by Emma Hart
“Yes. To finish this cake.” I look at him pointedly.
He makes to move toward the door, but pauses. “Are you sure you don’t want a Valium?”
I keep my glare fixed firmly on him until he’s backed out of the kitchen and is out of my sight. Then, I let out another deep breath and turn to the cake. The flowers took forever for me to make and set, and although I’ve been in an almost permanent state of exhaustion for the past week, looking at them now…
Well, it’s worth it.
For the next twenty or so minutes, I work methodically and carefully to put the last of the flowers in place. Penelope Argyle was adamant that the cake be delivered as fresh as possible, and although I’d prefer to refrigerate it overnight, I have one major problem with that.
I don’t have a big enough fridge to do it.
That may have to be something I rectify…somehow…if this goes well.
I don’t know. Can I hire space? Is that a thing? Can you do that?
I put the last flower on the top of the cake, adjust one, and then fall back onto the stool. God…I’m totally tooting my own horn, but the cake looks amazing. And so it should. I’ve put my entire heart and whatever remained of my sanity into it.
Okay, so not a lot of sanity, but whatever.
“Are you done?” Billie pokes her head into the kitchen. “Can I come back into my kitchen now?”
“I’m done. And yes.” I turn my face toward her and smile. “Thank you for letting me take it over.”
“You’re welcome. But you’re making the pies this Thanksgiving. Oh, holy shit!” She gasps, going over to the cake.
“Don’t touch it!” I reach out and immediately pull my hands back. I touch my face and stare at it.
“I wasn’t going to touch it, you fool.” My sister stares at me for a moment. “I just wanted to get a closer look.”
“Oh. Right.” I slowly sit back down again. I’m not taking my eyes off her though. I know what she’s like.
Billie leans in to the cake the slightest bit. I can’t help but wince. If she catches it, she ignores me and circles around the cake, dipping her head this way and that. She also bobs it forward a few times.
One time a little too forward.
I squeak.
“Brooke,” she says quietly, moving away from it. “This is amazing. I can’t believe you actually did this.”
I’d be offended if I weren’t kind of thinking the same thing.
“Whoa,” Carly breathes from the doorway. “How did you, the queen of klutz, make something so precise and beautiful?”
“That’s the strangest mix of compliment and insult I’ve ever heard.” I tilt my head to the side. “But also, a really great question.”
Carly pats my shoulder. “Now you just have to get it to the party in one piece.”
We all freeze at that.
“Perhaps me being the one to carry it isn’t the best idea…” I hesitate. “I mean, I’ve come this far. It’s like I’m asking to drop it if I do it.”
Billie slowly nods. “Cain will have to do it.”
“Whoa,” he says, coming back in. “I’ll have to do what?”
“Carry the cake,” Carly answers. “Brooke’s done so well today and not klutzed at all, so there’s a two-hundred percent chance she’s going to destroy the cake in transit.”
Two hundred seems like a long shot.
I was going to say five hundred percent chance.
That’s definitely more up there.
“Seriously,” Billie agrees, moving away from the cake to the fridge. She pulls out bottles of water and hands them to us one by one. “I watched her since five a.m. She didn’t even drop so much as a spoon. Seriously. I’ve seen her drop a spoon eating her breakfast. Yet now? No. Not even a chocolate sprinkle is on my floor, you guys. This is not normal behavior for Brooke.”
“She’s a ticking time bomb,” Carly goes on. “She’s probably going to trip as soon as she stands up. She’s been so in control for so long.”
Well…Now I’m scared of myself.
“Thanks for your confidence.” I swallow hard.
Cain walks up behind me and rests his hand on my shoulder. “They do have a point.”
“I know that,” I answer. “And I am afraid to move the cake. I don’t want to do anything that might damage it.”
He sighs. “I’ll do it. It’s probably too heavy for you anyway, isn’t it?”
I look at the huge thing. “Yeah, there’s no way I can lift that.”
