Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) (11 page)

As they approach Anthony’s table, Natalie can see Blair is right. There is an attractive young woman sitting across from him. And judging by the way she’s smiling and making eyes, they’re definitely involved.

It’s Blair who speaks to him first. “Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Both Anthony and the woman look up, though he’s the one who speaks. “Yes?”

“Your name is Anthony Novello, right?” Blair continues.

He nods. “I know you, don’t I?”

Natalie steps forward and blurts out, “Are you the landlord of this building?”

She watches the surprise register on his handsome face. “Yes, I am.” His eyes linger on her with a glimmer of confusion, but then go back to Blair.

“Anthony!” The young woman sitting across from him giggles. “You own this building? What other secrets are you hiding?”

He shrugs. “It’s not exactly a secret.”

“But, like, wow—you’re a landlord?”

Natalie examines his girlfriend, curious about the kind of a woman who attracts a man like this. She’s probably in her mid-twenties, with large brown eyes and a mouth that’s glossed up in a flattering shade of pink. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a stylishly messy ponytail. There are flashes of gold everywhere—ears, neck, wrists, and hands. She’s wearing more jewelry than a gypsy fortune teller, though Natalie has to admit it doesn’t look bad. She manages to pull it off. Despite the strong aroma of coffee and baked goods in the air, Natalie can still make out her perfume, which is something floral with a kick of patchouli.

Anthony glances across at the giggling girlfriend, but then his eyes go back to Blair and Natalie, who in contrast are not smiling.

“What’s your problem with us taking over the space next door?” Natalie asks pointedly.

“You want the space next door?”

“Yes, of course. We’ve sent you a bunch of letters laying out our financial situation, but your response is always the same. You tell us we can’t have it, but you never tell us why.”

Anthony takes in her words and then nods slowly. “I do remember what you’re talking about. Your financial information didn’t work out, though. My attorney sent you a letter explaining it all.” His voice has a note of finality.

The giggler starts moaning. “O.M.G.! This red velvet cake is amaaazing! Have you tried this, Anthony?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“I’m going to give you a bite. You’ve got to try this!”

“That’s all right, Justine. I’m good.” He waves her away.

“Oh, come on, just one bite.” She leans forward and holds the fork up to his mouth so he’s forced to eat it.

“Isn’t it heaven?”

Anthony chews and swallows. “It’s too sweet.”

Natalie’s eyes widen in disbelief. Did he just describe her red velvet cake as too sweet?

Justine turns to Natalie and Blair. “Anthony only likes Italian pastries. Isn’t that crazy? You guys are amaaazing bakers. Seriously!”

“Thank you,” Natalie says, glaring at Anthony.
Too sweet. I’ll show him too sweet. My red velvet is perfection.

“That cake is one of our biggest sellers,” Blair informs him.

He looks mildly surprised. “It might become your biggest seller if you cut back on the sugar.”

Blair looks at Natalie and rolls her eyes as if to say—can you believe this guy?

“What do you mean, our financial information doesn’t work out?” Natalie asks him.

“It means, I took all your data into consideration and the numbers were not in your favor. I’m sorry,” he adds as an afterthought.

It’s clear he’s done talking about this, but Natalie and Blair don’t move. “Look, no offense, but we need more than that,” Natalie tells him. “A lot more.”

“Definitely,” Blair agrees. “This is our livelihood. You can’t just say the numbers don’t work and expect us to accept that.”

Anthony takes a sip from his espresso breve as he considers the two of them. “Tell you what,” he puts down his cup, “how about we set up a meeting and I can show you exactly what I’m talking about?”

Blair looks at Natalie, who nods. “That would work.”

They set up a time to meet the following morning at seven, before La Dolce Vita opens.

When she and Blair are back in the kitchen, Natalie pours herself a glass of water. “That was interesting,” she says, leaning against the counter. “I’m not sure what to make of him.”

“Gosh, I think it’s amaaazing that he’s our landlord. Don’t you think that’s amaaazing?”

Natalie laughs. “You sound just like her.”

“Why do guys who look like that always go for women who are nitwits?”

“Uh, maybe because she’s gorgeous?”

“Skinny with big boobs. I guess that’s every guy’s type.”

“I suppose so.” Natalie frowns. “Do you think it’s possible my red velvet is too sweet?”

Blair gets an incredulous expression on her face. “Please, your red velvet is
perfection.
”

“That’s what I always thought.”

“Don’t listen to Mr. Your-Numbers-Don’t-Add-Up. He may be hot, but clearly, he’s no genius. I can’t wait to hear how he explains this to us tomorrow.”

The next morning as Natalie rolls out dough for tangerine currant scones, surrounded by the scent of cinnamon from the apple turnovers fresh from the oven, she keeps going over the meeting planned with their recently unveiled landlord. Despite his criticism of her red velvet cake, he clearly likes La Dolce Vita, since he’s a regular customer. She’s genuinely curious as to what his reasons are for not letting them expand.

Before she’s ready to load everything into her van, she heads upstairs to the bathroom and dabs moisturizer on her face and puts a little concealer under her eyes. Even though she knows it doesn’t make much difference, she still decides to take extra care with her appearance. When she pulls her hair back, she uses a small mirror to make sure her ponytail looks a little disheveled, trying to imitate the messy style she sees so many women wearing.

She slips into a clean pair of black work pants and notices they don’t seem as tight.
Is it possible that I’ve already lost weight?

The idea startles her. She’s been snacking a lot less and trying to go to bed hungry every night. Plus, she uses the elliptical every day when she comes home.

When she looks at herself in the closet’s full-length mirror though, she still sees the same plain overweight Natalie. For a moment, she feels let down by the lack of change, but then she pushes the thought aside.
If that bitch Lena can do it, so can I.
I’m every bit as disciplined as she is.
She even thinks of Justine, the ditzy blonde with Anthony.
Granted, I’m ten years older than her, but so what? Lena is at least that much older than me.

