Page 50 of Inked Persuasion

“You don’t need to take care of me,” I chided.

“It’s my literal job. I’m the office manager. I manage the office.”

“And that includes me and my calorie intake?” I asked.

“If it has to. If my siblings and Clay don’t take care of themselves, I will do my best to make sure that changes.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Paige met my gaze, and something passed behind her eyes that I didn’t quite understand. “I’ll always worry about you. You are my big sister. My much older, yet not always wiser sister.”

I threw another piece of bread since Brenna didn’t have one in her hand.

“Hey, that is perfect French bread for the spinach artichoke dip I made,” Eliza said and went to work setting up our plates.

“And it’s amazing,” Brenna said, her mouth full of it.

“Okay, we have the artichoke dip. We also have honey chicken skewers, rice bao balls, and a veggie tray,” Brenna noted, going through her list.

“I brought meatballs, as well,” Paige interjected, pulling out the Crock-Pot I hadn’t realized was in her bag. “The little sweet ones that you just need to use a toothpick for.”

“My mouth is watering.” I looked at the feast in front of me.

“And I made cupcakes,” Brenna said, pouting.

I laughed. “Why do you always pout when you bring over cupcakes?”

“Because I’m a cake decorator. Not a cupcake decorator.”

“You love cupcakes. You love decorating them. You only get pouty when your clients want a mediocre cake and a thousand little cupcakes in a tower. That means they only want the cake as filler.”

“First up,” Brenna began, “my cakes are never mediocre, so you take that back.”

I nodded, holding up my hands. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be. And second, you’re right. They want plain cake you can cut into and hide behind a curtain or something. And they want everyone to believe they’re going to get a cupcake personally for themselves. But three hundred cupcakes in a nice little spiral to make a cake? It doesn’t happen. Pinterest and insta-weddings and all of that stuff is ruining my business.”

The three of us looked at each other and started laughing as Brenna puffed out her chest.

“Pinterest and Instagram and everything that’s wedding hashtag related keeps you in business,” I said dryly.

Brenna cringed. “Maybe. But the woman who came in today to discuss her wedding cake changed her mind—for the fifth time. Maybe I just hate cupcakes. But I made them for you anyway.” She flipped the top of the box, and my mouth dropped open.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“I needed something to do with my hands. So, we have a variety. Lemon and strawberry, chocolate gateau, and carrot cake.” Each was immaculately decorated with perfect little individual marzipan and fondant animals. There were unicorns and pandas, and a small sleeping elephant. Each of them looked like a piece of art, and I couldn’t wait to stuff them all in my face.

“You went circus on this?” I asked, laughing.

“My brain kept thinking of a hundred different things, so I went with cute animals. And I’m going to eat all of this dip so long as Eliza lets me. Maybe put a few balls in my mouth because you know I like talking about balls in my mouth,” she said, and we laughed. “And then I’m going to eat that elephant.”

“I don’t know, the elephant looks amazing,” Paige said as she reached for it. Brenna slapped her hand and pointed at us all. “No. We eat cupcakes after dinner. You know I usually like dessert first, but I’m in a mood, and you have to listen to me.”

“You’re not making any sense, but I love you.” I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, and then we settled down with wine and our food.

The doorbell rang about thirty minutes into our dinner, and I frowned, looking at everyone. “Did we miss somebody?” I asked as I stood up.

“I don’t think so,” Paige said. “Maybe it’s Jacob Queen.”

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