Big Bad Boys A Romance Collection - Penny Wylder Page 0,35

manage to reign in my freak-out. I instruct Jen to clean up, step out back and grab Carl to help, and then get down on hands and knees myself to assist. Together, the three of us manage to put the kitchen back in some semblance of working order. But by the time we’ll have another first tier ready to bake, we’ll already be a few hours behind schedule.

That’s when Lara pops her head into the back.

“Carmine? Can you come help me review the orders for next week?”

“That’s your jurisdiction,” I call back, my voice tight.

“I just want to make sure we’re only taking on the number of orders we can reasonably handle,” she replies. “I was reviewing the books and it seems like there might be more here than we can really finish in time.”

“There’s exactly as many orders as we can handle,” I snap. “No more, no less.”

“Carmine.”

My back stiffens. I recognize that tone. I’ve known Lara since college, and I can count on one hand the number of actual fights we’ve had. She doesn’t get pissed easily, and when she does, I’m almost always the one at fault. But that’s her borderline-annoyed tone. Which means a few more steps in the wrong direction, and we’re going to have a problem on our hands.

I take a deep breath and lock eyes with Carl, then Jen. Both of them have a deer-in-headlights expression on. They’re younger than Lara and me, just out of college, but they’ve been around the bakery long enough to know that my bestie and I never fight. Usually.

Then again, I usually don’t freak out on anyone for something like dropping a cake, either. Shit happens. Anyone that’s worked in the food industry long enough knows that.

So I take a second deep breath, yank off my apron, nod in what I hope is a reassuring manner to our two assistants, and then head out to the front of the shop.

“I’m sorry,” I say before Lara can start. “I’m just stressed—we dropped a cake, and now we’re behind schedule, and…” I stop when she holds up a hand.

“Did I not tell you that you were overbooking yourself this weekend?” she asks with an eyebrow raised.

I bite my lip. “Maybe.”

“And did I not warn you that mistakes happen and we need to build more free time into the schedule to accommodate for them?”

I clear my throat this time. “Also maybe.”

“So when I ask you to go over the schedule for next week and make sure it’s not too insane, your correct response should be…”

I groan. “Yes, okay, I’ll try to cut it down a little. But Lara, we’ve got so many orders pouring in—”

“Right, because we’re doing great. Carmine, we don’t have to squeeze in every single order we receive. People are clamoring for our cakes because they’re amazing, but we can’t meet every single demand we receive. And we don’t need to. People understand we’re busy, and they know they need to book us farther in advance. We can trim down the schedule a little bit without losing business, you know.”

I swallow hard. “I know, you’re right…”

“Are you okay?” Lara squints at me, a little more closely than I’d like. I remember the bags I spotted under my eyes last night, and how hard it was to drag myself out of bed this morning.

“I’m fine,” I mumble.

“You need to take care of yourself too, you know,” she replies. “Nobody’s getting any cakes if you go and work yourself into the ground.”

“I take care of myself,” I protest.

“Carmine, when was the last time you did anything but work?” Lara lifts an eyebrow and fixes me with a sardonic gaze. “Hell, when was the last time you got laid?”

“I…” I snap my mouth shut again, because I’m still counting.

She snorts again. “I bet you’d be a lot less snippy if you’d had sex anytime in the last two years, you know.”

“I’ve had sex!” I protest.

“Oh really? When?” she counters.

I bite my lip again. Shit. She’s right. Now that I think about it, I haven’t been with another person since… Well, since before we got the business loan approved for the store. Before Red Velvet’s official opening day. I’ve been with my collection of sex toys pretty regularly since then, but I’m guessing by Lara’s estimation that won’t count.

“It’s not that long,” I reply slowly.

“Carmine, you’re 28 years old. It’s not super normal to have not had sex with anyone for two whole years. Come on, get back out there, get