Page 57 of Game On

But the meringues were sooooo good. They tasted like Christmas.

Spring? No. Biscuits made him think of stew and Thanksgiving dinner and hearty soups. Fall and winter foods.

“Next fall it is, then.” He moved the photo of the mix to the second fall heading on his corkboard.

Leaving him with an empty space for this fall.

“Hey.”

He jumped, whirling toward the door. Jamie leaned against the doorjamb, munching on a bag of cheese crackers. Poppy rose and ran over to him. She got all the kisses Dorian wished Jamie would give him, but that wasn’t to be.

It sucked, but it was what it was. In a way, Dorian even understood. He needed to suck it up, get over himself, and move on. Having Jamie as a friend was better than nothing.

“Hey. How was apartment hunting?”

“About as successful as last time.” Jamie set Poppy down and offered Dorian the crackers. “Want one?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you all of a sudden have a gap in your fall box?”

Sighing, Dorian took a handful of crackers and gave the bag back. “My vendor can’t make my deadline.”

Jamie’s eyebrows flew up. “But didn’t they sign a contract?”

“They did.” Dorian chewed on a cracker. “But something came up—one of those unexpected life things. I’m not going to hold them in breach of contract over that. I moved them to next fall instead.”

“How do you do it?” Jamie asked. “You’ve got what has to be a hundred samples lying around.” He gestured at the ones cluttering up the coffee table. “How do you decide what goes in what box?”

“Having a seasonal box makes life a little easier,” Dorian said. “I wouldn’t put a toque or socks in the spring or summer boxes, for example. Just like I wouldn’t put a pina colada pancake mix in the fall or winter boxes. Or even spring. Pina coladas are classically summer. Ultimately, it comes down to what products I like, which seasonal box they fit into, the company’s reputation, and what my interactions with the makers are like. I don’t have a lot of patience for people with bad manners or who take two weeks to answer an email. Based on that, I narrow it down to five to seven products per box based on... well, gut instinct, I guess.”

“Have you thought about having a taste tester?”

Dorian finished off his crackers. “For what?”

“Your product samples. You said you choose them based on what you like, but what you like might be different than what someone else likes.” Jamie picked up a bag from the coffee table. “Take this mushy popcorn. You didn’t like it. I did.”

Dorian snatched the bag. “Popcorn’s meant to be crunchy.”

“According to you,” Jamie said, laughing. “Hey, wait a second.” He stood in front of the corkboard, brow furrowed. “The biscuit mix? That’s the vendor who can’t make your deadline?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But wasn’t that Charlie’s?”

Dorian stared at him. “Uh, no? Why would you think it was?”

“You said he’s a baker. I just assumed. Why don’t you ask him to fill your gap then?”

“Oh. Well.” Dorian tried not to fidget. “Charlie doesn’t know.”

“About the items in your fall box?”

“About the fall box. Or any box.”

Jamie slow panned toward him. “What.” It wasn’t a question.

“Just...” Dorian walked over to his desk. Dropped his notepad onto it. “I haven’t told him about... this.”

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