Frosted Sweets (A Taste of Love Series Book 1)

by A. M. Willard

  Natasha: Sorry I had an accident and waiting for the tow truck, will catch a cab and see you in a few. Oh, and I’m okay.

  “She texted, something about an accident, and she’s okay but will be here soon.”

  “Oh hell … I feel for the person that hit her. You know she loves that car more than the law itself,” Frankie says.

  “I know, as long as she’s not hurt, I don’t think she will care,” I say as the waitress approaches with our drinks and places them down in front of us. “Hi, what can I get you to drink?” she asks Frankie.

  “I’ll have the Watermelon Cooler, thanks.”

  “Oh, I saw that. I’ll have to have a sip,” I say, which only earns me a look from Zara’s direction.

  “Of course you can. So, I guess we have to wait until we dig into this whole Simon situation, huh?”

  “We do, and there is no situation, so to speak.”

  “Yes, we have a situation, but we will handle it once our lawyer gets here,” Frankie says, which causes me to laugh because Natasha is our attorney. I’ll admit Frankie has had to use her services more than any of us, but then it’s good to have her on retainer just in case.

  The chatter flows across the table as we banter back and forth. My stomach growls in protest of the two drinks that I’ve already downed without any food. I reach over for the menu again to study it and pray that Natasha shows soon or I’ll have to eat without her. My intention is to still go back to the bakery tonight, so I need food to soak up the alcohol.

  None of us notices her when she walks up to the booth. “What a day it’s been, and I have no idea about this place that has my baby.”

  “Are you okay? I mean, you could have called us and we would have come to rescue you,” I say.

  “I’m fine, but my baby isn’t. Some jackass slammed the back of my car while I was stopped and pushed me into the car in front of me. I mean, who the hell doesn’t see the bright red lights on the back of a Mercedes?”

  “That’s why I don’t drive. Public transportation is more entertaining,” Zara says.

  “Zara Vera-Wayne, that is what’s wrong with you. You have a beautiful car and refuse to drive the thing. I don’t understand how you enjoy those hot stinky buses.”

  “Simple, I like to watch those around me, and you would be surprised at the people you meet on them.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. I need a drink and I’m starving. Waitress,” Natasha yells and waves her over.

  “What can I get you?”

  “One Strawberry and Rose Sour, but have them hold the strawberry garnishment.”

  “Yes ma’am, I’ll put that order right in and be back to take your food order.”

  “What I would give to be twenty-one again,” Frankie says as the waitress walks away.

  “Not me, could you imagine doing it all over again. College, starting your business? No thank you, I’m happy growing older,” I say.

  “Really, you’re happy?” Natasha asks.

  ‘”I am … I mean I might have had a life-altering situation recently, but I love where my life is going. Don’t you guys?”

  “I love mine,” Zara says, taking a sip from her fourth Dark & Stormy that, I’ll say, tastes disgusting.

  “Same here. I mean, I do what I love and it keeps getting better and better each day,” Frankie confirms.

  “Natasha, are you not happy?” I ask.

  “I am, but something is missing. I don’t know, ever since Simon shit on you, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Oh, Lord help us all. The queen has been thinking,” Zara exclaims and earns a glare from Natasha.

  “I have, come on, think about it. Are we happy? Look at Morgan, she had it all and in one call and one action she lost it all.”

  “I’m still happy. Just because I got the short end of this deal doesn’t mean I want to do it all over again.”

  “Here’s your drink. Are you ladies ready to order?” the young waitress asks as she interrupts our conversation. I have to say I’m thankful for it, as it wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Blackened Tuna Napoleon and a blue cheese wedge salad,” I order and listen to the others as they place theirs. I’m hoping they all forget the previous conversation and we can move on to another one.

  “Now that she’s gone, let’s have that chat you have been putting off. Zara said something about he showed up at your apartment,” Natasha says.

  “He did, and thanks to you, I had to throw the peas out. Did you really have to grab his, you know, manhood?”

  “He deserved it, and Simon should be lucky that’s all I did. It was priceless. We were surrounded by people.”

