Count Your Lucky Stars: A Novel

Olivia dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen floor and began unpacking them, setting the sugar and cocoa powder down on the counter.

Circling her feet, Cat mewled, ignoring the bowl of dry kibble beside the fridge, demanding wet food instead.

“I’ll get it.” Margot slid behind Olivia and swiped a can of Friskies off the counter. She cracked open the metal pull-top lid and dumped the pâté on a plate. “Come on, you little monster. Time for food.”

Olivia laughed. “Little monster?”

“She is,” Margot said, snagging her Ben & Jerry’s and carrying it over to the freezer. “The cat screams like a banshee. I swear, half the time she doesn’t meow, she howls.”

Margot wasn’t wrong. Cat could reach a screeching pitch Olivia had never heard prior to adopting her. “She is a little bit of a hellion, isn’t she?”

Cat’s green eyes flicked up, ears twitching as if she knew she was being talked about. Her tail swished, and she lowered her gaze to the plate, focus returning to her food.

Margot laughed and shut the freezer. “Understatement.”

Cat sneezed in Margot’s direction. Olivia laughed before setting her hands on her hips, running through the recipe in her head.

Butter, sugar, eggs . . . shoot. Before leaving for the store, she’d grabbed the butter out to soften, but had forgotten about the eggs. “Could you grab two eggs for me?”

Margot nodded and ducked her head inside the fridge.

Vanilla extract, flour, cocoa powder, white chocolate chunks, salt, baking soda . . . Olivia gathered the ingredients one by one, placing them on the counter, separated into wet and dry. Margot set the eggs down on the counter, using the sticks as a barricade so the eggs wouldn’t roll.

All she needed now was a bowl, a rubber spatula, and—“Where do you keep your mixer?”

Margot stared. “My what?”

“You know?” Olivia spun her finger in a circle. “Your hand mixer.”

“Oh, right.” Margot scratched her jaw. “Um. Let’s see . . .” She crouched down and rifled through the cabinet beside the stove. Something fell, clattering loudly, metal on metal. Margot grunted and fell back on her butt against the kitchen floor, wearing a triumphant grin. Cradled against her stomach was a KitchenAid stand mixer, scuffed from age. Likely a hand-me-down, but still, absolutely a step up from a hand mixer. “Will this do?”

“Thanks. You want to cream the butter and sugar for me?”

Margot looked at Olivia like she’d lost her mind. “Me? You’re trusting me in the kitchen? Me, who almost burned down your kitchen boiling water?”

Olivia flushed at the memory of Margot leaving a pot of pasta water boiling on the stove that memorable spring break. How she’d forgotten about it, how they’d both gotten distracted. How the pot had boiled dry and the smoke detector had beeped shrilly, the caustic smell of the burning plastic pot handle drifting up the stairs to Olivia’s room, sending them both scurrying into the kitchen half-dressed. “I’m sure your culinary skills have undergone some amount of improvement over the last eleven years.”

“Don’t be so sure, Liv. I think you’re underestimating my ability to survive on packaged foods and takeout.”

Olivia tucked her hair behind her ears and shrugged. “It’s butter and sugar. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Margot shrugged and reached for the KitchenAid’s power cord. “Famous last words.”

Olivia reached inside the cabinet for a bowl and began measuring out the dry ingredients from memory. Margot, struggling with the wrapper on the butter, noticed. “You don’t follow a recipe?”

Olivia shook her head, leveling off a cup of sifted flour with the back of a butter knife. “They’re my go-to cookie. I could probably make them in my sleep.”

“Brad’s an idiot,” Margot grumbled, frowning at the KitchenAid in concentration, studying the buttons. As soon as she flipped the on switch, butter spewed at high speed, splattering the kitchen backsplash. She shut it off and frowned. “Huh.”

Olivia laughed. “Speed switch?”

Margot turned bright red.

This time, the mixer was much smoother, whipping the softened butter instead of obliterating it.

“You were saying.” Olivia dumped the cup of flour into the bowl and grabbed the baking soda. “Something about Brad being an idiot?”

Margot’s eyes flittered to Olivia’s and back to the bowl where the KitchenAid was turning the butter and sugar into one homogeneous mixture. “What? Does the statement Brad’s an idiot really require further explanation?”

Olivia pressed her lips together, trying in vain not to laugh. “Add this.”

She nudged the bowl of dry ingredients toward Margot.

Margot reached for the bowl and tilted it, too much, too fast. A cloud of cocoa powder poofed in the air, making her cough.

“Margot.”

“Sorry!” She reached for the speed switch and flicked it the wrong direction because the mixer made a loud whirring noise, whipping a violent splatter of chocolate dough around the room. A thick glob of it landed against Olivia’s cheek and she shrieked, ducking for cover.

Margot swore loudly and powered the mixer off altogether.

Laughter bubbled up behind the tight press of Olivia’s lips, bursting out in a sharp snicker.

Margot’s face was dusted in a fine layer of pale brown powder, and there was a streak of gooey dough along her jawline. She stood, frozen, staring at the KitchenAid as if it had gone rogue and personally wronged her. “What the . . .”

Olivia’s stomach ached, her knees wobbling, finally folding under her as she slid down to the floor. The tile was cool under her thighs as she lied back, laughing up at the ceiling. The ceiling. Her eyes watered. There was batter on the ceiling, a starburst splatter of brown and yellow, the butter not quite mixed with the cocoa powder. An ominous stalactite of dough oozed down, not yet dripping.

Her head thunked back against the tile, her chest burning and her eyes streaming as she chortled.

She could barely make out the sound of Margot’s approaching footsteps over her laughter.

