Sugarlips (Beefcakes Book 2)

by Katana Collins

  Her eyes flicked to the destroyed chair—Dan’s chair that I had taken a knife to last night. “Do I even want to ask?”

  I shrugged as though stabbing a leather La-Z-Boy was a completely normal thing to do. “It was Dan’s chair.”

  “Ah,” she said and thankfully let the subject drop.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

  “Not really,” she said.

  “Do you…do we… hate Neil? Am I supposed to hate him, too, now?”

  She shook her head, sadly and slowly sawed into her donut with her knife and fork. “No,” she whispered. “We don’t hate Neil.”

  I nodded but didn’t push when she didn’t offer any more information. Even though she didn’t have to work today and had spent the day traveling, she still wore black dress pants and a crisp button-down shirt. While I, on the other hand, donned yoga pants and a tank top that said: My ideal weight is Jason Momoa on top of me. Elaina and I were as different as sisters could be, and yet, somehow, we were friends despite them. Like the ABC special I saw where the mountain lion befriended the goat. Elaina and I shouldn’t work… we shouldn’t be friends. Lots of sisters weren’t. But for some reason, our differences drew us closer.

  She kicked off her ballet flats and tucked her feet under her as she took her first bite of donut. “Oh my God, these are good.”

  “Yeah?”

  She was in the same spot Liam had been sitting when we watched movies last night.

  “I made them,” I said proudly.

  Immediately, Elaina’s face crumpled as she looked from me to the donut, then back to me again. “You made these?”

  “Okay, fine,” I sneered as I plopped down in a chair opposite of her. “I had some help.”

  “Ah, there it is. I didn’t know you had any girlfriends who could walk and chew gum at the same time, let alone bake.”

  “Easy there,” I snapped. “I know you’re in a bad mood, but don’t come down on my girlfriends.” I swallowed a bite of donut before I added, “Besides, it wasn’t a girlfriend who helped me bake these.”

  “I thought you said—”

  “I said I had help.”

  Her brows creased, deep in thought as she stared at the donut on her plate. “Then who did you bake them with?”

  I pressed my lips together for a fraction of a second, wondering how to say this. “Last night when you sent Liam here—”

  Elaina’s face drained of color. “Oh, God. No. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”

  I chewed my cheek for a second. “Define ‘sleep with’…”

  “Chloe! He is my ex-boyfriend’s brother!”

  “Okay, but I didn’t know that last night!”

  “You knew he was my boyfriend’s brother last night, though, and you thought that’d be okay?” She launched to her feet, tossing the donut aside. Huh. I saw this going differently in my head. “And weren’t you broken-hearted?” She started pacing my living room.

  “Elaina, calm down—”

  “I mean, you sounded broken-hearted on the phone last night. Oh, my God. Did Liam take advantage of you? I’ll kill him—”

  “No! No.” I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Okay, let me start over. Liam came over last night to bring me cupcakes after you texted him. I was really drunk when he got here, so he stayed to make sure I was okay. We watched movies, then I puked, and he held my hair back. He slept upstairs with me, but we did not have sex. He’s just… he’s a good guy. I think we’re sort of friends now.”

  Elaina’s mouth twisted, but she thankfully lowered back down to a seat. “Okay. That’s… well, better. I guess.”

  I inhaled slow and deep. “He was amazing last night. And I felt so much better after you sent him over here, I wanted to do something nice for you in return. So… he helped me bake these donuts for you.”

  Elaina nodded and took another tentative bite, as though she didn’t quite trust the donuts yet. Or maybe it was me she didn’t quite trust yet. “Okay,” she said.

  “I think Liam and I are becoming really good friends.”

  “From one night?”

  I shrugged. Last night felt different and special. I was more myself and relaxed with Liam than I was with any of my girlfriends… and that included Tanja. Which was strange and liberating.

  Elaina licked frosting off the fork. “Well, as long as you two don’t date. You cannot date my ex-boyfriend’s brother.”

