Page 106 of You've Got Hate Mail
“Now that, we’ll take you up on,” Olivia says. “Croissant? We have extras for this order, and they won’t be good anymore by farmer’s market day.”
“I did a lifestyle segment once on a baker who made more money on gourmet bread pudding than she did selling it fresh. Not that I’m saying you should do that. It’s just an option I heard about once.”
They both smile at me. “So does that mean you do or don’t want one?”
I’m starting to drool, so the answer is obvious. “Yes, please.”
Olivia grabs one off the rack, drops it into a cloth napkin, and hands it to me.
“Heard you got a chicken,” Samantha says.
“Yes! I named her The Cluckinator. She’s so cute. She found me yesterday. Once Mabel confirms she doesn’t belong to anyone, she’s mine. Well, ours. If she’s not a grass-is-greener kind of chicken who decides to go on to the next person. I really don’t know where she came from. Or if she’ll want to stay. But if she stays, I’ll take care of her. She’s been following me all morning.”
“Fresh eggs would be nice,” Olivia murmurs.
“So you’re sticking around for a while longer?” Samantha asks.
My eyes water, but they don’t run this time. “I love it here,” I whisper. “It’s so nice to be somewhere that I can be the messiest version of me. Being here has been the best gift of my life.”
They both smile at me.
“Even after yesterday?” Olivia asks.
“Yesterday was—” I gulp. “It was…something.”
They share a look that’s full of secret grins and sparkling eyes.
“Can I ask you a question that I swear every woman must ask when they come here?”
They share another look, and I realize they probably know what I’m about to ask.
They witnessed parts of what Heath and I did yesterday, and I have no doubts that Pip’s telling everyone she found us in bed together today.
“Ask away,” Samantha says.
I leap to my feet as I realize she’s heading toward the sink. “Seriously, let me do these.”
“Eat that croissant while it’s warm,” she replies.
“Only if you sit too,” I reply.
She hesitates only a moment before taking a seat on another stool on the other side of the metal prep table. “So you want to know if everyone falls for Heath.”
If my cheeks aren’t the color of a neon beefsteak tomato, I’d be shocked. “Am I that obvious?”
“You are, but don’t be embarrassed. He’s a good-looking man.”
Olivia snorts softly.
“Don’t pretend you don’t think so too,” Samantha says to her.
“It’s irrelevant if he’s good-looking or not,” Olivia replies. “He doesn’t date.”
“Ever?” I ask.
“He never has that we’re aware of,” Samantha says. “But there’s always a first.”
“Unlikely,” Olivia murmurs.
