by J. Daniels
I jar the knob again, tossing my bottled water onto the floor. “Open the door.”
“No. I don’t want you in here.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” I scoff, grabbing one of my kitchen chairs. I climb up on it, skimming my hand along the top of the door jam and feeling for the key I keep up there. Once I grab it, I jump down and move the chair out of the way. “I’m coming in. I can handle vomit.”
“Dylan, please don’t come in here,” his raspy voice begs me.
I wiggle the key around until I feel it unlatch the door. I turn the handle freely this time and swing it open, spotting Reese on his knees. He’s slouched over the toilet, shirtless and only in a pair of boxers. His head is resting on his forearm and he doesn’t bother to lift it when I enter the room. I place the key on the bathroom counter and crouch down behind him, placing my hand on his back.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I begin rubbing my hand along his clammy skin.
He coughs a few times, dropping his head and spitting into the toilet. “I asked you not to come in here. Why would I want you to see me like this?”
“In two days, I’ll be vowing to be with you for better or for worse. Or did you forget about that?” He tilts his head to the side so our eyes meet. “You took care of me when I was like this. Now it’s my turn.”
He’s either too weak to give me a rebuttal, or the fact that I’ve reminded him of how many days we have left is soothing him. I run my fingers through his hair, which is sticking out every which way, feeling the dampness of his sweat on my hand. He looks thoroughly exhausted, with bags under his eyes and his complexion looking paler than I’ve ever seen it, but somehow, he pulls it off. Not that I’m the least bit surprised.
I place my lips to his shoulder. “You’re beautiful even when you’re hung-over.”
He drops his chin, smiling. “You’re beautiful even when you ugly-cry.”
His words have me wanting to feel his mouth against mine, even if he has been puking his guts up. But I bite back the urge and settle for a wink instead, which prompts his smile to grow the tiniest bit. I stand and grab a washcloth from the cabinet, wetting it at the sink. “I’m going to get you some water,” I say as I lay the cool rag on the back of his neck. He acknowledges me with a subtle nod before closing his eyes.
I grab the bottled water I had discarded and return to the bathroom just as a wave of nausea hits Reese. He arches over the toilet, gripping the seat with his hands. His back goes rigid, every muscle flexing as he proceeds to vomit and dry heave. I kneel behind him and hold the rag against his neck, rubbing his upper arm with my other hand. This round lasts several minutes, and when he slouches down, seemingly finished, I pick up the water bottle and unscrew the cap.
“Here.”
He looks over his shoulder at me and takes the bottle. After swishing the water around in his mouth, he spits it into the toilet and repeats the action several times. He tries to stand, but I stop him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Are you done?”
He nods, pushing to his feet. “I think so. That shit sucked. I haven’t thrown up since I was little.” I follow him over to the sink, watching as he splashes some cold water onto his face. He grabs his tooth brush and slicks some toothpaste on it, connecting with my eyes in the mirror. I see his rake down my body. “How was your run?”
“Difficult. I had cupcakes yesterday and paid for it greatly.” I begin stripping out of my sweaty clothes while Reese continues brushing his teeth. “Are you going into work today?”
“No. I took a sick day. I need to go get my car and then I thought maybe I’d watch you bake.” He spits into the sink and rinses off his tooth brush. “If that’s okay with you.”
I smile, tossing my clothes into my hamper. “That’s definitely okay with me. You haven’t watched me bake in a while.” I reach into the shower and turn it on, testing the temperature. “But you’ll have to disappear when I start working on our wedding cake. That is off-limits.”
He steps up behind me, wrapping his arms around my body and pulling me against him. His hands splay across my lower abdomen, protectively caressing it. Like he knows without a doubt there’s something in there worth protecting. When I look down to watch, I see the sweat pooling between my breasts. Suddenly grossed out, I try to slip away but his grip tightens. “What are you doing?”
“I’m all sweaty.” I continue to squirm in his arms but freeze when his lips touch my neck.
“I like you sweaty.”
“You like me sweaty when you’re the reason for it.”
“Hmm. Let’s explore that.”
