PETRA
When you work at a bakery, you should never, ever get drunk. I was hating myself the next morning. I could see that Donovan didn’t understand why I wasn’t inviting him up. I was three sheets to the wind, and I had to wake up at two in the morning. He was only thinking of the moment, and who could blame him? But I had to be practical. I couldn’t afford to call in sick because I’d had a little too much fun. As it was, I was only going to get a few hours of sleep.
As I tossed myself onto the mattress without even getting undressed, I hoped I would be able to function the next day. I had to drive myself to work, which meant I had to be sober enough to operate a vehicle. Five hours wasn’t a lot of time for the alcohol to work its way through my system.
My last thought as I drifted off was, Oh fuck, my car.
When the alarm went off, I groaned. I stumbled into the bathroom to wash my face. Changing my clothes, it felt like all my muscles were on fire. I poured myself a great big glass of water and drank it so fast, some of it spilled onto my collar. I didn’t have time to worry about that. I still had to go back to the bar to pick up my car and make it to work in time to cook the pastries.
Luckily, no one was going to be there to witness it if I was half an hour late. I was so conscientious, I was probably going to mark myself late on my time sheet, but I could debate that for a bit. Calling for a rideshare, I retraced my steps. They got me to the bar in record time, probably wondering why someone was going out to party at two-thirty instead of going home.
I climbed out, retrieved my car, and drove to the bakery. Checking my phone, I saw I was only ten minutes late. Perfect. I would just put in for my regular time, and no one would be the wiser.
I nearly stumbled getting through the door. There was a little step that didn’t usually bother me. That morning, for some reason, it jumped out to attack my boots, sending me flailing. I grabbed the door frame to steady myself. It was going to be a long day.
I needed coffee, so I took the time to make a huge pot in the lobby. It was strange, and it took up about fifteen minutes that I didn’t have, but it was worth it. What was usually average coffee tasted stellar. The customers were going to wonder why their morning coffee was five hours cold, but I didn’t care. I had the elixir of life coursing through my veins, and I was finally ready to work.
Putting on my music, I chose an energetic playlist. I found myself jumping up and down, yelling the words out to an empty kitchen. I managed to get most of my work done before the rest of the kitchen staff came in. By the time the restaurant opened, I had recouped all the wasted hours and finally let myself relax.
I didn’t wait until the sun came up. As soon as the doors opened to the public, I texted Meara. Can you come to the bakery and bring coffee? I asked. I could never have too much coffee, and while the bakery’s swill tasted great that morning, I was tired of it already. I wanted something sweet and cool from the real coffee place.
She didn’t answer for a long moment, and I thought she might be asleep. I knew Meara didn’t keep as crazy hours as I did. That’s why I’d waited so long to text her. She finally responded about five minutes later, asking for my coffee order.
She was such a good friend. I would really have to do something nice for her. Maybe a pastry could make up for the early morning summons. I had so many things I wanted to talk to her about. Strike that. I had two things I wanted to talk to her about, and their names were Donovan and Cory.
Meara would know just what to do about my attraction to both men. I had plenty of work to do, but I took a break as soon as Meara arrived. The front counter worker poked her head in the back to let me know.
“Petra, there’s someone here to see you.”
“I’m taking fifteen,” I announced.
Meara was a sight for sore eyes. She had clearly just rolled out of bed to come talk to me, and I appreciated it. She hadn’t even taken the time to put on makeup or dress up. She wore jeans and a T-shirt with her hair up in a ponytail. I didn’t often see her looking so casual.
We hugged, and she passed over the fancy coffee she’d brought. I didn’t really want to talk in the bakery, but I didn’t have a choice. With only fifteen minutes to spare, our options were limited. I took her to the very back of the lobby, but there were still customers around. Meara must have read the anguish on my face because she offered another suggestion.
“We can talk in my car,” she said.
“Let’s do that,” I agreed.
We went out to the street where she had parked and got in her vehicle. Closing the door behind me, I felt a wave of relief. I took a sip of the sweet brew and then set it in the cup holder. A moment later, Meara slid into the driver’s seat.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“There are these three guys who want to invest in the bakery,” I explained.
“That’s great!”
“Yeah, and we’ve done a lot of the legwork already. They set up an escrow account, and I told them everything I want to do to spruce up the place.”
“You did?” she asked.
“Yeah, they want me to be in charge of the renovations. They’re going to sidestep Chad.”
Meara flashed a wicked grin, and I knew she was on top of my feelings toward my boss. It was a well-documented fact that Chad was an idiot. And Meara had been with me through the whole loss of my own bakery debacle.
“That’s fantastic,” she cheered. “What brought that on?”
“They’re all friends of my brother Patrick,” I said. “They went to college together.”