Page 16 of Romancing the Clone (Sunrise Cantina #3)

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

RUTH-ANN

Being with Simone feels…right. Like I’ve come home. There’s no other way to describe it.

I wake up in her arms and touch her until she’s awake.

She’s a heavy sleeper until I start tickling her sides, and that wakes her up quick.

Pluto tries to join in, but we have to shut him out of the room until we’ve finished making love.

We make each other come with kisses and fingers, and take another shower before heading to the kitchen to bake.

I play with the carinoux, throwing his toys so he can fetch them.

Simone hums as she works, scooping cookies onto a tray, and it’s just the cutest thing.

She’s the happiest person I know, and I love that about her.

With Simone’s guidance, I bake the same cake she made for the grand opening.

It calls for an obscene amount of cheese for the icing, but Simone mentions there’s a Risda cheesemaker who’d probably love some special orders.

I make a mental note to find the woman and talk to her about a bulk discount.

Simone seems to know everyone in town, and what they like to eat.

It’s fascinating to me, because she’s clearly a people person and I am not.

I’m happiest in the back of the store (or tucked away in an empty room on the ship), working on the menu and the restaurant’s logistics.

It’s a surprising amount of work, because you must know how much food you’re turning over on a regular basis, how much will go bad if it’s not used, and how much it all costs versus the budget.

I ran a few sample scenarios before we opened, and I’m eager to compare the real numbers with the fake ones.

I’m using the last bit of icing on the party-size sheet cake when Simone pulls the last tray of fresh muffins out of the oven. “Brown butter and honey muffins, check and check,” she says gaily. “That’s the last batch. Now it’s time to go make some money.”

A glance at the clock tells me I need to meet the others at the cantina soon.

If we’re waiting on Dopekh to get in gear and clean, we’re probably still waiting.

There are things that can be prepped in advance, too—like more hamburger buns, and iced tea.

“I should get going, too. Can’t hurt to get an early start on the day. ”

“You want to borrow a change of clothes?” she asks, eyeing me. “My pants will be long, but you can probably roll the cuffs up.”

I glance down at my bra and panties. That is, my bra and a borrowed pair of panties. They sag on my hips because I don’t have the same glorious backside she does. I could head back to the ship in my wrinkled cantina uniform, but it smells like kitchen grease and, well, pussy. “You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” She brushes past me, kissing the tip of my nose as she glides away. “Wait right there.”

I find my discarded uniform, shove it into a plas-film bag, and try to figure out what to do with it.

Leave it here? Is that too bold? Take it with me and hear all the shit the guys give me?

With a yawn, Pluto climbs off the couch and butts his head against my leg.

What if he eats my clothes if I leave them here? He’s been in a chewing mood lately.

Simone snatches the bag out of my hands, taking the decision from me. “You can wash that here. Later. No sense in dragging it all over town.”

Here? Later? She makes it sound like it’s a foregone conclusion that there will be a “later” for us. And god, I want that so much, but I don’t want to presume. It feels a little wrong, too, given that she doesn’t know my secret.

She holds her spare clothes out to me. “Come on, Ruth-Ann. Shake a leg. If I wait too long, people are going to go looking for me.”

“Are they?” I ask, slipping into my borrowed pants.

“Well, no. Just you.” And her grin is like the sun coming through the clouds. I’m dazzled all over again.

God, I’m absolutely gone for her.

Simone’s clothes don’t fit right at all. The tunic fits me like a dress instead of a shirt, and her pants have to be rolled up twice at the waist, and once at the cuff. But the fabric smells like her soap and I’m more than happy to wear her things.

We part with a kiss when we get into town. I take my enormous cake down the walk towards Sunrise Cantina and away from her cart.

“You sure you don’t want me to come by and help later?” she calls out after me.

“I’m sure,” I yell back. “Take Pluto home and have yourself a nap. I’ll find you.”

