Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) (14 page)

“I came by to get the numbers from you regarding the jobs you’ve turned down this week.”

“You don’t need to come into the kitchen for that.”

“I was looking for you. This seemed like a reasonable place to check.”

Embarrassed, Natalie realizes he’s right and stands up. “I started a notebook. It’s by the cash register.”

“You know, it doesn’t have to be this way between us,” Anthony says when they’re standing out front. He watches as Natalie searches for her notebook. He still can’t believe she called him an asshole right to his face. Could she be any more unpleasant? He’s dealt with tantrums from students and obnoxious colleagues, but few of them have ever insulted him so directly.

For a moment her eyes meet his and he sees a flicker of uncertainty, but then she looks down again.

“Here’s the notebook,” she says, holding it out.

He takes it from her and flips to the page with the list. It appears they’ve turned down two small catering jobs, though it doesn’t look like much money was lost. If these are the kind of numbers she plans to convince him with, she’s in for an unpleasant surprise.

“And there’s no way you could have completed these jobs?” he asks.

Natalie gives him another one of her scathing looks. “Of course not. Do you think we turn down business on purpose?” She seems to think of something else for a second, but then continues to make her case, going on about their lack of ovens.

Anthony studies her as she talks. Her hair is pulled back into another severe ponytail with only a few gray hairs managing to spring free. It suits her stubborn personality.

He sneaks a peek at her body when she looks away. Like last time, she’s wearing dark shapeless clothes, except today she has on a white apron dusted with flour and chocolate. It’s hard to tell for sure, but he suspects she’s curvaceous.

“Do you have everything you need?” Natalie asks, pursing her lips.

His attention returns to her face. And then there’s that mouth. It still amazes him that an overbearing woman could have such a sensual mouth. He wonders what it would take to make it say nice things instead of calling him names. For a crazy instant, he imagines kissing Natalie. That would certainly put her mouth to good use. What would she do if he tried? Slap him or call him an asshole again. She’d acted so nervous around him last time that he’d figured she was attracted to him, but now he isn’t so sure.

“So, have you decided to add any Italian pastries to the menu?” he asks.

Natalie doesn’t reply, and he senses she might be embarrassed.

“Because I thought it was a good suggestion,” he continues. “You guys should at least sell
Tiramisu.
It’s one of my favorite desserts.”

Her blue eyes widen, but she still doesn’t say anything.

“My family is Italian, so I’d be happy to offer ideas. My biggest advice is to lay off all the sugar. Italian desserts aren’t as overly sweet as your American ones.” He adds that last part mostly to irritate her, and he can see it worked. She looks pissed again.
Good.
That’s what she gets for calling him an asshole.

“You know, you’re the only one who’s ever complained about my cake being too sweet.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“And since Americans like sweet desserts, those are the kind I bake. I have to create recipes that sell, though if you continue to box us in it won’t matter.”

He opens his mouth to start lecturing again on how his program works, but then notices the dark circles under her eyes and worry lines on her forehead, and decides to back off. She looks tired and stressed. He recognizes all the signs of someone who’s overworked, having seen plenty of it in his own family growing up.

“What do you for fun, Natalie?” he asks, suddenly curious about her.

“What?”

He repeats the question.

She blinks. “Fun?”

“Yeah.”

She looks confused. The question appears to have stumped her.

“I bake,” she finally says. “I like to create new recipes.”

“That’s still work. How do you relax?”

She bites her bottom lip and it catches his attention. He’s always had a weakness for a pretty mouth. “I don’t know. I watch movies. Especially
Star Wars
and
Lord of the Rings.
”

Anthony raises his eyebrows. “You’re into
Star Wars?
”

“And
Lord of the Rings.
”

He takes this in, surprised. “Look, I really do have
La Dolce Vita’s
best interest in mind. I know you don’t believe me, but working with complex equations and analyzing data is what I do best.”

Natalie’s expression hardens. “I need to get back to work now, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He turns to leave.

“Wait a minute. Don’t you want to write this stuff down?” She holds up her notebook.

“Don’t need to. I’ve already got it memorized.”

Natalie appears skeptical, a reaction he’s gotten a lot over the years. “You seriously memorized everything I just showed you?”

“I did.”

She studies him for a moment. “Prove it.” She holds the notebook close to her chest, as if he had x-ray vision and could somehow see through the front cover.

Anthony brings up the data in his mind. “The first job wanted four cakes and two dozen cupcakes and the second job wanted six cakes.” He rattles off all the figures she gave him down to the last penny. “Obviously, that’s not the whole story though. I’ll be able to tell you the net profit after I put these figures into my program.”

She opens her book and checks his figures. “That’s quite a party trick. Do you have a photographic memory?”

“Sort of. I’m good with numbers.”

“That’s impressive, but . . . I don’t know. I think you should still write everything down to be on the safe side.”

