Page 72 of Bake You Mine
“Oh. Can you come over tonight?”
As comforting as the thought was, she had to start working on this stupid challenge because she wouldnotembarrass herself on television and become a meme or the subject of a viral video. Technology had advanced quite a bit since the last time she went mildly viral.
She reached for her jacket. “I would, but I’m dead on my feet. I want to spend the night with my kid. Could we do it tomorrow, maybe? She’ll be back at Chris’s.”
“Of course, I don’t mind.” He reached forward to give her shoulders a rub, and she let out a low groan. Some of her stress seeped out under his expert hands. “Do you think he will step up to be more involved now that Kayla’s gone?”
Aubrey leaned against him as he rubbed her shoulders. “I hope so. She’s moved out, but she could move back in again. It’s happened before. I’m closely monitoring things, but I’m not rooting for him to fail. I want my kid to have her dad in her life.”
He brushed his cheek against hers. “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.” He laughed. “Sorry about the slip in front of Gary.”
She shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t notice.”
Gary never missed a thing, but there was a chance. Even if he had, there were bigger things on her mind right now.
Aubrey ran out, eager to catch Tom. Hopefully, she’d feel better after a good old-fashioned vent session with her best friend.
It’d been one mother of a shift at Elevation. Their computer system hit the shit just as a private dining group of fifteen arrived. Liam had been on the phone with customer support while trying to run a kitchen for a packed house. He reminded himself that this business was a roller coaster, and sometimes the wheels came off. Like when you were stuck on top of one of the loops, hanging upside down for dear life.
On nights like this, the lack of space was evident, with servers carefully maneuvering around one another to pick up orders. Customers lined up outside instead of in the foyer because tables weren’t being turned over fast enough—the space simply wasn’t large enough to meet the demand.
Once the system was running again, he barely had time to think as the kitchen cranked out orders. It was one of those nights you only knew had ended when the number of tickets dwindled, and you finally had a chance to look up.
A few women lounged at the bar. One had her head on her hand, staring longingly at him.
Sasha strode into the kitchen. “It’s past closing, and I think your fan club wants a parting selfie,” she whispered.
He groaned, which prompted his sister to say, “It comes with the territory, hot chef.”
He was more than that stupid hashtag. Chip and Diana mentioning it in their little video deepened Liam’s doubts that no one cared about his food, only his face.
“Take the photo, and I’ll get them out of here.”
Liam rushed to the bathroom to clean up.
He walked out for the photo, ignoring how the drunkest woman of the bunch hung on him. Luckily for him, Sasha tolerated no unwanted touching, so she took a moment to tell them they didn’t have to go home, but they had to get the hell out ofthere. His luck ran further when the women’s Uber pulled up, and Sasha ushered them outside and locked up behind them.
She kicked off her shoes like they owed her money and bent over to pick them up. “Where are you off to tonight? Hot date with Aubrey?”
If only. “Nah, she’s at home. I’m thinking of heading to the new speakeasy off Tulip Turn, The Far End? I know the owner, and he asked me to come by.”
“Ooh, that sounds like a wonderful idea. You buying, big brother?”
She’d return the favor soon enough. “For you, the world, lil sis.”
Sasha helped him finish cleaning up, and they walked over to the speakeasy, chatting easily about their mother’s clandestine relationship with the butcher.
“She acts like Ididn’tsee the man’s branded van pulling out of our driveway! C’mon, Mom. You can’t have him spend the night and expect to keep it a secret.”
“What did she say when you called her on it?”
“She told me he was dropping by with a delivery. At eight o’clock in the morning. I mean, how dumb does she think I am?” She paused under a streetlight to adjust the strap on her shoe.
“She should know better than to lie to you. Anyway, I think Mr. O’Malley is nice. Hopefully, she’ll tell us the truth when she’s ready.”
They approached The Far End, and Liam pulled up their social media page to find the clue for that night’s password. The eye-level window slid open seconds later when he knocked on the door.
“Password?”
