Chapter 3
Kennedy
“I talked to Molly and Sage.”
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and pressed the phone to my ear. “Who is this?” I grunted.
“Karlton, your fairy godmother. Oh, and I’ve also thought about what I want my payment to be for hooking you up with Mr. Perfect,” he chattered.
I threw my arm over my face and collapsed back into my pillow. “I don’t even know what time it is, and my brain is barely registering what you are talking about.”
“It’s eight fifteen, and you need to wake up. We have things to do.”
“You are supposed to be doing all of the work. I’m just supposed to tell you when and where to send him.” It was way too early to be dealing with Karlton. I normally needed four cups of coffee and peace and quiet to wake up fully.
“Don’t you want to know what I want in return for doing this for you?” he asked coyly.
He probably wanted me to name my first born after him. Karlton or Karlette. “Karlette is not happening.”
He scoffed. “This is way more than naming your firstborn after me. Matchmake Pump.”
“Now you’re speaking gibberish.”
“Louis’, baby. This is going to cost you a pair of Matchmake Pumps. I figured the name was only fitting for what I’m doing,” he replied smugly.
“I’m not buying you a pair of thousand-dollar shoes for doing something that I didn’t ask you to do.” Buying expensive shoes was never something that excited me the way it did my mother or Karlton. I was more into comfort than style.
“That’s good since they’re only eight hundred and some change,” he bragged as if he had found the deal of the century.
“I’m ignoring your request.” He was crazy. Did he know how many pairs of yoga pants I could buy for eight hundred dollars? “I think we need to go over the difference between wants and needs with you.”
“Whatever. Just meet me at Sudz at ten. There are some things we need to go over, and then we need to go shopping.”
Ugh. Shopping was one of the things I hated. Vivian always dragged me along whenever she felt the need to clean out her closet and fill it with the latest fashions. Sitting in fitting rooms for hours on end while she tried on everything in the store was how I spent a good chunk of my childhood. “I’ll be there at ten, but I’ll skip out on the shopping.” I shuddered at the thought of even trying on a pair of pants. Buy online was the ideal way to shop for me.
“It’s not an option,” he sang. He disconnected the call before I could protest anymore, and I dropped the phone on the bed.
“Fairy godmother Karlton,” I sighed.
What could we possibly need to go shopping for, and more importantly, what else did he have to tell me about?
This idea of his was ballooning into something I wasn’t sure I wanted.
**********
Dante
“There’s the cookie bandit.”
Molly was sitting in Kellan’s lap behind the front desk of Powerhouse with a smirk on her face.
I pointed a finger at her as I walked by. “You charge an outrageous amount for your cookies.”
“Only if your name is Dante,” she giggled.
“How did it go last night with the oven, Betty Crocker?” Kellan asked.
I dropped my duffel bag next to the mat and collapsed into one of the folding chairs that the parents sat in. “I turned on the oven, and then I realized I don’t have anything to cook on.” You could imagine my disappointment when I opened all of my cupboards searching for anything to put the damn cookies on, only to come up empty-handed.”
“You could have used tin foil,” Molly suggested.
“I have never bought tin foil in my life,” I confessed.
Molly’s jaw dropped. “I’m seriously concerned for your well-being. How have you never baked or bought tin foil? You’ve never baked a pizza before?”
“Why bake them when you can just order them? Most pizza places are open ‘til eleven, so I’m good to go when it comes to that.” The delivery guy and I were on a first name basis.
“So, what are you going to do with the cookies you stole yesterday?” she asked.
“I plan on buying one of those pan thingies after class tonight.” I had also eaten three of the cookies raw. You couldn’t beat raw cookie dough.
“You mean a cookie sheet?” Molly asked slowly. “Have you ever even been down the baking supply aisle in a store?”
No. Not at all, but I had shocked Molly enough for the day.
“Of course, who hasn’t? That’s where they sell microwaves, right?”
She eyed me warily. “You scare me.” She hopped off of Kellan’s lap, pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and walked around the desk. “I gotta get back. Sage has off today, so you’re safe to come and get cookies later,” she noted with a smirk.
My stomach growled at the thought of warm cookies. “Let me get changed, and then I’ll be over.”
“You really need to stop encouraging him, Cookie,” Kellan chuckled.
“I can’t turn away good money. Ever since you guys started coming to the café, my sales have tripled for baked goods.” She threw a wink at Kellan and pushed open the door.
Kellan and I laughed. That wasn’t hard to believe.
“See you later,” Molly called as the door shut behind her.
Kellan spun around in his chair and folded his arms over his head. “You’re early.”
“I figured you would be here. I could use you as a punching bag for an hour or so.”
“Pretty sure we’ve got four brand new punching bags on the side there that you can use instead of my head.”
A grin spreads across my lips. “Using your head is much more fun.” A moving target was harder to hit than a stationary one, so it was more of a challenge.
“You see the flyer for the Amex Open?”
“You mean the one you stuck in my bag and on the windshield of my car?” I didn’t know exactly what Kellan was trying to get across by shoving them in my face.
“Roman is competing.”
“Yeah,” I drawled.
Kellan dropped his feet to the floor and stopped spinning. “And I think it would be good if he takes one of us with him.”
I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “I see. So, since you and Tate are being dragged around by your balls, that leaves me to go with him to Lansing.”
Kellan shrugged and nodded. “It seems most logical for you to go. Besides, since you’ve been training pretty hard, I figured you could compete too.”
“The Amex is in less than two months. I should have been training a hell of a lot harder if I’m going to compete.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, if you think you can’t go hard enough to compete, then you can be there to cheer on Roman.”
“I’m not some fucking cheerleader,” I snarled.
Kellan stood up. “Then I guess you better put your sparring gear on instead of a fucking skirt, sally.”
I stood up and snatched my duffel bag from the ground. “Now I’m really going to beat the shit out of you.”
“Bring it, fucker,” Kellan taunted.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and strutted into the bathroom.
I was going to fuck him up.
**********