“Sex?” Scottie whisper-hissed the word, which only made Adley laugh because there was nobody else in the shop.
“I mean, maybe? Who knows? And what if we do that? It’s the twenty-first century, Scooter.”
“No strings, huh?”
“No strings. She’s only here in town temporarily anyway.”
“But…” Scottie dipped her spoon in the bowl of fresh vanilla bean ice cream Adley’d just made. “Don’t you want strings?”
Adley held out her arms, indicating the whole of the shop. “When do I have time to date? It’s almost May. Busy season is coming. And I’m scrambling to keep my business afloat in this shitstorm of an economy. Things aren’t good. Fucking Sweet Heaven is opening a new shop not two blocks from here. I haven’t got the time, let alone the energy, to give to somebody else. You know?”
“But some making out here and there…”
“That I have time for. Listen, I’ve got needs.”
“Well, I did see her, and she is astonishingly good-looking, so I’d probably make time for that, too.”
“So gorgeous,” Adley said, and then, as it had so many times since the bar last night, her brain carried her away on a floating raft of sense memories…Sabrina’s mouth on hers, her hands in Sabrina’s hair, tangling her fingers in it, their bodies pressed together hotly…
“Earth to Ad,” Scottie was saying with a laugh. “Man, you’ve got it bad. Your face is red. Are you all hot now?”
“It’s been almost two years for me, Scoot. I’m always hot.”
Scottie’s eyes widened a bit. “Has it been that long?”
Adley nodded.
“And there hasn’t been anybody since?”
Adley shook her head.
“Not even to make out with in a ladies’ room?” Scottie rolled her lips in and bit down on them to stifle a smile.
“No!” Adley laughed through her own disbelief. “I have never in my life done that, made out with somebody I met five minutes before. What is wrong with me?”
Scottie was laughing openly now. “What happened to It’s the twenty-first century, Scooter?”
“That was me, faking nonchalance! It’s ridiculous! It’s so ridiculous!” She was laughing but also still kind of flabbergasted at the whole thing. “What the hell is happening to me?”
Scottie smiled at her, that warm, gentle smile she had that made Adley feel loved. “Sweetheart, I think what’s happening is that you’re taking care of you. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She ate the last of her ice cream and took her dish to the big industrial sink. “If you and she have an understanding, then who am I to judge? Who is anybody to judge, right?” She rinsed her bowl, set it in the dishwasher, and turned to face Adley. “I just want you to be happy.”
Adley knew she was telling the truth. They’d known each other since they were in school. Scottie was the twin sister Adley’d never had. “I know.”
“So if sucking face in random public places with the devastatingly sexy woman from out of town you just met makes you happy, you have my full support.” Scottie grinned and pulled her into a hug before Adley could playfully slap at her. “Okay, gotta go cut the hair of the world,” she said, grabbing a handful of Adley’s and examining it. “You’re overdue, by the way. Stop by Saturday, and I’ll trim your ends.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks for the ice cream. The vanilla bean is still one of your best. Simple and delicious.” And she was out the back door and gone.
The quiet settled over the shop then. It was early in the season, and they didn’t open until midafternoon, so this was the time she loved. Nobody there but her, in a place she’d loved so much as a kid.
Get the Scoop was opened by her grandfather in the early eighties, one of only three places in Northwood at the time where you could get ice cream. Cones, sundaes, sandwiches. Her grandfather wasn’t the most creative—his menu consisted of the basics—but he grew a following. And Adley had practically grown up in the shop, coming in after school, working there before she had even reached a double-digit age. But scooping ice cream wasn’t what fascinated her. It was the creation. So when her grandfather started to give her some leeway to make new and unique flavors, teenage Adley ran with it. She learned to blend flavors, to churn in more or less air for a lighter or more dense ice cream. She went to college and earned herself a business degree with a minor in culinary arts so she could understand the chemistry and creation behind ice cream. And when her grandfather decided to retire and sell the shop because Adley’s parents weren’t interested, she begged and pleaded and got herself a small business loan and bought it from him, changing it into an artisan ice cream shop.
People loved her ice cream. They did. They talked about it. They waited in line. But what Adley hadn’t counted on were things like convenience, expense, desire for tradition. Ice cream was for kids, or so the world would have her think. And kids didn’t want a honey ice cream called Baby Bear or mango pineapple with coconut called Tropical Dream. They wanted chocolate or vanilla or a swirl, dipped in a candy shell or covered with sprinkles. She had those things, yes, but some parents didn’t want to wait in line behind the senior couple or the young newlyweds who wanted to take their time tasting different flavors before deciding. So they’d head over to Skippy’s, a place that had soft serve in exactly three flavors. That wasn’t ice cream, as far as Adley was concerned. Ice cream had to be scooped by hand, out of the big tub it was just put in a few hours before when it was made.
She sighed. Loudly, so it echoed through the empty shop. Then she mixed the batter for the waffle cones she made by hand right here on the premises every couple of days. The smell alone was heavenly, warm and inviting. Somebody should bottle it, make it into a lotion, she always thought. And people loved those cones. Get the Scoop did have a very loyal following. Tons of great Yelp reviews. There’d been a local news story on it. But the economy wasn’t great, and people didn’t have the extra money to spend on expensive ice cream so much right now. She had a meeting scheduled with her CPA next week to see how bad it was.
She didn’t like to think about it.
So she wouldn’t. Not today. Instead, she shifted her train of thought and turned it to the super hot and super sexy Sabrina and all the super hot and super sexy things they did to each other last night.
Oh yeah, that was way, way better…
* * *
Sabrina had gone back and forth a million times already today. Last night: Crazy hot and sexy fun? Or the dumbest thing she could’ve done on her first night in a new town?