Chapter 5: Olive
“Holy shit.”
“That’s what I said!”
“He kissed you and stormed out, naked, into the hotel hallway?” Lilah, my sister asks with a wide smile.
"Well, not naked. He was wearing his pants.” My heart pounds a little at the memory. I try to channel the emotion into the enormous batch of brioche I’m kneading.
Lilah snorts, “And a massive boner, most likely.” She’s scooping muffin batter into the tin in front of her.
"Yeah, it was just about at full salute." I laugh a little, but it's bittersweet. By the time we got up this morning, the maid was cleaning the suite next to ours and I realized that I have no idea who our mystery stripper was. I guess it doesn't matter. If he had wanted to get in touch with me, he would have figured it out. I’m just going to chalk it up to the crazy peak of a wild night. Sigh.
“That was one hell of a longing sigh, Olive. Was it really that good of a kiss?”
Before I can answer her, my head baker, Luis, joins us back in the kitchen.
“How was your lunch?” I ask him.
"Who kissed you?" Luis asks, his brows lowered with concern. I smile at him affectionately. If any man had the right to worry about me, it’s him. Luis has been a father figure for us ever since Dad left us with Gran. We practically grew up with his two sons, Marcos and Javier.
His wife died a couple years back and even though he could have retired, he insisted he would be bored and lonely. So, when I opened my bakery two years ago, Luis was all too happy to come to bake with me. I don't think we could function without him. He bakes the best bread of anyone I know. Because of his fresh rolls and bread, we sell tons of baked goods to the local restaurants; he’s helped make us the most successful bakery in Sonoma.
"A stripper kissed her!" Lilah giggles with so much evil glee that I'm wondering if we should perform an exorcism.
Luis looks aghast. “Olive!”
“Oh my god. He wasn’t really a stripper.” I try to wave Luis down as I explain. “He was just this random guy in the hotel room next to our party… he only stripped because Sally begged him.” I grimace because somehow that sounds worse.
Luis is far from placated. I can see him spooling up for a lecture on safety but I'm saved by a “Yoo-hoo!” from the small hallway that leads to the dining area. Della’s blonde head peeks around the corner. “You ready to talk construction?”
“Hey lady! Give me a second.” I wave at her and slap the dough in front of me.
Luis takes over the brioche with a disapproving eyebrow for my late-night antics, but he keeps his mouth shut. For now, at least.
“Thanks,” I tell him, popping a quick kiss on his cheek. He sends me on my way, muttering under his breath about making smart choices.
I join Della by the hand sink, hanging my apron and hat on their hooks. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” I say to Della as I wash my hands. She’s all smiles today, caffeinated and ready to talk shop.
“No worries! I can't wait to get your classroom finished. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make macarons like yours for years. You have to promise you’ll teach me when the addition is done.” She rubs her hands together with glee. “I drew up some preliminary sketches I want to go over with you and the contractor. You are going to love this guy. He’s a total pro. Best in the area.” She grins widely and holds her hand up like she’s telling me a secret. “He’s not too hard on the eyes either.” Della’s a lovable weirdo and a talented architect. I’d hire her even if she wasn’t giving me the Friends and Family discount.
Lilah joins us, hanging her apron and hat next to mine. She’s promised to help me teach some classes and I want her involved in the planning process as much as possible. She splits her time between baking here with me and tending bar over at Blue Ruin Speakeasy. I’d like her to partner with me full time, but I think she likes bartending too much to give it up.
Following Della out into the dining area, I start to ask her how her husband is doing, but one glance at our new contractor stops me in my tracks. The man sitting at the table in front of me, sipping coffee from one of my mugs is one I'll never forget. His stormy blue eyes look over the edge of the cup and he chokes on his coffee, sputtering, “Holy…”
“Shit.” It’s not ladylike, but it's the only thing my brain can spit out. My entire body is frozen, but my ability to swear seems to be intact. Out of the corner of my eye, Della is shooting looks back and forth between me and the gorgeous man at the table.
After a beat, Lilah busts out into cackling laughter. “No! Oh my god, Olive, no. Tell me this isn’t the guy.” She's laughing so hard she's wheezing between sentences.
The man sitting in front of us collects himself faster than I do. He stands, and he’s even taller than I remember him being last night. Although I guess I’m in kitchen shoes, not three-inch heels like the last time I saw him. His bearded jaw is clenched, muscles visibly straining. He keeps a straight face as he holds out a hand to shake mine.
“Brooks Davidson. You must be Olive.”