by Pratt, Lulu
“So, you’re going to start embarrassing me already?” I asked, making my way to the door to welcome him.
After slapping hands, Marshall pulled me in for a hug, wrapping his arms around my back tightly. I could feel he was happy about my return, almost as much as I was. His blond hair was brushed back, a far cry from the ponytail he used to wear in high school. He was mature and clean cut. Stepping back, I felt proud of my friend and how well he had evolved from the young boy I knew so well to the man before me.
“Thanks,” I called over my shoulder to the cashier, who was visibly disappointed by the abrupt end to our conversation.
“I see you still have your way with the ladies,” he smirked as we walked through the airport.
“Are you kidding? She worked at the store,” I argued.
“Yeah, and she was smitten. Check your wallet, she probably gave you her number with the change,” Marshall continued.
“Give me a break!”
“Do you have luggage?” he pointed to baggage claim.
“Just this,” I reached to tap the small backpack I’d carried on. “Everything else gets here over the next week.”
“Oh, Mr. Big Shot is having his things personally delivered, huh?”
“I’m not the one parading through the airport in my new uniform. You’ve got everyone scared you might arrest them at any moment,” I shot back, commenting on his outfit.
“It is pretty cool, isn’t it?” he couldn’t hide his excitement.
“It’ll be much cooler if it gets us some free drinks at the bar,” I said and we both laughed.
Marshall had parked in the visitor lot, a short walk from the terminal. We walked together while catching up on the small details of our new assignments and how our lives would change now that I was back in town. I was eager to see the city, always excited for the new developments on every visit. Seeing everything with my best friend was even better.
Inhaling deeply as we exited the airport, I filled my lungs with what tasted like a fresh start – the beginning of my life. Everything had been on hold during my years in Minneapolis, but now things were coming together. I could feel it.
Chapter 3
CHARLOTTE
BUTTERCREAM WAS my favorite icing for more than one reason. Sure, the taste was a timeless standout, but when it came to decorating, many other options were too sticky from the additional sugar. Buttercream was soft and malleable, perfect for the new technique I’d grown to love.
“There’s barely any icing on there,” Jackie argued as I scraped more off the cake.
“It’s called minimal. I told you that,” I glared at her playfully for not paying attention.
Along with my brother, Jackie had been my audience and taste tester since I first began baking. Sitting on a barstool at my home, she watched me closely, still unimpressed with my new design. I was known for my over-the-top and colorful cake designs. This was nothing like that. There were no decorations, bright colors or even shiny ganache.
Minimal icing was highlighting the cake, using icing only to fill in where the moist dessert had failed to reach perfect geometry. The angles were more important than the design or color of the icing. I’d been practicing for weeks, finally ready to post one of the cakes featuring the new aesthetic to my Instagram account.
Carefully, I took a photo of the small lemon cake with vanilla buttercream frosting. Next, I had the larger carrot cake with dark chocolate hazelnut icing with finely crushed hazelnuts forming a small flower on top. It was a new take on the traditional cake, ditching the cream cheese topping for something a bit more decadent. And the colors looked exceptionally well paired together.
“I really like this one,” Jackie smiled as my technique began to take effect. It was artistic without going over the top.
“It’s nice, right?” I asked, though I wasn’t really paying her attention. Squinting, I looked for any detail out of place as I slowly turned the cake while adding a thin layer of icing on the round shape.
“We have got to get you out of that café and over to the bakery with me,” she began the constant discussion I wished could finally take a little break.
Jackie worked in the marketing and administration department of the bakery I dreamed of working for. She knew how badly I wanted to quit my job at the café, though I had never told anyone else. I’d even kept the dream from my brother, who would move heaven and earth for me, and so I tried my best to shield him from anything he had no control over.
He’d dedicated his life to taking care of me, stepping into the role of a father our own dad left behind. Losing both parents at such a young age was a whirlwind. Thankfully for us, our father’s younger brother stepped up to take us in, effectively rescuing us from a life in the foster care system.
But that was where the generosity stopped as far as my uncle was concerned. He pocketed every Social Security check intended for us, claiming it was owed to him for rent, food, and clothing, so we had nothing left over for ourselves. My brother had become the only source of discipline or structure in either of our lives. He’d got a job as soon as he could and shared his earnings with me.
I was the only kid in middle school with no curfew or an adult looking after me. My uncle had made it clear that he was merely giving us a place to live, not becoming a parent. He didn’t have children himself, and never planned to. We were left on our own, which is a scary thought, since my brother was only a teenager himself.
“I’m serious, Charlotte Marie.” Jackie used my full name, stressing the importance in her tone.
“I’m listening,” I lied. Between my thoughts and focus on the cake, I’d barely heard a word of her spiel.
“All we have to do is get your portfolio on my boss’ desk. She’s always looking for new talent for the intern program.”
“Jackie, I told you I applied to that last year and the year before and never heard back,” I said, pausing to check the icing work from a few angles.
