violations.”
“Ugh. You’re so right. He’s such a stick in the mud like that.” She narrows her eyes. “Though, if you were waiting for him in the basement, you can bet your sweet ass he’d be violating the health code—and you—ten different ways.”
“Or twenty,” I agree.
“See, total double standard.” Then she thinks for a moment, her brow furrowing, and adds, “Really? Twenty? I can’t think of that many positions off the cuff. You two really are a pair of perverts, aren’t you?”
“Very much so. Perverts who promised to get kinky together over a few spreadsheets this morning before a conference call with Willow about our cross-promotional flavor selections for December. But instead, your brother cancelled at the last minute, ran out the door like a madman, and has been very cagey about his whereabouts all day.”
Abby raises her eyes to study the darkening sky. “But that’s going so well, right? The cross-promo customer loyalty thing? The businesses are all growing. Profits are growing. Customers are happy. It’s brilliant, really.”
“Mr. Skips is brilliant. And you keep changing the subject.”
She sighs. “Well, it’s something I’m good at, I confess. When you grow up the youngest of four siblings, the only girl, and weirdly small, you learn pretty quickly that disarming your opponent with words is your only path to victory.” Glancing over my shoulder, she spots something that makes her slump with relief. “Speaking of victory, I won this bet, West.” Abby hops off her stool. “You owe me fifty bucks.”
I turn to see him crossing the cobblestones in his navy three-piece suit, and my heart flips the way it always does. I assumed all the flipping would calm down eventually, but if anything, it seems to be getting worse.
One look at this man—my man—and I’m as giddy as the night I first brought him home.
“Really? You didn’t cave and confess?” he asks her as he wraps an arm around my waist.
“No, she didn’t.” I lean into him, accepting the kiss he presses to my cheek. “But you’d better start talking. You know I hate surprises.”
He and Abby both laugh. Hard.
“What?” I frown and amend. “Okay, so I love surprises, but not surprises that take you away from me on our day off.”
Abby hums beneath her breath as she starts across the courtyard. “Oh, you’re going to like this one.” She pauses in the door leading into the shop. “See you two at Ruby’s gallery later for the opening?”
“See you there,” West assures her, adding under his breath as she leaves, “Though, I don’t see how we’re all going to fit. The place is the size of a postage stamp.”
I grin. “But a cute postage stamp. And she’s so excited about this series. She’s done portraits of all her favorite Brooklyn restaurant owners as animals. The ones I’ve seen so far are precious. And all proceeds are going to the local food pantry, so…”
“We’re obligated to buy at least twelve pieces?”
“I was thinking two.” I arch a brow. “But you do have that entire empty wall by the refrigerator. Pictures of foodie animals would liven things up over there.”
“Agreed.” He shoots me one of his fond smiles that makes me feel completely adored and so very lucky.
I know I make him feel the same way, and I’d love to indulge him by being super patient, but… “I really can’t wait,” I whisper as he takes my hand. “I need to know what you were up to before it literally kills me.”
“Literally kills?” he echoes, leading me into the empty shop. “Are you sure about that?”
After realizing almost all their business happens before three, Tea and Empathy started closing at three on weekdays and four on weekends. Meanwhile, I hired additional staff to take the shipping arm of the business off my hands and free up my nights for things more fun than bookkeeping and website maintenance. Work smarter, not harder, is our new motto, and we’re both reaping the rewards in more profitable sweet shops and more time together after work.
