“Sorry, I don’t know much about you. Fletcher just gave me your number and said I should call you, so I did.”
He laughs. “And you did what he said just like that?”
“What can I say? I’m good at following directions.” I cringe when Constantine’s smile goes from amused to interested.
“Good to know. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dodge your calls. Fletcher said you were looking for help and that you’d call, but I’ve had a lot on my plate this year, and I wasn’t ready to move to the East Coast.”
I’m not looking for help. I’m desperate for it. The good, non-fire-setting kind, which, judging by these brownies alone, Constantineisit.
“And you’re ready now?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Do you want to tell me about the job? Again, Fletcher didn’t say much except that I’m the man for thejob—as proven by the amazing brownie you just tasted—and that the job comes with accommodation.”
Accommodation? Well, this is news to me.
“Accommodation…right.” I pretend to look at my watch. “Give me a moment. I’ll be right back.”
I leave the kitchen, pulling my phone out to call Fletcher.
“Julius, please don’t tell me you’re calling because your new helper set fire to the kitchen. I need the brownies, dude. George and Megan are having a sleepover with their friends, and if I can’t supply the goods, there will be a riot. As it is, Harrison is not happy that I agreed to this sleepover when we were supposed to have the weekend to ourselves.”
“Hmm, I know how he feels.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you tell Conn—Constantine—that the job here comes with accommodation?”
“Um…yes? You said you were moving back into your new place and the apartment above Bittersweet would be free. You talked about renting it out. Remember when Sage said you could use it for hookups? Or, more precisely, forhishookups.”
I sigh. “I remember.”
“And that was what, a year ago. Wait—has he…finally taken your call?”
Oh shit, I think I’ve put my giant foot in my equally giant mouth. “Yeah…kinda.”
“Okay, is it going to be a problem? I mean, you’re not living in the apartment, are you?”
“No. It’s not a problem.” As long as Constantine doesn’t mind sharing a tiny one-bedroom apartment with his kid and a big dude. I guess I’m moving back home. No point delaying the inevitable. “I was just caught by surprise, that’s all.”
“Okay. Harrison is picking up the brownies on his way home from work. Can you add two slices of your carrot cake to theorder? It’s the only way I can make it up to my husband for cockblocking him with a bunch of kids.”
“Sure. It’ll be ready for pick up.”Thanks to your friend. The friend who clearly hasn’t told you he’s in town.
I end the call and turn back to the kitchen. Constantine is bent over the island, looking at something on his phone. He has my notebook open and my pen hovering over something he’s already written down.
It should annoy me that he’s making himself at home in my kitchen, but it doesn’t. Quite the opposite. He looks like the space was made for him. I always feel too big for it and prefer to be behind the counter talking to my customers.
Baking is something I’m good at and enjoy, but it’s not my passion. It’s just a handy talent.
“So…” I start.
When he looks up, he smiles. His tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth and my eyes zero in on it as it disappears again.
My eyes meet his, and I know I’ve been caught staring.
“So…” He tilts his head to the side.
“About the accommodation. I’m kinda living in it.”
