Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
A part of me is tempted to follow the girls’ plan, but I’m just not that crazy confident.
Suddenly there’s a shadow at the table followed by a deep growl. Strangely, it doesn’t affect me like I’ve read in the books, and then I hear Lacey say, “Mr. Hardwick.” I glance and see it’s her boss. Lacey’s eyes widen, and her pulse picks up along the carotid artery in her neck.
“Up out of that seat now, Lacey,” he tells her.
“No. You’re not the boss of my free time, mister.” She tries to act tough, but it’s like a little kitten who thinks they’re a tiger. It’s adorable.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” he snarls when he can see down her dress. Her rack is pretty nice and clearly on display.
“It’s a dress. I’m sure you’ve seen one before. We all have them.”
“I’m not going to tell you again to get up.”
She smiles sweetly at him. “Good, because I’m not done with my drink.”
He growls, and she sips her drink fast, knowing damn well he’s going to be taking her out of her seat. The smirk she gives me is almost too much to bear, but I hold in my smile when I feel another body moving closer to us.
Chapter Two
Julien
The bar is already crowded from what I can see, and I’m regretting the decision to meet down here. We could have met in my hotel room; I’m not comfortable in crowds, and since my brother got the records for me, he took pleasure in torturing me with this request.
“Stop scowling, bro. It’s not even that busy inside the bar.” It’s not crowded yet, but I still don’t care for it.
“Shut it, George,” I grumble through clenched teeth, walking into the bar area of the hotel and finding a table off to the side near the door. “Let’s take a seat right here.” I want to escape as soon as we finish up.
“Sounds good to me. I’ve brought all the documents you asked for.” My assistant was supposed to do it, but he flaked out on me, claiming he misunderstood my instructions, leaving the prepared documents on my desk. Finding good help is hard these days.
I unbutton my suit jacket and sit down while George pulls out his satchel. “How many candidates do we have for tomorrow? I’m tired of going through all these without skill or work ethic.” My assistant immediately comes to mind.
He sets the files on the table. “These are the batch that are doing the bake-off tomorrow at this hotel. All of them are talented, high marks in school.” It’s a small stack of manilla folders. I haven’t had time to look at them sooner because I have three bakeries across the Chicagoland area.
“But the true test will be how they handle the pressure,” I tell him. That is always the most challenging part for these kids. It takes more than mixing ingredients; love for the art has to be in it to make it work.
“Hello, gentlemen. What can I get you to drink?” our waitress asks, standing a little too close to me. Fuck, I can’t stand when people are nearby. I twist my chair, scooting it slightly back away from her.
“We’ll both have a Modelo. Right, sweetheart?” George says to me, putting his hand on mine, rubbing it back and forth softly. He’s the only one I let get away with it because he’s my brother and knows me too damn well.
“Yes, dear,” I answer, smiling tenderly at him.
“Always the super-hot ones,” she huffs, walking away from us. I hold back a laugh and sit back in my seat, but not before smacking his hand.
“That never gets old. God, one of these days you’ve got to get used to women flirting with you—or men, if that’s the case.”
“It’s not the case.”
He throws his hands up just to make sure I’m not offended, which I’m not because I’m sure he’s had questions over the years. “It’s cool, bro. Either way, I’m still your brother and happy to be your deflector.”
“Thanks. How about we go over these files so I know what I’m looking for tomorrow?”
“You want to show up late and avoid meeting the bakers and just taste their desserts, don’t you?”
“It’s all I’m there for.” I don’t want to participate in the spectacle or the small talk between the competitors.
“You know they do have to work side by side with you, so you’ll have to like them a little.”
“Yes, but not all of them will be there. Besides, it’s not so much the bakers that bother me; it’s all the assistants and managers talking and wanting to speak with me, trying to pick my brain, steal my recipes.”
“Julien, it was one time.” You only need one good betrayal in your life never to trust a motherfucker again. There are sayings about that shit for a reason.