I wouldn’t stop talking about Cruz either if I was willing to have nosy people up in my business. “You talk to them that much?”
She gives me aduhlook. “I’m a single woman who works two jobs and writes books, and all my friends are getting married. Yes, I hang out with our parents.”
I’m only slightly relieved that they didn’t need anything while I was indulging in all things Cruz Foster and only called Clem because they’re afraid of bothering me. “I like him a lot.”
“You might’ve had bad taste in men before, but it’s good this time.”
“It was pretty bad before.” I dust the dirt off my garden gloves and slip them off. “I’m not proud of the things I did with Dwayne.” I can’t believe I said that, but telling Cruz and getting his acceptance opened a forbidden door. Without the pressure of keeping it shut, I just want to talk about it all again and relieve some more of the pressure. “He thought he was—what did Mom use to say? ‘All that and a bag of chips.’”
She giggles. “He wasn’t a bag of Doritos?”
“He was the generic plain chips that are almost too salty. Even the sex with him was bland.” Cruz is like the specialty spirits he distills. I never know how it’s going to be, I just know it’ll be good.
“Oh, I definitely get that. Why do you think I started writing romance?”
“I try not to think about your sex life.”
She throws her hands up. “There’s nothing to think about—that’s the problem. I don’t care if it’s missionary for life, I just need it to blow my socks off.”
“You also don’t want missionary for life.”
She exhales a gusty sigh. “I want to be pinned against a wall. Upside down. Spun like a top. I don’t care. I just can’t take another guy who keeps his socks on during sex.”
I snort out a laugh and keep giggling. “You know, I never met him. Jake?”
“Mom and Dad did. Mom faked her vertigo and went to her bedroom to knit. Said he was boring.”
Mom has listened to Dad’s architecture geek-outs and fishing stories for decades. Jake must’ve been more than boring. “Oh, Clem. I hope you find your romance hero. No more socks-on Jake.”
Her lips curve up. “Me too. But until then, I’m glad we’re finally talking about more than how we’re going to clean and pull weeds for our parents.”
My mood dips. “I’m so ashamed that I’ve been afraid to talk about it.”
Her brows draw together and worry lights her eyes. “Why? It’s me.”
I shake my head and scan the yard in case our parents snuck outside. They’re both usually milling around, doing some extra work, but Dad mowed today, and he’s tuckered out. Mom still gets headaches from her fall, so Clem and I chased her back inside. Yet I don’t want to sit on the porch and risk them overhearing.
I plant myself on a big rock that we used to play on when we were young, and Dad was mowing and wanted us out of the way. “I’m the oldest. I’m not supposed to be the fuckup.”
She barks out a laugh. “You are not a fuckup. You own a business and everyone adores the work you do.”
“I used to scam people. On a small scale. Mostly.” My heart pounds once, twice, thumping harder the longer she stays silent.
“I don’t believe it,” she finally says.
“For drinks and food. I’d go with Dwayne when women would pay for his vacations.”
Her eyes go wide. “They do that?”
“There’s a lot of loneliness out there. The best thing that happened to me”—until Cruz swaggered into the bakery—“was when Dwayne got arrested. It ended up being for drugs. So stupid, but he was greedy to a fault. Ugh, I should’ve known better.”
She fists her hands at her sides. “Quit taking responsibility for a grown man. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t I tell my sister in graduate school that her older sister was conning meals out of men who bought me food because I let them think they could fuck me later?”
“Yes! What’d you think I’d do? Cut you out of my life?”
“It’s a small town. I wasn’t going to tellanyone. What if Mom or Dad let something slip and word got around? All they’d have to say is my ex is in prison and people would find out details for themselves. I run a business and everyone trusts me. I was complicit.”
