Page 23 of Bake You Mine
Liam didn’t want to bring up his idea to leave town if things didn’t work out. It would only freak Damon out, especially now that his wife was pregnant with their third child.
It’d taken a lot of convincing to get Damon to work with him in the first place, let alone to become a minority partner in the business. Liam had run off once, and even though it’d been over a decade in the past, Damon was still a little gun-shy.
Liam rolled up to a sitting position. “Fair enough. As for tonight, it’s a cocktail party for old people. It starts at six o’clock. I’m going to stay an hour or so, then I’ll be back before shit heats up. That party isn’t scheduled until eight.”
Damon sighed. “Fine. I think two new hires is an expense we can’t handle right now, but hey, what do I know?”
“Is this where you want me to sing your praises? I mean, I just did, but I’ll do it again. Even though we both know I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
Damon gave him a shove as he stood. “Fuck you, man.” His voice held no malice, but Liam knew he’d pressed him too far.
“I hear you on everything. The cost of not only one sous but two, what we’ll do after…I promise I see everything you’re doing for the business, Damon. We will talk after this, and it might be to decide if you’ll be taking on a bigger role on the business side of Elevation.”
Damon managed a smile. “Good, because I’ve got ideas. I’ve got to run Damon Jr. to the dentist. I’ll see you back there later.”
Once his friend had slipped into the locker room, Liam dropped onto the mat. As much as he loved the idea of being a big city chef again, he wondered if his ties in Port Fortune were too tight for that ever to be a reality.
He exhaled and stared at the ceiling. He had a good thing going on here, so why did he feel that familiar boredom creeping up around the edges? Winning this contest would squash all those stupid yearnings. He’d have no reason to leave if he won.
Aubrey stood in front of her bedroom closet. Daphne was sprawled across the bed, her laptop propped up in front of her.
“I don’t think you can wear leggings to a cocktail party, Mom.”
Aubrey pushed through the hangers until she found anemerald green off-the-shoulder ruffle dress she’d worn for a school banquet last spring. She threw it on the bed as if she had a lot of options to choose from. She had that pink dress she’d worn for that Instagram post and a few other dresses that she wasn’t sure fit anymore.
“What do you think, little bug? The low tonight is sixty-two, so I should be okay with this.”
Daphne peered at her over the top of her glasses. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s cocktail-appropriate, but are those rules even enforced anymore?”
Aubrey let out a laugh. “How do you know these things?”
“I have a Pinterest account and too much free time.” Daphne stuck out her tongue. “Seriously, I think it’s pretty. Wear your hair down, okay?”
“I’ll take my stylist’s advice.”
Daphne slammed her laptop closed. “Liam’s going to be there, isn’t he?”
“Yes. I’ll be seeing a lot of him while this contest continues.”
Her daughter resembled a tween-age supervillain as she rubbed her hands together. “You know?—”
Aubrey cut her daughter off. “I need to hop in the shower, or I’ll be late.”
Daphne dropped onto the bed. “Fine, whatever. But I have eyes, Mom. You should open yours occasionally.”
With nothing to say, Aubrey left her daughter to her homework.
Gary had Port Fortune High students acting as valets for his cocktail party. It felt ridiculous handing over the keys to her minivan to Trevor, whom she’d known since he was in short pants. The sight of her mom van parked next to Porsches and BMWs was even more ridiculous. She stood on Snap DragonStreet and gazed at Gary’s brick-front mansion, suddenly feeling like she was fifteen again and not cool enough to go inside the party.
The roar of a motorcycle tearing up the street interrupted her internal pity party. The all-black bike rolled to a stop in front of the valet stand. The rider pulled off their helmet. It took a moment for her eyes to catch up with her brain. Liam shook his longish hair out of his eyes like a model. He wore an all-black motorcycle jacket and matching trousers.
He cut the engine and slid off the bike. Aubrey stepped out of her stupor and approached.
“Since when have you had a motorcycle?”
He cradled his helmet against his hip and met her gaze. “I was unaware that you tracked which vehicles I drove?”
She sputtered and clutched her purse against her stomach. “I mean, I would’ve heard this obnoxious, loud thing tearing down Sweet Briar.”
