Baked With Love

by Tina Martin

  “Are you sure about that?” Regal asked.

  Out of all of his brothers, he was the closest with Regal and Regal always seemed to know when something was up. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “Some of the guys from the office said you were on a warpath.”

  Ramsey blew a breath. “Yeah, well they ain’t seen a warpath yet. If they would do their jobs, they wouldn’t have to worry about me.”

  “What happened this time?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. Then you can catch me up to speed with the Paris deal.”

  “Alright. Hit me up when you get time.”

  “Yep,” Ramsey responded. He ended the call, placing the cell phone on his desk.

  With a folded hand, he held up his chin while looking at the phone, tapping his fingers on his desktop. Cupcake lady hadn’t called yet, and he was growing more frustrated by the passing seconds. He couldn’t roll up to the bakery with this level of frustration, so he decided to go for a run to burn off some stress. He’d normally work out in his scenic home gym, but the sunshine beckoned him outside, so he obeyed and went. Running would give him time to think about his out-of-nowhere obsession with Gianna.

  While he ran, he thought about how she wasn’t necessarily the type of woman who’d capture his attention. It was true what he told Felicity – he didn’t have preferences per se – especially superficial ones – because he preferred to know a woman inside before ever analyzing whether or not he liked the outside which was usually a given had she passed his inner examination. But since losing Leandra, he never had a draw to examine a woman’s heart or get to know her the way he wanted to know Gianna. And she had behaviors that would annoy him under normal circumstances. She was timid and jumpy—easily flustered and somewhat scatterbrained. And there were things about her that he couldn’t quite understand. Like why would a woman who owned a struggling bakery just hand away cupcakes? There was no business sense in giving away goods whether you were struggling or not. And where was the company’s website, Facebook page or Instagram account with mouthwatering images of her cupcakes? Cupcakes that, in his opinion, were sorely underpriced? How could she not know the value and true worth of her product? Then there was the woman herself. Who was she? He needed to know more to help him understand why she had consumed his thoughts from the moment they’d met. The connection was instant, only she hadn’t felt it. But he had, and he still did.

  By the time he returned home, he had just enough time to take a quick shower. Then he dressed in a pair of jeans and a burgundy polo.

  “Shall I expect you home for dinner, Ramsey?” Carson asked. The fifty-five-year-old black man with a head of gray-black hair was a little shorter than Ramsey and knew how to do it all when it came to the maintenance of the house and caring for menial tasks that Ramsey didn’t have the time or patience to concern himself with. And Carson cooked the most delicious meals. Now that he knew and understood Ramsey’s eating habits, likes and dislikes, he would prepare whatever he chose without having to ask Ramsey what he wanted.

  “No, Carson. I’ll eat dinner before I return.”

  “Are there any pertinent matters you need handled before your return?”

  “Yes. This isn’t pressing but can you arrange to have all the windows cleaned inside and out? I know it was just done a week ago, but they don’t look clean enough for me. Try a new cleaning agency this time. Any day of the week is fine with me.” Ramsey was a stickler for a clean house. For overall organization period.

  “Yes. I’ll get right on it. Enjoy your evening, Ramsey.”

  “You do the same, Carson.”

  On the way to the car, Ramsey checked his phone again. Still, no calls from Gianna. He didn’t get it. Normally, women jumped at the chance to call him. Women jumped at the chance to do anything concerning him, but Gianna hadn’t bothered. Now, she wouldn’t have to.

  * * *

  He pulled up at the bakery and through the front window, he could see that the place was barren. Bad for her. Good for him. It would give them more time to finish where they’d left off this morning.

  When he walked in, the annoying doorbell tinkled but she was nowhere in sight.

  “Hello? Anybody home?” he called out.

  “Just a sec,” she yelled from the back.

  He couldn’t see her, but he heard her. And then she came strolling to the front still wearing the black, flour-dusted apron from this morning, carrying a large box of cupcakes.

