Page 47 of Messing With My Brother's Best Friends

I used to prank Kendall to get her attention, but now I was prepared to be a little more sophisticated in my pursuit. If I threw money at her, trying to get closer, she’d had tossed it right back into my face, but if we made a massive order for the entire building site—

“Righto, mate,” Chris said, “what did you want to order?”

Chapter 25

Kendall

There was an unforeseen downside to starting the day with a prank. I’d taken one look at Van’s pink speckled flesh and felt the most vicious of pleasures right before I beat a hasty retreat. Hopefully it was still OK to take their van, because that’s what I did, booking it to work.

Only to encounter boredom.

Tuesday was hardly a packed day at the bakery, so I was able to open up and get the place ready for sales in peace.

Then wait.

A few regulars came in to grab a coffee or bread, but I was forced to grab the cleaning supplies and start going through the long list of jobs I completed in the quiet times, right up until lunch started.

That brought more people in the door, which helped make the day go faster. When I was moving, I wasn’t thinking: about what I was doing, that the minced meat in the sausage rolls could really do with more seasonings to flavour it, that this was the same damn job I’d been doing for years and I’d mastered the art of making coffee and taking orders in the first six months.

That I was bored standing around behind a counter, serving people.

Some of the regulars helped break things up. Felicity was a young mum with a beautiful bouncing baby and a big fluffy Samoyed dog that waited outside patiently, wagging its big plume of a tail until I brought it out a little treat. I’d watched her son, Jimmy, grow from a tiny baby to a rowdy toddler who loved a babycino, and she was chatting to me about where they were thinking of sending Jimmy to school when they arrived.

Van and Connor would always dominate a space. They did the halls of our school and they did now, flanked by way too many men in construction uniforms, their heavy boots clomping across the floor, only to leave a trail of dirt behind. So Felicity turning around to take them in, instinctively pulling back to let them close to the counter made sense.

“Did you want a loaf of bread today, Felicity?” I asked, pointedly ignoring my ‘housemates.’

“Oh no.” She eyed the men then shot me a sheepish smile. “I better get going. Say bye-bye, Jimmy!”

“Byeee!” the little boy said, waving furiously as they walked out the door.

“Connor,” I said, crossing my arms. “Pinkie Pie.” A little snigger from the guys behind Van had me smirking, but not for long. He just shot me one of those slow, almost shy smiles, if it wasn’t completely apparent, he knew what he was doing. He should’ve looked like a damn idiot, but instead with the construction gear on, he looked like one of the angelic looking marching boys from the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. “The pink is really working for you. Makes your eyes pop.”

“Thanks.” I got a little bit of satisfaction from the way his jaw muscle flexed but not for long.

“So you know there are other places you could pick up lunch from,” I told the two of them. “Places closer, better—”

“Kendall!” Chris’ bark had me turning around to see him come slamming through the swinging doors, carrying a massive bread tray full of food. “Grab the other tray, will ya, love? These boys have a whole site to feed.”

What the fuck had they done? Ordered the whole damn shop? I saw sandwiches and rolls, pies, pasties, and cakes of every description neatly boxed and placed in the tray.

“We’ll do that.”

“Um… no you won’t.” I held out a hand, trying to stop them from entering the kitchen. Customers didn’t go in there, ever, but where I went, so did they, and the whumping sound of the doors swinging on their hinges felt like a physical blow as I whirled around to find Van and Connor had followed me in. “You can’t be in here.”

“Just picking up the tray,” Connor said in his best ‘be reasonable’ voice. So why did it have me feeling anything but?

“And what the hell are you doing ordering this much food?” I asked in a low hiss, watching the door closely. “And Chris’ food? Surely you could spend your money on something better.”

“So you admit it’s not quite up to scratch.” Connor took a step closer. “I mean, I’ve definitely had better. Van?”

“Those sausage rolls you made with lamb and rosemary?” Van’s eyes went heavily lidded and those full lips parted. “Damn, I wake up hard from dreams about them.”

“Ew.”

“And those chicken laksa pies you made?”

“Dad hated those,” I said with a frown, remembering the fuss he made.

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