I turn in his arms, staring up at him with disbelief. “Don’t you feel like death? How can you even think about sex right now?”
He shoots me a baffled look. “You’re naked and I’m touching you. But honestly, you could be on the other side of the room in a fucking parka and I’d be thinking about it. I’m always thinking about it. Hangover or not.”
I flatten my hands against his chest and push. “Rain check, handsome.”
“With frosting?”
His request has my insides burning as much as my legs were on that run. We haven’t played around with frosting in a few weeks. Usually, the urge to lick it off me hits him in the middle of us fooling around, sending him sprinting into the kitchen for the ready-made tub I keep on hand for such occasions. He’s too impatient to wait for me to whip up a batch, which he proved when he bent me over my worktop and fucked me while the neglected, half-put-together icing went untouched. That happened a few days after we reconciled. And now, you’ll always find a tub of it in both our fridges.
I shoot him a cheeky grin and nod. At my promise, he drops his arms and returns to the sink, allowing me to finally step into the shower.
The loft is empty when I step out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me. I slip into a sundress, one that cinches at my waist, and step into my favorite pair of strappy sandals. After applying some tinted moisturizer and mascara, I blow-dry my hair partially and clip half of it back.
Reese is sitting on a stool pulled up to my worktop, dressed in a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt. He lifts his head at the sound of me coming down the stairs, the apple turnover he’s about to bite into stopping inches from his mouth. I grab my apron off the hook by my shelving unit and slip it over my neck. I know he’s still looking at me. Even though I’m pulling out the racks of pastries, muffins, and cupcakes with my back to him, I feel it burning into the back of me, no doubt appreciating my outfit. I glance at him over my shoulder, prompting him to lift his gaze.
“I love you in dresses,” he says before finally taking a bite of his turnover.
“I know,” I reply. “Wait ‘til you see the one I’m marrying you in.”
His eyes lose focus momentarily as he drops his hand to his lap. Clearing his throat, he adjusts himself discreetly and I feel my face heat up as I place the racks on the worktop. I love that the very idea of me in my wedding dress gets that kind of reaction from him, even though he has no idea what the dress looks like.
“Do you need any help?” he asks after regaining his composure.
“Sure.”
He shoves the rest of the turnover into his mouth, standing up and wiping his hands on his shorts. We each carry a rack up front and fill the display case. As Reese meticulously arranges the cupcakes in a way only he would do, the shop door dings open and Joey walks in, followed by Brooke.
“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” Joey says as he steps up to the counter. I see the side of Reese’s mouth twitch into a smile as he straightens up and greets both of my employees with a tilt of his head.
Brooke places my cup of coffee on the counter. “Sorry, Reese. I would’ve gotten you one if I knew you’d be here this morning.”
He shrugs before grabbing my cup. “That’s okay.” I watch as he takes a sip of my usual order, which is entirely too sugary for his taste. Reese is a black coffee kind of guy, and the look on his face is priceless as he swal
lows his mouthful. He holds the cup out to me with a frown. “Jesus Christ. That tastes like ice cream.”
“Mmmm. Just the way I like it.” I place the cup to my lips and take a sip. “So, Brooke. How was your date last night?”
Her smile fades instantly, hardening as the memory of it washes over her. “Painful,” she grits out. “I swear to God, I’m done with dating sites. The guy last night, Dustin, was a major let-down in the package department. One look and I was like,” she brushes her hands off in front of her, holding them out with her palms facing us as she steps back. “I’m out.” The three of us burst out laughing as she moves toward the kitchen, smiling over her shoulder before she slips into the back.
I take another sip of my drink, moaning against the brim. The caffeine perks me up instantly, and the caramel might just be enough to curb my sweet tooth for the remainder of the day.
Maybe.
Doubt it.
Joey drums his fingers on the counter, his eyes flicking between me and Reese while his lips stay curled up into a sly smile. “And how is my favorite soon-to-be-married couple this morning? Anyone getting cold feet?”
I lift my eyes to Reese, catching the look he gives as his response.
“Right. What a ridiculous question,” Joey says through a laugh.