  I ignored the pang of guilt in my gut from the kiss we shared. “But… what if we’re soul mates?” I asked quietly, half-teasing.

  “Oh my freaking God, Chloe… I swear, if you date him, I’ll never speak to you again!”

  Her voice became so shrill, I had to cover my ear with the paper-towel-clad hand. “Jesus. Okay, okay. We won’t date.”

  Elaina stood, storming across the room until she was standing in front of me with her pinky outstretched. “Promise me.”

  “Oh, come on—”

  “Chloe. I know you. Promise me.”

  I linked my pinky with hers. “Fine. I promise.” We shook on it like we used to when we were eight years old. “Liam and I will just be friends. But I’m going to warn you, we’ll probably be best friends.”

  “If you say so. As long as you’re not best friends who fuck.” Elaina rolled her eyes at me before spinning on her toes like a prima ballerina and dropping elegantly back onto the sofa, donut plate in hand. She stabbed another bite and shoved it between her lips, chewing a moment before the tension between her brows melted and her head fell back against the armrest. “God, why do they have to be such good bakers?”

  “I know,” I moaned into my own bite. “It’s, like, not even fair that the universe gave them looks and talent. One or the other, universe! On the bright side, though… you may lose weight now that you’re not dating Neil anymore.”

  Elaina snorted. “I swear, after the day I had yesterday, I needed this. I needed it at like midnight last night in my hotel room, but nothing was open.”

  I laughed, licking the frosting off the pads of my fingers. “There should be a junk food delivery service for when you’ve been dumped. Like you call a number and a slew of donuts and cupcakes and cookies arrive at your house. A food truck for people who’ve been dumped.”

  Elaina laughed, but even her laugh was sort of sad. “That might be your most brilliant idea yet. I’ve never seen the appeal of a food truck until now.”

  I licked my lips as a spark ignited in my chest. “A food truck… with baked goods catered to people who’ve been dumped. A Dump Truck.” Elaina laughed, but I was dead serious. “I could market the shit out of that.”

  Elaina raised her brows. “Speaking of marketing, are you looking for a job now that…” she faded off, and the words that went unsaid sliced into my soul.

  “Now that I don’t have a wedding to plan?” Elaina had told me not to listen to Dan. She, along with my mom and dad had all warned me not to quit my job just because Dan could support us. But all my girlfriends urged me on. It was the ‘dream’ they said. And at the time, I let them convince me that was true.

  I gulped, wishing I had another donut. But I ate four last night. And two cupcakes. Maybe I needed to slow down. The truth was, my dream was to work in marketing and events planning. I loved marketing, but I hadn’t loved my job when I met Dan. I had a crappy job marketing for a retirement community a few towns over. Healthcare marketing? Ugh. Definitely not the dream.

  “I called around today and I have a couple interviews later this week.”

  “That’s great!” Elaina said. “Anything interesting?”

  I shrugged. It was hard to know if they were interesting before speaking with them. “I interview with an app start-up in Meredith on Thursday. And a real estate company out in Concord on Friday.”

  Elaina’s face twisted. “That’s a bit of a commute.”

  “Most of the local businesses here in town can’t afford a salaried marketing team. I think I need to come to terms
with the fact that I’ll have at least a thirty-minute commute for any decent paying job. I wish I could just start my own marketing consulting business here. Work with local companies as needed.”

  “Why don’t you?” Elaina asked. “Then you could choose who you work with rather than being stuck with companies and projects you find boring.”

  I shrugged. “I’m Chloe Dyker… Elaina’s little sister. Most of the business owners in town have known me since I was snot-nosed brat. Who’s going to come to me and trust me as an expert in branding and business marketing?”

  “They trust me… and I was way more of a snot than you in high school.”

  “That’s true,” I nodded. “You were a total brat, Loca Lainey.” I laughed, using her nickname from high school.

  “Shut up, Tasmanian Chloe!” She threw a pillow at my face, but I could see her grin as I peeked over top.

  Yep, we were quite the pair. Loca Lainey and Tasmanian Chloe.

