Page 56 of Work It Out
She’d checked comic renderings of Phantom Strike, which were useless. Some portrayed him as jacked, while others took a more conservative, wiry approach. Who knew which way the studio would want to play it? “At this point, he won’t leave looking like the Rock, but he has a real chance at lean and sculpted.” Either way, he became more and more drool-worthy as the days flew by.
Grace inspected her short nails. “You still telling yourself you can’t do him because he acted like a dumbass, or are you back to blaming it on him being a client?”
Rayah didn’t answer right away. The physical changes were killing her, but worse, the more she glimpsed the man behind the pithy comebacks and innuendo, the more she wanted to find a way to make it work. Over a month had passed since she’d pumped the breaks on anything romantic. Part of her had wanted him to fight her on it more, but while he still flirted like crazy and ran around half naked every chance he got, he seemed perfectly happy to be her friend. And they really were friends now.
Having Vicky in the cabin was supposed to help keep things platonic. Unfortunately, Jake hadn’t been kidding about Vicky and downtime. The girl never stopped moving. She’d decided that since Rayah refused to take her money, she’d earn her keep another way. She’d taken over most of the paperwork Rayah loathed and kept that side of the business running flawlessly.
When she wasn’t in the office, she was in the kitchen. Vicky was a stress baker. It’d be fine if she were terrible at it, but no. Everything she made tasted like magic and rainbows. Rayah was convinced she was the secret love child of the Cake Boss guy and Martha Stewart. Problem was, Vicky had plenty to stress about.
Pictures of Vicky and Jake had surfaced the same day she showed up on Rayah’s doorstep, followed by endless conjecture about her leaving Mark for Jake, driving Mark to vehicular suicide. It was awful for a while, then a Kardashian gave birth to a demon spawn or some nonsense, and the world moved on. By the smell of things this afternoon, she was stressed again.
If they didn’t all gain twenty pounds before Christmas, it’d be a miracle.
She’d worried that living with two actors would be all drama, especially when one of them was obviously in love with the other, who was completely oblivious. Watching Vicky pine after Jake while simultaneously mourning Mark was death by a thousand papercuts. The paperwork and the pastries kept Vicky so busy, she often left Rayah alone with Jake for hours in the evening. Every night she had to fight the urge to slide a little closer to him on the couch and dream about him every time she closed her eyes.
But she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. “What did you need, Grace?”
One heavy blond brow arched. “Not talking about it. Got it. Anyways, you’ve been busy, so when Zandar called a few weeks ago, wanting to talk about plans for the Hunt, I…” She cringed. Her next words rushed out so fast they tangled together. “I told him you’d put me in charge of it.”
Startled, Rayah sat back.
“I should’ve talked to you first or whatever, but it needed done, and I have the time, and I actually kind of like planning stuff. I don’t know. If you hate it, there’s still time to change most of it. Though we’d lose our deposit on the bouncy castle. Freaking kiddie places are cutthroat.”
Rayah flipped the binder open to find a table of contents outlining booths, food vendors, rides, and various other elements the Hunt required. It was so organized it brought a tear to her eye. “Wow, Grace. This looks amazing.”
Grace released a sigh that sounded as if it had been pinned inside her chest for a lifetime. “Thanks. I still have some stuff to deal with, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping. I don’t know if you already had things planned—”
“No, you were right. I haven’t had time to do anything except run pamphlets to tourist traps in the area.”
“Jared told me. I had him make more. Nate and I took those to Phoenix and Flagstaff.”
Rayah’s mouth dropped open. Holy crap. “I don’t know what to say.”
“But you’re not mad, right?” Grace asked.
“Of course not.” Rayah flipped through the pages. “You saved me. I had no idea how to pull it off in two weeks. Let me know if you need help going forward.”
Grace truly smiled so rarely that, when she did, it floored Rayah. She never would’ve thought it’d be so warm.
Chapter Nineteen
November 7
Bigbone Community Facebook Group
The Hunt is here. Don’t forget, the new rules only apply to outsiders. If y’all want a chance at this year’s life-changing prize, you’d best be at the lottery tonight.
-Z
Rayah stood outside the door to Explosion’s kitchen, listening as laughter filled the space. Holding the monthly staff meetings near food was vital. If her crew wasn’t working out, they were eating. Today, the bustle of people settling in—cups thunking against the marble island, silverware tinkling against plates, and a low hum of chatter—mingled with the aromas of strong black coffee and pumpkin spice to make the gathering feel more like a family brunch than work.
Not that Rayah had firsthand knowledge of family brunches. The closest she’d come to brunch with her only remaining family in recent years were her dad’s quarterly blackmail letters.
“I want ten more,” Pierce barked from the deadlift station.
Facing the wall of mirrors, Jake bent over and propped his hands on his knees, panting. “I wanted…my cupcake. We don’t always get…what we want.”
Rayah stilled. Was he talking about the actual cupcakes Vicky made yesterday? Or was he talking about her? No. He didn’t want her cupcake anymore. Besides, Vicky’s cupcakes had been chocolate with peanut butter frosting and bits of crushed peanut butter cups sprinkled on top. Jake loved peanut butter.
