Sweet Sunshine (8 page)

“Hey, Chloe,” my assistant manager, Erin called. “Something’s wrong with the convection oven again. I think it’s finally crapped out.

I could have kissed her. The girl had no clue that she’d just saved me. I seriously needed to consider giving her a raise.

“I’ll take a look at it, can you cover for me out here?”

“Sure thing.”

I started for the door to the kitchen when Derrick’s voice stopped me. “Chloe?”

“Hmm?” I hummed, glancing over my shoulder, refusing to turn all the way around and face him while he still had Carla hanging off his arm.

His brows dipped as those warm hazel eyes scanned over my face. “You okay?”

It was the curse of the ginger; whenever I got overemotional, nearing the point of tears, my face would grow red and splotchy. “Yes,” I answered, making sure to keep my voice bright. “Just,” I pointed over my shoulder, “this stupid oven. I should see what the problem is. You two enjoy the rest of your day.” I graced Carla with a stiff smile before placing my hand on the door, praying to escape.

“You need me to take a look at it?” Derrick asked, stopping me once again.

“Nope, I’ve got it. Besides, you’ve got to go get Eliza. I’ll see you later, okay?”

I didn’t wait to hear if he had anything else to say. Pushing into the kitchen, I looked over at Emily, one of my employees, as she stood, frosting cupcakes. “What happened?”

“The old girl finally bit it,” she said, tipping her chin to the ancient oven. Luckily I had more than one back here. “Don’t think she’ll be coming back this time.”

I glared at the piece-of-shit oven at the same time I reached into my apron and retrieved my cell phone. It was quite possible that I wasn’t thinking clearly, and that one day, I’d regret my decision, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I was pissed at the oven and heartsick over Derrick’s impending date. Scrolling through my texts, I found the chain between me and Harlow.

Me:
About that online dating thing… I’m in.

Her response was instant.

Harlow:
What’s your stance on converting to Judaism?

My fingers flew over the screen furiously as I typed.

Me:
Stay away from J-Date.

Harlow:
You’re no fun
.

Knowing she’d have my profile up on every available site by the end of the day, I pocketed my phone and sucked in a deep breath. I had the rest of my workday to get through, I couldn’t mope about Derrick any longer — it was time to move the hell on. Once and for all.

On the bright side, I’d be able to take my aggression out on a broken oven later that night. I was thinking a baseball bat, a can of gasoline, and some matches were just what the doctor ordered.

Chloe

“
THIS IS RIDICULOUS
,” I groused as Harlow continued to click away on her camera. “Will you stop already?”

She lowered her camera with a beleaguered sigh and shot me a look that told me she felt that
I
was being a pain in
her
ass, not the other way around. “Will you just be still and cooperate, damn it?”

“Stop taking my picture!” I swatted at the camera in her hand. It was one of my rare days off and I’d planned on coming over, lounging on her back deck and drinking margaritas while she glared in envy as she sucked down her virgin daiquiris. But for the past twenty minutes, I’d been fighting off her ever-present camera as she took picture after picture.

“Come on!” I whined. “Enough already. I look like hell.”

“You do not!” she insisted. “And we need photos for your dating profiles so I can finish loading everything.”

I let out a groan and collapsed against the lounge chair. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into online dating.”

“Uh, excuse me,” she snapped before sucking on her glorified slushy. “But
you
texted
me
about it. So get the lead out and let’s do this already! It’s a gorgeous day, I thought we’d do some outside shots.”

Propping up on my elbows, I looked down at my ensemble, a raggedy pair of cutoff shorts that were a more suitable length for someone in their
very
early twenties, a navy tank top that I just grabbed from my drawer this morning, without looking, and my ratty converse sneakers that had seen better days. Definitely not picture-worthy. Hell, I hadn’t even put on makeup, and my air-dried strawberry blonde curls were pulled in a loose knot on top of my head to tame their wildness.

“I’m pretty sure if you posted a picture of me right now, I might actually break the internet.”

“Will you stop?” she scolded, her voice no longer holding a hint of humor. “Come here.”

I begrudgingly got to my feet and followed after her, my shoulders slumped in defeat.

Once we reached the bathroom, she put her hands on my shoulders and spun me around. “Don’t look in the mirror, look at me,” she continued to boss as she reached up and yanked the ponytail holder out of my hair.

“Ow!” I shouted, reaching up to feel for a bald spot. “That hurt, you jerk!” She just shushed me and started running her fingers through my hair, tousling it near the crown of my head. Reaching for something on the counter, she pumped a few squirts into her hand and raked her hands through my hair once again.

“What are you doing?”

“Hush,” was her only response. I stood quietly as she brushed a bit of eye shadow the color of deep gold on my lids, only moving when told to look up or down as she swiped a little mascara on my lashes. She finished up with a touch of a pinkish bronzer on the apples of my cheeks. The whole process took all of five minutes so I wasn’t convinced she’d made much of a difference.

She pulled me from the bathroom before I had a chance to look at her handiwork and into the bedroom she shared with Noah, heading straight for the closet. Hangers slapped together as she looked at, and disregarded, top after top before finally landing on one of her liking.

“Here,” she declared forcefully, shoving the top at me. “Put this on, and don’t sass me.”

“Harlow,” I laughed uncomfortably. “There’s no way we wear the same size.”

“No sass!” she shouted.

“Fine, jeez.” I rolled my eyes and tossed the shirt on the bed so I could pull my own off. The loose fitting racer back tank that declared “Sweet Dreams Are Made Of Me” actually fit me surprisingly well. The only place it hugged was across my abundant chest before billowing out around my stomach, effectively hiding the little pudge I could never seem to work off.

“Huh,” I mumbled as I looked down at myself in surprise. “What size is this? I can’t believe it fits.”

