“I wouldn’t have any idea how to do that,” I say with a laugh.
“Can you bring these next week, too?” asks Jake. “And the week after that. And the week after that. And the week after-”
Brit shoots him a look. “We get it.”
I shrug. “I bake all the time, trying out new recipes. I can bring in the extras if you-”
“No. She can’t,” Brit cuts in, her expression as blank and unreadable as usual. I hesitate, trying to coincide her words with the fact that she downed an entire cupcake in under a minute. “They’re great, Sunshine, they really are. You have a real gift. But I can’t afford to put on ten pounds.”
“Brit, come on,” Ollie whines.
Brit cocks an eyebrow, giving the skinny man before her a judgmental once-over. “Just wait untilyourmetabolism decides it’s had enough of your bullshit. Then we’ll talk.”
Ollie glances at Jake. “Why is she so cruel?”
“That’s the way women are, buddy,” he says and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, shooting a dirty look at Brit. “Some more so than others.”
This earns him a smack.
“My sister’s boyfriend is gluten-intolerant and doesn’t eat sugar,” I say, keeping my promise to Mel not to name specifics. Besides Sienna, no one else knows the truth about my living situation, and I made her agree to keep it under wraps. “I could bring in the healthier options I try out on him.” Jake and Ollie make identical faces of disgust, but Brit doesn’t shoot down the idea, so I take it as a good sign. “Trust me, you guys. You won’t be able to tell the difference.”
“Sure, sure,” mumbles Jake.
“If you say so,” mutters Ollie.
“I didn’t know you lived with your sister,” says Brit, which means that Sienna kept her word. “Come to think of it, I have no idea where you live.”
“I gave you my address when I took the job,” I remind her, but she only blinks at me. “128 West Palm Lane. It’s about ten minutes from here, one of the houses on the canal.”
“It’s not one of those giant mansions, is it?” Jake asks. I nod, looking sheepish. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, this insecurity about living in a house that’s too big instead of one that’s too small.
Jake whistles. “Damn.”
Ollie nods. “Ritzy.”
"Violet, we’re partying at your house next time.”
I picture the look of pure outrage sure to grace Landon’s face if I invited my co-workers over for a booze-ridden night swim and almost laugh out loud. Yeah, that would be a surefire way to get me kicked out of their house, especially with Mel gone for the month. “As great as that idea is, Jake, not sure my sister would go for it.”
“Not to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong,” says Ollie.
“Here we go,” mutters Brit.
“But if your sister’s loaded, then why the fuck are you working here?”
That earns him another smack. “Christ, Ollie.”
“Ouch, woman.”
“You can’t ask someone shit like that.”
He rubs his arm, eyeing Brit with a wary expression. “I can’t?”
“No, it’s fine,” I say hurriedly, before any more violence occurs. “My sister and I aren’t close. We’re sort of,” I search for the right word, “estranged.”
Estranged.
I swallow down the word, which lands heavy in my stomach, turning it sour. It doesn’t belong there, and I immediately want to rewind time and take it back. I don’t want to be estranged from my sister. I want us to be close like we used to be, but that’s impossible when she’s on the other side of the country and I’m stuck tiptoeing around her house like a stranger.
