Page 23 of Side Hustle
“Come in.” I opened the door wider and stepped back, holding my breath as she sailed through.
Her cookies might be inedible, but whatever scent she was wearing made my mouth water.
“I’m here, armed with sustenance. Let’s strategize!” She made some sort of weird move, like she was fencing with an imaginary foil.
I smirked. “Easy, tiger. We’re just brainstorming, not fighting anyone to the death.”
She put the plate on the tiny table and pulled back the clear wrapping. My lips immediately tilted down. The smell coming from that plate didn’t say cookies to me. More like moldy mud patties with a side of beets.
“I made blackstrap molasses cookies. No sugar, no wheat, no flour, no dairy, no eggs.” She beamed and sat down while I tried to school my face.
“No taste,” I muttered under my breath.
“What’s that?” She smiled up at me so wide I felt bad. She made me cookies. They always said it was the thought that counted, right?
“Nothing. Just wondering where you get your recipes from.” I sat down on the other side of the table.
“Oh, I don’t. I make them up myself. I just think of ingredients and how good they are for you and I toss them together. I was thinking about opening a bakery earlier this year, but the girls warned me that most people don’t eat for their health. So I decided to just stick to making goodies for my friends and family. Here!” She tilted the plate toward me and I faced facts.
I’d have to eat one and hope I didn’t get the runs.
I didn’t have a dog to feed it to, nor did I want to refuse and hurt her feelings. My hand crept closer and finally touched one brownish-red blob, amazed a cookie could feel goopy. It stayed together, unfortunately, as I lifted it to my mouth. My lips quivered and my stomach rolled. I bit the tiniest bite off into my mouth and willed myself to chew without a visible reaction. That proved impossible when the bite of something spicy and, well, something that tasted a lot like dirt, hit my tongue.
I coughed and stood up. “Need some water,” I croaked.
Thankfully, Hazel’s head was bent over the table, already reading through the letter I’d received back from the geologist I’d hired to test the gold nugget. Throwing the cookie in the trash and putting a paper towel over it so she wouldn’t see where it ended up, I spit out the tiny bite in the sink and rinsed my mouth out. A full-body shiver later and I was ready to get down to business.
“This is amazing!” Hazel picked up the report from the geologist, her face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “He said it’s worth six to fifteen dollars per gram, depending on how much of it is found in the vein. Eighty-nine percent real gold. Oh my God.” She slapped the paper down on the table. “I don’t really know what all that means, but it sounds good, right?”
I smiled at her enthusiasm. I realized in a sudden flash of insight that I’d been missing that in my life. Hell, I’d been avoiding any enthusiasm in my life for so long I couldn’t seem to remember why I’d shunned it.
“It’s very good. I also went to the courthouse and printed out the deed to the land, just to make sure it’s filed as mine. All that’s left to do is tell the town and start the mining.” I sat down across from her and leaned my elbows on the table. “I have a short list of companies we can hire to do the mining, but I was hoping you’d go through them with me and help me decide which one to go with.”
Hazel’s smile fizzled as her thumb jabbed her in the chest. “You wantmeto help you decide?”
I frowned, wondering if my stomach was churning over the cookie still. “Yeah.”
“Huh.”
Shit. Maybe I read her wrong. Maybe she didn’t want to help me. Maybe that kiss that had gotten me all hot and bothered had made her not want to be around me. “What’s wrong?”
Her chair scraped back and she stood up to pace my tiny kitchenette. “Well, I’m not usually the one chosen for group projects that require a ton of brain power. Hosting a party? I’m your girl. Research? Not so much.”
I stood up too, the flip-flopping of my stomach shifting into a hot burn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re smart. I mean, you can throw a hell of a party, but you’re also the perfect person to help me with this project. I understand if you don’t have time for it, but if you do, I definitely think you can help.”
She stilled, her eyes focused on the logo in the middle of my T-shirt. If I wasn’t hallucinating because of the aforementioned cookies from hell, I thought I saw a shine to her eyes that wasn’t normally there.
She sniffled and I knew for sure. “Okay. Yeah. I’d love to help.”
My legs and arms started moving before my brain caught up to what was going on. I pulled her into a hug, her face settling perfectly in the middle of my chest, her arms staying by her side for a brief moment before coming around me to hug me back. I took a deep breath in, doing exactly what Hazel was always preaching at me to do: enjoying the present moment. I smelled that sweet vanilla scent that always wafted by when Hazel was around. I felt her small, curvy body pressed to mine and wished, not for the first time or even the five hundredth time, that we hadn’t had a falling-out all those years ago.
Things stirred below the belt and the tightness there reminded me I was supposed to be addressing that kiss. Feeling actual physical pain at the very idea of leaving this hug, I pushed Hazel back, my hands on her shoulders, and tried to find the right words.
“So, about that—”
“Let’s make a whole plan!” Hazel said at the same time, her eyes no longer shiny and sad, but lit up with an entire household’s monthly usage of electricity. “Operation Take Down the Bully Daddy. What do you say?”
Sometimes I felt like I got whiplash in a conversation with Hazel.
