by Pratt, Lulu
“Well, I’m not young anymore, Fordy,” she looked up again, her eyes even more commanding as she tried and failed at another nickname for me.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
“Oh? You don’t like Fordy? I think it fits you,” she smiled.
She had a nice sense of humor, one of the few things I remembered about her from back in the day. Far from a class clown, she was always popular in school, with more than enough young boys chasing behind for her attention.
“I do not like Fordy,” I replied with a smirk.
Charlotte smiled mischievously. She surely wasn’t intimidated by me, which left me feeling a bit exposed. I was used to dominating with the opposite sex, but she was clearly winning this one. Needing a boost, I dipped my index finger in the cake she’d discarded, licking my finger clean as her eyes doubled in size.
The lemon flavor stung my tongue as I tried not to laugh at her reaction. Gone was the overly confident woman running laps around me, leaving only the young girl who thought the world of me.
I could see the desire in her eyes as she watched me closely, and my chest broadened knowing she might also be feeling whatever it was that was coursing through me. Her guard was down, and I felt accomplished. Now we could have a conversation without me stumbling over my words.
I had plenty I wanted to know about her, and I’d successfully gained her attention in the best way. I just had to fight my nature to keep things appropriate, despite the ideas running through my mind.
Chapter 5
CHARLOTTE
“THAT’S THE BEST cake I’ve ever had,” Ford smiled after licking his finger clean.
My pelvis was pulsating, my thighs squeezing together to relieve the pressure building between my legs. Unsure of what was happening, I tried to clear my mind of Ford. He was too attractive and he knew it. Of all the years I’d known him, this was the longest we’d ever spent together, just the two of us.
“It’s a lemon cake with vanilla icing, but the filling also has blends of crushed walnuts. I think it adds a richness to the flavor,” I explained, somewhat blathering. Focusing on the cake was the only way I could possibly avoid falling for his charm.
“Is this what you do now? Are you a baker?” he asked, his brows furrowing as though he was searching for a memory.
“I wish. I work at a café,” I huffed.
I didn’t like how embarrassed I felt whenever I revealed what I did for a living. Not that I thought there was anything wrong with being a barista. When I first got the job, I was thrilled. But I knew I had talent and potential just wasting away while I made pretty drinks.
For him to see my talent, and taste the work I loved so much… I hoped Ford didn’t think less of me because I hadn’t yet discovered how to capitalize on it. I had a dream, but was a bit too scared to go after it. He wasn’t like that.
Ford left his entire life behind to follow his passion for airplanes. He’d been living in Minnesota for a long time, going after what he wanted to do with his life. I didn’t want to let him down, and that’s how I felt revealing my job at the café.
“Nothing wrong with working at a café. You’ve gotta start somewhere,” he said.
“I know, but at this point I know it’s not what I want to do. I spend so much time on these cakes, but then I never share them with anyone,” I started. Ford was watching me with an intense glare, like my words were the most important thing in the world.
“Why don’t you share them?”
“Well, that’s not completely accurate. I do share them, but only online. People love to look at them, but you bake for people to taste your food, not just like it,” I said.
“You post them online?”
“Yeah, just photos for people to see what I can do,” I added, feeling my voice shrink.
“Where? Let me see,” he asked, a grin transforming his handsome face. The beard hid some of his facial expressions, but his amusement was clear.
Nervously, I reached for my phone on the counter. I couldn’t remember the last time I showed someone my profile for the first time. My mind raced trying to remember the last photos I’d posted, and if they were the more impressive ones in my portfolio. Against my better judgement, I tapped the screen until my bright and colorful feed appeared, and handed the phone to Ford.
“You did these?” he asked after a long pause.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling myself blush.
He glanced up from the phone for a moment, and I wanted to melt into the ground. His undivided attention and admiration was too much to handle. Watching his gray eyes closely, I could see him tapping on certain photos, but I wanted to know more. Leaning across the island, I looked to see what he was seeing.
“That’s one of my most popular cakes,” I beamed, noticing him looking at my rainbow cheesecake. It was one of my favorite designs with six colorful layers of vanilla cake. Between each color of cake was a thin layer of cheesecake. A whipped icing and finely crushed sprinkles covered the cake, and whenever I made one, my account went crazy with requests for orders.
“You’re like… famous,” he looked up at me.
“No, it’s just about the cakes.”
“Yeah, because you don’t post photos of yourself,” he returned his attention to the phone, scrolling fast as though searching for something.
“There aren’t any photos of me,” I offered, in case that was what he was looking for.
“Why not? You’re the star.”
I could feel the tension growing in my stomach, a mix of nerves and embarrassment. I’d had a crush on him since I was a kid. Hearing his compliments was too much to handle. I tried looking away, but his hand found my wrist. I froze, not wanting to disrupt the warm connection. His skin was soft, his grip strong.
“I’m not trying to embarrass you, Lottie.” He paused, closing his eyes slowly. “Charlotte,” he corrected himself. “But this is amazing. People obviously love your work. And look,” he pointed to the screen. “This person asked how they can buy one,” he scrolled a bit more. “And this person is asking where you’re located. So many people want to support you.”
