Oh, Keep Your Shirt On - Michelle Pennington Page 0,1
about to lose it in the depths of my bag again.
Charlotte, one of the chefs, was hard at work cleaning the grill, but she took time to smile at me as I walked through. “Hey, Krista. There’s a leftover slice of chocolate cake over there if you want it.”
Chocolate? I stopped dead in my tracks and spun to the side. There on the empty, stainless steel counter sat an open to-go box with a thick wedge of cake covered in decadent dark chocolate ganache. I’d tasted this divine creation once during my training and had been craving it ever since. For the first time in a long time, the universe had shown me some mercy.
“I’ll take it,” someone called from the other side of the room. It was Bryce.
If I’d wanted to smack him before, now I was ready to shank him.
Since he was bigger than me, likely faster, and closer to the cake, I didn’t have a chance. But I ran toward it anyway. And then, with a resourcefulness born from desperation, I remembered the tampon in my hand and threw it toward the cake. I had one thought. To claim what was mine.
Bryce and I both froze a few feet away from the counter. I stared at the purple package of the tampon now stuck in the ganache like a tilted flag on a muddy battlefield. I let out a choke of laughter at the surprising accuracy of my aim, but Bryce had a vastly different reaction.
Who knew such a mean punk could squeal like a girl? But he did, scrambling backward like it was a venomous snake about to strike. He crashed into a rack of pans and utensils, making the whole thing rattle until tongs and metal spoons crashed to the floor.
“Bryce!” Charlotte yelled, stalking over. “What are you doing?”
He steadied himself against the rack and pointed at me. “She threw a tampon on the cake.”
Charlotte swung around to me. “What?”
I shrugged and pulled the tampon free. “He was about to steal it from me.”
Charlotte burst out laughing. “Nice move.”
“That is so wrong,” he said, his voice breathless with disgust.
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a paper towel and wiped the chocolate away. “It’s not like it was a used one.”
Bryce flinched again and went pale.
Totally enjoying this now, I closed the lid of the container and held it out to him. “I’ll share it with you if you want,” I said, knowing there was no way he would accept.
“Get that away from me.”
“Huh.” I looked down at the cake. “Okay. If you’re sure.” I turned to nod at Charlotte. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“See you,” she said, trying to smother her amusement since Bryce looked like a volcano about to erupt.
When I got out to my car, I did some quick calculations and decided that I could get home without getting gas. It was late, and I was even more desperate than ever to get there now that I had a treat to indulge in. I’d only have fumes left to get to the gas station tomorrow, but I’d make it. Probably.
But as I made the last turn toward home, I saw a lovely sight waiting for me—a million cars lining the street. My neighborhood was made up of two-story duplexes with neatly manicured landscaping, tree-lined walkways, and covered front porches on every building. My unit was at the end on a corner lot, so it was normally quiet. You’d have thought that having the landlord in the unit next to mine would make it even more so, but unfortunately, Damien was a young guy with a lot of friends. In the few weeks I’d lived here, this wasn’t the first time I’d come home to one of his parties.
“Looks like I’ll be sleeping with ear plugs tonight,” I grumbled as I negotiated the narrow space left by cars parked on both sides of the road.
When I got to my driveway, however, I found it blocked by a teal Jeep—of all ridiculous things. I glared at it, my foot pressing down on my brake harder than necessary, wishing I had lasers for eyes so I could just incinerate the thing. But no matter how annoyed I was, the only thing I could do was park somewhere else. Damien was definitely going to hear about his.
Not wanting to block the road, I had to drive down the street to park—something the Jeep owner clearly hadn’t wanted to do—and hike back to my driveway. The only thing that kept