Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Me?”
She nodded. “There is a whole kitchen in the back. You could be my baker.”
“Me?” I gaped, repeating myself.
“Yes. Your cookies and bars. People love those to go with coffee. Maybe some scones or something else. Nothing elaborate. I think I want to keep it all simple—people are craving that these days. A great cup of coffee, an awesome snack. Sit in and read, or take it to go.”
“Wow.”
“I know.” She leaned forward. “I know you think it sounds odd, Lottie, but I’m so excited. I’ve done up business plans and ideas. I’ve talked to my finance guy, looked into some renovations to make the place mine, and the more involved I get, the more it feels right. I need to do this.” She smiled. “Trev’s been amazing with his ideas and sharing insights about running a business.”
“You like him.”
She flushed slightly, shocking me. Brianna never blushed. “He’s awesome. He doesn’t care about my money. He cares about me.”
I squeezed her hand. “Logan says he’s a good guy. Genuine.”
She nodded. “He is. And he’s been really supportive.” She paused. “I want you with me on this, Lottie.”
“But I’m pregnant.”
She waved her hand. “So, you come in, be the baker, oversee the menu, train someone with your recipes. When it’s time to pop out the kid, you’re gone. When you’re ready to come back, the shop will be there.”
I burst out laughing. Not only at her description of giving birth, but her firm belief that her business would thrive and be there when I was ready to come back.
She grinned at my amusement. “I mean it.”
“I know.” I drew in a deep breath. “I told my dad I quit yesterday.”
“Perfect. You’re an unemployed bum. You need a job. You’re lucky I have one for you.”
“Brianna—”
She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Lottie. Stop it. Stop living your life for your parents. You have a chance here. A new job. A man who loves you. A baby. Do you really want to stay working somewhere you hate? Why let that taint your life?” She pursed her lips. “Do you honestly think your father’s business will suffer? How many other employees have left and Prescott Inc. is still standing? You always say you are just an employee there. If that is true, then your father carries on. If there was more to it, maybe your father would stop being such an asshole and your relationship would have a chance to develop.”
Her words hit me, and I paused. She was right.
“When did you get so smart?”
She sniffed. “I always have been. I was waiting for the right moment to spring it on you.” She eyed me warily. “Say you’ll at least think about it.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Okay.”
Logan
Bobby stared at me, then picked up his bottle of water and took a swig. “Wow. Pregnant.”
I strummed my guitar, grinning. “Yep.”
“No need to ask how you feel about it. You look as if you’re going to explode with happiness.”
I rested my hand on the neck of my guitar. “I feel like it. I never expected Lottie. Or how she would affect me. Yesterday, when she told me, I was shocked—so was she—but after the surprise settled, all I felt was how right this was. Fast as hell, but right.”
“You’re not worried?”
“I’m scared as fuck. I have no idea about pregnant women or babies, but it’s with Lottie, so I’ll learn.” I paused. “This is the start of our future together.”
Another piece of music drifted through my head, and I shut my eyes as I fingered the notes, quickly scribbling them down. It had been happening more since yesterday. A song was building, something tender yet intense. Bobby listened as I played through the notes, nodding as his foot tapped the beat.
“She inspire that one too?”
“She inspires them all.”
He clapped my shoulder. “I have a feeling the next while is going to be very productive for us.”
“I think so as well.”
“Carmen wants me in to record the song I sang the other night with you. He wants it out as a single right away. You’ll back me up?”
“Yep.”
“He wants us to be working on the album immediately.”
“Makes sense.”
“He’s already counting on platinum. He’ll settle for gold.”
I smirked, hardly surprised. Carmen had deep pockets, a ton of contacts from his career, many of them based in the States. I knew he would rely heavily on their influence to make sure the record was a success not only in Canada, but in our far more lucrative neighbor to the south. He was honest with his plans, thorough in the details, and eager to set it all in motion.
I had received a great advance, plus a decent contract, and I knew Bobby’s success would influence mine. I was hungry for it. What it meant for my future—for my family. I could write and play, enjoy hearing my work, and support the people I loved. I didn’t want the fame that went with it. Bobby or any other artist I worked with could have that.