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“Of course, you can make time for the hospital bake sale, can't you? The hospital is such an important part of the community.”
The hospital that took care of my grandma before she passed. My dad. The hospital that took care of Mrs. Waters when she got sick. The hospital that Mr. Waters was just in when he fell off the tractor, and scared the hell out of all of us. That hospital. I couldn’t say no, even if I wanted to.
“Oh, yeah. Yes. Of course, I can. I wouldn't want to let anyone down. Of course, I can put something together.”
“How wonderful. How wonderful, dear! I can’t wait to try it!”
Jameson snickers at that, but I keep a giant smile plastered across my face.
“I guess we'll see you later, Mrs. Barker. We should get back to the shop before Jarret’s little arms give out and he drops all this paint in the street. You know, so much to do. Busy, busy getting ready to open the shop.” What the hell? Why couldn’t I just say bye? See you later? Stop talking, Lily!
“Oh, good luck to you, dear. I just know you're going to make such a beautiful new beginning out of that place. It’s so wonderful seeing you young folks opening up businesses and bringing life back to this town. I just can't wait to see it! I will see you there on opening day, dear.”
“Thanks so much. That's really, really sweet of you.”
With a last wave, Mrs. Barker continues past us, set on bullying the rest of the Western Springs population into baking against their will.
As I stomp down the sidewalk, I’m really hoping that Jameson isn't following me. Because then I'm going to have to kick his ass… that is, if I don’t turn around and shove him into traffic first.
When I get back to the shop, I slam the door behind me. Unfortunately for me, it opens and Jameson walks through a second later. And I whirl on him, poking my finger into his chest. His hands are at his sides, full of paint and supplies.
“How could you do that? That was mortifying! How could you talk to Mrs. Barker about going down on me? How could you do that to me?”
Jameson’s smiling down at me like he didn’t do a single thing wrong. “Come on, babe. She didn't even know what I was talking about. And I didn't say anything that wasn’t true. Your pussy is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Yeah, it's the best thing you've ever tasted, and that you’re never tasting again. You know, this doesn’t even make sense. If my pussy actually was the best thing you’ve ever tasted, then you’d think you'd be a little more careful about ensuring that you don't piss me off, so you’d have a hope in hell of ever seeing it again.”
“Babe, pissing you off is half the fun.” Jameson puts the paint and supplies down next to the door. “I like how feisty you are when you’re pissed.”
“You think this is fun?” I’m going to murder this man. “Just go, Jameson. I have to get back to work. And now I have to figure out how to make an apple pie worthy of a freaking baking contest. Unless you’re planning on baking it for me?”
“Sorry, babe. My kitchen skills stop at cooking. I have no clue how to bake a pie. Pastry intimidates the hell out of me.”
“Oh, great. Me, either! Who the hell is going to make this pie? I don't know how to bake!”
“Why don’t you ask Selena? I’m sure she could help you whip something up.”
“And how am I supposed to explain to her that I volunteered myself for a baking contest when I don't know how to bake? Why would I do that, Jameson? What am I going to tell her? What am I going to say to anyone who asks me why I did this? Or why you did it, actually? What if Mrs. Barker tells someone that you said that? Even if you were talking about real apple pie, why would I have made a pie for you when I don’t even know how to bake?”
“Well, first, she’s going to think Jarret said it. So that’s just going to confuse everyone for starters. Because Jarret’s never liked anything in his whole life as much as I like your apple pie pussy.”
“You really piss me off sometimes.”
“Seems like I piss you off most of the time.”
“You're not wrong about that.”
“Don’t worry, it’s a good thing. You’re sexy when you’re pissed. I could stick around and help you work off some of that anger…?”
Now I want to torture him even more. Like he just tortured me. “You know what, kid? Do you know what I was planning on telling you when we got back here with the damn paint? Before you pulled that stunt back there?”
His whole face stills. His jaw clenches. “What were you going to tell me, Lemon?”
“I was going to tell you I wanted to have sex with you again. I was going to tell you I’m tired of getting fucked by my vibrator every night, and I want you to fuck me instead. I was going to invite you to come over tonight.”
His face is motionless, clenched tight. “And now?”
“Now I feel like going to the Goldrush tonight and sucking the dick of the first guy who looks at me, just to piss you off.”