  When Gianna looked up and saw that it was Ramsey, her breath caught in her throat and she lost all control of her own body. Her hands joggled, and the box slipped right through her fingers, crashing to the floor.

  “Crap!” she yelled. She stooped down to clean up the mess. Lemon cupcakes spilled out everywhere.

  “Here. Let me help you with that,” Ramsey said, coming to her aid by inviting himself behind the counter.

  “No, I got it,” she said irritably. Frowning, she asked, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “What are you doing carrying two dozen cupcakes?”

  “It’s my job. It’s not like they’re heavy.”

  “Then why’d you drop the box?”

  Because you make me nervous. That’s why. “Because you startled me.”

  “How did I startle you when I announced my arrival?”

  “I thought you were the customer coming to pick them up. That’s why I was bringing the box to the front,” she said, tossing more ruined cupcakes into the box that she now had to throw away. “Now, I have to rush to frost another twenty-four cupcakes before my customer arrives, which is any minute now. I hate rushing…I can’t stand feeling anxious. Every single day of my life I’m a mess and now you come bothering me all the time. I need to work. I need to focus. I can’t focus with you around,” she said tossing the last cupcake inside of the box.

  Ignoring her, he said, “I’ll help you frost more cupcakes, okay. Just show me what to do.”

  Gianna sighed heavily with reddened, clammy cheeks. “I got it.” She took the box of mangled cupcakes to the trash, then washed her hands and began frosting the extras she’d baked. Thank goodness she had. Otherwise, she would have a disappointed customer and with business already slow, she couldn’t afford to lose any of her catering customers.

  Walking up behind her, Ramsey said, “Tell me what I can do to help.”

  “Oh, goodness,” she said, her pulse quickening since she was unaware that he was standing so close to her. “Okay. If you want to help, can you clean up that mess?” Gianna asked, pointing to the yellow icing on the ceramic tiled floor.

  “Sure,” he said. “I’m really sorry about this.”

  Ramsey found his way around the kitchen, grabbed paper towels and cleaned up the frosting from the floor.

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” Gianna told him. “I mop the floors before I leave.”

  “Okay,” he said, but continued cleaning up the area until it was no longer slippery. He threw the dirty paper towels in the garbage and washed his hands. Then he stood a few feet away from Gianna, watching as she rushed to add lemon frosting to more cupcakes while holding something that looked like a bag with a metal tip on it, squeezing the frosting out. He could see that her hands were still unsteady, but she was forcing them as steady as she could hold them in order to finish adding the frosting.

  “Why did you drop the box, Gianna?” he asked.

  “I told you…you scared me. I didn’t expect to see you here, at least not during this time of the day. And you have on normal clothes.”

  His forehead creased. “And that scared you?”

  Ugh. Leave me alone and stop asking so many questions so I can concentrate. “I told you I’m a train wreck. Why are you here, anyway?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t call me. That’s why I’m here.”

  She glanced over at him, her darkened eyes filled with irritation. Had he stayed home or wherever he was before deciding to show up here, she wouldn’t have to work t
wice as hard for the same amount of pay. “Well, I have to finish up this order and customers are not allowed in the kitchen.”

  Ramsey threw his palms up. “Okay. Fine.” He strolled back to the front and sat at his usual table when a woman came inside.

  Gianna hoped the bell was the sound of Ramsey leaving. When she peeped and saw a customer standing at the register and Ramsey sitting at a table, she sighed. She walked to the checkout counter.

  “Hey, there,” Gianna said, greeting her customer.

  “Hi. I came for the six-dozen, lemon cupcakes.”

  “Okay. I’m actually frosting the last dozen.”

  “Oh. I thought they would’ve been ready by now.”

  “Almost. Just five more minutes, okay. I’m really sorry about the delay.”

  “Okay. Not a problem.”

