Scrumptious: A Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Camos and Cupcakes Book 3)

by Melissa Schroeder

  Then, without another word, she yanks the door open, and marches away as if she didn’t just blow my world to smithereens.

  I blink, stunned. I look at my desk, at the picture sitting on the desk, the man who I always thought of as my uncle. My father.

  “Hey,” Mario says from the doorway. “What’s up?”

  “I just quit.”

  “What?” He shouts the question and I wince. My head is suddenly pounding; my stomach is revolting. I swallow hoping that I will not lose it in front of him and my entire staff.

  I look out at all of them watching. They know something is wrong, they just don’t know what. I cannot embarrass myself in front of them.

  “I quit. They were going to make me work this weekend. It was just an excuse. She wanted me out of here.”

  He steps closer. “Savannah, hun.”

  I blink and look up at him. “I’m okay. Take care of everything tonight. I’m going to box up my things and go.”

  “Savannah—”

  “No. Go do your job.” I give him a small smile. “You’re chef now.”

  He hesitates. I know there is only one thing that will get him going. “Get out of here, Chef.”

  He nods, but he still doesn’t look happy about it.

  Once he steps away to take over the kitchen, I grab my pictures and toss them into my purse. I don’t want to cause a scene. I just want to get out of there and away from this place.

  I look around and realize that the room where I sat and planned my life these last few years…is nothing to me. Other than the pictures now weighing my bag down, there was nothing of me there.

  I grab my knives, slipping them into the roll bag, not bothering to clean them. I just need to get out of there before I lose it. I go out the back way, not wanting to run into my brother. Nope. Not my brother. Austin. He’s my cousin. Fuck.

  I push those thoughts away because if I think about it too much, I will start to fall apart, and that is something that I cannot do in front of anyone else. And I definitely can’t do that and then drive home. I don’t break down often, but when I do, it’s a mess. Snot is involved. Sorry, but it’s the truth. Those people in Blair Witch have nothing on me.

  I get in my car and drive to my house. I don’t remember much of the drive. I’m almost numb at this point. When I step through the front door, McLovin isn’t there to greet me. Of course, I sneer, the universe wouldn’t give me something I needed at that moment.

  I hear the murmur of male voices and then remember that some old Army buddies were coming in for the wedding. I want to go to my room and just hide under the covers. I have no one to talk to. I can’t tell Allison about it because…well, this shit shouldn’t mar her wedding week. And I can’t tell EJ because she would tell Allison and then…yeah, that leaves me on my own. I move in that direction and the backdoor opens.

  “Hey, you’re early,” Fritz says, walks toward me. “I thought you were closing tonight.”

  “Just finished up early and let Mario handle the rest of it.”

  “You should come on out. We made some burgers. Come meet the guys.”

  I’m so not in the mood for this tonight. I need space, time to think, to brood. And there is a good chance I will lose it in front of his friends. I can’t have that.

  “I’m really not great company right now.”

  He frowns as he sets his empty beer bottle on the counter and walks toward me. He stops right in front of me and studies me. “Are you okay?”

  I do not want to break down in front of him…in front of anyone. The need to pour my soul out to him, to just lay my problems on someone else would be so easy. But I can’t. Not right at the moment. If I do, then it will be real, and truth is, I don’t even know it if is real. “Family shit.”

  He’s so close I can feel his body heat, smell the night air that clings to him. God, what would it be to be wrapped up in that warmth, to have someone who could let me lean on him? The need is strong, but I force myself to take a small step back from him. I can’t depend on him, on anyone right now. Not with my fucked-up life. Jesus.

  “Savannah?”

  I blink. “Sorry. It’s been a long month.”

  “Did you eat? Like I said, I made some burgers.”

  I shake my head. I am so close to spilling my guts to him. If I don’t get out of here and up into my room, I will explode, but I can’t do that to him. Or anyone. I haven’t really processed the information my mother so carelessly tossed at me.

