Asking For It - Allyson Lindt Page 0,3

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There was a whisper of regret in my mind telling me stories of what could have been as I drove toward home. I couldn’t help but replay the conversation in my mind. I was used to pick-up lines that reached hey baby, let’s fuck without much hesitation. Fred and Barney actually made an effort. Plus, they were hitting on me together.

I’d made the right decision walking away, but everything about their attention painted a little smile on my face that didn’t want to leave. Their company was fun while it lasted, and it had been a while since I walked away from two attractive maybe-hookups, and felt good about myself.

I parked around the back of my house. My café was up front, and took up the entire ground floor of the converted Victorian home. The rear stairs led up to the bedrooms and living area on the second floor.

I’d gotten the house for an amazing price in auction. Low enough I could pay cash, and still have a little—very little—left over for renovations.

Until about a year ago, I’d always operated in the black. But I took a risk based on how well business was going, and secured a large loan to upgrade a lot of my equipment. Renovations slowed business enough both during and after, that I was struggling to pay that new bill.

There was an envelope slipped through the mail slot when I stepped inside. As I skimmed the formal notification on city letterhead, my heart sank.

A request for a zoning change had been filed, to remove residential properties from my area.

I’d had to fight to get my housing here to begin with. I couldn’t afford to move to a new place now.

THE SUN WAS SHINING, the birds were singing, and okay, it sounded cliché, but I felt great in the morning. Sleep gave me enough sanity to know I could deal with the zoning issue just fine when the hearing happened in six weeks, and I still had warm fuzzies from the attention I got from Fred and Barney last night. I didn’t mind blocking out the doubt, since it was a snapshot in time.

I put on one of my more fitted tops. It was sunny yellow, to match my mood, it did great things for my cleavage, and it mostly hid my tummy. I’d be standing to bake a lot of today, and wearing an apron, so I didn’t have to worry about the space between the buttons gapping apart when I sat.

Living above my shop made for a convenient commute. In under a minute, I was in my gorgeous, big, industrial kitchen. Stainless steel appliances lined the walls, including three double-sized ovens opposite a massive fridge. In the middle stood a large island—half stainless steel, half butcher block. I loved this place, even if it was part of the reason I was struggling to make ends meet.

Today it would help pay for itself. I’d started taking on catering jobs to supplement the café’s income. Tomorrow would be my biggest event yet. One hundred each cupcakes, bagels, croissants, and chocolate chip cookies, for the Digital Media company town hall.

Anne had teased me about working for the enemy—she was a game Director for DM’s biggest competitor, Rinslet. But she’s also told me if I happened to overhear any corporate secrets, she was happy to be my confidant.

She’d been joking. Mostly.

I set a pot of coffee to brew, and prepped my workspace for the pastries I needed to make for the shop this morning. Two hours later, I was on my third cup of coffee, and was setting the day’s sweets under glass in the café.

Violet, my store manager, would be in soon to open up.

Time to get down to the big order. In my dreams, I was making enough money to hire more bakers. People I trusted as much as I did Violet to do their jobs without constant supervision. For now, the task of baking was mine.

I had a rhythm to my work that let me manage multiple batches at once. There was always a temptation to sample the goods, especially with me having skipped breakfast, but more coffee kept my stomach from growling.

The familiar ringtone that Anne, Sadie, and I all used for each other reached my ears. I pulled the call up on the tablet I kept on my counter, to find Anne grinning at me.

“You’re baking,” Anne said as a greeting.

I grinned. “What gave it away—the apron or the kitchen?” The happy note from