Just Desserts

“Sam Taylor called me at the lake and asked me to give Layla a ride. We had a minor altercation in the parking lot with her ex-boyfriend, then she puked and I took her home.” It wasn’t quite the right order, but Justin didn’t think the chronology mattered.

“She puked because she was…”

“Drunk as hell.”

“Layla? Drunk?”

“Mmm-hmm. And for once it wasn’t with power.” Justin went into his pastry room and took a look at the list he’d left himself the night before. He didn’t turn on the music because he knew it wouldn’t be long before—

“I want details,” Eden said, leaning her shoulder against the door frame.

“I wish I had some. I don’t.”

“Wow.” She processed his words for a moment, then slowly turned and went back into the kitchen, deep in thought. Even though he and his sisters had grown up up the street from the Taylors, neither Eden nor their older sister, Reggie, had ever warmed up to Layla, probably because she had nothing to do with anyone in their neighborhood. Reggie had thought Layla was pretty damned stuck up back in the day, which was saying something, since Reggie hadn’t been the warmest of people herself then. After their mother had died, their father took more and more long haul truck jobs, basically leaving the kids to fend for themselves. Reggie had been too busy running the household in their father’s absence to socialize, and too angry at his abandonment to be particularly warm and fuzzy to anyone.

Eden reappeared in the doorway. “I forgot—Cindy stopped by yesterday.” Justin continued to study the list. “She dropped off a bag of clothes. Your clothes. It’s in the laundry room. She’ll get the key back to you when she picks up her stuff.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t quite meet his sister’s eyes.

“What happened?”

“Things just didn’t work out.”

“Damn, Justin. You finally date a girl I like and—”

“You suddenly feel a deep need to mind your own business?” he asked.

Eden wasn’t in the least insulted or deterred. “I thought she was perfect for you.”

Yes, Cindy had been practically perfect. She worked in a downtown restaurant. They understood each other’s occupations; they’d had a lot of fun. And that was as far as he would let it go. He didn’t know why, wasn’t a huge believer in self-analysis, but once a relationship hit a certain point, he was done. Just…done.

His relationship with Cindy had hit that point.

“You’re going to run out of compatible women,” Eden warned before heading back into the kitchen.

“Reno’s a big town and lots of people move here every day,” Justin called after her.

Eden came back a few seconds later with a calendar showing the events for the week. “Okay. Patty has her surgery set for next Wednesday, and it looks like you’ll be on your own for the next six weeks.”

Justin reached up to adjust his stocking hat. “I told the hotel I can’t be called in for any emergencies for a while.” After hiring on as a prep cook at Tremont, Patty had, for some reason, made his work her priority, and he’d come to depend on her—which allowed him to take extra work at the lake and make more specialty cakes than he’d been able to before.

“That’s the sanest thing you’ve said in months,” Eden muttered. She placed the calendar on the counter between them. “You’re working the parties on Tuesday night and Wednesday night, right?”

“Right. And that business brunch at the lake tomorrow.” After that, he was holing up for the evening.

“Okay.” She laid the list on his stainless-steel counter. “Here’s the desserts we’ll need for the bookings this week and next....” Her voice trailed off and she looked up at him with a slight frown. “I am having the hardest time visualizing you and Layla fighting in the parking lot.”

“Don’t forget the boyfriend. He was there, too.”

“Strange.” She gave her head a slight shake, then pointed back at the list. “Seven dozen cherry bomb mini cupcakes for the tea on Thursday—”

The phone in Justin’s pocket vibrated, making him jump. It was the Tremont cell, not his own, that he was carrying. “Tremont Catering. Justin here.”

“Uh, hi.” The voice was hoarse, feminine and distinct.

“Layla?” Justin said, rather enjoying the way Eden’s head snapped up.

“Would you mind checking your car to see if my wallet fell out in there? Because if it didn’t, then I have another headache to deal with.”

She was probably dealing with a whopper already.

“Sure thing. Stay on the line and I’ll check right now.” He walked past Eden and out the back door without saying a word into the phone, because he really couldn’t think of anything to say. He opened the passenger door, dug around under the seat, then shoved his hand deep into the crack between the seats and struck gold.

“Got it,” he said, pulling out a slim eel-skin wallet. “You must have lost it when you dumped your purse out.”

“I dumped my…never mind. Thank you for finding it.”

“I’m pretty swamped today, but I can drop it by your house on my way home.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll pick the wallet up tomorrow on my way to work.”

“It’ll be here waiting for you.” And Justin wouldn’t be. “I’m going to the lake tomorrow for a catering event. I, uh, could pick up your overnight bag there if you want.”

“Oh.” It was obvious she hadn’t even thought about that. And that she wanted to say no, but wasn’t going to. “Thank you. I would very much appreciate it.”

He smiled at her stiff tone. Likely she was torn between gratitude and a desire to keep him out of her life. “You know me, Layla—always there to lend a hand.”

There was a slight choking sound and then the phone went dead.

SAM, WHO©COULDN’T©MAKE©IT up to the lake in her little car to rescue Layla, did make it across town just fine to see her sister on her way to the small shop she ran a few blocks from Layla’s house. But in Sam’s defense, the snow that had pelted the mountains was a slushy sleet in Reno.

“Oh. My.” Sam stopped dead in the doorway and stared at her sister for a long moment, oblivious to the wet snow blowing into the house. Layla grabbed her by the sleeve and tugged her inside.

“I haven’t had time to shower.”

“Well, at least wipe the mascara from under your eyes.”

Layla nodded. But she didn’t move.

Sam’s eyes grew wide. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a worse day than yesterday.”

“Considering some of the stuff the twins did to you, that’s saying a lot.”

Layla nodded again, then sat on the upholstered window seat. She hadn’t changed out of her dress, hadn’t managed to do much of anything except to lie quivering on her bed, fighting the mother of all hangovers. She did feel slightly better now that the Pepto Bismol and aspirin had taken effect. Physically, anyway.

“Tell me about it,” Sam said, sitting beside her.