“Will the board hold up?” He leans forward and touches the solid, silver board it’s standing on.
“It’s wooden, so yes. Just…be careful.”
“You got it.” He meets my eyes and smiles. “And you…don’t move. At all. Just in case.”
Billie and Carly giggle into their hands.
I offer him a thumbs up. “Can somebody bring me a drink now?”
I can’t believe I did it.
And I can’t believe I’m holding a check for four hundred dollars that is all mine.
I have a strange sense of satisfaction. It’s comparable only to the moment you hit an orgasm after hovering on the edge for what is almost always too long.
I can’t believe I actually did it—and well. And right. And, well, perfect. But I did—and both Penelope and Annabelle were ecstatic with what I did.
“Can you believe I had to give her permission to give my number to people interested?” I tuck my feet beneath my butt on the sofa.
Cain sets two plates of pasta on the coffee table. “That’s pretty amazing. You should do some cards or something instead.”
“Four hundred dollars!” I squee, shoving the check in his face. “And it’s all mine!”
“You’re probably still going to need cards.”
“I don’t know what to do with it.” I should probably save it just in case, I know, but this is special. This is my first actual paycheck from doing something I actually love and want to do as opposed to something I don’t care about. “What should I do with it?”
Cain’s lips pull to one side as he settles in with his plate on his lap. “Buy some business cards. For the third time.”
Oops.
I pause. “You’re probably right. Are they expensive? What do I put on it?”
“Well,” he starts around a mouthful of pasta. He swallows. “You should probably put your name, number, and what you do.”
“Should I put a cutesy name on it?”
“For what?”
“A business. If I’m going to do it, I need to name it. Right?” Among other things. But for now…
He raises his eyebrows. “I’m impressed you thought of such a thing.”
I poke my tongue out at him and pick up my plate.
“What are you going to use? For a name?”
“Uh…” I stab some pasta with my fork and, as I eat it, think. What could I call it? Something cute, like I just said. Simple. Catchy. “What about Brooke’s Bites?”
Cain slowly chews. “I like that,” he says after a moment. “So now all we need to do is set you up an email address for it and put that on the cards. Maybe even a small logo.”
“Whoa,” I say quietly. “That’s a lot of things for a business card. I don’t know if I can use that amount of money to pay somebody to do that stuff for me.”
“Why would you need to pay somebody?”
“Because I can barely use Word Art in Microsoft Word.”
He laugh-coughs into his hand. “I can do it,” he says when he’s done choking himself on amusement. “I have a basic understanding of Photoshop. It’s not that hard.”
“Really? You’d do that?”
“You think I wouldn’t?”
“No, but I, well I, I don’t know,” I eventually settle on after stammering my way through the other words. “I didn’t know you could do that. Can you stop keeping secrets from me now?”
He laughs again, putting his now-finished dinner back on the coffee table. “Oka
y, fine. But it’s really not a big deal. Someone had to do it for Elliott and Sons, and I lost at Rock, Paper, Scissors, so I’m the one who had to learn Photoshop.”
“Seems reasonable,” I say, putting my half-eaten plate down on the table next to his. “But I have no idea what to do, and I don’t own Photoshop.”
“Leave it with me.” He smiles and holds one arm out.
I scoot across the sofa and curl into his side.
He wraps his arm around me and rests his cheek on top of my head. “I’m proud of you, you know.”
“You are?” I tilt my head back, dislodging his. “Why?”
“You did it.” His smile is warm and tugs at my heart. “Honestly, for a time, I didn’t know if you would, you were so stressed over it, but you did. You found something you love doing and something you want to do.”
I shrug. “I never considered baking. Is that crazy? I mean, I do love it, but I always did it for fun. I can’t believe I could be doing this for real.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off by the ringing of my phone. It’s barely seven p.m., so it has to be either my mom or Carly.
It’s neither. I don’t know the number on the screen.
