by Hughes, Maya
Protect my heart. Figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. And not get any crazy ideas during this weekend with Berk, especially while in a vulnerable place. Actually, I should just cancel. It was better to cancel on him than endure whatever my mom and sister had in store for me this weekend.
Berk may not see me as an option, but I didn’t want him to see my mother and sister turn me into a victim, and they had a nasty habit of turning me into their whipping post whenever we got together.
Hence me avoiding that as much as possible.
What the hell had come over me, allowing Berk to come?
I spun on my heel to walk across the street. I’d rather Berk not witness the impending emotional blood bath. I’d hidden from my mom and Laura for nearly six months—other than that drive-by invite. The pent up shitty-things-to-say-to-Jules dam had to be overflowing. Halfway across the street, my phone buzzed. I whipped it out and answered it immediately, primed for Avery’s call.
But that wasn’t until tomorrow.
“Julia.”
Mom’s voice was like a full glass of ice water to my face.
“Yes, Mom.”
“I’m double-checking on everything for tomorrow. I’ll be meeting everyone at Kelland, but I wanted you to know that even with your late rsvp we’ve got a room big enough for you and your friend. Laura mentioned it in passing, but I wanted to double-check that you’re actually bringing a guest.” She said the word like it was something made up that most likely didn’t exist.
“Absolutely, Mom.”
“A friend, of course.”
What would be so outlandish about someone wanting to date me? My blood pressure soared as my pride screamed. “No. He’s my date. I have a date.” The words came out and were met with a thunderous silence I felt the need to fill. “Laura was one hundred percent correct. Berk’s my date. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”
Ha! For once I’d stood up to her judgy misconception, her baiting of me. I wasn’t a loser, I had a date! I’d locked in Berk’s presence to the party and… Oh god, I’d said the words ‘we’ve been dating!’
I resisted the urge to scream into the phone. My heart thudded in my chest and I scrambled to figure out a way to backpedal, take the lies back. It was like I’d had an out of body experience and started spewing all that stuff to save face.
“It took quite a bit of arranging and rearranging, so I do hope he’ll be there.”
I stared up at Berk’s window and my shoulders sank. Backing out now would bring on even more of a shitstorm with my mom, especially if her plans were thrown out of whack.
“Yes, of course we’ll be there. Berk is so excited to finally meet my family.” What are you saying?! Shut up! “He wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good.”
“I wanted to ask you about the Peter Rabbit books.” The ones I kept asking about and never got a response to. Dad had drawn little doodles in the corner of some of the pages of the books we’d read together. They were an irreplaceable part of my childhood and memories of him.
Dead silence on her end.
“It would mean a lot to me.”
“Now is not the time. I’m not going to search through those old boxes now, Julia. We’re focusing on Laura at the moment. I can’t believe how selfish you are. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
End of call. My heart gave three thumps of sadness over the books before horror of my embellishments with Berk came rushing back in.
Oh my god. What the hell did I do now? I dragged my fingers through my hair.
Well, shit. I stood in the middle of the road until a set of headlights rolled over me. Canceling now wasn’t an option. I could just hear her digs all weekend at how sad it was that I was there alone after making such a big deal about ‘making room’ for Berk. I couldn’t take that on top of the whole Chet situation. Now was not the time to hyperventilate.
I shuffled off the street, closed myself up in my house and made a beeline straight to the kitchen. I flipped through my recipe cards, triple-checked my ingredients. It was going to be a long night ahead.
And in two days, I’d be driven an hour outside the city to a place with no wifi and sharing a room with Berk for two nights. I hefted the ten-pound bag of sugar from my emergency stash. Brown sugar, eggs, and enough flour to feed half the campus. Sugar rush, here I come! I’d need all the help I could get to survive this coming weekend.
5
Jules
I sat in the pastel blue metal chair in the office crowded with baking trays, recipe cards, and bakery boxes. My leg bounced up and down. An employee had led me to the back office and said Avery would be here at any moment. I looked around the room. There were articles framed and hung up on the walls. A picture of Avery with a big guy who had to be her husband sat on her desk. She was in a beautiful and simple white dress and he was in a summer suit and tie.
The place smelled incredible, like my kitchen times ten—minus the lingering mildew smell I hadn’t gotten out after hours of deep cleaning.
I’d walked by all the displays. Donuts, croissants, cupcakes, and a few cookies on trays in the back.
The office door flew open. “So sorry I’m late. I’m—”
“Avery Cunning, I know.” I jumped up and shook her outstretched hand with way too much force.