“That was before I got there. I’m telling you, the administrator before me was shit! Everyone talks about how he never responded to emails or returned calls. They probably never saw one of your photos.”
“I don’t know,” I sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. The cake was finished, just as I’d envisioned it when I began making it a few hours ago.
The front door opened, and my brother’s laughter quickly filled the house. It was unlike him to bring company home, but I could sense he was with someone. From the kitchen, I couldn’t see to the front door. But Jackie’s seat at the bar gave her a clear view of my brother, who still caused her to blush.
“Would you stop gawking at him like that? It’s weird,” I teased.
“Now, your brother is fine. But I’m looking at his friend today,” she corrected me with all the sass she was known for.
“His friend?” I wondered, deciding which cake I wanted Jackie to try.
“Yeah, some hottie with a beard and pecs poking through his shirt.” She bit her bottom lip dramatically after her description.
“A beard? Maybe Dylan from work. They’ve been hanging out a bit lately,” I guessed, not too interested in who my brother brought over.
“No, this isn’t anyone he’s brought by before,” she quietly assured me. Her eyes were wide with excitement, always looking to make something more than it was.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” I giggled, and Jackie laughed loudly just as her phone buzzed on the countertop. “Which flavor do you want to try?”
“Ooh, I’m going to have to take a raincheck. But save me some of the carrot and chocolate!” She rushed to grab her bag before making her way out the door.
“It’s chocolate and hazelnut!” I yelled after her before I heard the loud slam of the door.
Tasting my own cakes was cheating. I needed an audience, someone I could watch take their first bite. Even when people tried to be kind, their eyes told me how they really felt about the flavors. I’d learned to read people early
on, and I wanted feedback on my cake.
Jackie was always on the run for her job, and I had no idea when she would be back, if at all tonight. Known to provide the most extravagant cakes in the city, her employer was frequently hired to cater the desserts for corporate events and special engagements. She had to make sure it was publicized and captured accurately for later marketing materials.
Anxious for feedback, I decided to use the second half of my audience. Since my brother was home, he would be happy to try out my flavors. Jackie’s request for the carrot cake meant my brother and his friends would have to try the lemon.
Careful not to mess up the design, I slid the cardboard circle holding the cake to the edge of the counter before maneuvering it to the center of my palm. Watching my steps, I slowly made my way to the front living room, following the laughter of my brother and his friends. I couldn’t make out how many of them there were until I entered the room.
To my surprise, there was only one guy in addition to my brother, who was standing at the edge of the room, adjusting the blinds to control the glaring sunlight. I could only see the back of the man’s head, covered in bushy dark curls that looked unmanaged.
“I need to put you to work. I’ve got a new flavor that needs tasting,” I commanded both of their attentions.
My brother’s eyes went straight to the cake, a small smile growing. The stranger turned slowly, his gray eyes first looking to the cake and then directly into my eyes. I felt weak instantly, my head quickly shaking to make sense of what was happening.
It couldn’t be Ford, my brother’s best friend who had moved away for work. I’d had a crush on him for what felt like my whole time in school, but with time and separation, I’d forgotten all about it.
Now, it all bubbled over to an explosion of butterflies in my stomach. Even with the longer hair and beard, I could tell it was him, though a sexier, more mature version. What shocked me was the way he looked back at me.
There was interest in his stare, unlike the annoyance I used to get whenever I tried to tag along with him and my brother. Ford had grown into a handsome man, and I could tell from his gaze that he knew it.
He’d never been shy, and time appeared to only amplify his endless confidence. My mind replayed Jackie’s description as my eyes drifted to his chest. His muscles were barely contained by the thin T-shirt.
“Hey, Charlotte, good to see you. What kind of cake is it?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s lemon,” I forced the words from memory since my brain wasn’t properly functioning all of a sudden.
“I want to try it,” Ford smiled and I felt my body moving to him, though my feet were implanted in the floor. I felt drawn to him in a way I couldn’t make sense of, but I wanted to follow the intuition, if only my body would listen.
When I finally took a step, my foot caught something and I stumbled. Although I managed to catch myself before falling flat on my face, the cake didn’t make it. Trying to save my creation, I reached to wrap my arms around it, which left a smear of icing on my black T-shirt before the cake landed upside down on the coffee table.
Chapter 4
FORD
IT HAD BEEN years since I saw Marshall’s little sister, and she looked nothing like I remembered. In my visits home during my time in Minneapolis, Marshall and I tended to meet at a bar for a beer and catch up. And the few times we had met at his house, Charlotte was never home.
I looked at it as a blessing, because when she was younger, I would always catch her gazing at me like I was a knight in one of her stories. Now, it was me unable to turn away. She was stunning – much taller than I’d remembered. Her long legs were exposed in a pair of short shorts and a black T-shirt that now had the remnants of icing splattered across the fabric.
