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Okay. That was weird.
I stare at Ian’s retreating back for a few seconds, before picking up my drink. One moment he’s touching my face with a strange look on his face, and the next he’s zoning out mid-conversation. Maybe it’s my fault. I was the one who asked him to dance with me – something I never would’ve done with a clear head. This is just what I needed to forget about my problems for a few hours – alcohol and a delicious distraction.
“How much did you drink?”
At the sound of Dylan’s voice, I nearly drop the bottle. He’s looming over me, holding his phone and peering at me with concern. He glances at the bottle and snatches it from my grasp.
His coffee brown eyes, so like Mom’s, are warm and filled with concern. I release a long sigh. I’ve been holding it in for so long, telling myself things would magically fall into place after I go through the numbers every night.
“Okay. I’ll just…let it out. The shop’s not doing well. And I…”
The words clog my throat. I inhale shakily. This is one thing that matters to me, that genuinely matters, not just something I worked hard at because it’s something I should want.
“You could’ve asked me for help. You know I’ll never turn you down.”
I shake my head. “You’re getting married in a year. You need all the money you can save.”
“I’m not that much of a struggling artist.”
“Dylan, I want to do this on my own.”
“How?”
“A & Sons is hosting a PR event and launch in two months. If I can get the contract to cater for the event, my pastry shop won’t just be saved, it’ll grow. A lot.” My smile fades just as fast. “Rachel’s in the race for the spot. Although she only just started, she’s already ahead. She’s the most likely to win.”
Dylan pours me a glass. I nod my thanks and take a few sips. No way I’m driving home tonight anyway.
“Can’t you get the contract because you used to work there?”
I bark a laugh. “That’s not how things work in A & Sons. No one cares about what you did in the past; just how good you are at what you do. And I’m good at baking. I know I am. But how can I stand a chance against her?”
“I’ll help you,” Ian says. I turn to face him. He has his arms crossed, and he’s staring at me with an unreadable expression.
“What?”
He moves around the couch to stand in front of me. My eyes climb his broad chest to his eyes.
“What you need is a strategy.” He sits on the couch and leans forward with hands clasped. “First, a rebranding. To get that big contract, you have to look like you’ve gotten even bigger contracts. You’ll need to change everything. A complete rebrand.”
“You can let him help you. Ian’s good at this sort of thing. He’s set up dozens of businesses.”
A corner of Ian’s lips lift in a smile. “An exaggeration.”
Dylan clasps my shoulder. “Come on, sis. Let your big brothers help you.”
I cringe inwardly, stealing a glance at Ian. Our eyes meet. I’ve never regarded Ian as my brother. The thought of it is just…weird. No one has a crush on their big brother. Not like I have a crush on him anymore. My teenage years are far behind me.
I grimace and look up at the time.
“Shit. I have to go.” Grabbing my bag, I get up from the couch. “Thank you for the drinks and the pep talk. Sorry for crashing your reunion.”
Dylan shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He gets up and offers, “I’ll drive you home.”
“I’m fine. I’m not even tipsy.”
He raises a brow and gives me a pointed look.
“Okay, maybe I am a little.”
