Page 71 of Golden Touch
“Sure! I’m Poppy, by the way. An old friend of Nash’s.”
I’d bet cash money that “old friend” is code for something else.
This bothers me, even though it shouldn’t.
Her smile widens again. “I can see your wheels turning, girlie. And I know exactly what it feels like to fall for a Giltmaker. It’s just that Nash isn’t my ex. His brother is.”
“Oh.”Oh. Now I feel stupid. “I’m not… I just thought… Do you bring cakes to all your friends?” I set it down on the table.
She cackles. “Not a chance. And this…” She lifts off the cover, and the scent of chocolate hits me. Hard. “Is a dark-chocolate and sour-cherry bundt cake. But it’s not for Nash. It’s for you and me.”
“Come again?” I’m practically getting a contact high off the cocoa scent.
“Nash went out with our friend Corky, who’s in a bad way. But he said you shouldn’t be alone tonight. And I realized that was agreatexcuse to bake a bundt cake. They makeeverythingbetter. Tonight’s cocktail pairing will be…” She rummages in the tote she’s holding. “Sour cherrytinis. Citrus vodka, Cointreau, and sour cherry purée.”
My mouth waters suddenly, because that sounds seriously good. But there’s only one problem. “Poppy, did Nash send you here tobabysitme?”
She sets her tote on a chair. “Well, babysit is a strong word. He was concerned, that’s all. He said you’d had some drama, and you might need a lift.”
Good grief. “Did he happen to warn you that the drama involves a scary dude who’s trying to kidnap me? Who may be out of town, but also may be on his way over here?” The more Ithink about this, the worse it gets. I resent the idea that I need a babysitter. And the first rule of being a hot mess is that you don’t involve innocent bystanders.
Poppy’s beautiful face takes on a thoughtful expression. “He may have said something about that. I can’t be sure. As soon as I heard ‘new girl in town,’ I started thinking about cakes and cocktails.”
Huh. “You are an interesting creature.”
She smiles, and it only makes her more devastating. “See, it’s areallysmall town, Livia. I’m in a bowling league, even though I’m terrible at bowling. But at least they serve beer. And I’m in a book club with all my enemies, because sometimes they’re all I’ve got. You sounded like a nice person, and I like to bake. It’s as simple as that.”
“Oh,” I say slowly. Because, again, living like a hermit is hell on your social skills.
“So maybe you can tell me the whole sordid tale over our first drink?”
Overwhelmed, I pull out a chair and plop down on it. “Okay. You’d better sit. Did you eat dinner? We’re going to need some extra calories to fight off my ex if he shows. You want some homemade soup?”
“Already ate. It’s cake time. Plates over here?” She heads over to the cabinet, finding them on the first try. She also roots out two forks and a knife from my silverware drawer before returning to the table. “You slice and serve. I need to shake up our drinks.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grab the knife, and when I cut the cake, the scent of chocolate practically clobbers me. I cut a thick slice for each of us.
Meanwhile, she pulls out a shaker that’s already full of ice and starts pouring vodka and Cointreau into it. Then a splash of fancy cherry juice. She shakes it up with the finesse of Tom Cruise inCocktail, and then pours it into two little juice glasses she pulls from my cabinet. “Not to complain, but we’vegotto get you some martini glasses.”
“Hmm,” I say noncommittally. “I do enjoy a nice martini glass. But that’s not even in the top twenty-five things I need to fix in my life.”
“Are you sure?” she asks. “Big problems seem smaller with a nice cocktail in hand. I’ve had lots of experience with this. Cheers.”
I lift my glass and touch it to hers. Then I take a sip of my drink. It’s tangy and delicious. I chase it with a forkful of tender chocolate-cherry cake and then gasp. “God. This should be regulated as a controlled substance.”
“My favorite recipe,” she says with a shrug. “For springtime, anyway. I have a rotating collection of seasonal favorites.”
“Yes, queen.” I take another bite and sigh. “If I were sticking around, I think we could be friends.”
She arches a perfect eyebrow. “Nash didn’t say anything about you leaving. Does he know?”
“On some level, sure. He’s got to realize that having me around is a huge liability. My ex more or less threatened to attack the brewery if he doesn’t get his way.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh,honey. Your ex sounds like a real twatwaffle. Way worse than any of mine.”
“It isn’t a competition,” I tease. “But yeah. The problem is that he also has a lot of twatwaffle friends, and they’re all involved with illegal activities. And I’m an idiot, so I stuck around long enough to learn too much about everything. Nash and Benito seem to think they can snare these guys and fix everything, but I think they’re high.”
She winces. “Okay, that sounds bad. But Benito is almost as smart as he is hot. And the Giltmakers are all very effective people. You’re in good hands. Besides—Nash needs you.”