“I can’t exactly have them come knock on my door,” I said, trying to laugh him off.
It was a problem I had brainstormed plenty of times. How could I really go after my dream? I knew my followers would buy my cakes, but I had no way to share them with the world. The only bakery worth working at wasn’t interested in me, and I refused to bake for the café I worked at. The owner didn’t care enough, and my desserts wouldn’t get the value they deserve. More than once, I’d considered using my savings to buy a bakery and open it up myself. But I didn’t know anything about business. So, I was left at square one, leaving opportunity right on the table.
“Maybe not, but you can put your cakes in other peoples’ businesses,” he said. I’d heard that suggestion before.
“I know, but then I don’t know how they’re being treated.”
“How they’re being treated? They’re cakes, Lottie. They’ll be eaten!” he said, disregarding my disdain for my nickname.
Truthfully, I didn’t mind that he called me by my childhood name. In a way, it was cute. But as I grew into a woman, I felt it was immature. After telling my brother to stop using it, everyone else just followed suit. Jackie would still use it occasionally, usually when she was trying to convince me of something or to tease me.
“But how they’re treated affects the taste. Take my boss, for instance,” I moved back to the other side of the island, crossing my arms. “He gets cakes from a local bakery every Sunday. He refrigerates them at a temperature that is close to freezing. Then, he serves the cake by the slice for an entire week.”
Ford winced like he knew where I was headed, but I needed to drill this home. “Not everyone cares like I do. I’m not going to sacrifice the quality of my products just to make some money.”
“I understand,” he nodded, handing the phone back to me. “And I also never want to eat a slice of cake fr
om a café again.”
We both laughed. “I’m glad you liked it, though. Lemon cake can be tricky. The flavor palette is very delicate.”
“It seems a lot of people like your work. I’m really shocked you don’t show more of yourself.” His eyes glanced over my body with anything but innocence. I could feel his gaze as my body began to heat up. It was a new sensation, one I couldn’t decide if I enjoyed.
“It’s just about the food. I’m not a model,” I rolled my eyes.
“You could’ve fooled–” Ford didn’t complete his sentence before Marshall emerged from the living room. His presence ended our exchange, which made me believe he knew as well as I that we were flirting.
“Sorry about that. It was work. What happened to the cake?” he asked.
“I was just hearing all about Lottie’s new venture. These cakes are delicious, man,” Ford looked to my brother.
“Yeah, she’s an internet sensation. Did she show you?” Marshall grinned.
“She did.” Ford looked to me, his eyes containing another emotion. I couldn’t be sure what it was, but it was far different from the pride shining in my brother’s gaze.
“I’ve got two superstars in the house!” Marshall announced. “Did Mr. Big Shot tell you he’s the head of mechanics here at the airport?”
“At CVG?” I could hear the excitement in my voice.
“Yeah,” Ford answered, more with his eyes than his words.
“That’s great. I’m happy for you,” I smiled flatly, forcing myself to exude a calmness I couldn’t embody. “Let’s have some cake to celebrate.”
I cut them each a slice of carrot cake with chocolate and hazelnut icing, placing their plate in front of them with a small dessert fork. I grabbed some crushed hazelnut and sprinkled it on top. Because I always got to see Marshall’s reaction, I focused on Ford’s.
First, he turned the plate, squinting as he looked at the cake. “What flavor is it?”
“Do you want me to tell you before or after you try it?” I asked. He stared at me for a long pause before shaking his head and sliding the fork into the cake.
My breath caught in my throat as the fork passed his full lips. I wanted him to love it. The anxiety was palpable. The second his lips sealed, his eyes widened and a smile spread across his face. I knew the flavors were hitting him, and from the look on his face, I knew he liked it.
“Carrot cake with chocolate icing?” he asked.
“Chocolate and hazelnut,” I smiled.
“It’s delicious. You crushed it!” He shook his head before taking another bite and continuing, “No, really. If it wasn’t good, I would tell you.”
“And he would. You know Ford doesn’t hold back,” Marshall added, already finished with his large slice. “I can’t believe you’re back, man.” He slapped his back. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
Ford looked directly into my eyes as he answered, “I’m happy to be here.”
Chapter 6
FORD
SUN SHINING through the window woke me from a memory that still flashed through my mind. My thoughts had been dominated by Charlotte since my eyes landed on her. Apparently, even sleep couldn’t save me, as she paraded through my dreams.
Rubbing my eyes, I glanced over to see the time, but there was nothing there. Besides the bed, the bedroom was completely empty, just like the rest of the house. It was a part of my salary package as my job still required that I live close to the airport for emergencies, cutting down on my expenses drastically, but the home didn’t come furnished.
Thankfully, my things from Minneapolis would be arriving later while I was at work. After rubbing through my beard, my hands drifted down my chest before landing on the hard rod standing at attention. My dream of Charlotte had been far from PG.
