Wren slapped a hand to her neck and moaned.
“Other side,” Betty cackled, enjoying the younger woman’s mortification as Wren switched her hand to the other side of her neck, and then gave it up as a lost cause. “Looks like you’ve been having a good time.”
“I guess so,” Wren replied as she stuffed the magazine into her tote bag and unwrapped the gum to pop a piece into her mouth.
“You guess so?” Betty shook her head. “Damn girl, youth is wasted on the young.” She folded her arms and rested them on a pile of Newsweek. “What’s he like?”
Wren thought for a moment. “Persistent.”
“He’d have to be,” Betty observed. “You’re like a fart in a bottle.”
Wren arched an eyebrow at that. She’d been called many things in the past, but this was a new one.
“You like him?” Betty asked as she served another customer.
Wren nodded, keeping her chin close to her chest. She was loitering now and feeling like a kid being called out at school, but Betty’s calm assessment and no-nonsense questions made her feel curiously better.
“I didn’t hear you,” Betty said, and then, “Not you. Four fifty,” to another customer.
“Yes,” Wren said in a louder voice.
“Good.” Betty nodded. “Then get off your bony ass and do something about it.”
“I have,” the younger woman protested.
“I don’t mean sex.” Betty waved a dismissive hand. “Although Lord knows it gets the job done. Men are like linoleum, lay them right the first time and you can walk all over them for the rest of your life, but,” she went on as Wren laughed, “you need someone that’ll treat you with respect, keep you on your toes and give you the best sex you’ve ever had.”
“Oh, well, when you put it that way, it sounds almost too easy.” Wren snorted.
“So what does he do, this young man of yours?” Betty ignored Wren’s easy dismissal.
“He’s a teacher at NYU,” Wren replied. Then at Betty’s silent prompt for more information she added, “Specializing in American history.”
“So he’s smart then?”
“Oh, yeah,” Wren said, remembering their latest argument about consumerism.
“And passionate,” the older woman went on. Wren sighed and nodded. She was never going to live the love bite down.
“Like you’re smart,” Betty mused, “and I’m guessing you can more than stand your ground in the sack.”
“Betty.” Wren coughed back a shocked laugh.
“Relax, kid.” Betty laughed. “When you’ve chalked up as many years as I have, it gives you a certain level of free speech.” She considered Wren for a long moment. “How long you been scared of this guy?”
“Who said I was scared?”
“You’re not exactly standing here in the flush of new love. What is it you want?”
Wren sighed, feeling incredibly weary of the whole situation. “I wish I knew.”
Betty shook her head slowly and slid another pack of gum toward Wren. “You’d better make up your mind, because guys like him don’t grow on trees. If there’s one thing we women are good at, it’s looking a gift horse in the mouth. You’re being treated with respect and kindness when you’re used to being used and abused, and that’s got you scared. You know what my mom used to tell me when I was dithering over my Earl?”
“What?” Wren stepped closer as the older woman beckoned, and then her eyes widened as Betty muttered to her in an undertone. Passing customers glanced up at the laughter, some of them wondering how such a small woman could laugh so loud.
Bidding her a fond farewell, Wren made her way to work with a broad grin on her face. Betty had given her the makings of a great quote, and she couldn’t wait to see how Kate was going to come up with a cupcake for this one.
~~~
“Morning, Wren.” Kate smiled, her cheeks pink from her morning walk. The seasons were starting to turn and the air was getting cooler.
“Morning, boss.”
“Wren, don’t call me boss.”
“Sorry, boss.”
“Good weekend?” Kate asked as she pushed the front door open and went inside.
“Not bad,” Wren called over her shoulder, carrying her bag in one hand as she shrugged off her coat. “Yours?” She stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to stare at the new installation. “Oh, wow,” she gasped. “They look fantastic.”
“Don’t they,” Kate agreed with a pleased smile.
