Wrong Number

by Laura Brown

  Today’s mission had more to do with my sister and the baker who needed to meet my fist. Patrick had apparently hit on Hannah. Again. Even though she’d already made it clear she wasn’t interested. Excellent baking skills aside, I didn’t understand why they didn’t fire him. Hannah said she could handle it. I knew she could.

  As her big brother I’d make sure of it.

  I scanned the workstations, looking for the prick. In the back corner, I spotted a woman with dark hair in a nondescript ponytail. I knew all the bakers, which meant she could only be one person: New Girl. She bopped along to the music, mixing something by hand as her hips swayed back and forth, accentuated by the pink apron tied around her trim waist. Something about her captured my interest. From behind she could be any of the bakers with a ponytail and yet I had the sudden urge to spin her around and see if her face matched the allure of her cupcakes.

  I hadn’t even said hi and I was ready to jump off some cliff like a lemur. I forced my eyes off her with a shake of my head and searched the room again, until I found Patrick adding ingredients to an oversize mixer.

  I ambled over and propped myself up against the wall, arms crossed, watching the smug bastard.

  “What up?” Patrick asked, not stopping what he was doing.

  “I heard you had an…exchange with my sister yesterday.”

  “Yeah, what about it?” His tone conveyed his true meaning: piss off.

  I glanced around. None of my family members were present. I leaned in over the whir of the machine, pouring as much menace into my voice as I could. “Let’s be perfectly clear. Unless she explicitly expresses interest in your sorry ass, you stay away. Got it?”

  Patrick flipped the switch and the machine stopped mixing. “What’cha gonna do about it?”

  I held my arms tighter across my chest, flexing the biceps I’d worked hard at. “Don’t find out. We take harassment seriously around here. Going after someone who’s already said no is not a smart move.”

  I pushed myself off and walked toward the front, doing my best to limp as little as possible. Problem was, I’d always limp.

  Mom and Hannah were both behind the counter, helping a handful of customers with their orders. I scanned the display shelves, familiarizing myself with the day’s specials, and narrowed in on the cupcakes. “How’s the new girl working out?” I asked when Mom came over to fill up a box.

  Hannah appeared behind her. “He wants to know if those are her cupcakes.”

  Mom didn’t stop prepping for the customer. “Of course those are her cupcakes. What else do you think I hired her for?”

  I figured Mom wouldn’t be too happy if I mentioned how she looked in the apron, so I kept my mouth shut and surveyed my options. Moist cakes, perfect swirls on top, some with tiny decorations or garnish. I’d been salivating over them since Hannah snagged me a sample from the interview. It had been a few weeks and I still thought about the caramel cookies and cream. I couldn’t decide which to start with, only that I wanted to try them all.

  Damn. I was going to need to limit myself. One a week.

  Starting next week.

  I debated between the blue frosting and the double chocolate when the bell rang from exiting customers and Mom’s voice called out, “You keep staring at them like a starving man. Bordering on obsession, boy. Maybe you should meet her, see if she’ll make something for her biggest fan.”

  I straightened up and glared at my mother. Whenever she used “meet” in a sentence, it always spelled trouble. “Since when do you care if I meet your bakers?”

  Hannah wiped down the counter. “Trust me, this one’s worth it.”

  The doors from the bakery swung open and a woman entered, carrying a tray filled with more cupcakes. My mouth watered at all the colorful frosting topped on dark and light cake.

  Then I looked up at the face of the baker and nearly forgot about the food. Heart-shaped lips held a light smile, accentuated by her porcelain skin and narrow jaw. I swallowed and locked in on her eyes, some bewitching color between brown and hazel. She halted in her step, and I reached out to steady her tray before any of the precious goods fell victim to the floor.

  “Avery, this is my son, Jake. Jake, the maker of those cupcakes you’re drooling over, Avery.” Mom’s voice held an amused gloating.

  Avery turned to look at Mom when she spoke, then back to me as she took the tray firmly into her own hands. “Nice to meet you, Jake.”