“Answer it,” Cain urges me. “You don’t know after you spoke to Penelope.”
“That’s dumb. The party started an hour ago. There’s no way someone would be calling me already.”
“Answer it before it cuts out!”
“Ack!” In my haste, I almost drop my phone, but I manage to keep hold of it and swipe the green call button to the left. “Hello?”
“Is this Brooke Barker?” An unfamiliar voice asks down the line.
I glance at Cain, but he waves at me to carry on. “Yes, ma’am. Can I help you?”
“You sure can, honey! My son is at Annabelle Argyle’s sweet sixteen party tonight and I couldn’t help but notice the gorgeous cake. Penelope gave me your number. My daughter is getting married in six months and is struggling to find anyone in the area who can do her the cake she’s fallen in love with.” She pauses. “Would you be free to meet with her this week to discuss it?”
I widen my eyes and look at Cain. Sweet sixteen to a wedding is a big jump. Big, big jump.
“Of course,” I answer after a moment. “I’m free on Thursday, or any evening after six, Mrs…”
“Oh!” She laughs. “Forgive me. I completely forgot to introduce myself. Loretta Henderson. Let me call my daughter and—oh, do you mind if I share with her your number? It may be easier.”
“Of course, Mrs. Henderson. That’s not a problem. I’ll wait for her call.”
“Excellent. Thank you so much, honey!”
“You’re welcome. I look forward to hearing from her.”
We say goodbye and hang up.
I slowly reach out and put my phone on the coffee table. I’m avoiding meeting Cain’s eyes ‘cause, well. He was right, wasn’t he?
“Well?” he asks.
I can hear his damn smile.
“Wrong number,” I answer nonchalantly.
“B!” He laughs and pulls me over on top of him. “I heard the whole conversation. Loretta Henderson isn’t known for being quiet at all.”
“You know who she is?” I lean back. “Her daughter is—wait, you heard that too, huh?”
He nods, grinning. “Although I must have heard it wrong, because it’s far too soon for anyone to be calling you about a cake.”
“Shut up.” I swat him on the chest. “Is this a good thing?”
“Someone wants to pay you to bake cakes and you’re asking me that question?”
“No, I mean, like…” I trail my fingertips down his body and over the ridges of his stomach. “Is she…will she help me?”
“You mean does she have friends who’ll pay hundreds of dollars for cake and share you around like a hooker at a frat party?”
“Yes. That. Exactly that. Wait. No. Don’t answer that. That’s shallow.”
He presses his thumb to my lips. “Yes, she does have those friends. Lots of, actually. We did her extension five months ago and we got a huge uptick in work, some we’re still attempting to schedule. Loretta Henderson is influential and uses that for all the right reasons.”
“So…”
“Don’t get carried away. There’s a long time between now and then. You know as well as I do that building a business doesn’t happen overnight. I know that somewhere inside your pretty little head you might be entertaining thoughts of leaving Jet, but you may still be there next year.”
I thin my lips into a flat line. “Way to keep me humble, Cain.”
“You’re the dreamer and I’m the realist. We balance out.” He grins, linking his fingers at the base of my back.
I flatten my hands against his stomach and lean forward. I have butterflies in my own, and a crazy little bit of adrenaline pumps through my veins, lending me the courage I need to say my next words. Especially since my mom walked in a few weeks ago and we haven’t actually…had sex.
“Yeah, well,” I say, my voice a little on the shaky side. “I might be dreaming about you naked.”
“Really.” His voice drops several decibels, and the look in his eyes changes from playful to hot. “That right?”
“Maybe. And since you’re a realist…”
He needs no other invitation. He shoves me to the side onto the sofa and stands. Then, when I’m about to ask him what he’s actually doing, he bends forward, grabs me, and throws me over his shoulder.
I scream as he carries me through my apartment and toward my bedroom. My butt bumps against my bedroom door as he pushes it open, and I frown as I throw my arm out to stop it closing on me when he carries me through it.
