Just Desserts. Jeannie Watt

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       “Fight in a parking lot,” Justin said. “And no, I wasn’t drunk.”

       “Well, you look like hell.”

       “I feel like hell.” He wandered over to the stove, breathing in the savory smell of his sister’s homemade tomato sauce.

       “Where’s the oregano?” he asked.

       “Going straight basil this time.”

       “You shouldn’t mess with perfection.” His sister used a perfect blend of oregano, thyme and basil in her sauces.

       “There’s always room for improvement.”

       Indeed. Justin never stopped trying to improve his technique.

       Eden started chopping olives again. “Where’d you have your fight?”

       “The lake. It was more of a scuffle, really. I caught an elbow.”

       “No arrests?”

       “Not that I know of. Then I drove Layla Taylor home and stayed with her for most of the night to make sure she was okay.”

       The rapid movement of Eden’s knife had abruptly stopped around the time Justin said Layla’s name.

       “Run that by me again,” his sister demanded.

       “All of it?”

       “No. Just the Layla Taylor part.” Eden set the knife down and brushed her blond hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist. “None of this makes sense.”

       “Sam Taylor called me at the lake and asked me to give Layla a ride. We had a minor altercation in the parking lot with her ex-boyfriend, then she puked and I took her home.” It wasn’t quite the right order, but Justin didn’t think the chronology mattered.

       “She puked because she was…”

       “Drunk as hell.”

       “Layla? Drunk?”

       “Mmm-hmm. And for once it wasn’t with power.” Justin went into his pastry room and took a look at the list he’d left himself the night before. He didn’t turn on the music because he knew it wouldn’t be long before—

       “I want details,” Eden said, leaning her shoulder against the door frame.

       “I wish I had some. I don’t.”

       “Wow.” She processed his words for a moment, then slowly turned and went back into the kitchen, deep in thought. Even though he and his sisters had grown up up the street from the Taylors, neither Eden nor their older sister, Reggie, had ever warmed up to Layla, probably because she had nothing to do with anyone in their neighborhood. Reggie had thought Layla was pretty damned stuck up back in the day, which was saying something, since Reggie hadn’t been the warmest of people herself then. After their mother had died, their father took more and more long haul truck jobs, basically leaving the kids to fend for themselves. Reggie had been too busy running the household in their father’s absence to socialize, and too angry at his abandonment to be particularly warm and fuzzy to anyone.

       Eden reappeared in the doorway. “I forgot—Cindy stopped by yesterday.” Justin continued to study the list. “She dropped off a bag of clothes. Your clothes. It’s in the laundry room. She’ll get the key back to you when she picks up her stuff.”

       “Thanks.” He didn’t quite meet his sister’s eyes.

       “What happened?”

       “Things just didn’t work out.”

       “Damn, Justin. You finally date a girl I like and—”

       “You suddenly feel a deep need to mind your own business?” he asked.

       Eden wasn’t in the least insulted or deterred. “I thought she was perfect for you.”

       Yes, Cindy had been practically perfect. She worked in a downtown restaurant. They understood each other’s occupations; they’d had a lot of fun. And that was as far as he would let it go. He didn’t know why, wasn’t a huge believer in self-analysis, but once a relationship hit a certain point, he was done. Just…done.

       His relationship with Cindy had hit that point.

       “You’re going to run out of compatible women,” Eden warned before heading back into the kitchen.

       “Reno’s a big town and lots of people move here every day,” Justin called after her.

       Eden came back a few seconds later with a calendar showing the events for the week. “Okay. Patty has her surgery set for next Wednesday, and it looks like you’ll be on your own for the next six weeks.”

       Justin reached up to adjust his stocking hat. “I told the hotel I can’t be called in for any emergencies for a while.” After hiring on as a prep cook at Tremont, Patty had, for some reason, made his work her priority, and he’d come to depend on her—which allowed him to take extra work at the lake and make more specialty cakes than he’d been able to before.

       “That’s the sanest thing you’ve said in months,” Eden muttered. She placed the calendar on the counter between them. “You’re working the parties on Tuesday night and Wednesday night, right?”

       “Right. And that business brunch at the lake tomorrow.” After that, he was holing up for the evening.

       “Okay.” She laid the list on his stainless-steel counter. “Here’s the desserts we’ll need for the bookings this week and next....” Her voice trailed off and she looked up at him with a slight frown. “I am having the hardest time visualizing you and Layla fighting in the parking lot.”

       “Don’t forget the boyfriend. He was there, too.”

       “Strange.” She gave her head a slight shake, then pointed back at the list. “Seven dozen cherry bomb mini cupcakes for the tea on Thursday—”

       The phone in Justin’s pocket vibrated, making him jump. It was the Tremont cell, not his own, that he was carrying. “Tremont Catering. Justin here.”

       “Uh, hi.” The voice was hoarse, feminine and distinct.

       “Layla?” Justin said, rather enjoying the way Eden’s head snapped up.

       “Would you mind checking your car to see if my wallet fell out in there? Because if it didn’t, then I have another headache to deal with.”

       She was probably dealing with a whopper already.

       “Sure thing. Stay on the line and I’ll check right now.” He walked past Eden and out the back door without saying a word into the phone, because he really couldn’t think of anything to say. He opened the passenger door, dug around under the seat, then shoved his hand deep into the crack between the seats and struck gold.

       “Got it,” he said, pulling out a slim eel-skin wallet. “You must have lost it when you СКАЧАТЬ