“When?” Wren asked as she crossed the floor to run a hand along the polished copper piping. Paul had done a great job; his craftsmanship and attention to detail had done the store proud.
“Sunday,” Kate replied, looking pleased with Wren’s reaction, and then she looked closer at Wren and gave her a knowing smile. “Good weekend?”
“Great,” Wren replied, putting her coat and bag away before stopping to gather up an armful of magazines.
“And how’s David?” Kate said in a too-innocent tone.
“He’s good,” Wren said casually.
“So I see,” Kate replied as she filled the jug with milk and kicked the refrigerator door closed with her foot.
“What?” Wren looked at her, puzzled, and then reached up to touch the love bite on her neck. “I knew I should’ve worn a scarf,” she groused.
“Right, because that would be so subtle,” Kate teased. “When did the two of you hook up?”
“Saturday,” Wren allowed, dumping the pile of magazines on the counter and leaning against it as Kate went to work on the coffees.
“Morning, guys. Wren, you’ve got a love bite on your neck,” Emily called as she walked through the store, past the counter and into the kitchen.
“Everyone has to know?” Wren protested as Kate laughed.
“Honey, it’s right there where we can all see it.” Emily reappeared, tying on her apron.
“Just because you two haven’t got any,” Wren mumbled in mock anger at the two smirking women.
“That you can see,” Kate rejoined, her eyes crinkling with amusement.
“How about you, Emily? Anything to report about Bookstore Brad?” Wren studied her closely.
“Uh …” Emily’s face began to warm beneath their scrutiny. “Well, that is to say …” She waved a hand, aware that her face was getting warmer by the moment.
“His place or yours?” Wren asked matter-of-factly.
“His,” Emily replied promptly and then gazed at her in horror when she realized what she’d let slip.
“Ah-ha,” Wren said. “I knew you two would get together.” She looked from Kate to Emily. “So how about that? All three of us are getting laid.”
The three women looked at each other for a moment, before laughing and exchanging high-fives.
“We should all get together and have a drink after work sometime,” Emily suggested. “I know that Brad would love to meet Michael, but not,” she added hastily, “in a groupie kind of way.”
“Michael and David go way back, so they’ll be fine, and David seems to get a kick out of meeting new people all the time,” Wren speculated. “How about it, boss?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Kate nodded.
“Maybe you could give Paul a call as well,” Wren suggested, “and how about Tom? Do you think he can share you for a change?” She was taken aback when Kate pulled a face.
“Early days,” Kate cautioned, “but he has agreed to play nice for now.”
Wren gaped at her. “They’ve met?”
“Yup.” Kate finished making the coffees and carefully moved the cups across the counter. Emily was stacking the last of the magazines onto their new rack, but Wren swooped onto her cup with all the reverence it deserved.
“Ahh.” Wren nodded sagely after her first sip. “And how did that go?”
Kate concentrated on stirring some sugar into her cup. “About as well as could be expected.”
“Ouch.” Wren winced. “Was Tom up to his old tricks?”
Wren had seen Tom give prospective beaus the cold shoulder in the past to devastating effect. She had wondered why Kate put up with it, but had rationalized that she did not know the secrets of the friendship between the two. “How did Michael take it?”
“Okay, I guess, but it was a lot for him to take in. Things ended up well enough.” She smiled at this as she remembered the night before.
It had been late in the afternoon when Michael and Kate arrived back at her apartment. Kate had slung her bag onto a chair and sprawled on the couch. After a moment’s hesitation, Michael had followed. Kate had smiled at his approach and curled her legs up to allow him room, and then shifted around to snuggle up against him with a small sigh, fisting her hands in his shirt to bring herself closer still. Michael had stretched out his legs to rest his feet on the coffee table, and put his arm around her shoulders, combing his fingers absently through Kate’s hair as he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.
“Big day,” he’d said at last. Kate’s eyes had been closed and Michael’s voice was a deep rumble in his chest.
