Fake It Till You Bake It(36)

Fortunately, Donovan had given her the code to come in through the back entrance. She drove around to the parking lot behind the store and pulled into a spot, thankful for her car’s tinted windows. Back here, everything was quiet. Normal.

She flipped down the visor and inspected her face in the mirror. At least her hair and makeup were on point. No need to mention the polo shirt and khakis she wore. Or the Crocs. And that was enough stalling.

Still, she kept her head down and entered the store as quickly as possible. Reality TV show fans could smell fear.

“I assume we have you to thank for that crowd out there.”

Jada’s head jerked up. But it wasn’t Donovan standing there. It was August, who’d just uttered the most words she’d ever heard from him. She offered up a weak smile. He nodded, his small smile sympathetic, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Jada loitered in the hall, indecision rooting her to the spot. Going out to the front of the store meant seeing all the people standing outside, who’d be staring at her through the windows. She could follow August to the kitchen, but that meant returning to the scene of the baking fiasco. Smoke probably still lingered in the air, undercutting the smells of chocolate and vanilla. She shuddered. And August was in there. Nicholas, too, most likely. They would have questions about the Kiss, assuming Donovan hadn’t filled them in.

Her stomach lurched, the strawberry cereal bar she’d forced herself to eat that morning rolling around in her stomach like a drunk uncle on the dance floor at a wedding. Oh, God, her mouth had gotten her into trouble yet again, figuratively and literally this time.

But she was a grown-up. Right? Right. She could do this. She threw back her shoulders and headed to the front of the store. She kept her eyes straight forward.

“Jada,” Donovan called out through the open door of his office.

Jada’s heart seized. She stopped mid-stride and swallowed. Forced her feet to turn to face him. “Yes?”

“Come in, please,” he said, gesturing with his hand. His face was impassive, as was his voice. She’d take that over anger or annoyance. She nodded. “Close the door,” he added when she crossed the threshold. She swallowed again, following his order.

Maybe he was going to fire her. He’d had a night to think it over, after all. Surely, he knew that he, she—they had been a hot topic of discussion on social media last night. She collapsed in the chair in front of his desk in a rather undignified heap, her legs unable to support her any longer. Maybe he didn’t notice. She raised her head. His eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline. Her gaze skittered away. He’d noticed. Whatever. Dignity was overrated, anyway.

“Looks like we’re in a predicament.” His voice was calm, nonjudgmental. “How do you want to handle this?”

Jada caught herself before her mouth fell too far open. He wasn’t firing her. Her shoulders deflated. Or maybe he wanted her to fire herself?

“There’s a line of people outside the shop who’ve undoubtedly come to gawk,” he continued. “You can work the front counter or you can stay in the kitchen and help Nicholas with food prep. August is leaving soon to run some errands. You can go with him if you want.”

“You’re not mad?” she asked in a rush.

He sighed. “No, I’m not mad. Although usually the only time anyone on Twitter cares about what I’m doing is during a game when I do or don’t make a play. People speculating about my love life isn’t ideal, but I plan on ignoring it. They’ll get bored and move on if they haven’t already.”

She blurted out the question that had been buzzing in her head since he demanded to speak to her. “Why are you being nice to me?”

He leaned back in his chair. Studied her with his intelligent dark eyes, giving nothing away. “Do you want me to be mean to you? Yell at you?”

“No, but I’d understand if you did. I did put you in a weird position yesterday.”

“You did, but it’s a temporary thing that will go away.” He shrugged. “I don’t care about social media. It’ll be easy for me to ignore. Besides, I promised your grandmother you could work here, and I do my best to live up to my promises.”

Right. He didn’t care about her specifically. She needed to remember that. She was a duty, nothing more, nothing less. “I want to work out front. That’s where I was headed before you ordered me in here.” She shrugged. “We both know I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

He nodded. “You are.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly.

His eyebrows lifted. “People are gonna stare.”

Jada was proud of herself for not flinching. “I know. Let them.”

“You’ve got gumption. I have to give that to you.”

Gumption? Did people really still use that word? “Wait. Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” His voice was calm and measured, but if she wasn’t mistaken, a smile was striving to make its presence known on his normally impassive face. His lips, those same lips she’d seen and tasted over and over again in her restless sleep last night, stretched the slightest bit.

“I’ll try.” She stood and crossed to the door, resolute in her mission, although her legs were still a little unsteady.

“You’ll be fine,” he said to her back. More effusive praise. If she wasn’t careful, her head would start swelling any second now. She continued on her way to the front of the store, smiling to herself.