“Rude.”

Olivia cracked open an eye, laughing harder at the batter that dripped down Margot’s forehead.

Margot crossed her arms. “You’re just going to lie there and laugh?”

Olivia covered her face and nodded, struggling to breathe.

The batter fell from the ceiling, splattering wetly against the floor, startling Cat, whose fur fluffed up, standing on end. She darted out of the kitchen, abandoning what little remained of the food on her plate, and took cover under the living room coffee table. Probably not a bad idea to steer clear of the kitchen for the foreseeable future.

Margot surveyed what was left in the bowl with a frown. “Break-and-bakes?”

Olivia pressed her palms against the floor, heaving herself up onto her knees before using the counter for leverage. “We’ll just start over.”

“Start over? Do you really think that’s a—” A blob of batter splattered against the top of Margot’s head, dripping down from that oozing stalactite as she reached for a rag. It ran down the center of her forehead, between her eyes, sliding down her nose. Her tongue darted out, swiping batter off her upper lip. “Sure. We’ll start over. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Olivia pressed her fingers to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Second time’s the charm?”

By the time Margot had scrubbed the ceiling and scraped what was left of the dough into a separate bowl and Olivia had finished wiping down the counters and floor, the new sticks of butter had reached room temp and were ready for creaming.

Olivia gestured to the KitchenAid. “Do you want me to—”

“No, no.” Margot waved her off, glaring at the mixer through narrowed eyes. “I started this. I’m going to finish it.”

This time, Margot managed to start the KitchenAid on a much more sedate speed setting, slowly creaming the butter and sugar together before adding in the eggs and vanilla. When it was time to add in the dry ingredients, Margot lowered the speed further, stirring everything together slowly and without splatter.

Olivia dusted her hands off over the sink and leaned her hip against the counter. Hands braced on her hips like she was ready for battle, Margot stared intently at the mixing bowl, narrowed eyes locked on the paddle attachment as it churned and whirred, incorporating the chocolate chunks into the batter. She was so focused, so—

Margot raised her head, eyes meeting Olivia’s. One of her brows rose, a smudge of batter bisecting it. Olivia’s lips twitched.

“What?” Margot demanded. “Is there something on my face?”

Her lips twitched as if even she couldn’t keep a straight face at her own question.

Olivia laughed. “What would give you that idea?”

Margot reached up, wincing as she swiped a glob of batter from the shell of her ear. “Bets on how long I’ll be finding batter in places it doesn’t belong?”

“Hold still.” Olivia reached out and thumbed the smudge of batter from Margot’s forehead. “Look on the bright side. You’re wearing clothes, which limits the exposure zone.”

“Naked baking?” Margot frowned. “Don’t get me wrong—I like to live dangerously, but that sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“Ba-dum-tss.” Olivia drummed her fingers against the counter. “Punny. At least it would be baking and not bacon.”

Margot recoiled, hands rising to cover her chest. “I’ve never once, in all my life, been tempted to fry anything in the nude. Never.”

Two cocoa powder handprints outlined Margot’s breasts through her white shirt when she dropped her hands.

Olivia laughed and took a peek inside the mixing bowl. All done. She flipped the power switch and disengaged the locking mechanism on the bowl, pulling it free from the base. “Brad fried bacon shirtless once. Never did it again.”

“Yuck.” Margot stuck out her tongue. “Like I said, idiot.”

That’s right. She’d mentioned Brad before the batter had splattered, distracting Olivia from finding out what Margot meant. “You said that earlier.”

Margot hummed and pinched off a piece of cookie dough. She popped it in her mouth, eyes immediately falling shut, a moan escaping her mouth that made Olivia flush for reasons completely unrelated to the oven’s preheat cycle. “Damn, that’s just as good as I remember.” Margot slumped against the counter, eyes fluttering open. “You’re telling me Brad had you and regular access to these cookies and he still took you for granted?” Margot’s lips curved upward. “Clearly, he didn’t know how lucky he was.”

Olivia’s cheeks burned hotter. Heat spread down her jaw and the front of her throat, an ember of warmth flaring to life inside her chest.

Margot couldn’t just say things like that. Not if she didn’t want Olivia to get the wrong idea.

“Well.” Olivia ducked her chin, staring at the kitchen floor, as if that might do something to disguise how Margot’s words affected her. How much Margot’s words affected her. Olivia’s face was probably a neon-pink sign practically screaming look what you do to me. There was nothing casual about this feeling. “Now you get cookies.”

Margot’s socked feet entered Olivia’s line of vision, her cotton-covered toes curling against the tile as she reached out, one hand with dark red–painted nails rising to settle against Olivia’s waist. Her other hand rose, too, before sliding down, both hands tucking into the back pockets of Olivia’s jeans. Warmth from Margot’s palms seeped through the denim, causing Olivia to shiver as she stepped closer.

Olivia’s heart thundered, her pulse pounding in her temples and at the base of her neck as Margot leaned in, lips grazing the corner of Olivia’s mouth. One hand slipped free from Olivia’s back pocket. Margot’s fingers danced all the way up Olivia’s spine, her palm cupping the back of Olivia’s neck. Margot tilted her own head to the side, her lips pillowing Olivia’s bottom lip in a tender kiss that caused Olivia’s breath to catch in the back of her throat, her stomach suddenly full of butterflies.

Margot stepped back, dropping her hands, palms opening and closing like she didn’t know what to do with them. The skin from her collarbone up to the crests of her cheeks was mottled with a pink flush, and the front of her throat jerked when she swallowed, her breath escaping in a shaky exhale, her smile even shakier. “Lucky me.”