  “Yeah,” I lie. “I ate at work.”

  “Okay. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

  I shake my head again. “I need a hot shower.”

  He nods and doesn’t push the topic. I stand there for just a second more, then step away. As I make my way upstairs, tears well in my eyes. I make it to my room and shut the door. I brush away the tears and force myself to go through the motions of starting my shower. I usually take pleasure in my bathroom. Just like all the other rooms, Tito had redone the entire room, but one thing he kept was a massive clawfoot tub. Tonight, however, I pay it no mind. I strip out of my clothes, dropping them on the floor, which isn’t like me at all, but right now, I don’t give a fuck.

  Steam is billowing from behind the curtain, so I push it aside and step in. For long moments, I stand there, letting the hot water beat against my back. As my muscles start to relax, I start to lose it. Tears stream down my face as a sob escapes. I cover my eyes and drop down to sit in the tub.

  And there, by myself, as usual, I let the pain take over and I cry.

  Chapter Ten

  Fritz

  As I sit out back with my Army buddies, I enjoy the buzz of the night around us. The short spring—if you can call it a spring in Texas—is already fading and the heat is taking over the days. The nights are gorgeous though. We built a fire in the pit after we ate. Ed and Harry left us, happy to go back to their women.

  We make an unlikely group of friends, but that’s what the Army brings you. Nic Pappas is from Boston, a Greek god—according to Avery—with blond hair and brown eyes. He rivals Ed with height and muscle mass. Sitting next to him is Dane Longstreet, a Georgia boy born and bred in Savannah. Then there’s Trevor Smith, trust fund baby from New York who joined up to serve his country and stayed longer than his family had been happy with. We gave him the most shit, calling him Blue Blood until he won us over. Now we just call him Blue. All of us have left the service in the last few years.

  “I still hate the fact that you got away with so much shit with women,” Nic says. It’s not like he had problems with attracting women, but they all think I had an unfair advantage.

  “I offered to teach you how to dance,” I say with a smirk.

  He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. You know I have two left feet. Not fair your mother taught you all those fancy dances.”

  Nic isn’t kidding about that. He cannot dance, but he has the look of some Greek billionaire—again according to Avery—so women were always flocking to him.

  “Yeah, what guys know how to do the tango these days?” Blue asks.

  “When your mother teaches dance, you kind of learn it or deal with the consequences.” Also, my sisters paid me. They wanted a guy to help them learn the steps, so they bribed me to learn with them. None of them wanted to lead, so they needed someone who would fill that role.

  “So, when are we going to meet this sexy landlady of yours?” Blue asks.

  “What makes you think she’s sexy?” I ask as I take a sip of my beer, thinking about Savannah and our encounter in the kitchen. She didn’t look just tired. She looked broken. I push that thought aside. She asked for privacy, and I always give a woman what she asks for if at all possible.

  “He was mooning over the pictures in the living room,” Dane says, emphasizing the word mooning, deepening his accent over the word. I have a feeling he and EJ are going to want to compare notes since she grew up in Savannah herself.

  “It’s not just that,” Nic says, his thick Boston
accent dripping over his words. “He said he recognized her name.”

  I raise my eyebrows at that, as I try to fight against the rising jealousy that is churning in my gut. Really, jealousy? I don’t do that emotion, especially over a friend. “Yeah?”

  He shrugs. “She’s got a rep in the business.”

  “I forgot your family was in the restaurant business.”

  “Among other things,” he murmurs. “If I could steal her away, my mother might forgive me for that call from the Red Cross.”

  Blue had been injured on one of our missions, and it had been a tough go there for a while. In that situation, sometimes the command or the Red Cross will get hold of your family. In their case, it had been the Red Cross because Blue’s mother personally knew the head of that organization at the time. After she found out he was okay, she walked into Landstuhl Hospital and yelled at him. Someone recorded and put it up online. It has millions of views.

