Free Sugar Rush by Donna Kauffman Page B

to think one tiny senior can throw you off your game.”
    He got hung up for a moment on her surprising description of him. Was that how she really saw him? Quite flattering in some respects, especially considering the scowl presently creasing her brow. But ... Hugh Grant?
    “As you noted, she is quite the tiny senior.” Baxter stopped at the opposite side of the counter from where Lani stood, arms still folded. “But you have a point. Maybe it was instinct, just put it out there, gain the advantage.”
    “Well, that’s hardly a—what did you just say?”
    “I said, maybe you’re right, and I instinctively played to the advantage that presented itself. I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t premeditated, but that doesn’t negate that I did it. Or that I’m sorry I did. It was impulsive, and out of line.”
    “Well ... okay, then.” The bluster went out of her.
    But not, he noted, the fluster. If anything, she seemed more jumpy than before.
    “So, just tell me what the bigger picture is here,” she implored. “There has to be an agenda. I’m not stupid.”
    “Far from.”
    “Thank you.”
    “What is it I’ve done to anger you? I honestly don’t have a clue.”
    “I’m not angry, I’m just—” She stopped when he simply folded his arms in a mirror pose of hers. She took an audible breath, let it out slowly. “It’s ... complicated. And you’re right. I’m not being fair to you. I’m sorry for that. I’m not usually like this.”
    “Again, far from.” He smiled then, relieved they were finally getting back to some semblance of normalcy.
    But she didn’t smile in return. And the slightly lost look she’d had that morning, after he’d kissed her, was back. He thought that might be worse.
    “I guess it’s just ... I don’t understand why you’d come here and turn my lovely new life upside down.” She lifted one hand, palm out. Her quiet intensity proved more provoking than her frustration. “And please, don’t use that line you tried this morning. I worked next to you for three years, and ran Gateau’s kitchen for you for another year after that. You never once showed so much as a sliver of interest in me other than purely professional that entire time. We’ve agreed that I’m not stupid, so don’t come here, into my place— my place, Baxter—and expect me to believe you suddenly can’t live without me. Personally, or, for that matter, professionally. It’s insulting, and ... well, also not fair. I don’t deserve some silly game. I deserve a straight answer.”
    “It seems neither of us is getting what we want today.” Baxter kept his arms folded. “Did it occur to you that your refusal to believe me is also insulting? The one who should be angry here, is me. Other than not sending advance word, which I couldn’t do due to the network’s paranoia over secrecy issues, I haven’t done anything wrong that I know of. I am, in fact, offering you a really great opportunity.”
    “That I didn’t ask for, or need. If I wanted to advance my cause on Sugarberry by using you or Gateau, I’d have done it already. I’m building something different here. On my own.”
    “Leilani—”
    “You should have asked me first, Baxter, before planning anything here, with or without me or my shop. I know I’m not in charge of the island, or your show, or you, but there are literally thousands of places you could have chosen. But you chose the one tiny little piece of land where I happen to live, and make my living. You had to know it was going to upend my life to some degree, no matter how altruistic you thought your gesture might be. Considering the working relationship we had, you owed me a heads-up, at the very least, networks be damned.”
    “I—”
    “You should have just been honest and up-front about ... whatever it is that made you come here. And no, I don’t consider a local write-up intended to generate anticipation for your show on the very morning you arrive, crew in tow, an