  I was going to like having my big sister staying here with me.

  6

  Liam

  The week passed in a dull blur. Neil was grumpier than I’d seen him in weeks, and the breakup donuts I offered him weren’t quite the hit Chloe thought they’d be.

  He stood at the register, head down, counting the till, while I lifted the chairs up on the tables and swept below them. We’d almost entirely sold out of our inventory. Almost. The donuts did not. Nor did my cheesecake and homemade Pop-Tart.

  The front door swung open, slamming against the wall behind it, and both Neil and I jumped as Chloe Dyker, Tasmanian Chloe, came rushing inside in a whirl of dust and drama.

  “I need a cupcake!” she cried, then grabbed one of the chairs I’d just placed on top of the table, moved it to the floor and plopped down, dropping her forehead to the table dramatically.

  Neil and I caught glances from across the room, and his brows shot up as if to say: Is this your doing? “I thought you locked the door,” Neil grumbled.

  “I thought you had.”

  Without lifting her head, Chloe lifted her arm in the air. Pinched between her fingers was a one-dollar bill. “Did you not hear me? Cupcake, please!”

  “We sold out,” Neil said.

  “Want a donut or a Pop-Tart?” I offered instead.

  She lifted her head, eyes bright. “Yes. And yes.”

  I hopped over the counter and placed a donut and Pop-Tart on a napkin as Neil narrowed his gaze at me. “Those cost more than a dollar, Chloe.”

  She crossed her arms and pushed her lips into a pout. “Don’t you just throw out the day-olds, anyway?”

  Neil seemed completely unbothered by her questions. “Not if there’s a paying customer who barges in after we’ve closed.”

  “Come on, Neil,” I coaxed. “We were just going to hand them out to friends anyway.” We usually give them away to the first person we see outside the door or bring them to the retirement home.

  Neil snorted. “Is that what Chloe Dyker is? Your friend?”

  Chloe was on her feet, launching herself at me in a hug. “Best friends, actually. Did you not tell him who helped you make the donuts?”

  “You helped make those?” Neil asked, and his brows shot up higher.

  “Helped being a ‘relative’ term,” I clarified, rubbing the back of my neck before glancing back at Chloe, still dangling off my shoulders.

  “Why didn’t you tell him I helped!” Chloe cried.

  “Neil and I, uh, didn’t really talk much that night,” I told her.

  Understatement of the year. I arrived at his cabin, handed him the box of donuts. He gave me a beer, and we watched the game in silence until I went home. So much for Chloe’s brilliant plan for breakup donuts being therapeutic.

  “Come on, Neil. I am jobless, fiancé-less—”

  “And donut-less.” He crossed his arms, and I rolled my eyes. God, he was such a hard ass.

  “Dude, go home. It’s Friday and I know you and Jude have a call scheduled to…” I glanced at Chloe, unsure how much she knew about the gig that Neil was taking out of the country. “Discuss details.” Neil had taken a job as a stunt coordinator on Jude Fisher’s latest film… happening in Budapest. He had worked in Hollywood as Jude’s stuntman for years before moving back here to help us with the bakery when Mom was diagnosed with cancer. Though I wasn’t sure, I had my suspicions that the freelance gig on a different continent likely contributed to his and Elaina’s breakup. “I’ll handle closing up tonight.”

  “You sure?”

  I shrugged. “As long as you come in tomorrow in a better mood and don’t care where the unsold items go today.”

  Neil rolled his eyes and tugged the apron off his bare chest, shoving his head and arms into a t-shirt behind the counter. “See ya,” he said, heading toward the door.

  “Well, he’s a joy.” Chloe stuck her tongue out at him from behind the closed door.

  “He’s having a bad week,” I said and finished closing out the register.

  “Yeah? Well, so am I! At least his breakup resulted in winning half a million dollars. My breakup, on the other hand, left me without a job. And the stupid jobs I’m interviewing for are boring and lame and stupid.”

  “You said stupid twice.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “Well, that’s how stupid they are!”