  “That will not happen.”

  “I can be very persuasive.”

  I just bet he can be, bastard. If he puts one stupid finger on Savannah, I’ll…fuck. Not my place, and I don’t get the feelings that are rising up right now. What the actual fuck?

  “It’s her family. She runs the whole joint, as in the whole group of Martinez restaurants.”

  “Well, she runs the kitchens, I know that. The money side of it is handled by her father, and rumor is that they are not doing that well right now.”

  Odd. “I find that hard to believe. Just off of La Trinidad alone, they have to make a huge profit. I’ve been in there on Wednesdays and they’re packed.”

  “What does that mean?” Blue asks.

  “It means you’re in the south and that means Wednesday nights are church nights for a lot of Baptists and what not,” Dane drawls.

  “Oh. Yeah, not a thing in New York,” Blue says with a chuckle. “Just let her know, if she is ever looking for a change, Dad would hire her in a heartbeat.”

  I nod and file it away, knowing that there is no way she would ever walk away from her family. The talk turns to Nic’s move from Boston to Savannah to join Dane on the Savannah Police Force. By the time they leave, the fire is banked. I clean up a few of the glasses sitting out and make sure to start the dishwasher.

  I glance over at the foyer and see McLovin sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Usually, he slinks upstairs most nights, but he’s waiting for me, which means her door is shut.

  I rarely go upstairs unless I’m looking for the asshole McLovin. But…there was something off about Savannah tonight. I waver for a second but decide to make my way up there anyway. McLovin is following me. Asshole probably wants to sleep with her.

  He’s not the only one.

  Nope. Not going there. Not thinking about that or her in that way. But, of course, my body has a mind of its own and, apparently, it’s my dick. He’s definitely interested in more than a friendship with Savannah. I draw in a deep breath and count backwards from ten. Once I have myself under control, I listen for any sounds. When I hear nothing, I knock softly. I hear her feet as she approaches.

  “Yes?” her usually raspy voice is thick.

  “It’s just me,” I say.

  “Is there something you need?”

  Okay, this is weird. In the past, she would open the door right away or tell me to come in. I mean, with three other guys she might have hesitated, but with it just being me, I wonder if I upset her having the guys here.

  “Fritz?”

  I panic and blurt out. “McLovin wants to see you.”

  A sigh, but I know she’s going to open the door, especially after McLovin lets out a sad meow. She opens the door and whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t the woman standing in front of me with puffy eyes. McLovin slips into her room, then jumps up on her bed like he owns it.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nods.

  “I was worried you were upset with the guys being over here.”

  “No.”

  I sigh. “I’m gonna stand here until you tell me what has upset you.”

  “It’s personal,” she says wandering back to her bed. It’s not a king, but big enough for another body. And why I am thinking that, I have no idea. I mean, she’s a sexy woman sitting on a bed, so I have a feeling most male minds would go in that direction.

  “Tell me.”

  She sighs again, the sound filled with aggravation and sadness. The weird mix is doing something odd to me. I get a tickle at the back of my throat, and it’s then that it hits me. I don’t know if I have ever known anyone who was as lonely as Savannah.

  “I have four sisters—”

  “Yeah, I know,” she says as she slips her hands through McLovin’s fur. “Everyone knows. I’m amazed you haven’t taken out a billboard on 281 just to make sure of it.”

  Her tone tells me she isn’t happy I’ve invaded her space, but I think this is important. I’m getting to know her little bit by little bit, and I know that something had to have upset her. Usually, she’d just get angry. But this is different. This is something that has struck at her emotionally and shaken her to her core.

  She says nothing, and I know she’s trying to outwait me. Too many people in her life tend to let her push them aside. Not that they are assholes. Savannah has this badass personality and people think she can handle anything. What they all forget is that everyone needs help every now and then. I always thought she had that from her family, but in the short time I’ve lived with her, I know they are not close.

