Page 58 of No Going Back
DIANNA GLANCED UP as Janie came in through The Baking Rack’s back door. “Hey.”
She found herself looking forward to Janie’s daily arrival a surprising amount. After over a year of working in silence, it was nice to have someone to chat with while she prepped for the next day.
No. It was better than nice. It was great. Especially since Janie felt more like a friend than just an employee.
And today her friend looked surprisingly salty.
Dianna paused what she was doing and focused on Janie as she dumped her purse by the door and yanked an apron free. “Everything okay?”
Janie groaned, letting her head drop back. “I was just really hoping there were fewer assholes here.” She yanked the neck loop over her head and aggressively tied the strings around her waist. “But I should have realized asshole is a universal language.”
Dianna dropped a cookie onto the baking sheet in front of her as Janie opened the fridge. “What happened?”
Janie slid a vat of cinnamon roll dough onto the counter. “So I’m on my way here,” she turned to grab another container of dough, “and the tire light thing comes on in my car, so I pull over.” She slammed the second container down. “I make sure I’m all the way off the road and get out to walk around so I can see which of my tires is being a dick.” She leaned against the counter, working her jaw from side to side. “And the next thing I know, some cop is pulling up behind me with his lights on.”
Dianna scooped another cookie, nodding as if she understood why Janie was so perturbed. “Did he get out and talk to you?”
Janie scoffed. “No. The asshole got out and lectured me.” She tipped one of the containers, dropping the dough inside onto the stainless-steel surface before grabbing a bench scraper. “Went on and on about car maintenance and how I needed to check the tread on my tires regularly.” She hacked off a chunk of dough and chucked it to one side. “Then he went on and on about how I should have someone I can call to come help me in an emergency situation like this.” She sliced off and slammed down another hunk of dough, dropping it in line with the first. “Like I’m incapable of changing my own fucking tire.” She held both arms out, swinging around the bench scraper still gripped in one hand. “Do I look like a damsel in distress?”
Dianna almost laughed. Janie looked about as un-helpless as it got. She had wild dark hair and colorful tattoos covering her left arm. She was tall and thin, but definitely not in a way that made her seem delicate or fragile. But it was mostly her attitude that put Janie squarely in the obviously self-sufficient category.
Dianna shook her head. “No. You seem pretty capable of handling yourself.”
Janie lifted her brows. “Right?” She snorted out an indignant sound as she went back to cutting off hunks of dough. “So I told him he needed to worry about himself. I had my shit handled.”
Dianna blinked, surprised, but also not. “How did that go over?”
Janie dropped both hands to the counter, hitting it surprisingly hard as she leaned toward Dianna. “The prick threatened to arrest me.”
Dianna pursed her lips, doing a quick run-through of all the information she’d been given. “He threatened to arrest you because you told him you could take care of yourself?”
Janie squinted, tipping her head from side to side. “More or less.”
Dianna pressed her lips together, doing her best to suppress the laugh threatening to come out. She was absolutely positive it was notlessthat led to the threat of arrest. “Which police officer was it?” She was pretty familiar with the majority of the force, so she might be able to offer Janie some pointers in the event she had another run-in with the Moss Creek PD.
Janie rolled her eyes so far into her head only the white showed. “Officer Peters.” She stabbed at the dough with the bench scraper. “Dick.”
Dianna chewed her lower lip, knowing what she was about to say next was probably not what Janie wanted to hear. “He’s had a rough few years.” She hesitated, but couldn’t let Janie continue thinking Devin Peters was an awful person. For his sake, and for hers. “His wife died of cancer and now he’s taking care of three teenage daughters all by himself.”
Janie dropped her head back toward the ceiling with a loud, dramatic sigh. “Don’t make me feel bad for him.” Her eyes leveled on Dianna’s as she pointed the bench scraper her way. “I’m not one of his fucking daughters. He can’t talk down to me like that.”
“Was he really talking down to you, or was he offering advice?” Dianna dropped another cookie into place, hoping she wasn’t pushing the conversation too far. But Janie was her friend and she hoped if their situations were reversed, Janie would offer up any advice she had to share.
“I don’t want to think about it. I just want to be mad for a little bit.” Janie sucked in a breath and blew it back out, having at the dough again as she focused on Dianna. “Let’s talk about you. How are you doing?”
She understood Janie’s interest in changing the subject, and for once, didn’t hate the opportunity to discuss her own life. It was nice having a life she actually wanted to talk about. Especially with a friend.
“I’m fantastic.” She finished filling the cookie sheet and carried it to the oven. “Things are wonderful.”
“And by things, you mean your boyfriend’s penis, right?” Janie smirked as she worked through measuring out the balls of dough, ensuring they were all uniform.
“I mean, definitely that, but there’s more to Griffin than just his fantastic penis.” Dianna slipped the cookie sheet into the preheated oven and set the timer, spinning to face Janie.
Janie stared at her, an odd look on her face. “What else aboutGriffinis fantastic?”
Dianna tried not to be bothered by the odd way she said it. “Well, for starters he’s a hard worker.”
Janie lifted an eyebrow, looking entirely unimpressed. “So am I, but you don’t see men lining up to tell me how fantastic I am.” Janie was back to slamming around the dough. “And being a hard worker doesn’t mean shit if that’s all he brings to the table.”
