Now, as she kept an eye on the ganache and the last batch of choux buns, she glanced at the clock. Avery would be here soon.
“These are done.” Brooke set a box of macarons on the coffee table. “Let me do that while you go change.”
One hand holding the cord just so, Jo clamped the other on top of the mixer’s motor housing. It was prone to travel across the counter if unattended. She looked down at her T-shirt smeared with raspberry. Her black yoga pants were dotted with powdered sugar and buttercream.
“Right.” She looked at the chocolate ganache in the bowl. “It just needs another few minutes.”
From years of practice, they made the transition without the motor cutting out. Everything was done except filling the choux buns.
“And answer your damn phone,” Brooke yelled as Jo trotted down the hall, “tell them all to go to hell, and then change your number.”
If only.
Jo grabbed the cashmere sweater she’d ordered online earlier in the week after Melody called, saying she hoped Jo didn’t mind that she got Jo’s number from Avery, but shewanted to let Jo know the family was going ranch casual—jeans and boots. More in Jo’s comfort zone than the dress and heels she’d planned. The sweater arrived this morning, but she hadn’t had a chance to try it on yet.
Crossing her fingers, she stripped, slipped the sweater over her head, and picked up Walt’s call on the last ring. “Hello?”
The other end was silent for a minute before he said, “I didn’t think you were going to answer.”
She held the phone to her ear and shimmied into new jeans because the holes and frayed seams on her old ones weren’t made by a designer. “Sorry, I’m working.”
“You found a job?”
More or less, if she could count Avery’s crazy scheme a job. “Yes.”
“She got a new job.” His voice was waffled—a hand over the phone? “She can’t talk right now.”
I never said that.
Which meant he was making the call under pressure and would use any excuse to get out of talking to her.
“Working the pole?” Even muffled, Georgia’s snide tone came through.
“If she cared at all,” Lydia said, “work wouldn’t interfere with family.”
Jo ground her teeth. She didn’t have time or the emotional bandwidth for this. Her nerves were as frayed as her old jeans.
“Walt?” She yanked on a pair of socks, shoved her feet into her not-so-new but comfy boots, and headed for the bathroom.
He sighed. “Yeah, uh, hang on.”
More background conversation ensued as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror. The dusty blue sweater made her eyes pop, but it was a little deeper in the cleavage than she’d like, considering this was more of a business meeting than a backyard barbecue.
She pulled the scrunchie from her hair. It fell in waves around her shoulders, hiding the skin above the neckline. That’s better. “Walt?”
“You need a plus one,” he blurted out. “Are you bringing the new boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” She fluffed the top of her hair and plucked a bit of buttercream from the top.
“I saw the picture. Looks like you know him pretty damn well.”
Ugh. “I gotta go.”
“Wait! Sorry, I’m just getting a lot of shit here. Can’t you at least ask?”
Her arm flopped to her side. They didn’t care if she came or not. Only that she brought her richboyfriend.
Jo headed up the hall.“We barely know each other, so no, I’m not asking Avery to—”
