Cream of the Crop Read Online Free PDF Page A

lose all my nerve and all my strut the second those eyes looked at me, looked through me.
    â€œBrie?” he’d ask, and I’d answer, “Oh yes.” He’d wrap it up, I’d walk away on shaky legs, and our time together was over, but for the exquisitely lustful fantasies that ran through my head every day as I counted down how many more days I had to go before seeing him again.
    This was beyond a crush. This was beyond a quick naked tussle behind the dairy truck. This was maddening.
    And I’d see him tomorrow morning!
    I fell onto the couch, squealing, kicking my legs into the air like a cricket.

Chapter 2
    S aturday mornings were set in stone. I always got up early, went to Bar Method class (half ballet, half yoga, all hard-core), picked up my dry cleaning and a smoothie, then went home to shower. And dress. And strut. And Brie. But somewhere between the shower and the Brie, there was Roxie.
    â€œGirl. How’re the sticks?” I asked, sinking down onto the couch with my berry-banana concoction.
    â€œHow’re the sirens?” she shot back, her answer every week. My best friend for years, we’d fallen into the habit of chatting more often now that she was back on the correct coast and only a ninety-minute train ride away up in the Hudson Valley. We’d always stayed close, but something about living closer to each other had kicked our friendship up a notch, and now I looked forward to our weekly Saturday-morning chats. I spent a similar hour each Sunday morning on the phone with our other best friend, Clara, whenever she was in the same time zone. A branding specialist for luxury hotels, she was frequently out of the country on business.
    â€œHow come you haven’t shipped me one of your coconut cakes yet? My doorstep is suspiciously devoid of Zombie Cakescare packages . . . who should I talk to about that?” I teased, slipping out of my sneakers and examining my pedicure. I might need to pop over this afternoon for a shine-up.
    â€œYou can talk to the lady in accounts receivable, which is me. As soon as you buy a cake, you’ll get a cake, it’s that simple,” she said with a laugh. “I’m starting a business here; I can’t be giving away the profits.”
    â€œCan I get it at cost?”
    â€œSure. It costs fifty-five dollars, plus shipping.”
    I rolled my eyes. Roxie had recently started a food truck in her hometown of Bailey Falls, using her grandfather’s old Airstream trailer. She was already making a name for herself in the Hudson Valley and had even brought the whole show into the city on a few occasions. It took time to start a business, naturally, but she was doing it in exactly the right way. She’d started small, and with a little guidance from me in terms of marketing, she was kicking some ass. Her cakes were wonderfully rich and nostalgically old-fashioned, a great combination. “How was your week?” she asked, snapping me back from my thoughts.
    â€œIt was good; brought in a new client, assisted on a few other campaigns, nothing too exciting. How about you?”
    â€œIt’s crazy here right now with the harvest; Leo is going nuts. You’ll be proud of me, though; I learned how to make a plaster-of-paris town hall.”
    â€œFor Polly’s class?” I grinned, thinking about how upside down Roxie’s life had become within one summer. She’d come home to help her mother out with the family diner, and ended up falling in love with a local farmer who had a seven-year-old daughter. She was head-over-heels in love with her new life.
    â€œYeah, they’re making a mock-up of Bailey Falls, and we were in charge of the executive branch.”
    â€œSounds exciting,” I said drily.
    â€œI’m glad she didn’t get assigned the water tower; that would have been difficult.”
    And just like that, the life around you begins to change. We were growing