“You could say that,” Kate had sighed. She’d rested her head against Michael’s chest and traced the pattern of his T-shirt with a lazy finger. He’d dropped a kiss onto her forehead, and then gave a sigh of contentment as he’d rested his head against hers. Running his hand in calming circles on Kate’s arm, on impulse, he’d run his hand down her side and up under the hem of her T-shirt. Encouraged by her quiet hum of pleasure, he’d shifted slightly and kept stroking her skin, his fingers circling and becoming more insistent as her skin flushed under his touch.
Kate had reached up to pull his head down to hers, her breathing becoming shallow. Michael had kissed her lightly once, and then returned for more. His hands shifting to her hips, he’d moved her along the couch so that he could rest himself between her legs as he’d urged them open. Kate had needed no prompting, flushed now, very warm. Pushing up the base of her T-shirt, Michael had pressed a soft kiss against the flat plane of her belly.
“Michael, please …”
“I know.” He’d bent his head to her skin again. Sitting up, he’d reached out to smooth a strand of hair off her face while she’d watched him.
Kate had hardly moved, hardly breathed. What did he see? she’d wondered. Did he see a character for his book, was he fantasizing about someone else, did he see her? Again she’d found herself wondering what it was she had to offer. She had given all she had to Thomas, which turned out to be not nearly enough. The pain of that was receding as time went by, although in her lonelier moments, she found that the scar was still fresh. Since then she had worked to shroud herself in her bakery, in her friendships and independence to bury her fear that she would only ever be perceived as a means to an end. She wanted to be the destination and not the journey. She wanted to be loved and adored.
“You are so beautiful,” Michael had muttered. His insecurities from the afternoon had come flooding back. “Kate, tell me what you want. What can I do to make you mine?”
Her only answer had been to pull him down for another kiss before struggling off the couch and leading him to the bed.
“Earth calling Kate …”
Kate blinked and looked up to see Wren regarding her with her head cocked to one side.
“Are you okay, boss?”
“Sure.” Kate remembered to smile as she pulled a waiting cup toward her and poured in the milk. “I was a million miles away.”
“So you were saying the evening ended well enough, but does that mean things got off to a shaky start?”
“Yup.” Kate nodded.
“How about Paul?”
Kate’s face softened as she thought about her big brother. “Bear was wonderful. He took to Michael straight away and then gave Tom and me a verbal spanking and kicked us out of the store to go have a talk.”
“Hang on, I’m confused. Where was Michael?”
“He took off to let Tom and me sort things out,” Kate clarified.
“As in, he chickened out?” Wren frowned. That didn’t sound like the Michael she knew.
“Not at all. He just wanted to give us some space, but I don’t think he was too happy about it.”
“You’ve lost me again. What was Tom doing here?” Wren sipped at her coffee, trying to process what Kate was telling her.
“Sorry, I’m all over the place. Bear wanted to get the job done quickly, so he called Tom to give him a hand. Michael and I were out having brunch and decided to stop in to see how it was all going and …” She waved a hand. “Michael was polite, Tom was a total bitch,” Kate began and then paused to sip at her coffee, winking as Emily came in to take her cup. “And then Tom and I went to have a long talk, and Michael tried to kill himself jogging.”
“I hate coming in at the tail end of a conversation,” Emily commented as she strolled up to the counter, making the other two women laugh.
“The boss was just giving me a summary of her weekend,” Wren explained.
“Which included gay men and death by jogging,” Emily said, still looking none the wiser.
“Kate’s main men met each other over the weekend,” Wren explained. “Bear was fantastic as always, Tom was the bitch queen from hell, and Michael was the shy, retiring type.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say shy,” Kate mused, thinking back to how Michael managed to put Tom in his place and stake his claim on her at the same time. “He’s a man that knows what he wants.”
“About time you hooked up with one like that,” Wren muttered, and then looked up to see Emily and Kate regarding her with surprise. “What? Just sayin’,” she continued in a defensive tone.
