by Magan Vernon
I grinned. “Okay.”
***
We pulled into a small brick storefront only about two miles from the school. It was a typical hipster-like area with moms pushing strollers or men in suspenders drinking iced coffee.
Parking along the curb, we got out and took the short walk past a resale shop and insurance agent’s office to the bakery.
Opening the door for Rachel, I followed her into the dimly lit room covered in shiplap walls, cement floors, and people sitting on different pallet tables, drinking mismatched mugs of different dark liquids.
I followed Rachel to the counter made of solid granite with a large glass case in the middle, displaying an array of different pastries that didn’t look half bad even with names like “keto avocado brownies.”
The man behind the counter raised one of his heavily pierced eyebrows. “What can I get for y’all.”
“Um, I had emailed Pam earlier about a meeting?” Rachel questioned.
The man nodded, his entire body seeming to jingle with every move. “Oh, yeah, are you two the couple looking for the vegan wedding cake?”
Rachel’s eyes widened, and I swore her face was redder than the man’s beard. “Oh, no. That’s not us at all.”
“But, hey, if you’re offering wedding cake, we’ll take some,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulder, her body tensing beneath my touch.
I looked down at her wide eyes and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “What? I’ve never had wedding cake, so if he’s offering, I’m not going to turn it down.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never had wedding cake.”
I frowned, shaking my head. “No. Ally and I got married in Vegas, and I wasn’t invited to a lot of weddings. Actually, any weddings. So, no cake.”
“Oh, dude, that’s super sad,” the guy behind the counter hummed.
I shrugged as if it were no big deal. But there went the all too familiar pain in my gut, realizing just how different my life had been anything but normal.
I cleared my throat and focused on the chalkboard menu instead of what I hoped wasn’t pity in piercing boy or Rachel’s eyes.
“Why don’t you add some cake along with two vegan overnight Thai iced coffees and an assortment of the raw donuts,” I said quickly wondering exactly what the term “raw” meant.
“Sure, man, anything else?” the piercing guy asked.
“Sorry, Rach, did you want something different?” I asked but didn’t look down at her, still afraid of what would be behind those hazel eyes of hers.
“No, that sounds great. We’ll just take a seat and wait for Pam then,” she said brightly.
I handed the guy my credit card and paid before we headed to a small booth in the corner near a window overlooking the street.
“Okay, should we go over some safe topics, so you don’t freak out?” Rachel asked, bumping her knee against mine.
I frowned, trying not to stiffen under her scrutiny. “What?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, brooding actor in the spectacles.”
I swallowed hard as I turned toward her. “Are you saying I’m difficult?”
“Sometimes,” she replied with a smile that barely reached the corners of her mouth as if she were ready to frown or cringe at my response.
I leaned forward, pushing a fallen strand of hair behind her ear before letting my fingers graze along the curve of her cheek.
She sucked in a breath, her eyes blinking slowly.
God, how I wanted to devour her.
I wanted her in that moment more than I’d ever wanted a drink or any role.
As my palm twitched, aching to touch her, I stopped myself.
“How about we just leave the personal talk for when we aren’t about to eat raw donuts and drink Thai coffee?”
Before she could respond, a high-pitched voice interrupted us, setting some neon-yellow plates filled with brightly colored donuts in front of us. Then followed by some bronze cups with light brown foam.
“Thai coffees and raw donut assortment?” the short woman in a tie-dye dress asked. Even though she’d already set the food down.
“That’s us,” Rachel said, scooting one of the mugs toward her.
As soon as the girl was out of earshot, Rachel leaned down over the mug, sticking her nose right against the rim.
“Well, it doesn’t smell too bad, and it’s not chunky, so…”
She slowly lifted the mug to her lips, closing her eyes as if she were in pain before taking a sip.
“Mmm. Oh, wow.” She licked her lips then set the cup down. “It tastes like a chai latte.”
“Are you just saying that so I’ll drink it and make embarrassing gagging noises when this Pam lady shows up?”
She put her hand to her chest and fluttered her lashes. “Me? Never!”
I held the mug, covering my smile. “If I do, you owe me a real latte after this. Or something even sweeter,” I whispered, watching her cheeks flush, unable to resist a little flirting.
“How does that special fresh cream feel in your mouth?” a deep voice bellowed behind me.
Any liquid that would have been in my mouth would have come sputtering out as I whipped around. I stared at the smiling man in a Hawaiian shirt with his eyebrows raised practically to his curly black mop of hair.
“Excuse me?” I asked, but it came out like a reprimand.
The man just smiled and sat down across from us, setting two plates of fancy-looking pink cake on the table.
“The cream in your latte. I made it this morning. It’s like a silky, orgasmic ride on your tongue,” he said, holding his hands up and clicking his teeth.
“Um…Pam?” Rachel asked, shifting in her seat.
He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Pam, the owner of this swanky little joint.”
He put a hand out. “And are you two the couple getting married in the yurt near the Trinity, or the bake sale people?”
“Bake sale,” Rachel squeaked as we took turns shaking the man’s hand.
