“What the hell. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” He slugged back a hit of the wine, and the sweetness made him cough and choke until he got his breath back.
I grabbed the bottle from him. “Can’t hold your liquor, Pearson?”
“That’s the girliest thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life, and I work in a place that makes cupcakes.”
I drank from it longer this time, smacking my lips when I finished. “All the more for me,” I slurred, my steps uneven and crisscrossed.
“Somebody has to be sober in a few hours when it’s time to start baking, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be you,” Brady muttered, taking my elbow to help me walk in a straight line.
He dutifully helped me up the stairs to my apartment, took the key, unlocked the door, and helped me to the couch. I fell hard onto the cushion and brought the bottle to my lips again.
“I’ll be fine at four a.m. Unlike some people, I’m not a pansy-ass who can’t work with a hangover.”
“I can work with a hangover,” he insisted. “I just prefer not to. Sit. I’ll be right back.”
“You’re not the boss of me!” I yelled. “I’m your boss, remember?”
“Only when we’re downstairs. Up here, I can boss you around, too.”
“I don’t think that’s how this works!”
I GRINNED, ENJOYING this new side of Haylee. She was all kinds of funny drunk, which told me she would be funny sober, too, if she’d let her guard down. I bet Amber got to see her humorous side all the time. I was a little bit jealous that I didn’t.
While she was busy swigging her sweet wine, I wandered through her tiny kitchen and finally found a frozen pizza in the freezer. I put it in the oven to bake and noticed the calendar on the side of the fridge. The page for July was missing, unless I slept through the whole month, but I didn’t think so. When the coffee machine finished spitting out a cup of liquid gold, I carried it back into the living room, swapping the bottle of wine for the cup of coffee.
“I think you should ask for a refund on your calendar. It’s missing the month of July,” I pointed out, setting the bottle of wine out of sight.
“That’s because Amber ripped it up. She said I had to stop focusing on my birthday,” Haylee explained as she dutifully sipped the coffee. “She’s a real buzzkill to a girl’s goals in life. You know what? You’re a real buzzkill with this coffee bit, too. If Amber were here, she’d let me have the wine.”
“I’ve decided that Amber isn’t always the best influence.”
“Duh,” she said, her eyes rolling around in her head, and she had to work hard to make them stop. “We’ve been friends since we were four. That was the day she convinced me that old Mrs. Daniels wouldn’t care if we picked her flowers to give to Amber’s mom.”
“She cared?” I asked, laughter in my voice.
“Oh, she cared. Amber and I have been thick as thieves ever since.”
The timer went off on the oven, and I stood, pointing at her. “Stay put and finish the coffee.”
“Stay put and finish the coffee,” she mimicked. “You’re still not the boss of me.”
Some men might feel emasculated with the constant reminders that she was the boss, but I wasn’t one of those men. I preferred working for a woman. They most often were more willing to stop and think about other’s suggestions before insisting something be done their way. At least in my experience. Besides, Haylee was a lot easier on the eyes than my last boss, who had been six feet and nearly three hundred pounds.
After I stowed the rest of the wine in the fridge, I strode back into the living room, carrying the pizza and two plates. “Ta-da!”
Haylee lifted a brow at me and then started to clap slowly. “Wow. The baker managed to bake a frozen pizza.” She pushed herself up off the couch. “Standing ovation.”
I laughed and shoved her in the shoulder gently until she plopped back down on the couch. “Smart ass. Here, eat some of this now. Maybe you’ll be sober enough by four a.m. not to burn down the bakery.”
She bit into the pizza and moaned low in her throat. The sound made my dick jump in my pants on its own accord. All I could think about was that sound in my ear while I was bringing her to climax. The thought made me choke, and I coughed, covering it with a smile when she glanced at me sharply.
“You okay, bro?” she asked, taking another bite.
I swear she could see right through me and knew exactly what I was thinking. “Fine, thanks. I’m hungry, and it was too hot.”
“I bet you worked up quite an appetite out there preening for the ladies,” Haylee agreed.
“Waterskiing is hard work. It requires a lot of stamina. You should try it.”
“Never going to happen,” she said around the pizza in her mouth. “I can’t swim.”
“You can’t swim?”
She shook her head until she swallowed the bite of pizza. “Not well. I’m all hips and ass. It’s not pretty.”
I so badly wanted to say it was pretty. So pretty. I knew better.
She had a second piece in her hand when I glanced up again. She held up the pizza. “See, this is the reason I’m all hips and ass. Pizza and cupcakes.”
“You seem to think that being all hips and ass is a bad thing. At least that’s the impression I’ve garnered over the last seven years.”
The eye roll she gave me was powerful, and I would give it an eight out of ten if I were passing out scores. At least this time, she was able to bring them back to the center without as much effort. “As if you think being all hips and ass isn’t a bad thing. Give me a break. I have a bridge for sale if you don’t. Look at you with all your muscles in all the right places ‘n shit.”
I had to bite back my laughter, so I didn’t choke on my pizza. “’N shit? I worked hard for these muscles just like you’ve worked hard on those hips and ass.”
The pizza fell back to the plate, and the death glare she threw at me burned me to ash in the chair. “I’ve looked like this since the day I came out of the womb. Sometimes you’re the ass.”
“Why do you fight it then?”
“Fight what?”
“Being all hips and ass, to use your phrasing.”
The pizza went back to her lips, and she took a bite, silently chewing while she glared at me. “Darla McFinkle.”
“What about her?”
“She’s the reason I fight it. Her, and Jerry, Tim, Tieg, and that asshole I had brunch with today. Matt? Mike? Moses? Max?” Her hand waved in the air. “Something like that.”
“What about Darla? I’m confused.”
“If you’re confused, then you must be slow. Let me spell it out for you.” Her hands made a stick straight figure to her left. “Darla McFinkle. Tiny and adorable since day one.” She made a wavy line to her right. “Haylee Davis. A cupcake since day one.”
I raised a brow. “A cupcake?”
“Look at me!” she said, bolting upright. “I look like a cupcake. Thick on the bottom, thin on top.”
“Oh, I’m looking,” I drawled appreciatively. “I look every day, but I’m smart enough not to take a bite.” Her eyes rolled, and she sat again. “You’re saying that Darla is the reason you hate on yourself all the time about your figure?”