  I can envision the whole thing happening in my head, and I’m not sure if it’s the drinks or what, but my hand slaps the table as I’m overcome with a fit of laughter. “Oh … My … God … My side hurts.”

  “I think someone is cut off for the night,” Frankie says, laughing at my little hysteric.

  “I, for one, am happy this happened. I mean, let’s raise our hands to vote. Who here thought it would last?” Zara asks, and I look around the table to see none of them has raised their hands.

  “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? I thought you all supported me?”

  “Oh, dear, we support you but we hated Simon,” Natasha explains and takes another sip of her drink.

  “Some friends you are. I was about the marry him and you were just going to let it happen.”

  “Oh no, Frankie and I had a backup plan. We were going to kidnap you the night before and ship you to an unknown place in the world,” Zara says.

  “That’s so kind of you two, thank you,” I say, raising my hand to my chest offering a sweet and innocent face.

  “Frankie, why don’t you ask this one here about Hatcher?” I say with a smile, hoping to direct the conversation elsewhere.

  “Are you two still at it? I mean, why don’t you just do it and get it over with?” Natasha exclaims.

  “Then the fun would be over. I like to drive him crazy. Plus, he’s not my type.”

  “What type would that be?” I ask.

  “I need someone free-spirted like me, and he’s not that. He’s a stuck-up accountant that hangs out at the bakery. I don’t even know what else that man does when he’s not around.”

  “Admit it, you want to know, you like him,” Frankie says.

  “No, I wouldn’t mind seeing how good he is in the sack. That’s all.”

  “It always comes back to that with you, huh?” Natasha asks.

  “Maybe, I can’t help it I like random stuff and spice. Take Morgan here, she’s our romance queen and Simon could only have sex on Sundays. You, Frankie, have the hots for a man you can’t even speak to. Which surprises us all, by the way. And then we have you, Natasha, spice to you is wearing a shorter skirt to court in the morning. I bet you dream of doing that hot lawyer on the judge’s chair, don’t you?”

  “I’ve had a few sessions with that dream, but not with him,” Natasha admits.

  “I’d just like to say that I talk to him, I just haven’t asked him out. He should want to ask me, not the other way around,” Frankie says, and I can tell that she’s getting aggravated with the fact that he hasn’t yet.

  “Just because Simon was a schedule freak for sex, doesn’t mean I didn’t want it the other six days,” I say because it’s true. I want that adventure, the spontaneous sex when the urge strikes, not what I had with Simon. This makes me zone out on the rest of the conversation as our food arrives. Maybe I really did know it wouldn’t work. I’ve cried only once since we called it off. Hell, for that matter, I feel relieved about it. Does that make me a bad person? I honestly don’t know, but I hope he finds his Sunday-sex match in the future.

  As we continue with our chatter and eat off each other’s plates, the bakery is calling me. I know when Zara comes in tomorrow I’ll hear an earful, but I just can’t help it. Years ago we would fuss at Frankie for all the strange hours she worked. Her excuse was, when
art calls, you have to follow it. It doesn’t happen often, so take the opportunity when it strikes. In all reality, what I do is art. I do create fabulous pieces of decorative baked goods.

  With a quick goodbye, we all leave in our separate directions. The good thing about living and working in my direction is, no one will ask where I’m off to. This is my time and I can clear my head, think of the future, and let go of the past. Tonight I reclaim Morgan Lewis and remember what my dream was. I’m done living a life set out by rules that we put in place from others. From this day forward I choose to do what I want. Just so happens I want to bake.

  THE SHORT WALK BACK to the bakery is exactly what I needed. The crisp winter air is just enough to wake me up and get me motivated. I quickly enter and disarm the alarm and make sure I lock the door behind me. As I move to the kitchen and flip the light on, it’s as if the whole kitchen comes to life. Well, that’s how it makes me feel. No need for the apron, as I don’t care how dirty I get or what kind of mess I make. It’s my kitchen and I’ll do what I want. A flip of the old docking station that has my greatest eighties hits programmed in, and I find what I need.