“I just showed you why I don’t need to do that.”

“You might forget after you leave here and then what?”

“I’m not going to forget.”
It’s just the cost of a bunch of cakes.
He’d be embarrassed if he couldn’t remember something that simple. “Trust me, if I can remember pages of differential equations, I can easily remember the cost of a few cupcakes.”

“It’s two dozen cupcakes. You’re already forgetting.”

Face it, she’s impossible.

Anthony lets out his breath. “You know what? I’m done. You can deal with Graham from now on.”

“Fine! I’m done, too.”

Their eyes meet and Anthony watches as she slams the notebook down and marches back into the kitchen.

“YOU WANT ME
to do
what?
” Natalie has just arrived home and is unpacking some tangerine currant scones she’d set aside for Chloe and Lindsay, though she can’t stop thinking about how horrible she acted toward Anthony.

“I think you should come to my boxing class tonight,” Lindsay says.

Natalie listens as Lindsay starts talking about a new class she wants her to try and how Blair has already agreed to come as well. “But you already know how to box and I’ve never done it in my life.”

“This class is for all levels. There are a couple different teachers and I hear they really kick ass. It should be great!”

Natalie tries to imagine herself in a room full of women with as much verve and energy as her sister. She’d be the big slow moose in a group of sprightly antelopes. “It doesn’t sound like something I’d enjoy.”

“Come on. It’s Blair’s first time, too, plus you need to get out more. All you ever do is work.”

“Look, I don’t want to go, okay? Stop asking.”

Lindsay raises an eyebrow. “What’s eating you?”

“I had a horrible day. I just want to sit home tonight with a glass of wine and put it behind me.”

“Is Lena still hassling you? Because I would be happy to go over there and talk to her.”

After the fight at the yoga studio, Lena started sending Natalie nasty text messages. She’s not even sure how Lena got her cell number. She must have stolen it off Peter’s phone. Natalie was tempted to show the texts to Peter, but figured there was no point, since he’d just take Lena’s side anyway. She’s been trying to ignore them. Initially the texts were threatening her with assault charges and a restraining order, which seemed ironic to Natalie. Why bother with texting at all? But recently, they’ve changed and are now dumb platitudes about “moving on” and “finding peace,” as if she wanted to hear any of that crap from Lena.

“I called my landlord an asshole to his face today.”

“Wow, really?” Lindsay grabs a scone from the pile and puts it on a napkin. “The super-hot one?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Natalie sits down on the stool next to Lindsay. She reaches for one of the scones, but then stops herself. She eyes the bowl of fruit she’s started leaving on the counter, but decides to get a pickle from the fridge instead. Low calorie and zero fat—dill pickles have become her new best friend. “First that awful fight with Lena last month, and now this? I don’t feel like myself at all. I was so rude to him. Not to mention, the whole kitchen heard me.”

“What did he do?”

“He kept his cool.” Natalie describes how well Anthony handled it and that his body language gave nothing away. “It was kind of impressive, really.”

“Wow, most guys would have been furious.”

“I know, I had to admire his self-control.” Natalie takes a bite of pickle and thinks about his reaction. “It occurred to me he’d make a good card player. Plus, it turns out he’s some kind of math whiz.”

“Really?”

“I can’t believe I acted so horrible, though. And now I’m going to have to apologize.”

Lindsay smiles. “Why don’t you invite him over for a hand of strip poker? Then you can apologize the right way—with a few extra sprinkles on top. ”

Natalie lets out a laugh. “Trust me, I’m the last person in the world he’d want to play strip poker with!”

“You never know.” Lindsay shrugs. “How many cute guys do you have in your life right now? Besides, I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself. You’ve been going through a lot.”

“That’s no excuse for bad behavior, and I need this guy on our side. Blair is going to kill me when she finds out what happened today.”

“This may sound like a dumb question, but have you two considered moving to another location entirely? I mean, what if the hot landlord never leases you that space?”

Natalie sighs. “We have. We even hired a real estate agent to keep an eye out for us, but nothing good has come up. At least, nothing as good as where we are now.”

The problem is La Dolce Vita is in the perfect location. It’s close enough to campus to get the university crowd, yet far enough that they also get plenty of business from the neighborhoods nearby. Santosa’s, the bistro down the street, was the only spot Natalie could picture that was better than theirs, but of course they weren’t going anywhere.

“Well,” Lindsay says. “It sounds to me like you’ve had the sort of day where throwing a few punches might feel pretty good.”

“Maybe.”

“And you’ve been exercising regularly, too. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Everyone’s noticed you’ve lost weight. In fact, I think it’s time to go shopping and get some new clothes. Those are practically falling off you.”

Natalie’s mouth opens in surprise. “Do you really think so?” She’s noticed that she has to tighten her belt on everything, but has been too afraid to weigh herself, worried she’ll only be disappointed.