“Ah, so you’re the photographer. Loved those covers on your website,” Pam said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
I cleared my throat, forcing his eyes to me. “So, Pam, as Rachel told you in the emails, I’m sure, we’re here to talk about our daughters’ school’s bake sale.”
He nodded; his eyes focused on Rachel. “We can talk about that after you try some of my cake.”
Pushing forward the little plates, I glanced at the mounds of frosting, wondering just exactly what would be in a vegan wedding cake. Specially to give it that bright pink color.
Rachel glanced at me, her shoulders slack as if the thing might come out and bite her.
“I’ve never actually tried wedding cake, so I’ll go first,” I said, taking one for the team and grabbing my fork, stabbing into a big hunk of frosting caked sponge.
Swallowing hard before I picked up the piece, I mentally prepared myself for something that wouldn’t taste edible and not to puke in front of the man who made it.
I popped the morsel on my tongue, trying not to breathe in and taste something that would make me puke.
Instead, I was rewarded with a burst of flavor. Berries mixed with cream, all in a melt-in-your-mouth little frosting packet.
In a word, it was damn delicious.
“What’s in this? Crack?” I asked, forking another bite.
“It’s that good?” Rachel asked, raising her eyebrow.
“Go on try it,” I prodded, handing her a fork.
She took the utensil, then cut the smallest piece imaginable before slowly sliding it into her mouth.
Licking her lips, a little moan escaped her mouth that had my dick jumping to attention. Highly inappropriate for being in the middle of a café and for having a guy named Pam staring at us with a big goofy grin on his face.
“Good, isn’t it?” he asked.
“You’re right. This is amazing. Anything better than we could ha
ve made. Are you sure this is vegan?” Rachel took another bite, popping it into her mouth, followed by another little moan that had my entire body now vibrating with attention.
“As sure as I am that my name’s Pam,” he replied with a laugh.
Rachel and I both stopped with our forks mid-air, looking at the way-too-smiley man.
He nodded, putting his hands on the table that I noticed were tattooed with the words “Viva la Avocado” in old English font. “Peter Allen Michael sounds kinda stuffy, so just always gone by Pam. Though it can be confusing and does throw people off when they first meet a guy named Pam.”
“No judgment here. My daughter’s named Juniper. Which my ex-wife picked because she liked a latte,” I muttered before grabbing one of the donuts off the plates. I didn’t want to know what was in the chewy little delight that burst in a kaleidoscope of chocolate and fruity flavors in my mouth, for fear I’d probably spit it out.
Pam’s eyes bounced between Rachel and me. “You two aren’t married? Does that mean you’re single or thinking about adding a vegan wedding cake after the bake sale?”
Rachel coughed, banging her fist on her chest as she cleared her throat.
Didn’t think it was that much of a farce that the guy would think we were together, but obviously, I was wrong.
She shook her head. “No. We work together on the bake sale.”
“And we’re dating. If you were thinking your next question was going to be about offering her a vegan overnight coffee or whatever,” I said quickly, sitting up a little straighter, letting the guy know that there wasn’t a chance.
We might not have technically still been together, but I wasn’t about to let Pam know that. Or let Rachel go, for that matter.
He just laughed, shaking his head. “I like you two. Sure, you’re not the couple getting married? Because I do know a wicked yurt rental.”
I glanced at Rachel; whose cheeks had to be about fifty shades of red. She cleared her throat again before taking a sip of her drink. “Um, as nice as that sounds, I did want to get to the bake sale details and get this over with before we talk about any yurts.”
Pam’s face fell, but he still nodded. “Okay. Fair enough.”
He took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket that had some sort of weird brown stains on it that I prayed was coffee.
Unwrapping the sheet, he spread it across the table, a bunch of different scribbles written over what looked like an email correspondence. One that I recognized had Rachel’s logo on the bottom of it.
“Okay, so what we discussed was us coming in and setting up a table at the school for a week in the morning at school drop off then again at pick up. One employee and one to two parent volunteers for two-hour shifts each time. The school gets 40 percent of profits from each sale, plus what the volunteers would have been paid if they were employees. Correct?” he asked, the smile now gone and replaced with a flat line, his eyes taking on a darker shade.
Did Rachel really negotiate all of that? No baking? Actual decent food? And coffee? Without us having to come anything out of pocket?
That sounded like a freaking dream, and even more pride swelled within me. So much so that I put my hand under the table, giving her knee a light squeeze, which caused her face to get even redder than I thought possible.
“Yes, if you agree to those terms. You can also put out any advertising for your café, and we guarantee you’ll have repeat customers.”
The smile returned to his face as he laughed. “Well, I’m thinking hipsters and private school moms are definitely my lead clientele who would pay six dollars for coffee.”
“Hey, it is pretty good coffee,” Rachel said, holding up her cup.
“You’re a pretty good negotiator, Rachel Rise, and your partner here ain’t so bad either.” Pam shot a wink in my direction, whatever that meant.
