Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“Get some juice. Seriously. And there’s Tylenol in one of the island drawers.”
“I will.” I run my hands through my hair, suddenly self-conscious. “Hey, how bad do my eyes look?”
He looks at me and then considers for a beat, making me laugh. “That good, huh?”
“They’ve looked better.” He grins. “But you’re still beautiful Brainy Lainey.”
My heart does a little flip. “It was just Brainy Lainey, you know. You guys never called me beautiful.”
“Be kind of weird for your own brother to say that about you, wouldn’t it?”
His gaze on me is warm, but not in the usual way. I swear he’s looking at my mouth. I can’t let myself fall into my old, Bash-infatuated ways.
“I guess it would be weird for my brother’s best friend, who thinks of me like a sister, to say it too,” I quip.
Something flickers in his eyes and he turns back to the bacon. I push away from the counter.
“I need to go take a shower. Thanks for being such a good friend.”
“Hey.”
I turn to look at him.
“Have you called Shane yet?”
My former fiancé’s stunned but not stricken expression when he got caught bringing a woman home flashes through my mind. He asked, “What are you doing here?” like I was the one who owed him an explanation and not the other way around.
“I went to Columbus last night. Shane and I are over.”
Bash’s expression lights up with happiness that he quickly masks. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Later. I have to go into the lab for the morning, but if you’ll be around this afternoon—”
“Yeah, of course. Can I take you out for lunch later?”
God, he’s so damn nice. Next time I fall in love, I’m going to look for a man who’s nice and also hot for me. If that combination even exists. There are more than four billion men in the world, so mathematically speaking, it should be possible.
“Yes, that would be nice. And then I’m going to make some sourdough bread. That’s always therapeutic.”
He nods approvingly. “I’ll eat the fuck out of it.”
I smile. “You don’t have to. I know you have to watch your diet.”
“I’m all over it, Lane. Better make two loaves.”
“I feel like baking and cooking.” The idea is just forming in my head. “Maybe we could have Suki and Carter and the whole crew over for dinner this weekend.”
“Great idea. I’ll help.”
“Okay. I’ll invite them.”
I turn to go upstairs, glancing over my shoulder as I walk. Bash is watching me, that look back in his eyes that I can’t quite place.
After he turned me down seven years ago, I never would have thought we’d end up being close friends like this. I’ve always felt like Bash was my friend as an offshoot to being Eric’s friend, but this summer is bringing us a lot closer together.
Some woman is going to be incredibly lucky to snag him one day. And I doubt we’ll ever get time to be such close friends as we are now once that happens. This is my chance for one-on-one time with Bash, and even though I spent years hoping for a romance with him, there’s something solid and right about at least having him as one of my closest friends.
Chapter Thirteen
Bash
* * *
Lainey talks to her dough.
Actually, she talks to it in all stages. She keeps the starter in a jar in the fridge and knows by smelling it when Dough Goldberg is “happy” or “hungry.” She’s been obsessing over it for two days now, mumbling over fermentation, flour and proofing.
None of it means anything to me, but it’s pretty fucking cute. Alarms sound on her phone every hour—if not more often—and she runs to check on her dough, stretch it and poke it. That dough is getting way more action than I am.
We had a weekend Netflix marathon so she could stay close to the damn dough. I tried to get her to go out, but she refused. Now it’s Sunday afternoon and my kitchen is messier than it’s ever been as we work to make dinner for our friends.
The pasta sauce we made from scratch with tomatoes from the farmers’ market is simmering, a splatter hitting me in the face as I push a button on my phone to answer the call that’s coming in. I put it on speaker since my hands are occupied cooking.
“Hey, Mom.”
“You actually answered.”
I roll my eyes. “Sorry, I was busy the last couple of times you called.”
“I understand. I’m nothing special, just the woman who spent twenty-three hours in labor pushing you out of her vagina.”
Lainey meets my eyes and grins from the other side of the kitchen.
“So how are you, Mom?”
“Good, good. We had the church garage sale yesterday and I worked it from seven a.m. until five p.m. I’m still tired.”
“I’m sure the Lord appreciates your efforts.”