Page 23 of We Can Do
“It’s from last week. I’ve been rationing it.”
Flick places the bag on the table then settles onto the far end of the couch, careful not to jostle me. “Why don’t you just go back for more?”
The question makes me squirm internally. “Because that would mean admitting to Noah that I love his bread.”
Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Don’t you, though?”
“I do, but—I—I don’t want...” The words tangle in my throat.
“Okay.” She huffs out a laugh. “What sort of weird competition is going on between you two?”
“It’s not a competition, it’s...” I shift the ice pack to a better position, buying time. “We were at odds before, because of thereview I wrote about his last place. But we cleared the air. Things are fine now. The review I wrote for Rye Again is a good one. Really good.”
She shakes her head slowly. “So then why don’t you want to go back there? You can admit on paper that the bread is good but you can’t show it?”
“Um.” I bite my lip, switching the cold pack for the hot water bottle. The warmth spreads through my abdomen, providing marginal relief. “Okay, fine. You got me. I’m going there tomorrow anyway. He’s teaching me some recipes.”
Devin appears in the living room doorway, eyes narrowed with curiosity. “I’m confused, too. Why are you learning his recipes?”
“It’s a way for me to get to know him. To learn the story of the man behind the bread.” I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s all for the book.”
“Of course.” Flick nods, but her expression suggests she’s not buying it entirely.
“It’s complicated.”
“Sounds like there’s still a war going on.” Devin opens the pizza box, releasing the aroma of melted cheese and garlic. She serves up three slices with the efficiency of someone who’s done this many times before.
“Maybe.” I rake my fingers through my hair, which I realize is probably a tangled mess. “I think he still doesn’t trust me.”
“Trust has to be earned,” Flick says simply. “No one is owed it.”
“Yeah.” The word comes out as a grumble. She’s right, of course, but it doesn’t make the situation any less frustrating. This whole project would run so much smoother if Noah could just accept that I’m not out to destroy him this time.
“I looked him up.” Flick’s grin turns mischievous. “He’s really handsome.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “He’s okay.”
“Just okay?” Her eyebrow arches skeptically.
“Fine, he’s...” I release a long sigh. “So hot it hurts. It’s distracting. I’m not even sure how I’ll be able to focus on doing my job around him.”
The room erupts in laughter. I start to join in, but the movement sends a sharp pain through my pelvic floor, cutting my laugh short.
“I just need this cookbook to go well.” I let my head fall back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling. “That’s more important than any personal stuff Noah and I have going on.”
“It will go well.” Devin settles cross-legged on the floor, balancing her plate on her lap. “You’re obviously devoted to it and you’ll give it all the time and attention it needs. And I’m sure the one-on-one baking sessions won’t hurt.” Her smile turns wicked.
“Yeah, maybe they won’t be so bad.”
But even as I try to keep my tone light, my heart rate picks up at the thought. Tomorrow, if I’m feeling better, I’ll be alone with Noah in his kitchen. We’ll be working side by side, probably brushing against each other in the small space, his hands guiding mine as he shows me proper technique. The intimacy of it, even in a professional context, makes my stomach flutter with something that has nothing to do with my current pain.
I force myself to sit up carefully, adjusting my position to ease the persistent ache. The hot water bottle has cooled to lukewarm, but I keep it pressed against my abdomen anyway. “How about a movie?”
Devin grabs the remote from the coffee table. “Mystic Pizza seems fitting.”
“Perfect.” It’s comfort food in movie form, something I’ve seen enough times that I won’t have to concentrate too hard.
We settle into comfortable positions—me stretched out on the couch with Cat purring on my chest, Devin on the floor with her back against the couch, Flick curled in the armchair. I manage a few bites of the THC brownie before attempting the pizza, hoping it might take the edge off the pain.
