Baked With Love 2

by Tina Martin

  “We’ve had this conversation before, Felicity, and I’ll say the same thing I’ve been saying over and over again. People change. You can’t tell me that you marry someone with the expectation that they would never grow and change.”

  “You’re right, and it also adds to my vision of establishing this business in the first place. People—men and women—like to make good first impressions when they go out with someone, especially for the first few times. Then, as weeks turn into months, they start to get comfortable. Like, for instance, the woman may not care if every single strand of her hair is perfectly in place before she sees her man, and the man doesn’t mind looking a little rough and unkempt because the first impression phase is over. Wedded Bliss bypasses all that first impression crap. You meet someone, you like them, you get married. Then there’s no more, oh, he’s not the man he used to before we got married. Or marriage changed him. It’s just two people growing together and not falling apart.”

  “Yes, but it’s mainly based on how a person looks, Felicity. People go through profiles and probably pick the best-looking person they can find and all of a sudden they have a soulmate?”

  “Well, for some people, it’s based on looks,” Felicity said. “For others, it’s based on their actual profiles. Their likes. Dislikes. Hobbies.”

  “And for Ramsey?”

  “For him, it was based on a woman having goals. Or in his words, a thing she loved to do. He wanted a woman who wasn’t fake, he said. He told me he sees hearts, not faces and as crazy as it sounds, I do believe him. The major thing I don’t like in this whole ordeal is when I asked him how I was supposed to get you to sign the papers. His comment was for me to relay to you everything he was willing to do for you—like pay off your mortgage, your car, the lease on the bakery and get Gemma the best medical care possible – but only after the papers were signed. That pissed me off.”

  “Would it make you feel better to know that he’s already paid the lease on the bakery for the next ten years as well as the past due amount? He took Gemma out to breakfast Saturday morning since Harriet was off and he knew I would be at the bakery. Said he didn’t want me to worry. And, he’s already been in contact with a cancer treatment center in Atlanta to schedule an appointment for Gemma. She’s so excited, Felicity.”

  “Wait…he’s done those things already?”

  “Yes, and as you know, I haven’t signed a thing.”

  “Wow,” Felicity said, at a loss for words. “Wow. I’m—I’m shocked.”

  “Why?”

  “I just—I didn’t—”

  “You didn’t think he would do something like that for me?”

  “No, not until you signed the papers. Guess I figured him all wrong.”

  “Um, newsflash, Felicity—ever since you broke up with Demontae, you’ve been extra hard on men.”

  “I have not.”

  Gianna smiled. “Oh, yes you have. You just threatened to slap Ramsey’s brother yesterday, the very same day you met him, mind you.”

  “That’s because he was bothering me.” Felicity finished her drink and set the glass on the table. “What kind of name is Regal, anyway? His parents named him after a freakin’ Buick. I wonder if that’s where he was conceived.”

  “Ew, okay, moving right along…”

  “If he has a sister named Lexus, I’ma know something.” Felicity laughed.

  “There is no sister. All boys. Four, total.”

  Felicity quirked up her lips. “Whatever. I know one thing…if he calls me Wedded Bliss again, I’ma call him Buick Regal.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Gianna said, tickled.

  “Watch me.”

  After catching her breath, Gianna said, “I’m not coming to Regal’s defense, but at least the first letters of his name don’t spell out demon like Demontae.”

  “Dang,” Felicity said like that had just occurred to her.

  “Besides, I think Regal likes you.”

  “Why do you think something insane like that?”

  “When he walked away, he looked you up and down.”

  “A lot of men look ya girl up and down ‘cause they trying to determine why I’m not all girly and flirty even though I look like I should be.”

  “Now, that’s funny. You’re not girly? Every time I see you, you’re wearing a different shade of MAC lipstick, and when you come to the bakery to help me, you’re wearing pumps. I done told you not to come up in there wearing heels, but no, you’d rather risk spraining an ankle than wear a pair of comfortable, safe sneakers.”