“Can you try not to kill me in the process?” I ask, wriggling on his shoulder. “I should not be able to fit on your shoulder, Cain! Put me down!”
“If you wish.” He throws me—literally throws me—onto my bed.
I bounce.
“Motherfucker!” I shout as my head bounces off the headboard. My elbow knocks it too, but the real kicker is when my foot flies into my nightstand and knocks off an almost-full glass of water.
“Shit!” Cain somehow manages to catch it before it goes over and throws water everywhere. It splashes over his hand, but otherwise, the water stays contained to the glass. “That was close.”
“That was you!” I scramble up so I’m leaning back on my hands and stare at him sharply. “You can’t throw me around. I don’t need your help to cause destruction.”
He looks at me for a moment before he laughs and comes closer to me. He grabs my ankles and pulls me down the bed toward him with the sound of another little shriek from me.
“Stop that.”
Cain’s grin is playful, and he leans right over me, putting his hands flat on the bed either side of my head. “I can’t stop. I haven’t gotten started yet.”
I raise my eyebrows, linking my hands behind his neck. “Really?”
“Really,” he murmurs, lowering his face to mine.
He kisses me, and…
Well.
I really don’t care when I kick the glass off the nightstand for the second time…
EPILOGUE
LIFE TIP #23: Surprises will do one of three things: scare you, thrill you, or make you sob like you’re watching a commercial with puppies while on your period.
FOUR & A HALF MONTHS LATER
“Close your eyes.”
“I don’t want to close my eyes.” I pout and meet Cain’s gaze. “Why do I have to close my eyes?”
“Gee, Hot Mess,” he replies dryly. “I don’t know. Maybe because it’s your birthday and I have a surprise for you?”
I pout harder. “I hate surprises. You know I hate surprises.”
“I’ll drive you there in your new car just so you can drive it back.”
Okay, hmm. Tempting.
Loretta Henderson wasn’t the only person to call me after Annabelle’s party. Apparently, people will p
ay for cakes for everything from a family-only first birthday to a full-of-screaming-kids tenth party to a blow out one hundredth celebration. Not to mention funerals, bachelorette parties, and family reunions.
Long story short, if I haven’t been cementing bridges with my mom, who is over the moon happy I finally found something I love, hanging out with Carly, or working on my relationship with Cain, I’ve been baking.
Actually, the baking has come first. Good thing too. I’ve made enough money to have to register as a real, legit business—Brooke’s Bites, LLC, if you freaking well please! —and perhaps my absolute favorite…buy my first car.
That’s right. I’m now officially twenty-five, and my birthday present to myself three days ago was collecting my new car from the dealership.
“There’s a problem with that,” I finally reply to Cain. “I don’t know if I want you driving my car.”
“Okay, I gave you enough lessons in my car for you to retake your test and get your license back. Don’t give me that shit.” He taps me on the nose and holds up a black, cotton scarf.
“I hope that scarf is to blindfold me for kinky sex and not this surprise. Oh, wait. Is the kinky sex the surprise? I can deal with that.”
“Brooke.”
“I’m going to take the use of my name as a no.”
“Come on,” he says, now pleading with me in earnest. “I promise we aren’t going far. You’re going to have to wear it for ten minutes at most.”
“This is bullshit and I don’t like it,” I warn him. “And you should know that for your birthday, I’m going to blindfold you and cuff you to your bed and then leave you there while I watch the Kardashians and eat your favorite chips without you.”
“Big words from a girl who still sometimes kicks the lamp on the nightstand when we have sex.”
“Carry on. Go on. Next time, I’ll hit you with it in those couple of minutes where I’ve already come but you haven’t.”
“Truce,” he calls quickly. “Please let me blindfold you?”
“Fine. But you do it for real later.” I huff and turn my back to him.
“Can I eat your favorite chips and watch TV?”
“Only if you want me to take a drill to your cock.”