  I set the napkin with the donut and Pop-Tart on the table, and she plopped back down in her chair, breaking off a corner of the pastry.

  “I take it the interviews didn’t go well?”

  She sighed. “One was … fine. Until they asked me why I was passionate about real estate marketing. And I said… Uh, um, I guess because I own a house.”

  I winced. “Not exactly the answer they were looking for?”

  “Shockingly, no. Owning a house with your cheating ex-fiancé is not reason enough to passionately want to sign on as the marketing manager for a real estate company.” She shook her head, dipping her finger into the chocolate frosting and licking it off. “Thing is… I did my research. I had all these adorable ideas to grow their client base. I was going to set them up to partner with a bakery—” she paused, gesturing to me. “Like yours. And mail cookies in these little boxes shaped like homes to people interested in selling or buying property. I had this idea to turn their open houses into elegant gatherings to bring higher income clients. Offer champagne and cheese to people coming in. Hire a violinist to play in the house for mood music while potential buyers walk around.” She sighed, slumping into her seat. “But when they asked me about passion, I deflated right in front of them.”

  I reached over, breaking off a piece of the sugar-free Pop-Tart I made. “Which is weird… because it does sound like you’re passionate about it,” I said, gauging her expression as I spoke. Her whole face lit up when she talked about those ideas.

  “I am! That’s the thing! I really had fun coming up with those ideas. But when I think about only working on real estate… only coming up with marketing ideas for one type of company… ugh. I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it’s for the best I didn’t tell them my plans for the company. There’re really no intellectual property rights on ideas like that. They could steal them and hire someone else to implement them entirely and I’d have no recourse for that. It’s a catch-22 when you work in creative fields.”

  “So… now what?”

  “I need to look online again. Scour the web for job openings and hope there’s one within a commutable distance.”

  “And if there are no jobs around here?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to move. Or take a job I really hate.”

  “Why not make your own consulting company here?”

  Chloe snorted and flipped her silky blond hair over her shoulder. “My sister said the same thing. But who in Maple Grove would hire me to market for them? I mean, really.”

  There were tons of businesses in Maple Grove that needed her marketing brain—Beefcakes included. We were already in over
our head, and now that Neil’s reality show had ended, we could potentially see a drop off in business if we weren’t careful.

  I cleared my throat and leaned back in my seat, folding my arms. “Out of curiosity, what would you do for a business like ours?”

  “For Beefcakes?” Her gaze narrowed at me for a moment. “Well, you already have a huge fan base—not only because of the reality show, but because of that viral video with him and Elaina.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, deep in thought as her gaze roamed the inside of our bakery. Her eyes slid slowly back to mine, narrowed to slits. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  “Well, I’d start with the easy stuff… your social media.”

  My brows dipped. “I thought I was doing pretty damn well with our social media.”

  She snorted, a scoffing sound. “You’re doing Facebook well. But there’s a whole land outside of the book of faces to market on. Your target audience is bachelorettes—younger than most of the people on Facebook. Beefcakes should be on Instagram… YouTube… TikTok… Snapchat…”

  “Twitter?”

  Chloe rolled her eyes at me. “God, no. Twitter is a dumpster fire. You and Neil should be doing cute baking videos and tutorials on every platform available. Maybe even showing a bit of your workout routines in addition to your recipes—talk about which baked goods pair best with different types of work out days.”

  “Such as…” I paused, thinking. “On a heavy cardio day, try eating one of our peanut butter fat bombs an hour before a long run to fuel your workout?”

  She snapped her fingers, pointing at me. “Exactly!” And what protein shakes do you drink? Do you have any tasty recipes?”

  “Oh, God. Neil and I have dozens of protein shake recipes we could share.”

  “There you go,” she said, smacking her palms to the table. Her eyes lit up brightly, a grin spreading over her beautiful mouth. “This is a bit more extensive, but if I were you, I’d also be looking to branch out. How do you monetize your fame with people on the other side of the country? People who loved your creations on the show, but will never travel from Oregon to New Hampshire? How do we monetize those people?”