Page 44 of Bake You Mine
The words blurred together. She walked to a cushy armchair by the window. She dropped into it and mulled over what she should say. When nothing clever came to her, she decided to ask the obvious.
Is Sasha okay?
Immediately, three little dots appeared on the screen, and his message popped up shortly thereafter.
She’s fine. The cops carted his dumb ass away. He had an outstanding warrant, anyway. It’s always the ones with the pretty faces you can’t trust.
She smirked as she typed her response, her fingers flying faster than her brain could catch up.
Are you talking about yourself there, friend?
RUDE.
Unsure of what to say, she looked out the window. Moonlight reflected on the Rappahannock’s clear surface, visible through the rustling leaves.
She pulled a blanket from the back of her chair onto her lap. Fall was officially here. Visions of delicacies to whip up for the upcoming holidays filled her mind, so much so that the text chime jolted her back to reality.
To be fair, Teddy is the better-looking of the two of us.
He included a photo of Teddy, braced by Liam’s large, tattooed forearm. The tattoo most visible was of a pair of knives, crossed like a coat of arms.
Well, yeah. That’s obvious.
The old man likes the attention.
He sent another shot of Teddy’s face, golden eyes narrowed.
She tapped her fingers on her knee, considering honesty. Could it be time to confess her crush?
She winced at the thought. No, she’d been dumb enough already to kiss him.
Is that why you feature Teddy in a shirtless selfie once a month? #Cooldudeswithcoolcats or whatever you call it?
Have you been stalking me on the ‘gram, Aubrey?
Her fingers moved of their own accord as she typed out:
Duh.
Her phone rang, and her heartbeat was both in her chest and between her legs when Liam’s name flashed on the display, so much for dialing it back.
“I thought Gen-Z didn’t use the phone.”
His laugh was rich, throaty. “I’m a millennial, just like you. Stop making me out to be a baby.”
She scoffed. “You are younger than I am. Six years is a lot.”
“Eh, not to me.”
She slid back into her chair. “If you’re trying to convince me to go to your place, I’m already in my jammies, which means I’m in for the night.”
He snickered. “Jammies? What are you, ten?”
“I have a kid. You pick up the lingo.”
He paused. “I wasn’t calling to get you to come over.”
With her free hand, she tugged the blanket up toward her chin. “We’re in direct competition, Liam. In the end, there can be only one winner.”
