Fake It Till You Bake It(11)

“We promised each other we would take one day a week for ourselves,” Nicholas added.

With his smooth mocha skin, sharp jawline, gray eyes, and ever-present grin, Nicholas looked like a damn GQ model, even dressed in the standard Sugar Blitz polo and khakis. There was a reason they made him work the counter when he wasn’t baking. August was stockier, a few inches taller than Nicholas’s five feet ten. August didn’t give a damn about chasing the spotlight or records, leaving that up to his business partners. Jeans and a decades-old T-shirt with his black locs pulled back into a low ponytail and a perfectly groomed beard that covered the mahogany skin on his face was his preferred look when he wasn’t playing football.

They both crossed their arms, united in their exasperation with Donovan.

He refused to feel guilty. There would be no relaxation for him until the shop was consistently turning a profit again and they could afford a full-time manager and more part-timers. Yesterday, after Cupcake Shop Critic had waltzed out, he’d gone back to his office and scrutinized the sales numbers some more. Maybe if he stared hard and long enough, they would change. Or maybe he would develop some magical powers to make it happen. Why the hell not?

When he’d realized he’d ventured into hallucinogenic territory, it dawned on him that he knew someone who did know how to make magic. Who had turned an underachieving team into a major success story. He’d put in a call. “Look. It’s just a meeting. Then I’ll relax.”

Nicholas’s brows lifted. “You mean go work out for two hours?”

Damn it, why did his friends know him so well? His spine stiffened. “Owning a cupcake shop is—”

“—no excuse not to stay in football shape,” his best friends finished for him.

He gave them the only response warranted. He flipped them the bird.

“Mature,” Nicolas intoned. “But enough about that. Tell me about this mystery shopper. I want to hear the dirt straight from your mouth.”

Donovan glared. Nicholas remained unfazed. Donovan sighed. Why didn’t his glare work on his best friend? Or Cupcake Shop Critic? “Okay. Fine. She was talking shit about the store and said our cupcakes were stale. I wasn’t in the mood to hear it, so I offered her a cupcake. End of story.”

Nicholas rocked back on his heels. “Wow. I want to meet the woman who made you forget to be polite at all times.”

Donovan’s chin lifted. “I was polite.”

A loud snort sounded from behind Donovan.

Donovan whirled toward the counter. Ella cleared her throat, gesturing toward her face. “Sorry. My nose. Allergies. Must be some pollen in the air.”

Donovan glared. “Aren’t there some dishes that need to be washed? Some inventory that needs to be taken?”

“Yep. On it, boss.” She said it with a giggle, not in the least intimidated. That’s what happened when you hired kids you’d babysat when you were a pimply faced teenager. No respect. She rounded the corner and slowly, very slowly, headed to the back of the building.

“Any chance the mystery shopper makes a return visit?” Nicholas asked, clearly not interested in being deterred from his gossip-gathering mission.

“Hell no.” He ignored the sting of disappointment that swept through him, just like it had yesterday as she walked out of the store.

“Too bad,” August said. Donovan shot him a look. Now he chose to speak?

Nicholas shook his head. “Man, I am so sorry I missed the show.”

Donovan wasn’t. It had not been his finest moment. More witnesses would have only made it worse.

“Was she cute at least?” Nicholas pressed.

A crystal-clear vision of stunning chocolaty brown eyes and perfect red lips filled his mind. Donovan threw up his hands. “Man, I don’t know!”

“Yeah, she was,” Ella tossed over her shoulder. She’d made it as far as Donovan’s office down the hall, which was to say, not far at all.

“Something must be wrong with you if you didn’t notice a pretty face.” A considering light entered Nicholas’s eyes. “Maybe you did notice.”

“But you didn’t like noticing,” August said.

“Yep, sounds about right,” Nicholas said. “Which makes the situation even more interesting.” He and August nodded in unison.

Donovan pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it, he needed new friends. Today. Right now. His phone dinged with the familiar appointment reminder tone. Thank God. “As much as I’d love to stay and continue this riveting conversation, I have somewhere to be. See you fools later.”

He strode toward the door.

“Chicken,” Nicholas called after him. Donovan kept walking, shooting his friends the deuces over his shoulder as he exited. He rounded the building to the parking lot and climbed inside his black Mercedes SUV.

Yeah, he’d engaged in very un-Donovan-like behavior yesterday, arguing with Cupcake Shop Critic, then thinking about her at random times since. But he’d returned to his senses. It was time to seek out the advice of someone he trusted implicitly.

Some might question his loyalty to the team owner. Football was a brutal sport with brutal economics. Those economics rarely, if ever, worked out in favor of the players. Yeah, they got paid well, but not as well as athletes in other sports. Worse, though, their contracts weren’t fully guaranteed. But Mrs. T had always been straightforward with him. She said what she meant and meant what she said.