But that had been nothing compared to the jumpy, jittery heat that had been plaguing her since last night and their little showdown in her office.
He wanted to date her? As in really date her? What? That made no sense.
Except that everything he’d laid out made a lot of sense.
Anyone who knew anything about their history—basically his four best friends and his entire family—would be wondering how things stood between them.
The only reason her family wasn’t wondering was because all of them except Didi were now living in Dallas where their new company was based. Didi’s dementia made it so that she would likely be unaware of Cam’s involvement in Hot Cakes, and even if she did hear his name in connection, it would surely be difficult for her to put him together with Whitney’s boyfriend from a decade ago.
But, yes, everyone who was aware of the fact that Cam now owned part of Hot Cakes and therefore worked with Whitney, would likely wonder how that was going.
Couldn’t they just be friends?
Just then he tipped his head back and laughed at something Max had said and her stomach clenched. Hard.
No, they probably couldn’t just be friends.
Not when she wanted to jump into his arms, wrap her arms and legs around him, and kiss him until he was squeezing her ass and groaning her name. Like she had done probably a hundred times in the past.
Ugh.
It had already been difficult to keep her composure around him, but now she knew he wanted her too. How was she supposed to ignore that? How was she supposed to walk into the conference room for a meeting and not immediately flush or stammer or trip over her feet?
Damn him for stirring all of that up. She wanted to be composed, totally professional, brilliant and organized and impressive and capable, so that the guys would offer her a partnership. Or so they would at least say yes when she asked to buy in.
But now she was going to have to deal with personal feelings for Cam the whole time? The composed part was out the window, probably. And if she couldn’t handle working with him, why would the guys think she was partner material?
On top of that, she couldn’t quite shake the idea that Cam had done it on purpose. Was he testing her? Maybe not to fire her. She believed his sincerity when he said he wanted her right there watching him and his friends make her family’s company into a huge success. But maybe he was testing to see just how not over him she was and if he could get her to admit that she’d been wrong to let him go.
Well, the thing about that was… she hadn’t been wrong.
He’d had an amazing college football career. He had a law degree. He’d met three of his four best friends who would be in his life forever. He was a freaking millionaire.
So, no, she hadn’t been wrong to “let him go”… or force him to go. However he wanted to look at it. It had been the right thing and she wasn’t sorry.
Did she miss him? Had she failed to find another guy who came even close to making her feel the way Cam had even as a teenager? Sure.
But she’d done the right thing for him.
“Do you believe me?”
She focused on Piper again. She’d forgotten the other woman. “Oh. Um...” She glanced around.
She was in the shade and still sweating as the aroma of alpacas—and a pot-bellied pig, a bunch of goats, and an emu—drifted over the crowd that had gathered. And an hour-long dessert date with her ex-boyfriend, who she was still at least semi in love with, was about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
Nope. Not okay.
“I have alpacas at a baking event,” Whitney said.
Piper nodded. “Yeah, and I told you that it wasn’t Ollie’s fault. But I don’t think you heard me.”
“It’s not Ollie’s fault?” Whitney looked over at the petting zoo.
That was such an Oliver thing. It was his partners, and friends who honed Ollie’s ideas into manageable, doable proposals. For instance, Ollie would have said, Let’s have a petting zoo! and someone else would have said, Or we could have someone make balloon animals. Because balloons do go with cake. Whereas farm animals don’t so much. And that way we don’t have to deal with the smell.
“Then who’s fault is it?” Whitney asked as Piper chewed on her bottom lip.
“The alpacas are not a terrible idea,” Piper said instead of answering directly. “We wanted to make this an event that would encourage people to come and get involved. The more activities and the more fun for people of all ages, the better.”
Whitney regarded the other woman.
“So I have barnyard animals oinking and snorting in a pen fifty feet from the stage where we’re going to be producing what we hope to be the biggest Hot Cakes product ever because someone thought that would draw more people down here?” Whitney asked.
“Alpacas kind of make this purring sound, actually. It’s kind of like humming,” Piper said.
Whitney narrowed her eyes. “Piper.”
She’d really thought Piper was the one person immune to Ollie’s craziness.
In fairness, even Whitney had initially thought Ollie’s idea to literally turn this whole thing into a circus was funny and creative. But then she’d thought about how much liability insurance would cost for acrobats.
He’d been very disappointed, so she’d compromised by agreeing to a bounce house and food trucks—tacos, pizza, and pulled pork sandwiches—and a few carnival games. Snack cakes were, after all, fun. They were treats. Part of childhood. So associating them with fun and frivolity was okay, she supposed.
But she’d had to draw the line at knife throwers and people jumping through rings of fire.
And alpacas.
“Are you or are you not the reason I have alpacas stinking the place up as we speak?” Whitney asked