  “That’s just a matter of preference. It has nothing to do with being girly. Listen here…you just need to make sure you have some smear-proof lipstick on when Ramsey comes at you with those lips.”

  Gianna’s stomach fluttered. “Stop it, Felicity.”

  “And now that I know Ramsey’s not the complete and total jerk I thought he was, I say he’s absolutely perfect for you.”

  Gianna nodded, thinking about how Ramsey had already gone above and beyond for her. How when he’d first come into her bakery, he didn’t go running for the hills, even after she was admittedly acting crazy. He’d stayed, ordered a cupcake. Gave her a generous tip. The next day came another tip. He’d paid for her groceries, followed her home and helped her unload and unpack them. He rescued her from being drenched when she showed up at the bakery as the sky opened up with a downpour of rain. He brought items to help her bakery run more efficiently. He helped sweep. Mop. He took out an ad to attract more customers to her bakery. He hired a nurse. Covered copays. Took Gemma out to breakfast and gave her hope in the form of a Rolex, but hope nonetheless. He was making an effort to be there for her. What had she done to be there for him? What did the man who had it all need?

  “My God,” she said evenly having reached an epiphany.

  “What is it?” Felicity asked, watching her friend’s eyes grow bigger.

  “He really does want me.”

  “Duh,” Felicity said. She laughed. “Look, you have a decision to make and since Ramsey ain’t giving you no time to think about it, I’ma mosey on up out of here and go home. You can bet your next batch of cupcakes that he’s gon’ roll up there to the bakery tomorrow.”

  “He is. He’s already warned me.” Gianna said standing.

  Felicity reached to hug her and said, “May the force be with you, child.”

  Gianna giggled. “Text me when you get home, silly.”

  “Yeah. Text me during those heart palpitations you’re going to be having tomorrow when your man shows up.”

  “If that’s your way of asking me to tell you how it goes, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Alright. Later.”

  Gianna watched Felicity walk to her car and on a whim, she ran there as Felicity took a seat.

  “What did I forget?” Felicity asked.

  “Nothing. I was wondering if you had the paperwork with you.”

  “What paperwork? The Ramsey stuff?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah. It’s in my briefcase. Why?”

  “Give ‘em to me.”

  “You’re signing?”

  “Yes. Give ‘em to me, and hurry up before I lose the nerve. Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie.”

  “Oh…wow. Okay,” Felicity said, opening her briefcase, taking the forms out. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Gianna took the forms from Felicity’s grasp and signed them – all five of them. “Is that it?”

  “That’s it.” Felicity couldn’t wipe the grin from her face when she said, “You know after Ramsey signs and I submit these, you’re officially going to be Mrs. Gianna St. Claire.”

  Knots formed in her stomach. “Yes. I realize that. I’m sure at some point I’m going to faint.”

  Felicity could only laugh. “You’re not going to faint. You’re going to fall in love. That’s what you need, anyway. Some love and affection.”

  Gianna smiled at the thought of being loved. It was a good feeling. She could only ima
gine how it would be when it actually happened. When she felt loved, adored and cared for. When she belonged to someone. To Ramsey.

  Chapter 17

  Maybe it was her unsettled nerves at the realization that Ramsey genuinely wanted to marry her or just the fact that she’d been working nonstop and needed a break. Whichever the case, she didn’t feel like working at all today. She wanted to go home, curl up in her bed and sleep. Unmotivated, she didn’t even bother making a specialty cupcake today. She only made the daily’s – vanilla, chocolate, butter pecan and lemon.

  Her first customer had arrived right after opening. A few more strolled in afterward. She was still getting used to this much traffic in the morning. Those ads Ramsey placed must’ve been paying off.

  When the bakery’s phone rang, she took the cordless from the pocket of her apron and answered, “The Boardwalk Bakery. How can I help you?”

  “Hi, is this Gianna?”

  “Yes. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “This is Judy from St. Claire Architects. How are you?”

  “I’m good. How can I help, Judy?”

