Page 40 of Frosted Fakes

She was motivated, that was for sure. She got up, baked for the bakery, and then spent the rest of the morning working on her own creations. Julia could hear her swearing from behind the counter when things weren’t as perfect as she wanted.

Not that it was any of her business at all what Elliott was doing right now. No, not at all. In fact, she couldn’t be less interested. On a scale of ‘watching paint dry’ to ‘being on Strictly Come Dancing,’ whatever it was that Elliott was doing fell somewhere between ‘grating carrots’ and ‘organizing a bookshelf by color.’ That was just how uninterested she was.

"You know, some people might think that you’re not quite as, um, how shall I put this? As business-like about Elliott as you might be?" Jamie said.

Julia bared her teeth at him and mock-growled.

"Alright, alright," he said, lifting up a bottle of wine. "Another glass?"

"Maybe you’d better just give me the bottle and a straw," Julia said.

Because Jamie had struck a chord. And so had Candice, for that matter. This was all getting a little too complicated.

This was, Julia thought, the worst idea she'd ever had.

And she'd once tried to flambé an ice sculpture.

Chapter Thirteen

The morning rush had just started to thin when Gabby Richardson swept through the door.

Julia, who had been cheerfully ringing up Mrs. Ridgely’s order of almond croissants, felt her entire body go stiff. Her mother was supposed to be in fittings all day. That was what she'd said. Fittings. All day. Not here. Not now.

"Darling!" Gabby's voice carried across the shop with the projection of someone who'd spent decades making sure cameras could hear her. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd pop in. See how my investment is doing."

Investment. Julia's eye twitched.

"Mum! What a surprise." She handed Mrs. Ridgely her change with slightly trembling fingers. "I thought you had fittings."

"Canceled." Gabby waved a perfectly manicured hand. "The designer had some sort of crisis. Apparently chartreuse is no longer the color of the season. As if I care about chartreuse. It looks awful on camera." She was scanning the shop as she spoke, and Julia knew exactly who she was looking for.

Jamie was not here. Small mercies.

"The place looks… functional," Gabby said, which in Gabby-speak meant she'd expected worse. "And those pastries actually look edible. Progress."

"Thanks, Mum." Julia resisted the urge to mention that she hadn't made any of them.

The kitchen door swung open, and Elliott appeared, carrying a tray of fresh scones. She took one look at Gabby and froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Elliott!" Gabby's smile sharpened. "The girlfriend. How lovely."

Right. The girlfriend. Julia's brain kicked into gear approximately three seconds too late. They were supposed to be a couple. In love. Comfortable with each other. Not standing on opposite sides of the shop like strangers at a bus stop.

She moved toward Elliott with what she hoped was casual affection and not the gait of someone approaching a suspicious package. "Hey, you."

Elliott's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Then, with impressive speed, she set down the tray and slid an arm around Julia's waist.

"Hey yourself." Her voice was warm, her smile convincing, and her grip on Julia's hip was firm enough to be grounding. "I didn't know your mum was stopping by."

"Neither did I," Julia said through her teeth, still smiling.

"Surprise visits keep everyone on their toes," Gabby said. She was studying them with the intensity of a food critic examining a suspicious amuse-bouche. "You two seem… comfortable."

"Very comfortable," Elliott agreed. She turned her head and pressed a quick kiss to Julia's temple.

Julia's brain short-circuited.

It was nothing. A peck. The kind of casual affection couples displayed all the time without their entire nervous system going into overdrive. And yet Julia could feel the exact spot where Elliott's lips had touched her skin, warm and tingling, like she'd been branded.