Harlow rolled her eyes at me and reached for the hem of the shirt, tucking a small piece into my shorts at the front. “The way you view yourself is seriously skewed,” she informed me. “You think you’re some chubbo, but you aren’t. You’re curvy. That’s a good thing, Chlo. Stop beating yourself down all the damned time.” Taking my hand, she pulled me back into the bathroom and turned me to face the mirror. “See? Gorgeous.”

I gasped.
Wow.
I was more than a little stunned at the reflection staring back at me. My makeup was miniscule but the shadow managed to give my eyes a gold-ish hue, and the bronzer on my cheeks made me look fresh-faced, my complexion almost dewy. It wasn’t overtly sexy or anything, but I had to admit, with the curls hanging purposefully wild around my shoulders — in a way I’ve never been able to pull off on my own — and the makeup, I looked really…
pretty
. And I liked it.
A lot
.

“Huh,” I said again, unable to formulate any other words.

“See!” Harlow smacked the bare skin on my shoulder, causing me to cringe. “And the way this top hugs your boobs is
hot
. Now let’s go.”

She dragged me back into the backyard, pushing me down on the lounge chair I’d been sitting on earlier. I reached for my discarded margarita and took a fortifying sip. I crossed my legs, Indian-style and placed my glass back on the table next to me. “All right. What do you want me to do?” God, I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know the first thing about being in front of a camera, there was no way I’d be able to actually pose.

“Just talk.”

“Huh?”

“Just talk like we were earlier. Act like I’m not here taking pictures of you. Candid shots are some of the best ever. You’d be surprised how great they can turn out. And the best part, they’re how a person looks every day.”

I gave her statement some thought as the backdoor swung open and Ethan stepped out. “Hey Harlow, I’m going to the movies with some friends. I’ll be back by curfew.”

“Okay, shrimp. Have fun. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he chuckled at her nickname for him and turned his eyes to me, doing a brief double take. “Wow Chloe, you look really pretty.”

My cheeks pinched almost painfully at the bright smile that crossed my lips. I barely registered the sound of the camera shutter clicking. “Thanks, hon. Have fun with your friends.”

He returned my smile, his eyes going a little glazed as he stood there in silence for a few seconds. “Uh… yeah. Thanks,” he stammered, giving his head a quick shake. “Um, I-I like your hair like that.”

I giggled at the goofy expression on his face and heard the shutter click again. “Thanks, Ethan.”

“Oh my God, shrimp! Stop macking on the adult and go meet your friends already!” Harlow razzed, making Ethan’s face shine a bright red.

“Shut up,” he groaned, turning back to the door.

“And remember,” she shouted after him “abstinence is the best way to practice safe sex!” Poor Harlow, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was pretty sure that ship had sailed. Ethan was a sophomore in high school, on the varsity football team, and a good-looking kid. Yeah, I didn’t hold out much hope that his virginity was still intact. And if it was, I didn’t see that lasting much longer. Harlow told me how the girls at school looked at him. I figured he was pretty high on the totem pole.

“God! You’re ruining my life!” Ethan yelled back from inside the house.

“Love you too!” she returned.

“You’re horrible, you know that?” I giggled. “That poor kid’s going to need therapy for years to come.”

“Eh, he’s fine,” she brushed my statement off with a wave. “Okay, now do what you were just doing with Ethan and act like the camera isn’t even here.”

“Easier said than done when you point it out like that.” I took another sip of margarita, enjoying the way my body seemed to be loosening up under the tequila’s influence. I wasn’t drunk, or even the slightest bit tipsy, just… relaxed. And I had to admit, the way Ethan went all googly-eyed when he stared at me was extremely flattering.

“I heard Derrick’s been driving to Jackson Hole every morning this week to take Eliza to school.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, hating that Derrick was stuck in such a shitty position because of his ex. That woman really seemed to get off on making his life as hard as possible. “He comes in to the bakery each morning for his caffeine fix. I feel bad for him. And Eliza. From everything I hear, Layla sounds terrible.”

“She is,” Harlow agreed. “But on the bright side, I know Derrick loves getting to spend as much time with Eliza as possible, even if he is driving out of his way every morning.”

My gaze was focused on the dense line of trees that edged the back of their property in place of a fence. Harlow and Noah’s backyard led straight into the woods. As a kid, I’d have probably spent hours out in those woods. I had no doubt their kids would grow up exploring imaginative unknown places out there in the coming years. At that thought, combined with the thought of Eliza, I smiled again and let out a deep breath.

“I’m sure. And I can’t blame him. That little girl is amazing despite her shrew of a mother.” It wasn’t until I turned back to Harlow that I realized she’d been taking picture after picture of me. Pulling the camera from her eye, she stared at the screen, pushing buttons, a knowing grin on her own face.

“What? What are you grinning at?”

“Told you they’d be awesome,” she giggled, handing the camera to me. “Once we post these, you’re going to have so many date requests you won’t know what to do.”

I looked down at the photos, completely flabbergasted. “Wow, Low-Low,” I breathed. “You’re amazing.”

“And you’re beautiful,” she replied seriously. “
That’s
why they turned out so well.”

“Thank you.” As I scrolled backward through each photo, I could pinpoint exactly when each and every one had been taken based on the expression on my face. It was amazing to see how my emotions reflected so clearly on my face. No wonder I was such a shit poker player.

I was smiling serenely in the pictures where I thought about Eliza and Harlow and Noah’s future family. My brows were furrowed in the ones where we’d been discussing Derrick’s ex-wife. My face was a mixture of slightly embarrassed exuberance when we’d been talking to Ethan. Those were the ones I found the most stunning, where I looked the happiest, the
prettiest,
with my wide, brilliant smile and shining eyes.