  Gianna returned to the kitchen to resume frosting the last few then carefully began placing them all in a new box, two at a time. She brought two boxes to the front counter, followed by the third one she had to remake thanks to Ramsey.

  “Okay,” she said sounding breathless. After plugging the figures in the cash register, she said, “With tax, your total comes to $199.53.”

  Holding her wallet in her left hand, the woman slid out a credit card and handed it to Gianna.

  After swiping it, Gianna handed it back to her, then gave her a pen so she could sign the receipt. “Thank you, and again, I apologize for the delay.”

  “No problem, dear,” the woman said, placing her wallet back inside of her purse.

  “Can I help you take these out to your car?”

  “If you don’t mind,” the woman responded.

  “No. Not at all.” Gianna picked up one of the boxes again.

  Ramsey tried not to stare, he really tried, but he couldn’t help himself. She already looked nervous and her hands were shaking again. To ease her nerves, he stood up and walked to the door, holding it open for the women. Then he followed them outside and down the sidewalk to the woman’s car.

  “You got it?” he asked Gianna, walking directly behind her.

  “Yes. I got it this time,” she replied.

  The customer unlocked the doors to a silver, Toyota, RAV4.

  “I’ll get the door for you,” Ramsey said. “Front or back?”

  “I’m just going to sit them on the back seat,” the customer responded.

  Ramsey opened the back door and the woman lowered two boxes on the back seat. She looked at Gianna and asked, “It is okay if I stack them, correct?”

  “Yes. The boxes are sturdy. They won’t give.”

  “Perfect,” she said as Gianna handed her the third box. “Thank you so much. The kids are going to love these.”

  “You’re welcome,” Gianna said. “Have a good evening.”

  “You do the same.”

  With that, Gianna walked back toward the bakery with Ramsey falling in stride beside her.

  “I can’t get a thank-you-for-helping-me, Ramsey?” he asked her.

  He was the one who caused her this extra work and stress. Now, he wanted a thank you? Seriously? She rolled her eyes. “Thank you for helping me, Ramsey,” she said, reaching for the door handle until he clutched her dainty wrist and lowered her arm.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He snatched his hand away from her. “Sorry for touching you. I just wanted to open the door. When a lady is accompanied by a man, she’s not supposed to open her own door.” He pulled the door handle then said, “After you.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped inside and glanced at the clock: 4:50 p.m. She had roughly two hours before closing. She walked behind the counter and put her customer’s signed receipt in the correct compartment of the cash register.

  “Am I still not allowed back there?” Ramsey asked.

  “No, you’re not,” she said, trying to keep an even tone and expressionless face so Ramsey wouldn’t know he was actually getting to her.

  He leaned against the checkout counter. “Your hands are not steady,” he said.

  “I’m tired. I’ve been on my feet most of the day.”

  “Have you had anything to eat?”

  “Uh…I don’t typically eat breakfast and I was so busy at lunch, I just skipped it.”

  “Well, you need to eat and since you won’t go out to dinner with me, I’ll bring dinner to you.”

  “Please don’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I—I have closing work to do here and I don’t have time to have dinner.” With you.

  Ramsey checked his watch. “You close at seven, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s only five o’clock and don’t worry about your closing work. I’ll help you out.”

  “I don’t need your help, Ramsey.”

  “I’m going to help you, anyway.”

  Exasperated, Gianna asked, “Will you stop?” She looked up from the register and connected her gaze to his. “Why are you harassing me?”

  He frowned and darted his head back. Was she serious? “I’m not harassing you. I’m offering my help to you.”

  “Well, I don’t need your help. I didn’t ask for your help. This is my bakery. Mine. And I do not want to have dinner with you. I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then silently turned and walked away.

  Finally, Gianna thought, trying to steady her beating heart while breathing a sigh of relief. After a long, stressful day, she didn’t want to feel her nerves being wrecked because of his unwanted attention. It was bad enough she didn’t know how to behave around him. Around any man for that matter. She’d never had to concern herself with this kind of attention before and she didn’t want to do it now.