  There was something about the way she spoke, as if she wasn’t sure she’d get my name right.

  I followed her around the backside of the display, my heart skipping a beat when she bent over to line up the cupcakes. I almost stepped back to take in the landscape view: the way her ass stuck out, all round and lush, the curve of her back, the grace and strength of her arms, all of it looked delectable and I hadn’t even included the actual sweets. If she tasted anything like her desserts, I’d be a dead man. I swallowed, doing my best to keep the lust coursing through me out of my voice. Not the place, not with my family right there.

  “Mom’s right. Your cupcakes have to be the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  I expected a blush, or a thanks. All I got was a confused expression as she straightened and tucked a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear. “Did you say something?”

  I narrowed my eyes, unsure what was going on but repeated myself. This time, her cheeks turned the soft pink shade of the second row of cupcakes.

  “Thanks. I’ve been baking them since I was ten. Lots of time to perfect recipes and play with new ideas. Not all of them good.” She let out a light, bubbly laugh.

  I crouched to peer into the display case. “So tell me, which one should I have today? And fair warning, I’ll blame you when I have to spend extra time at the gym.”

  She laughed again and bent next to me, her presence tempting me to stare at her instead of the cakes. “It depends on what your vice is. Some people want chocolate everything. Others prefer plain and simple. Still, others want to experiment with new flavors and textures. So tell me. Which one are you?”

  I caught her eyes again, and the shine of amusement glimmering in them. It occurred to me we more than likely had an audience of either my mother or sister, or both. I didn’t care. “Nothing wrong with a little experimentation.”

  Her cheeks flushed again and hit me with how beautiful she was. “All right then, close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

  I did as she requested, her closeness bringing the scent of vanilla and something else, something I could only describe as her. For the first time ever, a non-food scent made my mouth water more than any others. Then the bottom side of a wrapper nestled into my palm and the other smells grew stronger.

  “You can open your eyes, but I won’t tell you what it’s supposed to be.”

  Yellow frosting, with a cherry on the top, and a not quite chocolate but not vanilla cupcake sat in my hand.

  “I’ve got the next shift. How am I supposed to sell your stuff if I don’t know what it is?”

  “How can you work in a bakery if your taste buds can’t figure it out?”

  I nearly laughed. This woman fit right into our quirky environment. I took a bite, detecting coffee with a sweet cherry filling. I moaned. Could not be helped with her baking.

  “I take it you’re a fan?”

  Of her cupcakes, yes, but also of her curved rosebud lips. “Indeed. This is beyond good and worth any extra time in the gym.”

  Hannah appeared at my side. “If you two are done with the food porn, I need to borrow Avery for some paperwork.”

  I nearly choked. “Food porn?”

  She pointed a finger at me. “You should hear yourself eating Avery’s cupcakes. It’s obscene. Finish that up before we have customers.”

  Hannah dragged Avery away, who appeared to be hiding her laughter.

  My mother, on the other hand, didn’t care about hiding her amusement.

  “Oh, yes,” she said once we were alone. “I’m going to need you
to go after her.”

  I took another bite and managed not to close my eyes. “Don’t we have a policy against dating?”

  “My children work for me. You think I’d prevent any matchmaking? I think not. I want grandkids one day.”

  I tossed the wrapper away. “I don’t want to scare off your new worker.”

  “You don’t want to lose out on cupcakes. Think of what else she can do if you like her cupcakes so much.” Mom waggled her eyebrows, and I had trouble swallowing my last bite.

  “I’m very happy you’re sex positive and all, but enough is enough. I’m your son.” I reached to the side and grabbed one of the aprons and put it on. Pink or no pink, it was part of the job.

  Mom patted my cheek. “Just promise me you’ll think about it. I’ve got a good feeling about her and you could use a date.”

  I busied myself with the day’s selection while Mom headed back to the kitchen.

  The outside door opened and heavy footsteps followed.

  “Hey, asshole, you get a new phone and fall off the face of the earth?” Carter strolled up to the display, leaning against it, not an ounce of temptation for the goodies inside.