I could still remember every detail about her body and the way her legs looked in the shorts. Tightening my grip on my length, I contemplated the urge to relieve myself to the thoughts of her, but decided against it. There was still something very illicit about Charlotte.
Sure, she was a grown woman. That much could not be denied, but she was still my best friend’s little sister. And I’d watched her grow up. Something about her felt off limits, and that only made it more enticing.
Dragging myself from the bed, I glanced at the bare window, mentally making a note to get curtains. On the bright side, I didn’t need an alarm clock, because I couldn’t sleep past sunrise.
After a quick shower, I dressed for the day, eager to start a new chapter in my professional life. I’d been an airplane mechanic for years, but never had I been put in a role leading other mechanics. It was going to be a learning experience, but I was excited to get going.
Not many of my friends had built such a career for themselves. I was proud of my reflection as I stared into the mirror. My full beard was growing on me, so I only trimmed it. I’d brushed my hair down, but I still needed a haircut.
I’d come to know the work environment at airports as being pretty lax. Still, I dressed in a pair of black slacks and white button-down shirt to make a good impression. There would be a team of mechanics looking up to me – I didn’t want them to fear I didn’t know what I was talking about. While I was young, I knew everything there was to know about airplane engines.
Just as I was walking out the door, my cell vibrated, a call from my mother. She had been calling more frequently since I took the job in Cincinnati.
“Hey, Mom,” I answered before climbing into my Dodge Challenger. The Hemi roared to life as I connected to the Bluetooth, sending my mom’s voice through the speakers.
“Today is the start of a new journey for you, sweetheart!” she said, mirroring my own thoughts. Her voice was always so cheerful. No one celebrated me more or supported my decisions as much as my mom.
“You’re right. I’m heading into work now,” I said, turning through the maze of the complex my townhome was located in.
“Already? You’re a bit early, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Are you that excited?”
“I am excited, but it was more because there are no curtains on my bedroom windows. The sun woke me up,” I explained.
“No curtains? That’s absurd! Oh, Ford, you should just come back home with me,” she pleaded.
It was her daily sales pitch from the first time I told her that I’d accepted the position. She wanted me to move home for a few months and save up to buy a house. I didn’t like concerning my mom with my finances, so I didn’t bother to mention I already had enough to put down a hefty down payment. I just didn’t see the point in buying property at the moment.
I did plan on staying in Cincinnati long term, but buying a house felt like something you did when you had a family. As long as accommodation came with my compensation package, I was always going to claim it and save more.
“I don’t need to stay with you just because there are no curtains at my place, Mom,” I chuckled. She had a flare for the dramatic, especially when it could help her make a point.
“Your neighbors can see right into your place, Ford. That’s not safe.”
“Well, right now I don’t have anything in there.”
The place was extremely bare, even more than I had anticipated. When I accepted the job, the relocation manager had explained that the houses come completely empty, with the hopes that it felt much like getting your own place would.
After every tenant, the homes were thoroughly cleaned, receiving a new coat of paint and repairs so that it felt brand new on move-in day. I could still smell the fresh paint, but I didn’t bother to tell my mom that, knowing she would be concerned over the health effects.
“I’m just saying, maybe you should stay with me until your things arrive.” This time I could hear the worry in her voice.
My mother had been widowed fairly young, and the idea of finding another spouse was unheard of in her book. My dad was the love of her life, as she put it. She didn’t want to replac
e him or build another life with anyone else.
What they had was it, all the love she was entitled. Plus, she never failed to remind me that I was the brilliant gift my father left behind. A younger, smarter, more handsome version. It was her favorite joke to tell, but it always brought me a bit of sadness.
I wanted my mom to have happiness and someone to experience it with. Living with her wouldn’t make sense for me, but I didn’t want her to have to live alone forever. Constantly worrying about her, I would like to know someone else was watching over her.
“How about we meet in the middle with another visit?” I suggested.
We’d already had one short visit when I first arrived, but she was overdue for a long afternoon walk. Maybe I’d even let her drag me to bingo with her friends so she could brag about me and take me from one table to the other while they told embarrassing stories from my childhood.
Like me, my mother was born and raised in Cincinnati. She had the same set of friends from high school, and they’d all been like extended family to me growing up. It felt good to be back in such a web of community. I knew there was always someone to call if anything went wrong here, whereas in Minneapolis, I often felt I was on my own.
“A visit sounds nice. Maybe you can take me down to Macy’s. I could use a new dress for church on Sunday,” she perked up.
My mother hadn’t missed a Sunday service in years. She was on the welcoming committee, helping to onboard new members to the church, and she had an interesting story every Monday.
“You’ve got a date, little lady.” I smiled, pulling into the employee parking lot.
“Hey, I wanted to ask about Marshall. How’s he doing?”
“He’s good. He’s the head of security down at National Federal,” I said proudly.
“Is he? That is impressive. He always did have a good head on his shoulders. And how about his little sister? Is he still taking care of her?”
My stomach tensed, wanting to tell her Charlotte wasn’t a baby any longer.