Jerzec is in the doorway with a broom, watching me as I approach. He makes a kissy face at me when I come in. “ Have yourself a nap, lovely human. I’ll find you later ,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice. “ Your cookies taste so good, but not as good as your lips, sweet Simone. ”

Accurate, but I’m not going to tell him that. I glare at him and indicate the cake. “Say one more thing and you’re going to be wearing this.”

He just laughs and holds the door open wider for me. “Ruth said you didn’t come home last night, but I thought she was wrong. I thought, surely not our sweet little rule follower, Ruth-Ann. I guess she was right.”

“Shut up,” I mutter. My ears are hot, though.

I carry the cake back to the kitchen, and in the back, next to Zaemen, is my very pregnant twin, Ruth.

Her long hair is pulled back in a messy bun and she wears one of Zaemen’s many colorful aprons over the bulge of her stomach.

With a round cutter, she’s shaping meat patties on the counter, a look of distaste on her face.

“Ruth, what are you doing here?” I say, surprised. “How are you feeling?”

Ever since she got pregnant, Ruth has stayed more or less on the ship.

She loves the idea of Risda but is far more comfortable in the swanky quarters that Lord Straik shares with her, and her husband is usually at her side at all times.

I’m thrilled for her that he’s so devoted.

One of the good ones, Ruthie likes to joke.

So it’s a surprise to see my sister out here in Port, and even more of a surprise to see her in the kitchen.

“I’m helping,” she says, wrinkling her nose and wiping a bit of ground meat off one gloved finger. “Kaz and Ruthie were going on and on this morning about how crazy it was yesterday, so I thought I’d come by and pitch in.”

“Are you feeling all right?” I ask, settling the cake down a good distance away from the meat-assembling. “How’s the sickness today?”

“Well, it was fine until I started squishing meat with my hands,” she says, taking a step back from her station. “Now I’m regretting my choices. And speaking of choices, are you going to tell us about the hickey on your neck, or are we pretending that’s not a thing?”

I clap a hand on my neck, eyes wide.

“Wrong side.”

I clap my other hand on the opposite side of my neck.

She leans against the counter. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I scoff. “Why would something be going on?”

“You and your bakery buddy aren’t…I don’t know. Hot crossing buns? Is that even a thing? Because it should be a thing.” Ruth tilts her head, regarding me.

For some reason, I feel defensive. Am I not supposed to have a relationship since I’m a clone?

Is that what she’s getting at? Or is she just being nosy?

I hesitate, trying to decide how to answer in a way that doesn’t incriminate myself or Simone, or make my sister nervous.

Ruthie is one breath away from a panic attack at all times, but Ruth is more relaxed about most things.

Most things. She’s also pregnant and her husband’s mother is being investigated for slave trading. So there’s definitely a few stressors in her life currently. I don’t want to add to them, especially not when I haven’t figured out the situation myself.

Luckily, Zaemen returns with a large container of cooking oil. He brightens at the sight of me and the cake I brought. “Kef yeah! More cake? I swear I ate half the thing myself last night.”

I forget all about my relationship issues. “ What ? You weren’t supposed to be eating that! It’s for the customers.”

“Maybe we just save the stuff that’s less delicious for the customers,” he says with a shrug. He takes the oil over to the fryer and plugs the canister in, turning it in the slot until the seal hisses and a light chirps acknowledgment. “Did you eat any of it, Ruth? It will change your life.”

“Well, now I want some,” Ruth says, peeling off her meat-greasy gloves. “And someone else needs to take over these hamburger patties. The smell is making me nauseous.”

“I’ll do it,” I grumble, switching places with her. “And have a small slice. Small, ” I repeat, when Zaemen grins widely. “We’ll go broke if you eat half the food every night.”

“Me?” he says innocently. “I would never.”

Ruth just snorts and picks up the cake knife, cutting a small corner off.

The topic of Simone drops, and I’m relieved. I pull the collar of my oversized borrowed tunic up a little higher, and breathe in the scent of my lover’s soap, and it’s almost as good as being in bed with her again.

Almost.