I reach behind my back and untie my apron. “Reese and I need to go get his car this morning. Can you handle things? We shouldn’t be long.”
Joey nods, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, no problem. Just don’t forget about the other wedding cake you need to start on. Besides your own.” He adds that last part with a playful smile.
“I haven’t.” Spinning around, I take another sip of my coffee and place a hand on Reese’s arm. “Come on. You ready?”
“Yeah, let me run upstairs and get my keys.”
I slip my apron off and toss it under the counter as he disappears into the back. Brooke walks back up front, wearing her biggest smile.
“This is adorable. I love that he’s here.”
“Me, too,” I reply. I really love that he’s here. In fact, I’m tempted to ask him to take another sick day tomorrow. I smile at her, remembering what I promised yesterday. “When I get back, it’s you, me, and a wedding cake.”
She claps her hands excitingly in front of her. “Oooo, yes! This is going to be awesome! What kind of cake are we making?”
Joey holds his hand up, halting my response. “One that doesn’t sound appetizing at all. Banana cake with caramel cheesecake mousse.” He grimaces, sticking a finger in his throat to mimic throwing up.
I shove his shoulder. “It’s going to be a beautiful cake. The bride wants sugared orchids cascading down one side. I love that. And those flavors work really well together.” Reese walks back through the doorway, twirling his keys on his finger. I walk around the display case to join him. “We’ll be back soon. Play nice, you two.”
Joey wraps his arm around Brooke’s shoulder. “Who? Us? There’s nothing but love here.”
I stop at the door, eyeing him suspiciously over my shoulder. Brooke is staring up at him with her own, as he wears the biggest teasing grin I’ve ever seen. “Did you get laid last night?” I ask. His playful eyebrow wiggle answers for him. Brooke pushes away from him, scoffing in the process as I roll my eyes. “Later, bitches.”
“So, what exactly did you drink last night? Do you remember?” I ask as I weave in and out of traffic.
“I remember everything.”
I glance over at him, seeing his set profile. “You do?”
He runs his hands down his face, dropping them to his lap before responding. “Yeah. I know I drank whiskey. A lot of it.”
“Do you remember getting home?” I steal another glance and see him drop his head against the seat.
“I remember everything, Dylan. The way you looked at me after you stopped the alarm. The conversation on the stairs. Everything. I promise you’ll never see me like that again.”
I pull over in front of The Tavern and put the car in park before I grab his hand. He immediately threads his fingers through mine, keeping his eyes focused on them. “I didn’t mind taking care of you. Not last night and not this morning either. It’s my job.”
His eyes meet mine, flashing with assurance. “It won’t happen again. The only thing that makes me lose control is you. Nothing else. Okay?”
I give his hand a gentle squeeze while his other grabs the door handle. “Okay. I’ll meet you back at the shop?”
He leans over, pressing his lips against mine. What starts off as the lightest touch quickly dissolves into a searing connection. I fist his shirt with both hands, holding him to me as he devours my mouth. His lips tease my jaw, my neck, the delicate skin below my ear. He has me worked into a wild frenzy in a matter of seconds. Breaking away, he pants loudly against my mouth before licking his bottom lip.
“You taste like your coffee.”
“Sorry.”
He smiles. “Don’t be. I love how everything tastes on your tongue.” His lips meet mine once more, briefly, before he opens the car door. “I’ll follow you.”
“Good luck keeping up,” I tease, earning myself a warning look before he steps out. He closes the door, and I watch him walk to the driver’s side of his car through my rear-view mirror. I lick my lips, tasting the combination of sugar and coffee.
Apple turnover, caramel macchiato, and Reese Carroll.
I’m doubting anything has tasted better.
“Why do you use eggs at room temperature? I never got that.”
I register Brooke’s question over the sound of my brand new mixer, which is an absolute dream. Not only does it have all these settings my old mixer failed to come with, but it’s also whipping my ingredients in record timing. After depositing the bags of flour and sugar onto the worktop, I answer. “Because they mix better into the batter. And it makes the finished product fluffier. I can always tell when someone doesn’t use room temperature eggs.”