  My hands situated on my hips, I go down the straight line of ingredients and supplies. Bowl, sugar, flour, eggs, milk, all ready to be whipped and tossed in a pan. I’ve chosen to stick with the simple yellow cake batter, since the topper will be the magic. As I beat it all together, my hand jerks, tossing the spoon toward the flour. It happens in slow motion as the bag falls over and a cloud of white powder goes up in the air. My arms are covered and the front of my clothes is caked. A burst of laughter escapes, as I replay it in my head. With a quick motion, I wipe away the hair that’s fallen down on my face and grab another spoon. On a mission, I do a final stir and scoop the batter into the cupcake pans. With the bowl in one arm, spoon in the other, I do a few turnabouts to the beat of the music and top off the rest of the empty slots.

  Just as I go to fill the last hole, the bakery phone rings, scaring me half to death. I drop the rest of the batter to the floor and scream as I stop and catch my breath. No one ever calls the shop when I’m here this late, and I don’t know if I should answer or ignore it. I turn and scream again as I notice someone standing at the door staring inside.

  With my heart in my ass, I speed toward the door and realize who it is. “Jesus Christ, you scared the crap out of me. What the hell are you doing?”

  “Sorry, I knocked and then called since you couldn’t hear me,” Jayden says while I continue to catch my bearings.

  “Jeez, I think I just lost a life and it’s all thanks to you.”

  “Sorry, what are you doing?”

  “I was working, but now I think I need open heart surgery to repair what you just did.”

  “You startle easy, don’t you?”

  “When I’m working this late and some strange person is peeking in through the windows, yes I do.”

  “What are you baking? Can I help?”

  “No, you can’t, and it’s a new idea I had, so I’m trying it out.”

  “I can sit to the side and taste them for you. You know we couldn’t let anything happen to the baker. I would feel awful if she died from a bad batch of treats.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you would. I guess you can come in, just for a little bit, though. I have work to do,” I say as I move out of his way and allow him to enter. I quickly peek outside and shut the door and flip the lock back into place.

  “Now, I have rules in my kitchen; you can sit on the stool and watch. No, instructing me or getting in my way.”

  With a salute, Jayden follows me back to the kitchen.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Seen you walk in, and I’ve been beating on the door forever. Gave up and finally called the shop. What the hell happened in here?” he asks as he surveys the flour everywhere.

  “Had a little accident, spoon vs. flour, and the flour won.”

  “That explains why it’s all over your face, in your hair, and down your front,” he says as I glance over and assess myself in the reflection of the huge refrigerator.

  I fluff out my bangs some, grab a towel, and wipe my face. “Better?” I ask. I turn and catch him licking the spoon that is caked with batter. “Rules! Hey bud, that was my spoon.”

  “You have more over there,” he says, pointing to the huge canister filled with odd wooden spoons. “So what are we baking?”

  “Again, we aren’t baking. I am, and you are watching. Now sit,” I say as I point at the stool and hear a mumble from his direction.

  I turn to place the cupcakes in the preheated oven and scrutinize the mess on the floor. What was left in the bowl from the thirty-two count pan was going to make another batch. Guess I’ll have to deal with what I have. Now it’s time for the part that I love, designing the topper. They need to be done first, so they have time to cure, then I can make the frosting.

  I search the shelves for what I need and smile when I finally find it. Hatcher put this rack up for me and forgot that I’m shorter than he is. Reached up on my tiptoes, I feel my foot slide out from underneath me. Foot vs. batter on the floor equals one Morgan going down like the Titanic. Lying prone, spread out like a backward snow angel, I hear, “Need some help?”

  “Yes, please,” I say as I raise a hand for him to help me up. I catch the smirk on his face once I’m right side up again.

  “You saw that coming didn’t you?”

  “I did, but you told me I couldn’t help and had to sit on my stool,” Jayden says with a hint of laughter.

  “That was to keep you out of my way, not when a disaster was about to happen.”

  “Might need to explain that better next time, and from the look of this place, they happen all the time.”