  “My boss wanted me to order eight dozen butter pecan cupcakes for an upcoming meeting this week.”

  Gianna smiled. She didn’t have to ask Judy who her boss was. “What day is the meeting?”

  “Wednesday.”

  Good. That will give me plenty of time to make ninety-six cupcakes.

  “Is that doable?” Judy asked.

  “Yes. It is. What time do you want to pick them up?”

  “Oh, you don’t deliver?”

  “No. I’m a one-woman operation over here.”

  “Oh, that’s fine. I can come pick them up,” Judy said. “I’m not far from there.”

  You’re not? “Where are you located?”

  “IBM Drive, right off of Harris Boulevard.”

  “Oh. Right,” Gianna said. How did she not know that? IBM Drive was a hop, skip and a jump (okay, maybe two jumps) from J M Keynes Drive where her bakery was located. Ramsey’s office was located that close to her bakery?

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, sorry. Thank you for your order, Judy. I’ll have it ready for you.”

  “Wonderful. I can’t wait to try one. My boss brags about them…says they’re the best he’s ever had and he doesn’t even like sweets.”

  Gianna blushed. “In that case, I’ll be sure to make them extra special for you guys.”

  “Aw. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Have a good day, Judy.”

  “You do the same.”

  Gianna wrote the order down and stared down at her note. She knew she wouldn’t have gotten this order if it wasn’t for Ramsey. She looked up when the doorbell tinkled and saw Jerry walk in.

  “Hey, Jerry. I was just talking about you the other day. Where have you been?”

  “Oh, I’ve been around. Here and there. You know how it goes.”

  She walked around the counter, hugged him and said, “Let me go get you some cupcakes.”

  “No, sweet thang. That’s okay. I didn’t come here for cupcakes.”

  Gianna’s forehead creased. “No?”

  “No. I just stopped by to see how you were doing?”

  “I’m doing okay.”

  “I see you got some customers in here dis moanin’.”

  “Yeah. Things are picking up.”

  “I see. Looks like you done changed some thangs up ‘round here, too.”

  “Yeah. I had some help with that.”

  “Hmm...” Jerry said. “Well, it’s nice. How’s little sister?”

  “She’s okay. Still struggling through, but yesterday, I actually saw her smile, so that’s always good.”

  “That’s good. Very good. If she’s anything like you, I know she has a good spirit on her.”

  “Thank you, Jerry. Now, let me get you some cupcakes.”

  “I done told you I didn’t come here for that.”

  “Oh, hush. I got plenty of lemon cupcakes made. I’ll be right back.”

  “Alright.”

  Gianna hurried to the back, prepared a half dozen cupcakes in a container and walked back to the front. “Here—”

  Her words halted at the sight of Ramsey sitting at his table. Their table? No, his table, just sitting there. How had he slid in so covertly? She couldn’t have been gone for a minute. It was almost like he’d known the exact moment she stepped away. Had he been watching her from outside? From his car perhaps?

  “Are you alright, sweet thang?”

  “Ye-yeah. I’m okay,” she said. At least she didn’t drop the box this time. A small improvement. “Here you go, Jerry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Enjoy the rest of your day, okay.”

  “I will. You do the same, sugar.”

  Jerry offered a single wave to Ramsey then they talked for a brief moment before Jerry exited.

  Gianna swallowed hard. Her heartbeats sped up something awful at the very sight of Ramsey sitting there. Was he really sitting there, or was she just imagining it? Gosh, he had her thrown off balance. She glanced around the bakery, looking at her other customers and then back over to where Ramsey was sitting.

  Crap, crap, crappity crap! He’s here. Like actually here. Breathe, Gianna. Breathe. Caught in the magnificence of his hypnotizing presence, all she could do was look at him. He hadn’t shaven in the few days they hadn’t seen each other, and the hair on his face, sweet Jesus, it made him look so much more manlier as if he needed to be any more manly. He was as manly as men came – a sophisticated beast-of-a-gentleman with a heart for the shy cupcake girl. And he was sitting there looking utterly sexy in a black, short-sleeved, button-down shirt that gripped the muscles of his thick arms and a pair of tan chinos that had the grown-man fit to them. He didn’t have on socks, just a pair of black-grained Gucci loafers with gold detail.

