Page 9 of Spicy or Sweet
This town has given me everything, the goddamn movie has given me everything. My family has thrived here: we met Rora, and Rora met Uncle Henry; our toy store has been more than successful; my bakery is killing it. All of my dreams have come true.
What kind of person gets everything they ever wanted and hates every second of it?
An ungrateful brat who can’t handle a little hard work, apparently.
“I’ll do it.” I look up at Shay, and she’s watching me with an expression I don’t recognize. “Are you in?”
Shay side eyes the mayor for a second before focusing back on me. “Are you sure? If it’s too much?—”
“I said I’d do it, Shay.” I’m not proud of my tone, or the flash of disappointment that flicks through Shay’s eyes.
She nods. “Alright. I’m in.”
4
SHAY
Idon’t know Noelle Whitten well, but I know she’s not okay. The mayor was out of line, trying, and succeeding, to guilt Noelle into something she clearly doesn’t want to do.
A thick silence stretches between us as we walk down the street. I understand Noelle’s hesitance toward the project—it’s a lot of work, and ridiculously last-minute. But I’m still excited.
The money alone will be great, but the exposure will be invaluable. And I think it’ll be fun to see how a movie is made.
As for working so closely with Noelle… maybe this is what we need to find common ground. Maybe I’ll figure out why Noelle doesn’t like me when we’re shoved in a kitchen together, and maybe she’ll realize I’m not so bad.
Maybe we could actually become friends.
Unlike now, when I can sense the dislike emanating from her. I’m sure the last thing she wants is to talk to me, but I can’t see the tension weighing down her spine andnotsay something.
“Are you okay?”
Noelle doesn’t even look up. “I’m fine.”
“It just seems like you don’t want to do this, and I’m sure it’s not too late to?—”
She stops and whirls around, her lilac hair flying. “I said I’m fine, and I said I’d do it.”
“Okay. But you seem stressed about it, and we are going to be working together, so you’re going to have to be okay with me checking in,” I answer gently.
Noelle narrows her eyes. “You don’t have to check in. We’re temporarily working together. We’re not friends.”
Ouch.
The sensible thing would be to ask her why she doesn’t like me, or we’re going to spend the next few weeks tiptoeing around it. But I can’t imagine she’d respond well to me asking right now.
“Right. Well, as temporary colleagues, we should probably talk about how we’re going to work together. Do you want to come over and we can figure things out?”
“Fine,” Noelle replies through gritted teeth.
She follows me across the street and intoÉpices et Sucré. A couple I don’t recognize is sitting at the round table by the window, and we greet each other before Noelle and I take a seat on the other side of the café.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine,” Noelle answers—her favorite response, apparently—but her stomach rumbles. She glares down at it.
“Did you eat lunch? You seemed busy earlier.”
“I’ll get something later.”