  “I didn’t ‘get a new phone.’ I replaced a smashed one, thanks to you. And I didn’t back up my contacts. I tried to text you, but I got the number messed up.” I thought I’d remembered it right, but now I hadn’t a clue how many digits I’d mixed up. Not that I was complaining. Under the heading of embarrassing mistakes, that one topped the charts as sexiest possible outcome, but Carter didn’t need to know that. I pointed to a spot on the counter. “Hey, can you tell what this is from?”

  Carter, ever the gullible guy, leaned forward. The place was still empty, and I took advantage of it to clock him on the chin.

  “What the hell, man?” He pulled back, rubbing the spot, when we both knew I barely tapped him.

  “That’s for tripping me at the soccer game last week. You tripped the guy with a limp and smashed my phone. What were you thinking?”

  “That my goddamn legs got tangled up, not that I was aiming for the guy easiest to tip over. And why didn’t you let me have it then?”

  “Because it was the end of the game, and you were prepared to block me.”

  Carter rubbed his chin again. “True that.”

  The kitchen door swung open and Hannah joined me behind the counter. “Hey, Carter, need a sweet fix?”

  “Nah, just checking to see if your brother lived.”

  “You could send me a text. I’ve got the same number, dumbass. I lost all my contacts,” I said.

  Carter pulled out his phone. A moment later, mine vibrated. I grabbed it and found a new text thread with a middle finger emoji.

  “Oh, you’re asking for it,” I muttered as I accessed the GIF that was supposed to go to Carter the other night, and instead, found its way into some stranger’s messages. Got a better deal out of the exchange, a very lickable better deal.

  “Dude, what is wrong with you? I sent you an obscene GIF once. Why are you sending me one now? Your sister is right here,” Carter said.

  I held up two fingers. “Twice.”

  Hannah backed up with her hands in the air. “I don’t even want to know. I’m out of here, anyways. You two can finish your lovefest later.”

  I glanced into the oval glass opening that gave me a glimpse of the kitchen and caught Patrick with his jacket on, tossing his keys and chatting to another baker. I gave Carter a look and nodded my head toward the kitchen. Carter wasn’t aware of the latest issue, but he knew plenty of Patrick’s previous indiscretions.

  “Let me walk you out, gorgeous,” Carter said, almost making me feel bad for sending the dick GIF. Almost.

  I thumbed a quick thank you and sent it to him.

  “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” Hannah said.

  “Yeah, but I’m heading out anyway and don’t want your brother bellyaching that I resisted the food.”

  “Bellyaching?” I crossed my arms.

  Carter laid an arm around Hannah’s shoulders and walked her through the kitchen.

  I pulled over the high round stool and settled down. Most of the counter staff stood, as I did during my regular job. No real sitting options existed when I was at the salon cutting hair, and the movement kept my leg from locking up too badly. This job involved a lot of standing still, which only aggravated my leg further.

  Just as I got comfortable, Avery came back out. She wore a purple jacket and ran her fingers along the display case. Not touching, not making a mess, but clearly claiming the prizes. “I resisted yesterday, but doing food shopping here looks so much more appetizing.”

  “I grew up with these foods being a staple of my diet. It took me until I played at a friend’s house to realize most people got their bread at a food store. And if I ever admit I’ve gone for the convenience, my mother would feign a heart attack.”

  Avery’s cheeks rose from her grin. “Food store bread is a sin, but one that must be dealt with from time to time. Your secret is safe with me.” Her gaze darted behind me, roaming over the breads still available. She bit her lip, as though tempted greatly, and it was sexy as hell. More so because I had a feeling if I pulled something out and placed it in front of her, she’d drool.

  Yeah, she fit this place, more so than some of the others. I never understood the bakers that Mom hired who thought of it as just a job, not when I grew up around this stuff and still couldn’t get enough. Time could stand still the way she examined items and licked her lip. I wanted to know which item gave her that reaction.