Rachel cleared her throat again, pulling out a few different pieces of paper from her bag.
Spreadsheets, charts, and even contracts.
How the hell had she managed to do all of that in between her full-time job and raising her daughter?
She was fucking Wonder Woman.
“Just a few more details to go over and then I’m sure you want to get back to work and your cake tasting couple, so I won’t keep you,” she said, pointing to a few numbers on one of the sheets.
“No problem at all,” Pam replied with a grin.
The two talked numbers for a while as I sipped my coffee, that was actually just as good as Rachel said, and chimed in when needed.
But in that moment, I saw Rachel as something so much more.
Not a mom or the sexy woman I loved having in my bed.
But she was also a very damn savvy businesswoman, taking pride in everything she did.
She was the total package, and I’d be crazy to let her get away again.
I just had no fucking idea how to keep her around with all of the other secrets that now had come to light.
Would there be a future for us? What if I refused the L.A. offer and didn’t see Cheyenne and just stayed here with Rachel and Juniper?
Swallowing hard, I glanced at Rachel again. This woman had me more twisted than I’d been in years, yet I knew she was also probably the best thing for me.
Now I just had to hope that me and all of my baggage didn’t fuck it up.
Again.
Chapter 9
Walking out of the little café with Rachel, I knew we both had to get back to work. But there was a new pang aching in my chest. One that could have been partially from the guilt that I hadn’t told her about Trish’s demand and the other, because honestly, I didn’t want our short time together to be up that day.
“So, where are you heading after this?” I asked as we walked in step toward my car.
“Just finishing up some designs, hopefully, then getting together a menu for approval from the PTA moms for the bake sale. You?”
I knew she was just asking to be friendly and make small talk, but there was something about her words that had me racking my brain.
My free hand swung between us. I wanted to just grab her hand, take it in mine, and intertwine our fingers. Letting her know that there was so much more that I wanted. Instead, I just voiced them. What was really going through my head.
“Have your laptop with you?”
“Um…always?” she said, holding up her large messenger bag.
“Can you work at my house? Wouldn’t mind some company while I go over numbers.”
“So, we just sit in silence on our own devices but still be in the same room?”
I blinked then found a grin spreading across my face. “Well, not complete silence. I’m not an animal, and I’ll at least have the TV on or stream music.”
She stopped walking, chewing on her bottom lip as she slowly spun toward me. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, Len. Whatever is going on between us.”
I took a step closer, watching her mouth quiver as she let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what’s going on between us either, Rach. But I know that I want to spend time with you to try to figure this out. If nothing else, we can go over bake sale numbers, and if I do anything you don’t like, you can leave. Any time.”
My heart beat faster with each new word, and I silently prayed that I was making the right decision.
Shrugging, she looked at the ground instead of up to me. “I guess we can try. But this better not be some sort of booty call or you thinking we’ll be in bed and then you leave again.”
I winced, her words hitting me in the gut. “I’m really sorry about that. I promise it won’t happen again.”
She smirked, nodding as she stood straighter. “Good. Because I wasn’t expecting it to be a booty call day so I’m wearing underwear that have space cats on them.”
The grin spread wider on my face. “Space cats?”
She looked up finally, that smirk turning into a beautiful smile. “Yeah, you know, cats in space with little fish bowls on thei
r head as they try and catch stars in the far-off galaxies.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. “I have to say; I’ve never heard or seen anything like that.”
Closing the distance between us, I leaned closer, putting my lips to her ear. “But I want to.”
***
Barely able to catch my breath after coming down from an incredible high, I looked down at Rachel with her hair splayed across my chest, her breathing matching the rhythm of my heart.
“Space cat panties were worth the wait. That’s something one has to see in person.”
She laughed, her whole body vibrating against mine, my dick coming to life again, already primed for round two.
“I really thought you maybe just wanted to work,” she said, tracing her fingernail along the lines of my stomach.
“Workout maybe.”
She swatted my chest then looked up, her face flushed, lips puffy from our heavy make-out session before I buried myself deep inside of her.
She was fucking beautiful.
“This probably isn’t the time to ask this, but since you can’t exactly move, I’d better get it out there…”
Her words trailed and my body stiffened beneath her, knowing exactly what she was going to bring up. “Yes?”
“So, what happens now? As nice as this is, we both have kids that know each other, and we can’t just be friends with benefits. I mean, we can, if that’s where we both want to go. But…I need to know that this is something. That you aren’t going to just run and flake out.”
She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, her gaze trailing to the ink scrawled on my chest.
Putting my fingers under her chin, I lifted her slowly, so our eyes met again. “I don’t want this just to be friends with benefits if that’s what you’re asking. I want this to be real. If you need me to write you a note that asks you to circle yes or no to be my girlfriend and have Amy give it to you, I can do that.”
She laughed, her whole body shaking against me. “Is that how adults ask each other out now?”
“I’m assuming you have some sort of long-awaited fantasy about the teen heartthrob finally asking you out. But I assume in your teen mind you didn’t expect him to rip off your space cat panties before that happened.”
