Testing Recipes for Disaster (Emberwood #2)

Chapter 7- Lauren

I was so screwed. I had to figure out a way to make him less attractive for the next ten weeks. Part of me wondered if he was insisting on being involved to annoy me, but he seemed genuinely excited about working on the menu and trying out new stuff for his portfolio, and damn it if his excitement wasn’t adorable. Yes, it was odd to think of a six-foot-three hulk of a man as adorable, but he was.

LAUR: Can I put Jer in the freezer? Or his name, you know? How we did with your old douche-bag boss? Or like, is there a spell to make him less *him* for the next 10 weeks?

SAM: I mean, if you’ve decided to work together, I think putting him in the freezer would only make things more difficult and cause communication issues?

LAUR : Okay, no freezer. A spell? An anti-attraction potion? Something?

SAM: You do know that I’m not like a Hocus Pocus, Bewitched, Sabrina type of witch, right?

LAUR: What I know is that you’re a very unhelpful witch.

SAM: Lol, fine. I can pull some crystals and make you a sigil that will help you keep a level head when he’s around. Assuming that’s what you want.

LAUR : Finally. Yes, I want. Sigil it up!

SAM: You’re ridiculous.

LAUR : And you lovvvvvve me. Night!

SAM: Night

But did I sleep? Absolutely not. There were Pinterest boards to be made for the shower and the rehearsal dinner. I was less worried about the joint bachelor party thing because that honestly seemed like what we already did every Friday at happy hour, only with a few more people.

There were so many pretty themes—a fairy garden, boho, whimsical, goth, a Mad Hatter tea party?! I wasn’t certain I wanted to get married, maybe ever, but I definitely wanted to throw myself fancy parties. Whatever I didn’t use for Sam, I was using for my own birthdays for the next ten years.

The last time I looked at the clock it was around three a.m., and I woke up on my couch with my laptop still on my lap sometime after sunrise.

This might not have been the best idea .

I dragged my ass to the kitchen to make coffee and decided I had time to jump in the shower before Jer picked me up. I at least had to get yesterday’s makeup off my face. Getting in the shower was my least favorite thing. But, also, getting out of the shower was my least favorite thing. It was a real conundrum.

I stayed under the scalding hot water for too long, but there weren’t enough reasons to turn it off and be cold when I got out.

A towel warmer would be excellent. I should see how much those are . I could probably make one if I wanted to... it’s gotta be like a heating element and some pipe?

A look at the time when I finally exited the shower pulled me out of my next project, and I realized I had too much on my plate as it was. I quickly twisted my wet hair into two Dutch braids and put on the bare minimum of makeup. I grabbed a somewhat clean pair of jeans from the floor and a purple Emberwood Cheer Camp t-shirt I’d had since freshman year of high school. It was so soft, though; I couldn’t get rid of it.

I was looking for my sneakers when Jer knocked on the door.

“Hey, I’m almost ready, come in.”

I left the door open and him standing outside, assuming he’d follow. One shoe was eluding me.

“You know I’ve never been in your place before?” he asked, walking in slowly and taking it all in.

My house was a lot. I had giant Pop-Tarts that I made from papier-maché hanging on my wall instead of normal things like photos. My kitchen cabinets were bright blue, and I’d covered my appliances with pink vinyl. I’d spent years curating a massive collection of frames so that I could cover a whole wall with them in a rainbow gradient. Each frame had a key in it. Those were also thrifted; I liked the look of all the mixed metal inside the bright colors.

Every wall in my little townhouse had its own flair, and together, it sort of looked like Lisa Frank and Rainbow Brite consulted on the design. I watched him look around for a moment before I finally found the shoe hidden in my basket of blankets.

Because that’s where that goes .

“I get it. It’s not for everyone,” I said, anticipating the comments that pretty much every man ever made if they came back to my house. About how they could never live somewhere so “ girly” and “wasn’t I worried about resale value ?” No. Nothing concerned me less than resale value. I wouldn’t want to sell this place to someone with no taste anyway.

“Seriously? I mean, I get that some people are boring, but this is like living in a pop culture museum. It’s fantastic. Did you make this?” he asked, referencing the strawberry Pop-Tart on the wall.

“Yeah. I saw a painting somewhere like that... maybe in a magazine or on a blog? Anyway, I had to have some. The wild berry one is my favorite.”

I stuck my foot in my shoe and grabbed my purse, wondering if I was going to be able to pull him back outside. He was now looking at each of the keys in the frames.

“Do these keys go to something? Or are they—”

“I will explain my décor to you another day. We can work on wedding things over here if you want, and you can poke around at all of it. But we both do have to work.”

“Don’t remind me. Yeah, let’s go. I like your hair by the way. I was appropriately distracted by your house, but the braids are fun.”

“You’re not going to make any suggestive comments about pigtails being—”

“I was not going to say that. I’m charming and flirty, Laur, not pervy. I hope, anyway.”

I laughed and hopped into the passenger seat of his car. His car was always so clean it was almost unnerving. Not a single fast-food wrapper anywhere.

“You’re right, you’re not. Sorry to have suggested otherwise,” I said.

“You might have to earn my forgiveness. Three months of the silent treatment ought to do it!” He side-eyed me hard.

“The past is in the past, Jer! Let it go. And you promised me muffins.”

“I did, I did.”

He reached into the back, pulled up a white paper bag, and placed it on my lap.

“Also, you weren’t a cheerleader,” he proclaimed, gesturing to my t-shirt. “I would have remembered you in the uniform.”

“Don’t act like you know everything about me. I’m mysterious. I also was a cheerleader for two whole weeks before freshman year. But they practiced really early, so I quit before the school year even started.” I shrugged. “Am I not allowed to eat in your car? It feels like that would be a rule?” I asked him warily, wanting to eat one of those muffins. He huffed a laugh.

“I work at a body-shop. I’ll vacuum it out while I’m there if I need to. It’s a nice ego boost when you like my food. But did you ever wear the uniform , Laur? This is important information.”

“No, now stop it. You said you weren’t pervy. And thank god, I’m starving.”

I promptly pulled out the largest of the three, bit off a chunk of the top, and groaned.

Just as good as I remembered.