Without thinking, I reached for a napkin from the coffee table, jumping in to help her with the clean up. She focused on the cake, while I wiped away the icing as best I could from her shirt. Suddenly, it occurred to me, I was basically wiping her stomach, so I backed away quickly, hoping no one found it as inappropriate as I did.
“Charlotte can take care of herself,” Marshall barked, and I felt my breath quicken.
I’d forgotten how protective he was of his baby sister. When our friends and I were busy worrying about who we would take to senior prom, he was looking at houses to purchase. He’d bought the house only a few weeks after graduation, right before he went through the court process to become his sister’s legal guardian.
Marshall was always much more responsible than me and our other friends. He had no choice, really. I couldn’t imagine what I would have done if I inherited a large sum of money when I was sixteen, but he didn’t spend a penny, waiting until the day he could purchase a home for him and his sister to share.
Ten years later, they still shared the house, which had changed as much as the inhabitants. It was more of a home than the last time I saw it, with small touches like a large green plant in the corner of the living room. And the photo frames tastefully placed throughout the living room and foyer were undoubtedly the personal touch of a woman.
“I’ve told you about being careful,” he scowled over at his sister as she scraped the last bits of cake from the table before wiping it clean with a napkin.
“Well, if I’d known I needed to treat the living room like a battlefield, I might have paid more attention to every step,” she snapped, pointing to the video game controller abandoned on the floor – the culprit for her fall.
A hearty laugh traveled quickly from my stomach and up my spine before I broke the tension. Marshall looked from me to his sister before turning back to me. “Whose side are you on here, man?”
“Hey, Lottie does have a point,” I shrugged, but I was shocked to see the annoyance on her face. I thought she would want me to defend her, but her blue eyes were anything but pleased.
“No one calls me Lottie anymore.”
I felt completely out of place, like I didn’t know the young woman standing before me. So much had changed since the last time I had a conversation with her.
Whenever I talked with Marshall, he’d give me an update on her, just like I told him about my mother. But now, I couldn’t remember one thing about her if my life depended on it. I needed something to say, but my quick-witted nature was absent as I stared at her in silence.
“So, is the cake completely ruined, or what?” Marshall asked.
“I have another one,” she huffed as she moved to exit the room.
Marshall’s cell rang and he glanced at the display. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this. I won’t be long.”
I took the opportunity and called to Charlotte. “I’ll help you with this one,” I heard myself say. I could see Marshall’s confused look from the corner of my eye. I wasn’t ready to part with her yet. I needed to know more about her, and who the young girl I once knew had blossomed to become.
My ego wondered if she still had a crush on me, and my arrogance quickly convinced myself she did. I hoped she wouldn’t kick me out of her space, because I had so much to say if I could ever find my words.
The kitchen appeared to have the biggest improvement in the house. Following her down the narrow hallway, I saw the white country-house-style cupboards before the large island came into view. Two barstools sat across from the island, with a view to the front door.
Figuring it was the safest place for me to sit, with a view on Marshall, I settled into the chair unsure of what I was doing. This was my best friend’s little sister. Nothing could possibly come of this. She was off limits, but my body wasn’t heeding the warnings as I hungrily traced her body with my eyes.
Her subtle curves shaped her clothing perfectly. It was clear she wasn’t expecting anyone, with her long blonde hair tied up in a bun that looked ready to fall apart at any moment. She was so beautiful without even trying.
“So, what should I call you, if I can’t call you Lottie anymore?” I asked, feeling my cool nature re-emerge.
I’d never been on
e to freeze around women, and I damn sure wasn’t going to let that happen because of my best friend’s little sister. Sure, she was hot, but I was Ford Delvey – women drooled over me, not the other way around.
“Well, there’s always my actual name – Charlotte,” she said slightly sarcastically, her lips fighting to hide the smile.
“But that’s what everyone calls you, right?” I asked without missing a beat.
“Yeah, that’s usually how it goes. You have a name, and everyone just uses it,” she continued, her eyes low as she cut the damaged cake, trying to salvage a part.
“But, I’m not everyone. I like to be unique,” I explained. This got her attention, if only for a second. Her eyes fluttered in my direction for a split second before returning to the cake.
“With this logic, I’ll need a new name for you.” She put her hand on her hip, looking directly at me for the first time.
It felt like she could see through me, unimpressed by the bravado that had never failed me before. We stood locked in a stare for a few moments before her smile broke through and I could breathe again.
“How about Fifi?” she asked, scrunching her nose.
“That’s a definite no,” I answered quickly.
“You’re not going to make this nicknaming process easy, are you?” she smirked, lifting the cake to a large plate before analyzing the saved portion.
“I’m not exactly making up a nickname for you, though. Everyone called you Lottie when you were younger,” I justified.
I had never used her full name. It felt a little too formal. For her whole life, she’d gone by the nickname, even at school. Teachers and coaches alike called her Lottie. However, Charlotte was a pretty name for a beautiful woman. A part of me felt she was only hazing me.
