“You really ran with the relationship hour and overachieved.”
I shift on the guest bed and stare at the hallway door as Hunter’s footsteps move past it. “We are getting out of the friend zone and into therapist territory,” I remind her.
She frowns, tilting her head in a way that reminds me of Charlie. “What do you need from me as your friend?”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “I think I’m falling for him.”
She smiles, and it’s so full of fucking sunshine it almost hurts to see. “Have you told him things you haven’t told others?”
“I told him things I haven’t even told you.”
She claps. Odd. I would have thought she’d get upset that a man I’ve known for less time has surpassed the comfortability and openness between the two of us.
“I love this for you! I’m so excited. Take your time, Ellie, and enjoy the fall. It’s about time someone broke through those walls and made you realize you have so much to offer the world not just as a hacker, but as Ellie.”
A gentle rap sounds at the door. “I have to go,” I tell her. “He’s knocking on my door.”
“I want updates!” she demands with a smile. “Daily.”
I roll my eyes and end the call. “Come in,” I shout.
He opens the door and blinks at me being fully dressed and ready for the day. “Hey.”
My lips twitch. Now, he’s shy? After giving me the best orgasm of my life he’s suddenly knocking on doors and saying ‘hey’?
“Hey, yourself.”
“Cheryl called. She needs a hand at the bakery.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Hopefully, your phone call demand can wait.”
He runs a hand through his hair and takes a few steps into the room. “It can’t, and since you guys were meant to meet tomorrow anyway, I thought you could kill two birds with one stone.”
“No.”
“Eleanor.”
“I can’t cook.”
“Please? I promise to make you come several times tonight.”
My brows furrow. “Orgasms are not currency.”
“They should be.”
“You’re blackmailing me with pleasure.”
“You are being dramatic.”
I sigh and snap my laptop closed. I’ve already checked everything I can, and a few hours with William’s wife seems like a reasonable payment. “Fine.”
He grins, and I sit up straight, biting my lip. Why am I suddenly making everyone smile today? Since when am I that person?
“Great. Let’s go.”
The back roomof a bakery that makes everything in house is huge and a little impressive. Cheryl is indeed alone, but she hardly seems flustered as she handles the multiple alarms with finesse while continuing to serve hungry folks at the counter. It’s made easier by the fact most customers have accounts or prepaid for their orders, so it’s simply a case of passing their goodies over.
I learn what a glaze is, and that there are more types of pastry than flaky. The entire kitchen smells of baked peaches, and it’s making my stomach rumble as I transfer cookies from baking sheets to cooling racks. Cheryl peppers me with seemingly harmless questions I answer truthfully, understanding they can be interpreted many ways.
