More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(94)

“Oh my God.” Libby’s hands flew to her flushed cheeks, and her eyes flooded with tears. She fanned at her face before staring down at the messily frosted, fluorescent pink-and-green two-tier cake they had placed in front of her. She stared at the cake in comically confused horror. “Who made this? Agnes? Did you do this? It’s terrible!”

“That would be me,” Tina said with a grin. And Libby laughed.

“Seriously? Tina, the last time you baked anything, it was inedible!”

“I know! That’s why this cake isn’t for eating!”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a smash cake!” Tina informed her with relish.

“No! Not in my kitchen!” Libby said, her eyes going wide with dread. “Smash cakes are for toddlers.”

“Live a little, Chef!” one of the busboys called, and she sent him a death glare.

“And will you be cleaning up the mess, Vusi?”

“I always do anyway,” he retorted cheekily. Libby pursed her lips and kept her gaze focused on him before grabbing a fistful of the cake without warning, and, keeping her eyes fixed on Vusi, squashed it right in Tina’s face.

Tina squealed in horror, completely suckered by the move, and stood in disbelief as cake and frosting dripped down her face and onto the front of her green blouse.

“Oh. Oh! It’s so on now, my friend!”

In the end, the carnage wasn’t too bad; they remained mindful of the fact that they’d be opening for service in a couple of hours and kept the mess confined to one spot in the kitchen. Both Tina and Libby and a few other casualties had to change into new clothes, but everybody had pretty much anticipated needing a change of clothes and had planned ahead. Tina had even brought something for Libby. Which hadn’t been an easy task. She had been forced to enlist Greyson’s aid because, since he was babysitting Clara at Libby’s house these days, he had easier access.

The kitchen was cleaned and prepped in time for their morning service, and everybody went into it in awesome spirits and with smiles on their faces. Tina retreated to her office to order inventory, and after finishing that task, she sent Harris some pictures of her and Libby both covered in cake.

That looks like a waste of some perfectly good cake.

I made the cake.

I take it back! Looks like it got exactly the treatment it deserved. She laughed at that brutally frank comeback, but really there was no arguing with the truth.

I’m at the airport. I have a six pm flight home today. The news disturbed her; she wondered if he would have told her if she hadn’t texted him first.

Oh. Travel safe. She didn’t know what else to say.

Thanks.

“Don’t be stupid, Tina,” she told herself sternly after she put her phone down. “He doesn’t have to tell you anything.”

She got up and paced the tiny confines of the office for a moment before heading back out into the bustling restaurant. People called out greetings, and she absently waved and returned the smiles and the hellos, but her mind wasn’t on what she was doing. She needed to figure out what else she wanted from her life. Because it currently felt like she was stuck in limbo.

“I’m thinking of selling my flat. And I was wondering if you had any advice for me. Some dos and don’ts, maybe?” The achingly familiar voice, coming from so close by, startled Harris. His head jerked up, and there she was. Right there in his office, standing just inside the closed door and staring at him with wide, nervous eyes.

“Tina?” He shoved himself up and rounded his desk, not even aware of what he was going to do until after he’d done it. Before he knew it, he was within a foot of her, crowding her against the door. He swallowed and took a deliberate and extremely reluctant step back to give her some space.

“How did you get in here?” he asked, and she smiled, the parting of her lips beautiful but also a bit strained, as if she, too, wasn’t yet sure what she was doing here.

“I called Greyson and made him order your PA to let me in without forewarning you. Apparently, he’s a bigger boss than you are,” she said, her smile widening tentatively.

“Yeah, he could probably fire my ass if he wanted to,” Harris quipped. Only half his brain was on his words; the other half was wholly preoccupied with dealing with the bombardment of his senses. Her scent, her voice, the warmth of her body—his pupils dilated to take in as much of her as he could. She was dressed in another one of those fantastic dresses. This one was aquamarine, strappy—a nod to the warm early-spring weather—with a sweetheart neckline, form-fitting contours, and a flirty little ruffle at the knee. Her long red hair—crackling with good health—tumbled to her pale, freckled shoulders in a mass of vibrant curls.

She was so damned sexy that he was having a very hard time keeping his hands to himself. He folded them behind his back and instead leaned toward her like a total creeper and inhaled the fresh scent of her hair.

“You look—” He stopped himself in time. Not sure anything he wanted to say to her would be considered remotely appropriate. He settled on “nice.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s good to see you again.” He couldn’t stop those words from emerging, and he didn’t fucking care what she made of that.

“It’s good to see you too,” she echoed faintly, and she genuinely looked like she meant the words.