Marissa called out, “Tell them I say thank you as well!”
“My boss,” I explained.
“No problem. But just to be clear, I’m doing this for you, not her.”
My chest warmed. Maybe Hank was offering only friendship, but friendship was pretty damn good sometimes.
I disconnected and turned to Marissa’s expectant face. “Okay, let’s get this done.”
“Yes! I’ll handle the cake. You finish Theo’s sauces.”
“Got it.”
We worked in tandem, each of us anticipating the other’s moves, as I finished up the entrees while Marissa painstakingly frosted the cake. Luckily, we’d made the appetizers ahead of time or we’d really be in trouble.
By the time we had everything boxed up and ready for pickup by the family, fifty minutes had passed in the blink of an eye.
I took off my apron, discarded my plastic gloves, and washed my hands. “I better get going.”
“See you later. Thanks again, Jamie. I don’t know what I’d do without you!”
I let myself out the door and headed for my car, guiltswirling in my stomach. Marissa and I made a good team—and I was her most reliable employee—but every day it was harder to clock in and rush around fulfilling someone else’s dream.
And the more stressful the job got, the more I thought about quitting.
I drove to the address Hank gave me, thoughts meandering along what-if paths. Could I make a new business work? Would Marissa forgive me if I did? And if I failed, would she take me back? I couldn’t stand the idea of a life working in someone else’s kitchen, never free to create something of my own.
Maybe if the dog biscuits didn’t work out, I really would open that bakery my family always suggested. At least it would be mine.
Hank lived in a little townhouse connected to several others. They had a sandy stucco exterior, with red trim and cute tile roofing.
I hopped out of my car and rushed up the walk. Hank opened the door, greeting me as I reached the porch.
“Hey, Jamie. Come on in.”
The dogs were dancing up a storm behind him. He held Bruno in one arm, and probably a good thing or the poor guy would get stampeded.
“I should probably just take them and go…”
“We just made dinner. Have you eaten? You could come in and relax a minute before you take off. You look tired.”
“You have no idea.” I sagged against the door frame, my adrenaline crashing now that I wasn’t rushing around.
He chuckled. “You poor thing.”
He grasped my arm, just above the wrist, and tugged me gently forward. “Come in. Corey made some barbecuechicken. It won’t be catering quality, but he serves it at the diner, and it’s pretty tasty.”
My stomach rumbled. I’d eaten a few nibbles early in the day, but as things got hectic, I didn’t have time to even notice my hunger, much less do something about it.
“That sounds really good. I didn’t know Corey cooked at The Diner.”
“It’s a new development. Their short-order cook bailed, so he got promoted from washing dishes.”
“And you’re sure he won’t mind me eating his food?”
Hank drew me forward, all the way into a one-armed hug that surprised the hell out of me. His voice rumbled next to my ear while his arms held me. “Of course he won’t mind. There’s plenty.”
His body was so big, so warm. My heart skipped a beat, then pattered a confused rhythm.