“It’s a tragedy when cold eggs are used,” Joey adds, sticking his head through the doorway. “Brooke, grab me the container of blueberry muffins. We’re almost out up here.”
I measure out my dry ingredients as Brooke hands off the Tupperware container. She returns to my side, brushing the flour along the wood with her finger. “Do you always make wedding cakes a few days in advance?”
“I like to. Especially if I have more than one to make. We’ll knock out the cake layers today, and I’ll freeze them overnight. That will help lock in the moisture. And tomorrow afternoon, we’ll focus solely on assembling the cakes and all the intricate detail work.” I look over at her with a playful expression. “The fun stuff.”
“This is so cool. I can’t wait to see the finished products.”
I see that familiar excitement beaming off Brooke that I always have when I make wedding cakes. Maybe this will be her niche. Maybe she was always meant to be a baker. I step to the other side of the worktop, motioning toward the measuring cups I’ve readied for her. “Can you add those in after the batter turns a light, golden color? That’s when you know the caramel is fully mixed.”
“You’re not going somewhere, are you?” she asks with wide, startled eyes.
I laugh, grabbing the bowl of bananas in front of Reese. He lifts his eyes off his phone screen to give me a quick wink before returning to his task. Whatever he’s looking at, it’s kept his attention for the past hour.
Looking over at Brooke, I shake my head and begin peeling the twenty-five bananas I made Joey run out and get this morning. “No, I’m not going anywhere. We’re doing this together.”
She opens her mouth to respond when the sound of Reese’s cell phone ringing halts her.
He stands abruptly, nearly knocking his stool over but grabbing it before it crashes to the ground. He frantically brings the phone up to his ear. “Reese Carroll.” His eyes drift from the stool to my face, and I see his chest rise with a deep inhale. He mouths “I’ll be right back” and takes qui
ck strides across the kitchen, taking the stairs at a rapid pace.
“Jeez. Must’ve been important,” Brooke jokes, but at her word usage my mind begins to wonder if this urgent matter has anything to do with Bryce. I feel my pulse quicken at the thought but quickly focus on my task. I have two cakes to make, and one can’t even be started until Reese disappears. He can’t see the ingredients I’m using for our wedding cake. It will definitely give away my surprise to him.
I’m slicing the bananas and depositing them into a big mixing bowl when Reese comes running back down the stairs. His heavy footsteps gain my attention, spinning me around. He’s dressed in his work clothes now, wearing one of my favorite gray-plaid ties of his. Hands grab my face and he plants the sweetest, gentlest Reese kiss to my lips, melting me like the caramel sauce I used in the batter.
He pulls away, and I see the sheer thrill pouring out of him, like he’s just won the damn lottery or something. He smiles and I melt further at the sight of my favorite lines next to his eyes. “I need to run to the office.”
“You seem very happy about that.”
He laughs, kissing the corner of my mouth. “I am,” he whispers against me. “Two days, love. Two days and you are mine.”
His words send a chill through me. I’m his already but God, the way he says mine like I’m not even close to being his yet makes my mouth go dry. I watch him walk away with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
And I know it has nothing to do with going to the office.
Luckily with Reese’s swift departure, Brooke and I were able to throw together not only the cake layers for the other wedding but for mine, as well. I had a great time cooking with Brooke, and she seemed to pick up on things like a natural.
I’ve never seen any bit of my best friend in her sister, and I’ve known them both for over ten years. Brooke always seemed so brash and extroverted. She never let you get a word in usually, especially if it contradicted what she was trying to get across. And even though she seemed popular in school, she never had any friends who stuck around. Joey, Juls, and I have been together for as long as I can remember. Yes, there were others who floated in and out of our lives, but the three of us always stayed true to each other. Brooke didn’t seem to have that, not even now. Her closest friend was Juls from what I observed. She and I were always friendly, but this is the most I’ve ever talked to her. And as we spent the afternoon with just the two of us in the kitchen, laughing and talking like we’ve done it for years, I find myself forgetting who I’m with.
