Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Because that should be my life goal?
I know my sister means well, but it’s time to play my trump card. “Cass, I appreciate the offer. Truly, I do. But he lives really close to An Open Book, and I’m working a ton over the next several days,” I say. I don’t add that I took an extra shift to earn some money for the security deposit at the new place. She’d probably sister-nap me and force me to live with her rent-free, which would have its perks when it came to my bank account, but that’d be about it. “And it’s going to be super easy for me to stay there till I move into the studio next week,” I say. Cassie lives across the bridge in Marin County, thirty minutes from my store.
“But I come into the city a lot for work,” she says, and damn, my sister is tenacious. “Like tonight. I was here seeing a client. I could drive you to work,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“Cassie, I will be a badass aunt for your little bambino, but I’m going to live with Chase Weston for a week, and I promise he won’t lay a hand on me to murder me. You have my word.”
He might however lay a hand on me to, say, spank me. Pinch me. Bite me.
A girl can dream of unlocking more kinks.
Cassie sighs heavily, clearly frustrated she’s losing this battle. “At least let me drive you to his place.”
Before I can say thanks but no thanks, the front door swings open and Aubrey shouts, “I’m ready to take you to The Pound—”
I mime slicing my throat as Cassie peers at Aubrey. My bestie gulps guiltily, shutting the fuck up.
“To the pound what?” Cassie’s tone drips with suspicion.
I jump in before this conversation crashes harder. “The Poundcake Factory,” I supply, since there just aren’t that many compound words starting with pound.
Cassie arches a well-groomed eyebrow. “The Poundcake Factory? What exactly is that?”
Think fast. “It’s…a new pop-up shop in Hayes Valley. It sells pound cakes. Hence the name,” I say, improvising as fast as I possibly can.
Aubrey smiles too big as she adds, “We saw it on social and got an invite.”
Cassie crosses her arms. “I like pound cake. I haven’t had any in ages. I’ll go.”
Uh-oh. Didn’t see that coming. Think faster. “Oh, I just remembered,” I say, snapping my fingers. “There’s a live jazz band playing too.”
Cassie shudders. She abhors jazz music. I’ve seen her walk out of restaurants that play jazz. “Okay, can you get me a slice of pound cake and bring it to me when we have dinner with Mom and Dad this week?”
I’m going to do everything I can to find a pound cake in this city. “I promise.”
I give her a hug, thank her for the plant, then say goodbye. I breathe a sigh of relief when she drives off, and I can finally slide into Aubrey’s tiny car with Nacho in my lap.
“The Poundcake Factory?” Aubrey asks as she puts the car in drive.
“Well, if you weren’t calling it The Pound Palace I wouldn’t have had to make that up.”
“No. If you didn’t bang them I wouldn’t have needed to call it The Pound Palace.”
“I didn’t bang them,” I point out.
“But you will. Or really, you better. Say, tonight?” Her voice rises with hope.
At a light, I turn to her, uncertainty racing through me. “I honestly don’t know if they want to again.”
She rolls her eyes. “He invited you to stay with him.”
“But he didn’t say it was to bang him. Or them.”
“Because that would have seemed transactional. But trust me, he’s wanting to make another transaction,” she says with a naughty little purr in her voice, then she hits the gas and cruises through the city. “You’re going to be a legend among women soon. You’re going to be the patron saint of Double Teams. I bet women are going to build a shrine to you at your bookstore. You should tell the book club.”
“I’m not going to tell the book club about my escapade.”
“Then just tell me. Like, did you spend the entire day googling different positions for three-ways?” she asks salaciously as we hit a light.
Laughing, I roll my eyes.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes.”
I smile. “Not the entire day. Just during my break. I want to be prepared.”
“If you want to be prepared, I can help you out with that. Here’s a little something I picked up for you.” Aubrey reaches a hand into the back seat, fishing around, then grabs something, and tosses it onto my lap.
A bottle of lube.
This is much better than a plant.
But I still have the cake problem to solve, so I start a group chat with the guys and ask: Do you happen to know any place nearby that sells pound cake?