Page 54 of Spicy Ever After
But… maybe she couldn’t hide it if she wanted to. Maybe she doesn’t even realize that it shows.
As soon as that occurs to me, I’m not about to leave her out on that limb by herself.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, and even that’s not enough. “So beautiful.”
She goes wide-eyed. “I was just thinking that about you.”
“Lucky me.”
“Even with powdered sugar on your face,” she says, giggling.
I snort, dragging a hand down my face. “Like you don’t have any on yours.”
She stiffens. “I do?” Then she’s swatting at her face before she looks down and sees the dusting of sugar along her front. “Oh. My. God. I’m a mess!”
Color rises to her cheeks as she brushes herself off, and the last thing I want is for her to feel embarrassed.
“It’s kind of the price we pay for eating beignets.” I grab another one, making no attempt to be careful with the mound of sugar on top.
Hattie freezes, her face lighting up as I demolish it. And, yeah, I look like an accident-prone coke head.
“Um…” she tries not to grin and fails adorably. Then she gestures to her face. “You got a little?—”
I feign surprise. “What? Do I have sugar on my face?”
Hattie laughs, and I love it.
I brush myself off and then watch her eyes narrow on me.
“Did you make a mess just to make me feel like less of a mess?”
“I wouldn’t say I made a mess.” I shrug. “I just didn’t fight it. What harm is there in a little powdered sugar?”
She scoffs. “You’ve met my mom and I’ve told you about my grandma.”
I pick up the last beignet and hand it to her. “Good thing we didn’t invite them.”
She snickers before taking a bite. For the second time, she doesn’t hide her pleasure, closing her eyes and whimpering.
And, fuck me, I’m jealous of a pastry.
When she opens her eyes, Hattie shakes her head. “If we had invited them, I would be eating microgreens with a shot of wheatgrass.” She nods in the direction of the Farmer’s Market.
One of the stalls actually does sell wheatgrass shots. I don’t recommend them.
“Are they big on health food?” I ask.
“No. Just big on me losing weight.”
Her words slam like a frying pan to the face. Yet she’s said them without flinching. Like it’s totally normal.
I couldn’t have heard her right.
“What?”
Her mouth quirks and she holds up her last bite of beignet. “My mom might need an AED if she saw this.” She pops the bite into her mouth, smirking defiantly.
Hattie looks intrepid, triumphant even. I just shake my head. I need to understand, but I’m uneasy even repeating her words.
