front.”
Evan smiled as she hung up the phone and stood. Callie dropped her overstuffed purse to the floor and rushed toward her to give her a hug. Evan laughed while the taller woman squeezed her for dear life.
“Wow, I . . . uh . . . missed you, too.”
“What are you doing here? I thought Daniel was going to keep you all to himself this week.”
“I just stopped in for a few minutes to return some calls before I reopen next week.”
Callie finally released her and put her hands on her hips. “For the record, you are not allowed to take this much time off ever again. I swear if I have to have one more lunch with Flower Shop Trisha, I’m going to keel over. She’s so prim and proper, I feel like I’m having soup with the queen or something. I know she’s probably lighting candles for me at church after some of the stuff I’ve slipped up and told her.”
“Well your immortal soul could probably use all the help it can get.”
Callie plopped into the chair in front of Evan’s desk. “Amen, sister. Though I just finished a weeklong cayenne and lemon juice detox. The way it’s been going, I think even my soul is cleansed.”
Evan snorted. “Why on earth are you doing that?”
Beyond the fact that Callie bashed diets regularly for cutting into her profits at her bakery across the street, she’d always seemed comfortable with her curves.
Her grin turned sly. “Well, a lot has happened since you went gallivanting around the country with that man of yours.”
“Oh, really? Do tell.”
“I have a new boyfriend,” she said in a singsong voice. “A new, devastatingly handsome, completely wonderful boyfriend. Even Finn gave him the thumbs-up in the looks department, and you know how picky that kid is. So I don’t want to look like a dumpling next to him when we go out.”
“Hold up. A new boyfriend? Cal, I talked to you at least once a week. You didn’t even mention you were seeing someone.”
“I didn’t want to jinx it,” Callie said, crossing her arms with a huff. “Every time I tell you about how great some guy I’m seeing is, I find out the next week that he has some catastrophic flaw—like he has an addiction to hookers or is a diabetic and can’t eat cake. You’re bad luck.”
Evan shook her head, amused. Her friend
did
have abysmal luck when it came to men, but somehow she doubted it had anything to do with a jinx. Cal had a tendency of falling fast and asking questions later. Evan had learned that warning her to slow down was like talking to a coffee table. And hell, who was she to give relationship advice? She was marrying her gay best friend.
She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hands. “All right, so dish. Who is he? What’s he do? And, more important, does he like baked goods?”
Callie sat up straighter, obviously bubbling over after holding back the secret so long. “His name is Brandon. He’s a nurse over at the cancer center. And he’s a total slut for chocolate cupcakes.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“Totally,” she said, her eyes getting a little starry. “He’s picking me up for my end-of-diet lunch. I texted him to meet me over here.”
“Great.”
“He loved the photos you have hanging in the shop, by the way. Said you knew how to make a piece of pie look downright seductive.”
Evan laughed. “My claim to fame—sexy cherry pie.”
“Hey,” she said, pointing at her, “don’t underestimate yourself. I sell more of the products you photographed than any others. Seriously, you have a gift of making things look irresistible on film.”
Evan’s stomach clenched a bit with that last part. A gift. Yes, once upon a time she’d made someone a whole lot of money with that innate talent. She rubbed her arms through her sleeves, trying to fight off the creeping chill that always came with those horrid memories.
“Hey now, there’s an idea,” Callie said, completely oblivious to Evan’s sudden discomfort.
She took a deep breath and tried
Evan smiled as she hung up the phone and stood. Callie dropped her overstuffed purse to the floor and rushed toward her to give her a hug. Evan laughed while the taller woman squeezed her for dear life.
“Wow, I . . . uh . . . missed you, too.”
“What are you doing here? I thought Daniel was going to keep you all to himself this week.”
“I just stopped in for a few minutes to return some calls before I reopen next week.”
Callie finally released her and put her hands on her hips. “For the record, you are not allowed to take this much time off ever again. I swear if I have to have one more lunch with Flower Shop Trisha, I’m going to keel over. She’s so prim and proper, I feel like I’m having soup with the queen or something. I know she’s probably lighting candles for me at church after some of the stuff I’ve slipped up and told her.”
“Well your immortal soul could probably use all the help it can get.”
Callie plopped into the chair in front of Evan’s desk. “Amen, sister. Though I just finished a weeklong cayenne and lemon juice detox. The way it’s been going, I think even my soul is cleansed.”
Evan snorted. “Why on earth are you doing that?”
Beyond the fact that Callie bashed diets regularly for cutting into her profits at her bakery across the street, she’d always seemed comfortable with her curves.
Her grin turned sly. “Well, a lot has happened since you went gallivanting around the country with that man of yours.”
“Oh, really? Do tell.”
“I have a new boyfriend,” she said in a singsong voice. “A new, devastatingly handsome, completely wonderful boyfriend. Even Finn gave him the thumbs-up in the looks department, and you know how picky that kid is. So I don’t want to look like a dumpling next to him when we go out.”
“Hold up. A new boyfriend? Cal, I talked to you at least once a week. You didn’t even mention you were seeing someone.”
“I didn’t want to jinx it,” Callie said, crossing her arms with a huff. “Every time I tell you about how great some guy I’m seeing is, I find out the next week that he has some catastrophic flaw—like he has an addiction to hookers or is a diabetic and can’t eat cake. You’re bad luck.”
Evan shook her head, amused. Her friend
did
have abysmal luck when it came to men, but somehow she doubted it had anything to do with a jinx. Cal had a tendency of falling fast and asking questions later. Evan had learned that warning her to slow down was like talking to a coffee table. And hell, who was she to give relationship advice? She was marrying her gay best friend.
She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hands. “All right, so dish. Who is he? What’s he do? And, more important, does he like baked goods?”
Callie sat up straighter, obviously bubbling over after holding back the secret so long. “His name is Brandon. He’s a nurse over at the cancer center. And he’s a total slut for chocolate cupcakes.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“Totally,” she said, her eyes getting a little starry. “He’s picking me up for my end-of-diet lunch. I texted him to meet me over here.”
“Great.”
“He loved the photos you have hanging in the shop, by the way. Said you knew how to make a piece of pie look downright seductive.”
Evan laughed. “My claim to fame—sexy cherry pie.”
“Hey,” she said, pointing at her, “don’t underestimate yourself. I sell more of the products you photographed than any others. Seriously, you have a gift of making things look irresistible on film.”
Evan’s stomach clenched a bit with that last part. A gift. Yes, once upon a time she’d made someone a whole lot of money with that innate talent. She rubbed her arms through her sleeves, trying to fight off the creeping chill that always came with those horrid memories.
“Hey now, there’s an idea,” Callie said, completely oblivious to Evan’s sudden discomfort.
She took a deep breath and tried
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