Risking the Shot (Stick Side #4) - Amy Aislin Page 0,44

. . What?” He’d known Calder didn’t enjoy his job as a baker at the bakery franchise, but to up and quit like that? “Just . . . out of the blue? Or was this something you’ve been thinking about for a while?”

Calder dropped his hands. Sighing, he slumped backward, sinking into the couch. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. Months, really. I wanted to find a new job before I quit, but everything came to a head today and . . .” He sighed again. “I’ll take those seven drinks now.”

Going into the living room, Dakota opened the cupboard of his minibar and poured Calder a few fingers of the ten-year-old Laphroaig he loved.

“I knew you were unhappy there,” Dakota said as he stepped back into the family room and held the glass out to Calder. “But I didn’t think it was this bad. How come you never said anything?”

“Thought I could tough it out until I found something else.”

“What happened today?”

“I just can’t handle Peter’s management anymore. He’s trying to cut costs by shortening our hours, but that means there aren’t enough of us to get the morning baking done in time. Not to mention if we’re low on supplies, he has a hissy fit—and inventory is his job. I’m done.” Calder sipped his scotch. “If he wants to cut costs so bad, he can stop paying me entirely. See how he likes having one less body to boss around.”

Peter was the owner of the bakery. Talk about personalities that didn’t mesh—Calder and Peter were like crayons and microwaves.

“Bet he comes crawling back within the week,” Calder muttered into his drink.

“You didn’t give two weeks’ notice?”

“No, I did. Don’t listen to me.” He waved a hand. “I’m just blabbering.”

Dakota tucked himself against the arm of the couch, one leg bent underneath him so he could face Calder. “And what was the second thing you did that you should’ve talked to me about?”

“Oh. Hm.” Calder stared into his glass. “I did a thing.”

“Uh-huh. You said that.” It was kind of amusing seeing Calder all evasive, but it wasn’t enough to eclipse the cramping in Dakota’s gut. What the hell was Calder about to spring on him? The uncertainty cast his mind back three-plus years, to coming home from work and finding Fiona with her bags packed by the door, announcing she wanted a divorce, couldn’t be a mother, and was moving into an apartment she’d leased, all in one breath. She’d had everything planned out and Dakota hadn’t had a clue.

He hated not having a clue.

Never mind that she’d left him with a full-time job to be a full-time single parent, she’d never talked to him about what was bothering her or any of the plans she was making. Secrets layered upon secrets. He’d tried, in the days that followed, to convince her to see a doctor in case she had postpartum depression. Turned out that she didn’t, which she knew, because she’d already seen a doctor about it. Something else she’d kept from him.

Thank God for Calder, whose flexible work schedule meant he could pitch in while Dakota scrambled to find a daycare that had availability for a six-month-old.

Removing his phone from his pocket, Calder fiddled with it for a moment, then handed it to Dakota. On the screen was a website featuring their logo—a clip-art-looking cake they’d bought off a stock site—next to the name of their company. Underneath that was a menu: home, about, gallery, contact, order, FAQ. Below that was a photo gallery featuring some of the cakes, cupcakes, cookies, and pastries they’d done over the years. It was a very clean website, minimalist with lots of white space, eye-catching colors, and photos of some of their best work.

“Before you freak out,” Calder said, “this isn’t live. I just thought it was something we might want to look into. I know you don’t really have time to take on more work and—”

“Did you read the stars or something?” Dakota interrupted.

“Huh?”

Huffing out a laugh, Dakota shook his head. “When Tay was here a couple days ago, he asked why we don’t have a website. This is all incredibly coincidental.” He couldn’t say he hadn’t thought of it ever since Tay had mentioned it, but . . . “We’ll have to figure out logistics.” As the baker, Calder currently took all of the orders and notified Dakota of the ones requiring any decorating.

“Yeah, that’s what I was getting at.” Calder sat forward on the edge of