Sweet Cheeks (45 page)

“You weren’t joking, were you?” Ryder asks as he looks up from the email to meet my eyes.

“No. Can you believe it?”

“That’s a huge amount of cupcakes.” I can see him mentally calculating the profit and what it means to the store. “Like enormous.”

“Yeah. I know. Do we have the capability to do it?” I ask, knowing it means I’d have to hold off on paying him back because I’d have to redirect those funds to buy the extra supplies needed to make this work. I bite my lip and wait for him to say no.

“If we don’t, we’ll make sure we do.” Something about the way he looks at me right now causes my breath to catch. It’s like looking at my dad. The expression on his face is identical to the one my dad would give me when he was proud of me. Every part of me preens from his unshakable support. “Breakup cupcakes. Who would’ve thought?”

“I know. We’ve received about ten orders for them today.”

That catches his attention. I can all but see the cogs of his mind turning. “We need to update the website ASAP. We’ll dedicate a whole page to this product and start looking into how to sell franchise opportunities to other stores to help with this increased demand. Internet sales are where it’s at, and if we could get something going on that front then—”

“Whoa. Slow down, turbo.” I laugh but feel the same excitement he does.

“There are divorce support groups like this all over America, Say. You could tap into this niche.”

“One thing at a time.” I roll my eyes at him but silently sigh in relief. This phone call might be just what the bakery needs to turn the tide toward success and not failure.

“I might not kill him after all,” Ryder mutters as I walk out of the back room.

@HayesWhitOffcl

Are you a camera @SweetChks? Because every time I look at you I smile. #10Days #GrudgeCupcake #Determined #MadA-Game

TWO DAYS LEFT

“D
ude, do you have any coffee in this joint?”

Fuck, I’m tired. And hyped. Dreading the long day ahead but loving that I get to see her today. I shuffle down the carpeted hall I used to practice my baseball slide on and into the kitchen. It’s painted a different color now but that doesn’t erase the memories it holds. Of where the jar used to sit on the counter full of the cookies I would steal from Saylor. Of the cupboard to the left of the refrigerator where Mrs. Rodgers used to hide a stash of candy we all would sneak from when we didn’t think she was paying attention. Of sitting down for meals and there was always a place setting made up for me whether I asked to eat here or not.

Ryder sits in the same location as when we were kids, but at a different table and lifts his eyes to meet mine. He looks as worse for wear as I feel—and points his finger to the Kuerig on the counter.

“Thanks.” I brew some coffee, doctor it, then sit across from him and think that this is where it all started for me
. My love for Saylor
.

We sit in comfortable silence. The kind two friends who have known each other forever can sit in without words and figure out how we feel about the turn of events.

“Do you think Jenna’ll show?” He raises his eyebrows and pushes one of the tabloids to the side he was looking at to see if shit was dying down.

“If she knows what’s good for her, she will.”

“Hmm.”

“Is my IOU paid off yet?” I chuckle. Thinking about back then—a few months after I’d left for Hollywood and was waiting for filming to start—how he helped my mom out, separating their mess of finances when my dad came after her in their divorce. How I had no money to pay him, but he called in favors anyway and got everything I needed to help get her taken care of. And despite his continued denials, I know he paid money out of his own pocket to get those favors done for me.

“Make her cry again, I’ll still punch you. I don’t care how famous your ugly ass is.”

“So noted.” I nod my head. Tuck my tongue in my cheek and prepare myself for the day ahead. “She have any clue about today?”

“Not a one.”

Good.

I miss her.

It’s sure as shit going to be hard to stick to my guns and
not
talk to her when I see her.

TWO DAYS LEFT

TWITTER

@HayesWhitOffcl

@SweetChks Are you still in need of a cardboard cut-out holding a sign selling your wares? #10Days #MadA-Game #GrudgeCupcakes #Anticipation

@SweetChks

@HayesWhitOffcl Only if I get to place the flour handprints. In the right places. #IveGotGameToo #10Days #TalkIsCheap

@HayesWhitOffcl

@SweetChks Proud of you. Class act the other day. BTW, what’s the most important thing in a kitchen to you? #GameOn #48Hours #ActionIsBetter

@SweetChks

@HayesWhitOffcl Granite slab on the island. With flour. And sugar.

#MmMmGood Can we skip the next #2880minutes?

@HayesWhitOffcl

@SweetChks I’m a man of my word. What are you going to do to try to break me of it? #Decisions #GameChanger #ILoveIcingInYourHair #CountersAndFlour

@SweetChks

@HayesWhitOffcl I’ve got my ways to make you talk. #MadSkillz #GameChanger

@HayesWhitOffcl

Better bring your A-Game @SweetChks Mine’s stronger. #HayesFTW #ShipsSink

TWO DAYS LEFT

I
t’s hard to be in a bad mood when you wake up and have a Twitter flirt with Hayes. It’s the first time he’s responded and it’s ridiculously silly that the small interaction put me on cloud nine. Yet it has.

Between the divorce organization proposal I spent all night working on that I sent to Ryder for his opinion, my little morning exchange with Hayes, and the knowledge I get to speak with (and hopefully see) him in forty-eight hours—after his asinine ten-day rule is up—today feels like it’s going to be a good day.

I slowly enjoy sipping my coffee and spend a little extra time getting ready. I feel relief and contentment, which is welcome after a tumultuous couple of months.

“Say? You’re going to want to come down and see this,” DeeDee calls up the stairs, just as I finish getting ready. There’s something in her voice that reminds me of the first time Hayes came to Sweet Cheeks.

I shut the door to my apartment and jog down the stairs to find the bakery abuzz. A camera has been set up in one corner. Men in dark clothes with headsets huddle in another. All of the tables and chairs have been pushed to the side of the room except for one set. A tray of my most lavishly decorated cupcakes has been set atop it.

What the hell is going on?

The slew of photographers outside has grown tenfold with their cameras held at the ready, all vying for shots of what’s going on inside the store.

“What the—?” I’m about to lose my temper. Just because the letters on the logos of their jackets belong to one of the biggest entertainment networks—doesn’t mean they can just waltz into my bakery and take over without asking.

It’s then I catch the look on DeeDee’s face—huge grin and excitement palpable—and then Ryder standing beside her looking just as excited but with guilt mixed in.

“What’s going on?” My hands are on my hips and accusation is in my tone.

“The studio rented out the space for the day. They gave Hayes the okay to do a few interviews here for his upcoming movie.” Ryder challenges me to argue with him but all I heard was
Hayes
and
here
and my heart leaps into my throat.

“He’s coming here?”

“Do you not want him to?” The smirk on Ryder’s lips is half-cocked.

“Yes. No, I mean, yes, he can come.” I’m ridiculously flustered. A million questions and thoughts run through my mind, but the one that rings the loudest is
I get to see Hayes
.

I don’t think of the crazy-ass press outside who I lied to when I said there was nothing exciting happening here. I don’t worry about whether the Divorce Support proposal is good enough. I can’t. Because my mind and body are focused on Hayes Whitley and getting to see him again.

Over the next hour, I watch the people in the bakery prepare for the interview. I rearrange the cupcakes on the staged table. I pepper my brother with what seems like a thousand questions as to how this happened, but of course, get very little out of him. I roll my eyes at DeeDee when she tells me she had no clue until this morning. Her answer seems suspect, considering her extra effort at cleaning up last night.