He held up his hands. “I get it. I’ll stay out of it. Until you meet someone, then I’ll scare them off.”
I stared at him. “You’re marrying my friend. You have no say.”
“Oh, come on. It’s been well over a year. Are we still discussing that?”
“Yes, because you’re marrying her.”
“Would you prefer I broke her heart instead?”
I snorted. “You’ve been in love with Kinsley for, like, ten years. You couldn’t break her heart if you tried.”
“All right, no need to remind me of all the years I pined after her.”
I grinned and bit into my slice of pizza.
Shame.
That was my favorite hobby.
It was practically a requisite, being his little sister.
Despite what everyone thought, I really wasn’t lonely. And it wasn’t like I wasn’t seeing anyone—I was. They just happened to be different people that I saw once and hopefully didn’t see again the next morning.
The occasional one-night stand was about all I had the time to commit to.
But that wasn’t the case now. Wedding season was here, and that meant I had orders coming out the wazoo. Cake tastings were happening every other day it felt like, and even though Josh and Kinsley weren’t getting married until next spring, they were with me next week for theirs.
So yes.
I was grateful for the concern of my friends, but it was decidedly misplaced.
“How are the plans coming along? For the wedding,” I added, almost unnecessarily.
Josh walked to my fridge and pulled out a beer, then held up an open bottle of wine in question. When I nodded, he said, “Not a clue. I gave my input for the venue which was surprisingly accepted. Offered it for the color scheme, which was wholeheartedly rejected, and now I just smile and nod as Kinsley throws out ideas. It’s book-themed, which I should have known from the start, but I’m wondering if I need to draw the line at Harry Potter wedding favors.”
“Saylor?”
“Who else?” He handed me my glass and sat down. “It’s just a lot of organizing for something so far away.”
“Well, she’s dreamed about this her entire life. All she wants to do is be a princess for a day. Is that so much?”
“It is when you see the prices these places charge.”
I smirked. “Just as well you don’t have to pay for a cake, isn’t it?”
Josh blinked at me. “What do you mean?”
“You’re coming to a taste test with me next week. Kinsley already told me I’m doing it.” I shrugged. “You think I’m going to charge my brother for his wedding cake?”
More blinking. “You’re—you’re doing it for free?”
My smirk turned into a grin. “Of course I am.”
“Piper—”
“Don’t go soft on me. It’s your wedding gift, so don’t expect anything else.”
Josh smiled at me. “Thank you. You don’t have to do that.”
I jerked a shoulder. “Nah, I do. If I ever get married, it means you’re totally in my debt for one hell of a wedding present.”
He reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “As far as sisters go, you’re not a bad one.”
“I’ll assume that’s a thank you.”
“It is.”
“Good. I usually charge a fortune for those. Now, tell me more about this stupid freakin’ date I’m being manipulated onto.”
CHAPTER TWO – PIPER
RULE TWO: BLIND DATES ARE BEST ORGANIZED BY STRANGERS. OR SERIAL KILLERS.
My alarm blared out of my phone, and I moaned as I rolled over. I stretched my arm out to find the offending device, knocking it off the nightstand, and let out a string of cuss words.
Damn it.
I reached down, grabbed my stupid phone, and turned off the alarm, then looked down at myself.
Great.
My boob was hanging out of my tank top.
Every damn time.
I tucked the escapee titty back inside the shirt and dragged myself out of bed. Four a.m. never got easier. I was hoping by now that I’d wake up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to get going.
At least I could go to work in my pajamas. That was something.
I dragged myself to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, then quickly changed into a shirt my boob wouldn’t pop out of while I was kneading bread. I rubbed my hand down my face and yawned as I headed downstairs to the bakery.
I didn’t have a coffee machine in my apartment. It seemed pretty redundant given I had an industrial one downstairs—if I wanted coffee, I could just run down and get some or make a big pot to take up.
Which was what I did now.
I turned on the kitchen lights as I walked through, pausing for a second to preheat all the ovens, then walked behind the counter at the front of the store.
The coffee machine whirred to life the way I wished I could this early on a morning. After filling it with fresh beans, I set it to make my coffee and scanned the bakery.
It was clean.
God, Felicity was good. Having her work for me was a godsend—she loved baking as much as I did, and she was way more sociable than I was, which meant she’d work everywhere. She also didn’t complain about cleaning.
As soon as I could, I was going to up her salary.
She deserved it.
With my coffee firmly in hand, I went back to the kitchen. It was now perfectly warm to start work thanks to the ovens, and I got the mixtures I’d made yesterday afternoon out of the fridge ready to get baking.
I started with the chocolate chip cookies. Using an ice cream scoop, I carefully set all the cookie dough balls on the trays, cleaning it thoroughly when I went between mixes. Cookies were, unsurprisingly, one of the best sellers, and today I had a batch of some with M&Ms going out. They always sold out fast, so I’d doubled my usual mixture.
If they didn’t sell, I knew my brother would have no problem finishing them up for me.
I put all the trays in the oven and turned my attention to the bread. It was another thing I made the day before—it gave it more than enough time to settle and rise ready to manipulate to my will and meant I didn’t have to mess around on a morning.
I filled the remaining oven space with all the bread, a selection of loaves and rolls, and got to mixing the cake batter. By the time the first few batters were ready, the cookies were good to come out of the oven, so it was a straight switch.
My process continued on for another three hours until there was a knock at the back door. A quick glance at the glass told me it was Felicity, and I grabbed a tray of cheese Danish from the oven and unlocked the door with my other hand.
She pushed it open. “Good morning!”
“Morning, yes. The good is up for debate.” I put the tray down and pulled off my oven mitts. “I burned my pinky finger.”
Felicity came over and took my hand, surveying my finger, and her dark skin against my much paler one was a stark contrast. “There’s nothing there. You’re fine.”
“I know, but sometimes you need to moan. That nail color is amazing.”
She grinned, holding out her hand. “Isn’t it? Mom told me yellow was too bright, but it’s summer, and I like bright.”