Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Charlotte sticks her hand straight in the air. “I can assist.”
“Girl, you have school and homework,” Aisha says with a laugh, taking the words straight out of Corbin’s mouth.
“Fine,” Charlotte says with a huff. “What about Audrey? She worked at the Green Pantry during the summer and just returned to town. She’s looking for work, but the Green Pantry doesn’t have any openings at the moment.”
“She’s hired!” I shout.
Corbin hums doubtfully. “Maybe not that fast.”
“But if Charlotte knows of someone and she’s worked in food services before, why not?”
Aisha reaches across the table and squeezes Charlotte’s shoulder. “If you don’t become a vet, be an HR director. You’ve got VP written all over you.”
“Thanks, but I prefer D-R.”
“Of course you do,” Aisha says. “And I think we should hire Audrey too. I have her info.”
I’m glad Aisha feels the same way. “I say let’s do it. Corbin?”
“I’m outvoted, but it doesn’t matter. Hire her.”
Aisha calls her right then and there, and after a quick call, Corbin’s officially sold.
By the end of the night, we have everything ready for tomorrow’s baking extravaganza, and a new employee hired right away, which means she can help with the faculty luncheon cakes since Aisha has a doctor’s appointment that morning. “I love it when a plan comes together,” I say.
The next morning, we pull into a lot in the Dogpatch District in the city, where the studio’s located. “You don’t mind that I can’t help with the luncheon?” Corbin asks as he turns off his car.
Tomorrow he has morning skate and then a game.
I shoot him a look like he’s nuts for asking. “Yes, Corbin, it bothers me immensely that your pro hockey schedule is getting in the way of our bakery.”
“Seriously,” he says, sounding far too concerned.
I set a hand on his rock-hard thigh, reassuring him. “I know who I got into business with. I will take what I can get of you at Afternoon Delight. It’s all extra.”
He frowns though, like he wants it to be more. “That wasn’t my goal though.”
“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” I add. “But you do have a full-time job, and I knew that when we went into business together.”
“I just want to help as much as I can.”
“And you are helping, like with this,” I say, nodding to the looming brass doors at the entrance to the studio. “Let’s go show my ex we bake better than he dates.”
That seems to cheer him up. “We date better than he dates too,” Corbin says, then reaches for my face, cups my chin, and kisses me fiercely.
He groans against my mouth, ruins my lipstick, and sends my heart fluttering all at once.
Gently, I place a hand on his chest and push him off. “I’ll be a hot mess if you keep doing that.”
His lips quirk in a lopsided grin. “Good.”
“Ha. I’m trying to stop being a hot mess.”
He slides his hands through my hair. “You can be a hot mess in bed.”
A kiss on my neck. A hand on my waist. His scent drifting past my nose.
But I steel myself and push back. “Later. When we’re in bed. Now, get your hockey stick and let’s go show Dax that dating a hot hockey player is the best kind of revenge.”
I mean, maybe I had ulterior motives in saying yes to today.
“You’re even sexier when you’re vengeful,” he says, as he takes the stick from the trunk—Romance Beach wanted the whole baking hockey player schtick.
He grabs my bag too, with my apron, some specialty tools, and a few other items I’ll need, while I carefully pick up a cake I’ve baked in advance. Just in case. Hot Mess Mabel is definitely not going to chance being in the house today.
I walk up the steps with the man who’s good with his hands. I’m ready to show how sexy, vengeful, and together I can be.
“And as you can see, this is the vital moment—when our baker finishes decorating the delicate heart-shaped cake she’ll serve to our lovebirds,” Ronnie says, and it’s déjà vu as I carefully set the fondant heart so it cascades around the cake.
“Well now, Ronnie,” comes a pretty female voice. “We might actually have the hockey-playing baker serve it.”
That’s Sapphire, the Romance Beach hostess—sweet as sugar and one of the kindest people I’ve met. I can see why Riggs is dating her. And she and Ronnie have definitely been playing up the hockey player angle. The producers even had Corbin walk on set holding his stick, which he now keeps tucked under our table.
I shove all of that out of my mind as Corbin hands me the final fondant heart.
What a change—the last time I decorated a cake in front of Ronnie it was for a local contest and streamed on local TV. Now it’s being recorded and my ex is sitting there with a backward baseball cap on, holding hands with a woman in a silver dress that looks like it was made of Spanx. More power to her. She’s hot, and that’s fine with me. I don’t care about him. His presence doesn’t stress me out. His words don’t concern me. He’s just…the past. If I moved past the way I ran out of Cozy Valley, I can move past him.