  “What’s your poison?”

  She glanced up at that and pointed behind me. “Challah, rugelach, and the chocolate chip cookie that’s been calling my name since eight this morning.”

  I slid off my stool and collected the items, then placed them in the bag with Mom’s logo on top. When Avery pulled out her wallet, I waved her off. “Perk of working here.”

  “You’ll regret that when I do my entire food shopping on your watch.”

  No regret. If anything, it tempted. “Can’t have you buying store bread. But fine, first time perk. The rest of the time, I’ll charge you the employee discount or force you to go home and bake it yourself.”

  She laughed and took the bag from me. A mother and child entered the shop, and Avery backed up.

  “Nice to meet you, Jake.”

  “Likewise.” I wanted to say more, but the kid had hands, face, and mouth plastered to the glass and somehow managed to ask questions while doing so. By the time I looked back up, Avery was gone.

  *

  Three hours into my shift, the store was empty, the bakers had filed out, and I’d finally gotten Mom home. She loved this bakery a little too much at times, which was part of the reason I kept my job here, so I could push her out two nights a week. Brewing another cup of coffee had moved from “nah, I don’t need it” to “plain or hazelnut?” My phone sat in front of me, holding an image I shouldn’t view in the bakery. As such, I’d only stolen a few quick glances, or ten.

  Shame certain pictures weren’t a good choice for screensavers.

  My contacts had been replenished, sans a few, and at this point, I would be making those lame social media posts: I lost your number, message me.

  I could get up, stretch my leg, straighten the numerous “Best Of” signs that covered the walls. Instead I shuffled through my growing contact list, trying to figure out just how many I was missing. At the end, I stumbled across the oddball entry: Wrong Number. I had no name for this woman, or who I assumed was a woman. Didn’t matter much. If anyone had to get that text instead of Carter, I’d choose her.

  I shifted to our thread, amazing myself that I wanted to check in on the seductress. Not so surprised by the anticipation causing all my blood to head south, as it had been since the other night. But sending a random, “Hey, how are you?” didn’t seem to work. Payback, however, could be warranted.

  After all, she did add a top hat and a bow tie t
o my dick. Never seen the guy so snazzy, if shriveled. Maybe I could get her to decorate another picture?

  I saved her blurry breast and accessed my photo app. I wasn’t lying when I called it lickable. It was. Almost as much as Avery’s cupcakes. To go along with the formality of the top hat, I placed a large bow on her nipple.

  Then I glanced up and verified no one had entered the store, ready to tell my mother what level of pervert worked here.

  Bow in place, picture saved, I went back to our text thread and sent it.

  Then I waited. And waited. Damn, she either wasn’t around or was done playing games. If she wanted to stop, I certainly would.

  Speaking of games, I downloaded a few I had been enjoying and was in the middle of the latest social media game addiction when a text message came in.

  Wrong Number: A bow? Really?

  I didn’t know what made me happier, that I used the bow in the first place or got her attention. I switched to my text app.

  Me: You put a top hat on my dick, might I remind you?

  Wrong Number: Still proud of that actually.

  Me: I could put a bow on the other breast?

  Wrong Number: Dream on.

  Too late, far too late, especially as she had been a prominent part of my dreams, never mind all the daydreaming. I wanted to test the weight of her breast in my hand, feel her nipple harden beneath my grasp. And I most definitely wanted two.

  Me: Oh, believe me, I am. But you’re not getting another picture with that attitude.

  A picture my body begged me to send. Not the best place to sport a hard-on, not that I gave two shits about that at the moment. The apron kept me hidden, and this felt far too good to stop. There hadn’t been anyone in a while. After the shitstorm of my last relationship, I stuck to work and family. There hadn’t been a connection until now, and I damn well wanted to hold on a little longer.

  Wrong Number: Fine. I’m sorry. Maybe if you’re a really good boy.

  My dick twitched. At least, he grew down my thigh and wasn’t squashed against my zipper. I had no idea what got to me the most, probably something to do with the anonymity.