Page 14 of Building Romance
“I just had the…pleasure of meeting Hutchinson Cromwell,” I explain.
Al starts laughing. “Oh, Hutch. Hope he didn’t threaten to pummel you too much.”
I give him a deadpan look and he keeps laughing. “Laugh it up. That man could crush me with one hand.”
Al waves me off. “Hutch wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m surprised he even played football. Anyhow, he’s right. You should.”
“Cam and I sort of…I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.” I stumble over my words, not wanting to admit the ill-tempered beauty across the street has somehow penetrated my armor.
Shrugging, Al takes another drink. “Let me work on her. But no funny business, Fletch. This is a serious agreement. Cam’s Café is a beacon of light in this neighborhood. I’m all for some friendly competition, but I think you need to differentiate your store from hers. Remember that store you guys did in…oh, where was it? Oh, Paris.”
I nod. The Paris location was a really tough one. We had to brand ourselves as the location for cupcakes and matcha because the neighborhood already was filled with patisseries and cafés that served coffee way better than we could possibly dream of providing.
“So what could we provide?” I contemplate aloud.
“Maybe, if you sponsor Cam, you’ll learn where she excels so you can figure that out?” he suggests. “You could coexist in harmony. Stranger things have happened.”
“If you say so,” I mumble as I finish my drink and consider if harmony with Cam could exist in this world. Somehow, I’m highly doubting that, but also, deep down, I’d love to get to know this intriguing woman. If our worlds hadn’t collided in the way they had, maybe, in another universe, we’d get along. Maybe.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cam
I pull my latest batch of cookies from the oven and set them on the rack to cool. It’s my third attempt in as many days to try to make this cookie recipe that Drew and I dreamed up over margaritas five nights ago.
“It puts the rum in the coconut!” Drew shouts as he dances around our kitchen table. What started out as a search for my missing saltshaker has turned into a night of drinking.
I fall down laughing. “OK, Hannibal Lecter of the witch coven.”
“Oh my God! Don’t be such a beotch!” he says, drawing out the last word. I throw a lime at him and it hits him in the head.
“Hey! Don’t hurt my money maker!” he cries out, rubbing his forehead.
Now, I’m full-on rolling around on the floor. “Your.” Laugh. “Money.” Laugh. “Maker.” Laugh.
“What? How will I find my sugar daddy if you bruise this perfection?” he says, sighing as he dramatically waves a hand in front of his face.
“You are the sugar daddy!” I laugh.
He giggles and hiccups, raising his glass in the air and letting the margarita spill on the floor. “To sugar daddies!”
“To tequila!” I say as I sit up and we clink glasses.
“You need a margarita cookie,” he declares after taking a sip of his strawberry margarita.
I purse my lips. “That’s actually a good idea.” I pull my phone from my pocket and make a note so I don’t forget it tomorrow.
“What are you doing? Sexting?” Drew asks.
I glare up at him. “Who am I going to sext?”
“Max.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. “No way. He’s been friend-zoned. I’m making a note about the cookie idea. It’s not a bad idea.”
“You can call it, the Strawberry Drewgarita,” he says, motioning with his hands as if the words will magically appear in the air in front of him.
I groan and throw another lime at him. But I also smile. Drew always makes me smile. Thank God for good friends.
