Getting Lei’d
Page 8
“Doing okay?” she asks.
I nod. Savannah smiles up at me. “Sit down before you collapse. I think you need some sugar.”
“Gee, you’re so warm and inviting.”
My other best friend snorts and flips me off. Savannah Martinez, the youngest and most talented of the Martinez Restaurant family. While EJ is open and boisterous, Savannah is pessimistic and quiet. I’m truly touched that she is here after closing the night before. Saturday mornings are for sleeping in Savannah’s world.
“Be nice or I won’t treat you to your favorite tonight.”
My mouth waters. “Cheese enchiladas?”
“Yeah. And I took tonight off, which is a big thing.”
And it is. Savannah is the head chef for her family’s most successful restaurant. Taking a Saturday night off is not a normal thing, especially the weekend before Cinco de Mayo. Their restaurant will definitely be packed with idiots.
“Thank you.”
“I think we should go to La Trinidad,” Savannah says. Her family owns the restaurant, and while Savannah oversees all their restaurants, La Trinidad is the one she works in. “We can drink Austin’s margaritas, then make him drive us home.”
Savannah’s oldest brother makes the best margaritas.
“That sounds like a plan.”
“What are you three planning?” my brother Harry asks as he leans down and kisses the top of my head. He’s four years older, but we’re closer than most other siblings I know. It came from what we endured together as children while our mother was sick. That fear never really leaves you after one of your parents fights for their life.
He’s wearing trousers and a white shirt, his custom uniform. There’s no reason to dress so nice since all he does is handle the books for Camos and Cupcakes, but Harry likes to dress like he has a real job. His words, not mine. I know. He’s kind of anal, but I still love him. Most of the time.
“I’m going to eat my cupcake, then we are going to go out tonight for dinner. I take it after EJ gets done with the shop?” I raise one eyebrow in question.
EJ nods. “Yeah. Sammy’s closing tonight.”
“You’re going to leave her on her own?” I ask. Sammy is a sweet college student, but she has the air of absent-minded professor about her.
“Naw. I hired another pretty boy. He’ll keep her company.”
“Do you always use derogatory terms for men like that?” My brother asks without malice.
“It’s not. He is pretty and he’s twenty, so he is a boy. And he’s good at work.”
“So, you’re going out too, Savannah?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she says, looking down at her phone with a frown. She’s not being rude, she’s being Savannah. Her family’s business makes it impossible for her to ever get away. There are constant texts and emails and while my job as a chemo nurse can kick my ass, I don’t think I would ever be able to deal with Savannah’s life.
“I’ve been promised cheese enchiladas and Austin Margaritas.”
They weren’t a thing but that’s what I call them. I am going to drink my weight in them since I won’t have Ed’s frosting to eat. And, of course, that leads to other thoughts and euphuisms. I really do need to find a man.
“So, no guys?” he asks.
“No. Absolutely not. We want no men horning in on our fun.”
“What about Austin?” he asks.
“He doesn’t count,” I say.
“I think he might disagree with you,” Savannah says, humor lacing her words.
“You know what I mean. He’s our margarita man. MM.” I like that acronym. I think we need to start calling him that.
“Well, make sure you call me if you three need a ride home,” he says. I might be almost thirty, but my brother still sees me as a tween who needs to check in.
“Thank you. Now, go away. I’m sure you have numbers to crunch.”
He laughs and leaves us to our cupcakes.
“I have no idea why he puts up with you,” Savannah says.
“He has too. We’re blood. Plus, I’m still holding the goods on a few stories that can be used as blackmail. I know it. He knows it.”
I slip my finger over the icing lightly, just skimming a little of the sugary sweetness off the top. I lick my finger and bite back a hum. Barely. The fresh strawberry frosting is light and sweet and…damn. Just that little taste has my head thinking of all kinds of bad things. I imagine that he made this cupcake in particular for me—wearing nothing but an apron.
“You’re both adults. I have a feeling that blackmail time is past,” EJ says.
“You have no siblings, so you have no idea. Tell her, Savannah.”
Savannah pulls her attention back from ger phone and looks at me, then EJ. “She’s probably right. Plus, Harry is so OCD it’ll drive him crazy not to tie up all those loose ends.”
“What the hell does that mean?” EJ asks. She truly has no idea what we’re talking about.
“There’s this thing between siblings. It’s primal. We all fight for attention from our parents until they die. Knowing my brothers and sister, they would probably even figure out a way to get back at me after my parents leave earth,” Savannah says.
“And, let’s be honest. Part of the fun is leaving Harry wondering what I have on him.”
“He doesn’t know?” EJ asks.
I shake my head as I slowly pull the paper from my cupcake. I like to take my time whenever I eat an Ed cupcake. Part of it is because I don’t eat many of them, because I’d weigh six hundred pounds if I consumed as many of them as I truly wanted. But the other reason, the most important reason of all, is because Ed made them, and that makes them the best cupcakes in the world. Also, there was a little tiny part of me that hoped he was thinking about me when he made them. Even better if he baked them while naked.
My eyes slide closed as I bite into the little treat and moan. The tart lemon, with a hint of sour cream, along with the super sweet strawberry frosting, danced over my taste buds.
“Good lord, get a room,” EJ says.
My eyes pop open and I realize that both of my friends are watching me. I swallow, then reach for my coffee.
“What?”
“You sound like you’re having sex with your cupcake,” Savannah says. “Just ask him out already.”
I sniff. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sweetie, please, we know you’re still in love with Ed,” EJ says.
My face heats. “I’m not in love with him.”
Sure, I told them more than once about my crush, but there’s no reason for my friends to know that I am neck deep in love and going under for the third time. Or that I think a lot about his…frosting.
“It’s the cupcake and that’s it.”
I glare them both into silence, then pick up my cupcake and start to eat it again. Nothing is going to dampen my experience with my treat.
About the Author
From an early age, USA Today Bestselling author Melissa loved to read. When she discovered the romance genre, she started to listen to the voices in her head. After years of following her AF Major husband around, she is happy to be settled in Northern Virginia surrounded by horses, wineries, and many, many Wegmans.
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