  With his chin resting on his large, interlocked hands he looked at her. No, he wasn’t looking. He was gawking. Analyzing. Seeing who was going to make the first move. Who was going to smile first? Say hi first? Who was going to break the ice? Why was there ice that needed to be broken? It’s not like this was their first time speaking. They’d been through too much in the last three weeks to be starting over. To be playing ping pong with their eyes. But every encounter with him felt like a new beginning. Was that normal? Or was this feeling something that only the two of them shared?

  He’s waiting for me to initiate. I know he is. Think, Gianna. Think. Then it dawned on her. Just give the man some coffee and a cupcake. He’d like that, right?

  “Right,” she said softly. She walked to the back and retrieved one of the freshly frosted lemon cupcakes then took a large cup, filled it with coffee and added three creams and three packs of Splenda to it. After securing the lid on the coffee cup she walked toward his table. His gaze seemed to sharpen as she approached, so instead of maintaining eye contact, she used his watch as a focal point until she lowered the coffee and cupcake to the table.

  “Thank you, Gianna,” he said, looking up at her.

  “You’re welcome, Ramsey,” she said, barely looking at him.

  “Can you sit with me for a few minutes?”

  Instead of answering him verbally, she pulled out a chair and sat down. She glanced up at him. Why wasn’t he talking? He was still staring with that serious expression on his face – no doubt the same look he gives to his counterparts when he’s on the verge of closing a deal or making a decision that required full mental awareness. She knew he wanted to bring up their conversation from last night and his proposal and everything that came with it. It was on the tip of his tongue. But just when she thought he was going to begin his negotiations, he asked, “What happened here?” and touched the small bruise above her right eyebrow.

  “I—I walked into the storm door when I got off work Saturday evening. It doesn’t hurt…just looks bad. I’m fine.”

  In the mildest tone he could muster, he said, “I’ve missed you.�
��

  She looked up, held his vision. Surprised – surprised that he missed her after only three days and surprised that the first thing out of his mouth wasn’t proposal-related.

  “I’ve missed you too, Ramsey.”

  Surprise lit up his features as well. He was surprised she missed him, too, after three days and even more surprised that she admitted it. “You did?”

  “Yes. You look as if you find that hard to believe.”

  “I do. You’re always nervous and jumpy around me. I get the feeling that when I’m not around, your breathing pattern returns to normal, your eyes are not dilated and you’re not in panic mode.”

  She smiled. “You would be correct, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t like having you around.” She held his gaze, surprised herself at how long she was able to do so – a new record – then decided to address the matter at hand by saying, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to marry you when I’m not comfortable around you, Ramsey. I’m not, and I’m just being honest.” Yet, she’d signed the papers – but he didn’t know that.

  Ramsey took a sip of coffee. This isn’t what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear a resounding, resolute yes from her. Instead, he was getting something that sounded like it’s not you, it’s me. “Then we need work together to find a resolution, Gianna, because I can’t walk away from this—from you. I can’t.”

  “I don’t want you to, Ramsey,” she said softly.

  “Then what do we do about it?” he asked, lowering his coffee cup to the table and reaching to hold her left hand, caressing it. “What do I need to do to make you more comfortable with me? To make you trust me?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I would need to spend more time with you.”

  “Okay. You work full-time, even on Saturdays. How do we spend more time together, sweetness?” he asked before bringing her hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand, watching her close her eyes as he did so.

  And something amazing happened. Instead of freaking out, having a spasm of nerves contort her body, she opened her eyes and kept them on him, even as what felt like a wave of energy passed from his body to hers. In his eyes, she saw a deep, dark pit of desire. Of need. Of true longing.