  “I know how to hold out against you. Better to get it over with.”

  She shrugs. “I told you, family shit.”

  “Savannah,” I say, then stop when I see that she is crying again. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman this vulnerable in my life, and that includes my sister at her husband’s funeral. Savannah uses anger as a coping mechanism, so if she is falling apart like this, it is something huge. I don’t want to push her too hard, but I know that she needs someone to talk to. I sit in the overstuffed chair she has in the corner and wait.

  “I had an agreement, you know? I wanted those five days off. You would have thought I was asking for the blood of innocents, but all I wanted was five days. It’s been two years since I’ve had more than three days off in a row and that was because I had pneumonia.”

  It takes a moment for me to catch up with everything she just said. “Wait. You only took three days off when you had pneumonia?”

  She nods.

  Her family sucks. Majorly sucks. Who treats their youngest child this way? Monsters. That’s who. I might have been coddled being the only boy, but I know for a fact my parents would move heaven and earth to protect us.

  “Go on.” I’m proud I kept my voice level.

  “Fifteen days. All in a row, no break, but I played the game. Told my mother I would do it because I wanted to be there for Ed and Allison. I even had a plan to offer to work for the month after returning on Monday. Of course, today, being the last day of the fifteen, my mother shows up and tells me I have to work on Saturday.”

  “Uh, don’t you run the restaurant?”

  She nods. “Yeah, the kitchen. My parents run everything else.”

  “You’re not going to work.”

  She laughs, but there is no happiness in the sound. “Yeah, no. I refused, and she fired me.”

  I blink. “Wait, what? Your mother fired you?”

  She nodded.

  “What did Allison say when you told her?”

  Another sigh, the sound so lonely it almost breaks my heart. “I’m not telling Allison about this.” She says it in a tone that says she thinks I’m an idiot.

  “Why not?”

  She rolls her eyes. If they weren’t filled with tears, I would’ve laughed. “Because this is her week. It’s about Ed and Allison.”

  I frown. “But you should tell her. She’s your friend.”

  “She’ll feel like shit on her wedding day. I refuse to let my parents screw up the day. Parent
s,” she repeats, spitting out the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

  “What?”

  She looks up. “What?”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  She’s mad, but there is a brokenness to the anger, hanging out on the edges leaving a sharpness to the emotion I see in her light hazel eyes.

  She sighs and closes her eyes. As she does, fresh tears fall down her cheeks. “She told me she’s not even my mother. That I was Tito’s daughter. They adopted me when my mother died.”

  For a second, her words don’t register. Not really. When they do, there is only one thought that comes to mind: What the actual fuck? Who the hell blurts shit like that out? I immediately stand and lift McLovin off her lap—ignoring his hiss—and pull her up off the mattress. I wrap my arms around her. She shudders against me and then a sob that sounds like it’s torn from somewhere dark, and I close my eyes. It’s hard not to feel something when this strong, independent woman breaks down. And what the fuck kind of family did she have?

  When she’s finally quiet, I pull back a little and what I see just slays me right in half. Her face is ruddy, her eyes bloodshot, and her nose is so red Rudolph would be jealous. It breaks my heart.

  “Better?”

  She nods and tries to step away, but I stop her right there. Have I mentioned my four sisters? Probably annoyed you with it by now. Yeah, well, I know when a woman is trying to shut people out and be miserable by herself. That’s important. But more important is that she knows she has backup. She needs more than just me, and I give her a chance to get it.

  “I think you should tell Allison about this.”

  Her head comes up fast, smacking me in the jaw so hard there is a good chance I’ll have a bruise. “Fuck.”

  She steps back. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  “You can’t tell Allison.”

  Okay, I didn’t make that leap yet, but there is a good chance that I would if she hadn’t said anything.

  “Why not?”

  She paces away and I immediately want to grab her and pull her back into my arms. You know, to comfort her. That’s all. Not the fact that she feels so right there.