Page 65 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
Shit. Eighty bucks. That was more than the bakery would charge, though I guessed that by-the-slice was the way to higher profits than selling full cakes.
Yes! There was a smile, however small. “Do you want it?” he asked.
“Want what?”
“Your money.”
“Uh, no thanks.” That barely covered the grocery bill from yesterday. Plus, it’d been made with ingredients bought with his money. “But I was just thinking. Do you think they liked it?”
“It was gone in twenty minutes.”
Okay. “Could I bring in more?”
He paused. “Yes, but you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. It will give me something useful to do, and besides, I love to bake.” And this could be just what I was looking for—a way to pay Colin back, at least a little.
He looked doubtful.
“I really will enjoy it,” I said. “And I won’t let it interfere with the house cleaning or anything.”
He scowled. This wasn’t helping.
I made big eyes, wishing I had Bailey’s baby blues. “Please?”
“Don’t work too hard,” he said.
Score! “I’ll be the laziest supplier you ever had,” I promised.
A smile flickered on his face. His smiles were like a collector’s item for me.
We said our good-byes, veiled in politeness.
Chapter Nine
Back at the house I declared Quiet Time, my nap replacement therapy while Bailey had her midtoddler crisis. She got a couple of plastic books I’d borrowed from the library. I pulled out a magazine—something I’d thrown onto the c
onveyor at the grocery store on a whim. Who had $3.99 to spend on articles about sex? That would be me, apparently. I opened to “Ten Ways to Blow His Mind with Your Thumb.”
I’d only gotten to “deep tissue massage” when Shelly showed up. She should write for Cosmo. Her tips blew more than just minds, I felt sure. She wore a gauzy blue dress that looked at once both naive and flat-out sexual. That contradiction was her specialty.
As she gave Bailey a kiss, I dropped the magazine onto the coffee table. “Do you think Colin wants me to put my thumb in his mouth?”
“Maybe.” She sat down, flipping her hair back. “But he’d like it better if you put it in his—”
“Okay.” I glanced pointedly at Bailey to stop her. “That’s what I figured.”
She grinned. “You’re cute.”
I scowled. “Shut up. It’s not like I’m innocent or something.”
“Compared to me, honey, everyone’s innocent.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
She examined her nails.
“You got it, didn’t you?” A way to contact Andrew.