“Wow,” Emily commented. “Sounds like we all had quite a time of it then.”
“What can I say?” Kate waved her cup. “Life is never dull.” She swigged back the last of her coffee and set the cup down as she gave Wren a speculative grin. “Speaking of which …” she said in a meaningful tone.
“This one’s going to get you,” Wren said, leaning across the counter to pick up her stub of chalk. She collected the chalkboard and propped it on a chair to write up the quote, and then turned it around with a flourish to reveal her words.
Procrastination is like masturbation;
in the end you’re just screwing yourself.
Emily gave a whoop of laughter, and Kate chuckled before her gaze turned inward and she walked slowly toward the kitchen. Wren watched her with satisfaction. She could almost taste victory.
~~~
Michael was thinking about food when he let himself into his apartment. Kate’s early morning starts had meant he was home earlier than usual and so he had gone out for his morning run. Now that he had jogged off the Indian meal indulgence from the night before, he was ready for breakfast.
He had abandoned his phone on the kitchen counter when he’d gone out, and now he snatched it up as it started to vibrate against the marble countertop. He inspected the display and considered rejecting the call, but then thought better of it. Kate had dealt with her issues head on, the best he could do was follow her example.
“Alistair,” he said briefly as he kicked off his running shoes, “you have some explaining to do.”
“I know,” came the sighed admission. “Would it help if I said I was sorry?”
“It might,” Michael grunted as he flicked his phone onto loudspeaker and tossed it onto the bed so that he could take off his shirt. He listened to Alistair’s apologies with half an ear as he peeled off his running clothes. He wanted a shower and he didn’t feel particularly well disposed toward listening to apologetic babble. The damage had been done, but the damage control had been swift, no thanks to Alistair. He sniffed at his tank top, and after making a face, balled it up and threw it toward the laundry hamper. It missed and fell to the floor. He’d pick it up later.
Alistair was still talking. Michael leaned over the bed and snatched up the handset.
“Alistair, can I call you back?”
Alista
ir stopped mid-sentence and stared at the receiver. It had been a while since Michael had offered to call him back.
“Sure,” he said after a moment’s pause.
“Won’t be long,” Michael replied, and disconnected the call.
Alistair listened to the disconnected tone. Michael wasn’t one to talk on the phone very much so the fact that he had offered to call Alistair back spoke volumes. Alistair sat and rubbed his chin. He just couldn’t work out if it was good or bad.
~~~
“Good, huh?” Wren had popped her head around the kitchen to see Kate leaning against the counter deep in thought.
“Almost too good,” Kate replied. “You might have me on this one.”
“Ha.” Wren turned to give Emily a victory fist bump.
“Hang on.” Kate held up a cautionary hand. “I haven’t thrown in the towel yet.”
“Maybe not, boss,” Wren taunted with a wide grin, “but the clock’s a-tickin’ and customers will be here soon—” She broke off as Kate snapped her fingers and turned toward the mixer. “You haven’t,” she gasped.
Kate looked up and gave her a conspiratorial wink, and she pulled the mixer forward on the counter and then started to measure sugar into the bowl.
“No,” Wren all but wailed, “I thought I really had you on this one.”
“We’ll see,” Kate replied in a placid tone, hoping she had enough white chocolate.
Wren pushed herself away from the door frame and headed out to finish setting up for the morning.
“Any clues?” Emily paused on her way out to stock up the sugar packets on the tables. “I promise not to consort with the enemy,” she vowed, holding up her pinkie.
“No clues yet,” Kate muttered as she watched the butter and sugar mix to a creamy consistency. “I’m winging it this morning. I think she might really have me this time.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” Emily smiled and went about her duties.
~~~
“Michael, I had no idea that Kate didn’t know,” Alistair began as soon as he answered Michael’s call.
“It’s okay.” Michael sounded resigned but not angry. “It’s something I should’ve told her myself, so we’re both to blame.”
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