  “You know what? I’m withholding treats from you, mister. That will teach you.”

  “We will see about that.” He reaches above my head and grabs the clear plastic bowl that I need.

  “Thanks,” I say as I snatch it away and slip my way back to the enormous island in the middle of the kitchen. I drag over a blank sheet of paper and pull out a pen from the can next to me. I start to draw the snowflake design I want, doing three dissimilar ones so I can see which one I like better. The parchment paper is in a tube underneath the table, and I reach below to rip off a section big enough to spread over the drawing. With the leftover royal icing I had from the day, the tracing begins. I’m zoned in on each line I need to trace and start to bite the corner of my lip as I focus. Jayden has leaned in closer to watch what I’m doing; I can hear his breathing more than before. Satisfied with the first few, I step back and admire them. The icing only takes seven minutes to harden, but I slide them off and pull out another piece of parchment paper. Before I place it over the piece that I’ve drawn on, I take the marker and design a few more. This will allow me to make more at a time, and then dry before I put the final touches on them.

  “You have a very steady hand,” Jayden says so quietly that I’m not sure I heard him correctly.

  “Thanks, I guess … You know, you’re the first person to ever sit back here and watch me do this. It’s kind of freaky.”

  “Sorry, but I think you’re amazing, and I might be addicted to watching you do this,” he says, but I don’t respond.

  All I do is look up and back down to the task I was working on. Simon hated this part of my life, and the girls have all baked with me before, but they never study exactly what I’m doing. I can feel his intense eyes watching every motion my hand makes as it traces a perfect snowflake above the paper. After I have them all traced, I pause for a moment before I raise my head. The oven timer goes off, alerting me that I need to take them all out. I slide the pan off the hot racks and place it down gently on the cooling rack, then make my way back over to the table, careful to not slip on the floor.

  “What’s next?” Jayden asks softly and something I’ve never felt courses through my body.

  My face feels flushed and I’m scared to stare up at h
im. The only thing that has been going on in here is him watching me work, but the intensity of that has woken something up in my body. It’s a complete turn-on to think that someone other than myself finds this interesting.

  “These need to dry while I start work on one more set, and then I can dust them and put a final spray over them.”

  “Okay, let’s do this.”

  “Let’s?”

  “Can I try?” he asks as he holds out his hand to take the icing bag from my hands.

  “Sure, let me move these and get some new paper,” I say as I swap everything out and watch as he steadies his hand and does the next batch.

  “Not bad for your first time,”

  “Not bad? They look fabulous.”

  “Fine … They look fabulous, want a job?”

  “Thanks, but I’d rather come here and watch you do this.”

  “What do you do anyway? You already know what I do.”

  “Associate producer, which means, since I’m new, I get to run errands as I prove myself to the senior producer.”

  “Zara does that with Hatcher, but then he’s our accountant and my friend from college.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “Ready to see what’s next?”

  “Go for it, I somehow need to master this process,” he says, and it earns him the sweetest smile I can give him. Our eyes meet and hold a stare for a few moments before I break it off and reach for my dusting tools.

  I open the white pearl tube, grab a small paint brush, and dip the tip inside to gather some dust. With a quick blow of the excess, I tap the brush along the edges, sweeping in a backward motion. Careful not to add too much pressure or a hefty amount in one spot. Once I’ve completed them all, the next step is to do a light spray of edible luster spray. This will hold it all together as I place them on the cupcakes.

  “Now we mix up some pale blue icing, do a twirl on each, and top with one of these. After we have them all together, I might dust them with some of this and call it a night.”

  “Well, come on, little baker, I need to taste them.”

  I love how excited he is to watch, and how easy it is with him here. It’s refreshing and scary at the same time. Here I am, after midnight in my bakery with a guy I know nothing about. I let him in and even though it’s been nice, it scares me at the same time. A complete stranger has made me laugh more in one night than Simon has in the years we were together. What’s that say about my character, or the life I would’ve been living with him in just a few short weeks? This is what’s going through my mind as I put together the icing. The little boy features that showed when he told me to hurry only makes this taste testing that much better.