Tough Cookies (New Year New Me 1)

Winston shrugs. “Then she’ll have to deal with it.”

“Unless she cancels on me, leaving me in a lurch.”

“No, that would make her look like a coward. No one wants that,” Evander says, walking in with the T-shirts I ordered.

“It’s going to be hard to show her the beauty of cooking if she wants to take my head off.”

“She wouldn’t be the first woman you’ve pissed off,” Evander says. He tosses me the black T-shirt with the cookie with a crown on it. The words Cookie King are written across the back in a bold yellow that curves around a chocolate chip cookie. Her’s is identical, except it says Cookie Queen in Training.

“Look who’s talking. You’ve never been Mr. Smooth yourself.” I scrutinize the shirts.

“Do you need a camera person?” Winston asks.

“No. Why?” My suspicion rises.

“Because I want to be there when she dumps a bowl of something over your head.” Evander gives Win a fist bump.

I glower. “Your faith in me is humbling.”

“We’re just trying to prepare you for all possible scenarios, bro.” Evander holds up his hand in mock surrender.

“Your kindness isn’t appreciated, jackasses. We’re in our thirties, and you’re still getting me into trouble.”

“I don’t feel very valued, E,” Win sniffs.

“Me either, Win. He has us slaving away on our day off and doesn’t even say thank you.” Evander tsks.

“All right, comedians, it’s time for the two of you to go.” My nerves are worn thin enough without them taking t

he piss out of me.

“Okay. Let’s go. Anders needs to get ready for his date.” Win flutters his lashes.

“Seriously, good luck. You’ve got Papa’s charm. You’ll be fine if she lets you in the door.” I toss the shirt at him. Laughing, he dances out of the way as it lands on the carpet.

“Thanks for all your help today.”

“Anytime,” Evander calls over his shoulder.

“We always got your back.” Win salutes and they exit the house, locking the door behind them.

Their hazing helped me relax. Grabbing my checklist, I check my cases. I’m going to need all my equipment, lighting, the background I want to film our interview in front of, and cameras. It’s a lot of work to take the show on the road. Maybe next time, I’ll hire a small crew. I busy myself with double checks and packing to stay calm. I have a lot riding on this. I have to make sure this risk pans out.

The buzz is great, but it’s also an anchor tied around me. All eyes are on me, and people are expecting me to deliver. It’s a make-or-break moment. I think of Papa’s disbelieving attitude, Mom’s hopeful expression, and my dwindling bank account. Whatever it takes, I’ll get what I need from Matilda Lawson. After latching the case, I start the process of carrying everything to the car. It’s just like when I had my first ad pitch. You fake it until you make it, and sell it ’til they feel like they need it. I made a living figuring out what it is people are looking for and offering it to them. This won’t be any different. I already had an in, her daughter. I lock the door to my house, climb into the car, and make my way to her home.

Businesses in the small town make it their business to keep up on significant events in the area. Matilda and Jackson divorcing shook the community. Their commercials were disgustingly wholesome and cute. I felt like I saw their kid grow up in real-time. Every year they were there, shiny, happy, and selling you the American dream more than the cars on the lot. I’d seen the young blonde he left Matilda for, and in my mind, there was no contest. I wouldn’t waste my time with a girl who didn’t even remember Are You Afraid of the Dark? when I could have the curvy, cat-eyed woman who’d held him down since high school. Loyalty was the most attractive thing a woman could have. Apparently, Jackson Lawson didn’t see it that way. They were a couple of years behind me in high school, but I remember what an entitled prick he could be. Daddy made a cushy life, and he expected to be treated like a king because he always had been. She had seemed too lovely for him then. I guess that hadn’t really changed.

We never ran in the same circles, but we know each other like all kids do in a town this size. Pulling onto her street, I admire her two-story, brick home and park. I step out, and make my way to the front door, smirking at the Tardis Blue color with the Police Box Logo on the front, and knock.

The door swings open to reveal a set of flashing hazel-colored, cat-like eyes and pursed, pink lips. Wild brown curls are pulled back and left to tumble down her back, away from her slender, oval-shaped face. Her small nose twitches like a rabbit. She’s stunning in her anger, and I am one-hundred percent screwed.

My gaze sweeps over her frame, lingering on her scoop neck, black T-shirt that fits her like a second skin and disappears inside of the dark denim that encases her thick thighed, long legs. Heat spirals through me. Hell of a time to remember it’s been a few years of drought. The silence stretches out like saltwater taffy, sweet and bitter. I thrust the shirt at her. The sooner she drapes this over her delectable body, the better I’ll be able to concentrate.

She eyes the black cloth with distrust. “What’s this?”

“A present. Hi.”

She sniffs. “You mean a peace offering? Which I’m not sure I’m accepting?”