“No worries,” I said. “I’ve been fired from most of them, so it’s fine. The only one that actually stung was the coffee shop.”
I kept my voice bright. I wouldnotbring the mood down. I wouldnotadmit how embarrassing it still was. “I mean, can you really be a balloon artist if you can’t make a dog?”
“Uhh…I’m not sure?”
“No, you can’t. It’s a fundamental skill.”
“What happened at the coffee shop?”
During our back-and-forth, I’d brought dinner to the table. Hank followed and, without asking, took my plate and began plating food for me. When he cut up my chicken, it took everything in me not to dissolve into a puddle. Had he been a Daddy before? If not, what the hell was going on?
“When I started, all I did was make coffee. That was fine,” I said. “At the time, they were serving these frozen pastries—gross and overpriced, but whatever. Not my business. The manager knew I liked to bake, so when they forgot to order the usual stuff, he asked me to make a few treats.”
Hank returned my plate without fanfare, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“They sold out really fast. He asked me to make more. Pretty soon, that’s all I did—bake in the back.”
“Sounds like the perfect job. What happened?”
“I was stupid.”
Anger bubbled up, but I did my best to stay even-keeled. It had been six months, and Istillsaw red.
“The manager asked me to write down the recipes so he could price them properly. That made sense, so I did. I even included my specialty modifications.”
“Why was that dumb?”
“Because if I’d paid attention, I would’ve known the owner was about to retire and sell to a chain. The manager gavemyrecipes to the owner after rewriting them inhishandwriting to prove they were his. The owner paidhimfor them so the chain could mass-produce them.”
Hank sat back, jaw dropped.
“You’re kidding me. That asshole used you, stole from you, and gaslit you?”
“Yeah, well, he also offered me a few hundred for the ‘misunderstanding.’ I passed.”
“What thefuck?”
“I was so embarrassed that I’d been dumb enough to handwrite them that I told my family the same excuse he used: I got fired for losing a deposit.”
“So no one knows?”
“Well…Sissy did. Her revenge fantasies were both detailed and illegal in most states.”
“I knew I liked her.”
I smiled.
“So yeah. There you go. My sordid employment history and brush with mass-production pastry greatness.”
“Thanks for helping clean up dinner.”
I popped Hank softly with the dish towel—not enough to hurt, just enough for the snap to get his attention.
“You cooked, so the least I can do is wash.” He grinned. “Thanks for drying.”
His smile, with the crinkle eyes, made me giddy. How was it possible for this man to be single? Was he single? Yeah, he was alone this morning and hadn’t brought anyone with him tonight. Surely, if he were dating someone, he’d have mentioned it. This was likely a question I should have asked earlier. Like much earlier. Like this morning, when I barged into his house and invited him to teach me how to fix fences earlier.
“Your boyfriend, girlfriend, or nonbinary significant other doesn’t mind you having dinner with me tonight? If I knew their name, I would have invited them along.”