She rubs lip balm on her mouth from the small container she keeps on her nightstand. Her lips are on the full side and have a tendency to get dry.

When she’s finally dressed and ready to leave, she takes one last look at herself. It’s ridiculous that she cares what Anthony thinks. From everything she can tell about him, he’s just like her father—a too handsome for his own good womanizer. She suddenly remembers the birthday cake for Serena he’d picked up recently. Yet, he wasn’t with her yesterday. Yesterday it was Justine. He probably has a half-dozen women at his beck and call. The thought annoys her so much that she purposely rips out her messy ponytail and brushes it back into her usual tightly controlled style.

I don’t care what that Lothario thinks of me. All I care about is that he lets us expand our bakery.

By the time seven o’clock rolls around, Natalie and Blair have set up a table in front with an assortment of pastries. At two minutes after seven, a guy wearing a light gray suit is knocking on their front door, but it’s not Anthony.

“Sorry, we’re not open yet,” Natalie tells him through the glass.

“I’m Anthony’s lawyer.” He holds up his briefcase as if that explains everything.

Blair comes over to investigate as Natalie unlocks the door.

“Hi, I’m Graham Spence,” he says, holding out his hand to shake each of theirs. “I’m the attorney who manages Anthony’s property.”

Natalie recognizes his name immediately from the paperwork on their lease and lets him inside. “Thank you for coming.”

“How did you know we were meeting this morning?” Blair asks.

“Anthony called me yesterday afternoon and asked if I could stop by. He said you had a problem with your lease and wanted to discuss it.”

“It was nice of you to come on such short notice,” she says, smiling, and Natalie thinks she detects a note of flirtation in Blair’s voice.

He pushes his glasses up his long nose and grins enthusiastically. Between the grin and the blue bow tie, he reminds Natalie of a preppy college student, though he’s obviously in his thirties.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Blair asks him sweetly.

“No, thanks, I don’t drink coffee.”

“How about some freshly baked pastries? We just pulled them out of the oven.” And now Natalie is certain she’s flirting, since Blair is rarely this accommodating with anyone.

“That sounds great. It smells fantastic in here.”

Blair guides him over to the table while Natalie goes in back to grab her nonfat latte. The back kitchen is busy, with everyone scrambling before they open. Natalie stops to look at the list of cake orders that need to be filled today. Most of them are the usual restaurant orders. She sees a local catering company hired them to supply the cakes for a dinner party they’re putting together tonight.

“Zoe, did you see the list here? We need to have these cakes done by two o’clock.”

“I’m on it. I’ve got two hazelnuts in the oven and I’m almost done with the Mexican chocolate. The white ones are cooling.”

Natalie nods and sips her coffee. “Okay, I’ll take care of the rest when I’m done with my meeting.”

Natalie inspects a few of the items on the cooling racks. There are some golden cherry tarts that look delicious. Natalie can feel her stomach rumbling. She and Chloe had fruit salad and non-fat yogurt for breakfast, but a cherry tart would really hit the spot.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out.

I’m hungry for more than food.

Pushing her tart craving aside, she goes back out to where Blair and Graham are chatting cozily. There’s still no sign of Anthony.

She looks at the clock and sees it’s almost quarter after seven.

Apparently, his time is more important than ours. So typical of men like that.

She sits down at the table with Blair and Graham, listening with half an ear to their conversation about Santosa Bistro up the street. Her fingers drum on her mug as she gets angrier by the second over Anthony’s tardiness.

“Isn’t that the bistro you bake rosemary bread for, Natalie?” Blair asks.

“Yes, it is. I know the chef from when we used to work together at a hotel downtown.”

Santosa Bistro is in a lovely old brick building. The owner and head chef, Austin Santosa, is temperamental, but overall a good guy. They worked together long before he was a chef, back when he was a line cook and she was a pastry apprentice.
He really got lucky with that space.
It has a large kitchen with every upgrade imaginable. She imagines what she and Blair could do with a space like that. They’d add a few savory items to their menu, plus a small assortment of artisan breads. Not to mention the increase in cakes and other pastries they could sell. No more turning away customers.

She glances at the clock. It’s nearly twenty after seven now, and there’s still no sign of Anthony.

“Is he always this late?” Natalie asks Graham.

He gives her a lawyerly smile. “I’m sure he’ll be here shortly.”

“I hope so, because I have work to do.”

“I understand.” He looks over her shoulder and his face registers relief. “Actually, here’s the man right now.”

Natalie hears the front door jingle and, when she turns, sure enough Anthony is coming through, wearing navy jeans and a green sweater that contrasts nicely with his dark hair. The sight of him makes her pulse jump.

I’m not attracted to him. I don’t like gorgeous men who can’t bother to show up on time.

Anthony pulls the strap of his crossbody satchel over his head, removing it as he walks to their table and sits down across from her. Natalie gets a whiff of sandalwood and something else—something purely male that’s all his own. He smells so good she wonders what it would be like to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in.

I don’t care how good he smells.

“Hope I didn’t miss anything,” Anthony says. He flashes that boyish grin and Natalie is momentarily disarmed. She imagines him as a child, winning everybody over with that smile.

She’s nervous, but concentrates on how annoyed she is instead.

“We were just talking about how late you are,” Natalie tells him.

“Oh?” Anthony’s grin falters as he looks around the table at the others to see if she’s joking.

“We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes,” she continues in a stern voice. “I really don’t appreciate that. Maybe you don’t run on an actual schedule, but I do.”

His boyish grin is completely gone now, and Natalie feels a pang of regret for having been the one to remove it.