Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
His voice came from the living room. “I thought you were makin’ orange cranberry pound cake?”
I stopped talking and lifted my gaze to land on Zac’s smiling face around the edge of the camera directly in front of me. “I am. Damn it. Okay, screw it, let me start again.”
“You can do it,” he cheered me on.
I smiled, shook it off, and then focused again. I could do this. Okay. I’ll just go with it. Delete it later. “Hello, Lazy Bakers! I’ve got a real special idea I want to try today. We’re going to be making cranberry pound cake!”
“Orange cranberry pound cake,” Zac piped up again.
I closed my mouth. “Shit!”
“You know you’re real good at this, darlin’. It’s a long name. A whole mouthful. Orange cranberry pound cake,” he tried to appease me while I wanted to smack myself for screwing up the name of it again.
“Last time, damn it. I’m not starting over again,” I claimed, going back around the island and deleting the recording and starting again. “You’re distracting me. I can’t remember the last time I had to start over this many times.”
“Mama’s said the same thing plenty of times.”
“I’m sure she has. I’m sure she hasn’t been the only one either.”
His silence told me he was thinking about it. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s not.”
I snickered. “Okay, I’m starting again.” Behind the counter, I stopped. “All right. No stopping. I can do this.”
“You can do anything, Little Texas,” my friend said with a serious nod from where he was still on the couch. “One take, you got this.”
“One take, I got this.” I shook my shoulders, pressed my lips together, held my head up high, and went back into it. “Hey, Lazy Bakers! Today, I’ve got a special idea I want to try just in time for the fall! Orange cranberry pound cake!”
“Nailed it,” Zac whispered.
Shit. I started laughing. “Damn it, Zac!”
“What’d I do? Was I that loud? Could you hear me? I’m gettin’ real into this. You’re so professional. Everything is so nice. I think I’m a little jealous CJ got to do this before me.”
His words hugged my heart, and I had to pause. I’d genuinely thought he’d offered to participate just to be nice. “Zac, do you want to be in it?”
He didn’t even hesitate. He said, “Okay,” instantly, and in the time it took me to blink, he was up and heading over.
All right.
Okay.
No more starting over, right?
I stared dead at the camera. No more starting over. “Well, we’re having a special guest today after all.”
The tall, lean man came to stand beside me, freaking hip bumping me an inch over.
I snorted and tried to keep my shit together. “My longtime friend—”
“And number one fan,” he piped in.
I blinked at the camera and then blinked at him. “And number one fan, excuse me, Zac Travis.”
“Hi,” he greeted the camera, forcing me back to focus on what we were doing.
“And today, right after I get a microphone and an apron on Zac, we’re going to be making orange cranberry pound cake.”
“Just in time for the fall,” Zac added loudly, looking down at me at the same time I glanced up.
We grinned at each other.
“For our ingredients today, we’re going to be using….”
Chapter Twelve
If I was ever going to wonder how the hell I ended up in Zac’s car on the way to Austin for my cousin Lola’s quinceañera….
I would have been in the shitter, because I wasn’t sure how the hell it had actually happened. One minute, I’d been packing my bag and someone had been knocking away at my door. The next minute, Zac was in my apartment, in damp workout clothes, wondering what I was doing and did I want to have lunch?
Then an hour and three sandwiches later, he was dumping his carry-on bag into the back of his car while I’d talked to CJ downstairs about his claim of being a terrible cook. Apparently, his mom hadn’t been a great cook either and it was inherited.
Anyway.
Now, hours, two podcasts, a classic hits playlist, and some K-pop that Zac had whined through, later… he was parking his car in the lot of the hotel I’d booked weeks ago. A hotel I’d had to book because apparently there was so much family in town, no one but my cousin had bothered to invite us to stay with them. I had two aunts and three uncles, and they all had full houses. Even then, Boogie only had a one-bedroom apartment so….
Truthfully, I was relieved we were staying somewhere else instead of sharing a bathroom with eight other people who had no sense of privacy or personal space. I was sharing a bed with Luisa, and Connie was going to share a bed with her son. Her husband was staying home because he had to work.