  Returning to the kitchen, she packed up the leftover cupcakes to drop them off at the homeless shelter. The ones in the display case would remain there until closing just in case she had any more customers. If not, she’d pack them up as well. She never carried cupcakes over to the next day. Each day, she made a fresh batch.

  As she finished packing up the final box, two dozen total of all different flavors, she heard the doorbell again. She walked to the front to greet the customer when she saw that it was Ramsey again. He placed a white, plastic bag with two takeout containers on the table – his favorite table. Her stomach bottomed out when he looked at her with dark, deep black eyes and smiled.

  “Do you not understand the meaning of the word, ‘no’?”

  “I understand that you haven’t eaten, which means your blood sugar is lower than what it should be. That’s why your hands are unsteady. Why you’re moody.”

  “I’m not moody.”

  “You are. You said you’ve been on your feet all day. I’m giving you the opportunity to sit down and have a meal with me.”

  Gianna pondered his reasoning. He took it upon himself to bring her some dinner and she didn’t want to be rude. Still, she was annoyed. “Fine.” Reluctantly, she walked over to the table and sat down.

  Ramsey took a takeout tray from the bag and set it in front of her.

  “It smells good. What is it?”

  “It’s Vietnamese food – noodles, pork spring rolls, and grilled shrimp. I got it from that Vietnamese restaurant right across the boardwalk bridge.”

  “The bridge by the Hilton Hotel?”

  “No. The bridge by the paddle boat rental. It’s called Saigon Bay. Have you ever eaten there?”

  “No. I’m not all that adventurous when it comes to food or anything else. I stick to what I know and leave it at that.”

  “Well, that’s no fun.”

  When she heard her phone buzz, she took it from a pocket on her apron and saw the text from her sister.

  Gemma: No need to rush home. Felicity brought me some soup.

  Gianna smiled, relieved. Still, she couldn’t wait to get home and check on her sister. She glanced up at Ramsey. “Excuse me a moment.”

  “Take your time,” he said t
hen leaned back in the chair watching her as she texted. He wouldn’t touch his food until she put her phone away. He wanted her full attention.

  Gianna: Good. Are you feeling okay?”

  Gemma: Yes, for the 10th time today, Gianna. I think this is a new record. Stop worrying so much.

  Gianna: It’s my job to worry!! I love u 2 pieces.

  After inserting an emoji face blowing a kiss, she sent the message and placed her phone back inside the pocket on her apron and looked up at Ramsey. He was staring at her intently, so much so that she shied away.

  “Everything alright?” he asked. He couldn’t help but wonder who she was texting.

  “Yep.” She opened the tray and tasted the food. “Mmm…good,” she said after trying the shrimp, eating faster to ease hunger pangs.

  Ramsey purposely didn’t say a word. He wanted her to eat to her satisfaction before conversation ensued.

  “Did I thank you for bringing this?” she mumbled with a mouth full.

  “No,” he answered, biting into a pork spring roll afterward.

  “Well, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Gianna,” he told her. This early dinner was going to be an awkward one if he couldn’t get her to open up to him, or at the very least have a conversation that involved more than a few words here and a few there.

  “And, FYI, your whole low blood sugar theory is not why I dropped that box,” she said.

  His eyebrows raised. “It’s not?”

  “No.”

  “Then why’d you drop it?”

  “I told you why. It’s because you make me nervous.”

  “Explain,” he said. His dark eyes narrowed in anticipation of her response. He knew very well what his presence did to women. It happened too often for him not to recognize it.

  “I don’t know how to explain it exactly. It’s just your presence. Your intense dark eyes. Your lips. Your smell. Your everything. You make me nervous. Being around you makes me uneasy. You’re very intimidating, Ramsey, at least to a woman like me, but somehow I’m sure I’m not the first woman to tell you this.”