She was jerked forward and braced her hand on her desk.
I cringed and let go, sitting back in the chair, balancing the folder with my resume on my lap. Her hair was up on top of her head and she slipped the well-loved apron off her neck and sat it down on the desk in front of her. She had on jeans and t-shirt. Simple and down to earth. I felt a little overdressed in my pants and button-down top.
“And you’re Elle’s friend with the killer skills.”
My cheeks flushed and I tried to keep my breathing under control. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would.” She smiled.
“Nothing like yours. The cakes you make are amazing. The donuts too.”
“I learned from a great teacher. How did you start baking?” She leaned forward, intently focused.
The flames in my cheeks could keep her oven going for days. “My dad loved to bake. He had a big sweet tooth and he was always experimenting, so we spent a lot of time in the kitchen. And I was an annoying little kid, so I wanted to help and he taught me.”
She smiled and it made her eyes sparkle. “Does he still bake? What does he think of what you’re doing?”
I pushed through the lump in my throat. “He died when I was nine.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. My mom passed away when I was eight. We used to bake together too.” A small, sad smile that probably mirrored my own curved her lips. “I can see where the passion comes from.”
“It’s a connection.”
She nodded. “Absolutely, and the joy on other people’s faces when they eat what we make…”
“It’s like getting a little piece of them back.”
“I knew I’d like you, Jules. No one who bakes like you do could be an asshole. I’ll lay it all out for you.”
I scooted my chair forward, the legs scraping against the polished concrete floor.
“I’m a little short staffed with some of the projects I have coming up. And I’m also hesitant about bringing in new people because of stuff with my husband.”
Oh no, was he a total creeper or something? “What stuff with your husband?”
“Emmett Cunning.”
I hope my blank stare wasn’t taken as a bad thing.
“And if I didn’t think I could like you more, I just did. He’s an athlete.”
“That makes sense. I’ve seen a few pictures and he definitely looks like he works out.”
She chuckled. “Understatement. Being the wife of an athlete comes with some extra spotlight time and crazies, so I’ve had to be careful with who I bring into the business.”
The office door banged open and a woman with ripped jeans who looked like she belonge
d in an Abercrombie biker gang ad waltzed in. Her rainbow-colored hair was tugged up on top of her head in an I-don’t-give-a-shit bun.
“Is she one of the crazies?” I stage-whispered to Avery.
Avery’s chuckle turned into a full blown laugh. “Absolutely.”
“Did you tell her you want her to be your new intern because you’re knocked up with your giant hockey player hubby’s baby?”
“Max!” Avery shouted, throwing a stack of cupcake wrappers at her head.
“What? I knew you’d be tiptoeing around the whole situation.”
Max pulled up a chair, spun it around on one leg, and sat on it backward. A total cool chick move. If she didn’t have a leather jacket tucked away somewhere, I’d eat my hat. Not that I owned one, but I’d go out and buy one and eat it—tag and all. Beautiful tattoos wound their way up one arm from her wrist to her shoulder. She definitely didn’t have a problem wearing her arms out in public.
Avery sighed. “I never should’ve had them put in that door connecting your shop to mine.”
“Nope, but you like to tempt my custom cake clients with your little treats, so it’s a win-win for you.” Max grinned and turned her gaze to me. “I’m Max. I work next door doing custom cakes. But Avery’s got better coffee and I love screwing with her.” Her smile was annoying-best-friend levels of hilarious. “Ah, you’re the girl she’s trying to rope into her little ‘taking a break’ experiment.”
“I—I think so.”
Avery shook her head and sat down behind her desk. “As Max so delicately put it, I’m pregnant and being on my feet and baking is going to be hard enough, so we’d like to branch out a little and possibly do some work that doesn’t require me to wake up at four AM and be in the shop for twelve hours straight. That’s where you’d come in.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come in and learn the ropes. Help in the front of the shop during the day—around your class schedule, of course. I’d also love to show you some of my recipes, and you can help prepare orders for our bigger events. I have some full time people and they’re great, but I’m looking for someone with your kind of talent.”
Max reached over and pushed her fingers against my chin, closing my gaping mouth.
“Seems like she’s in. Are you in, Jules?” She lifted an eyebrow.
My words came out in a sputter. “Sure, I’ll be here for as long as you like. I can be here at 4AM if you need me to be.”
“I don’t need a morning person, but send me the times you’re available and we can figure out a schedule that works for all of us.”
* * *
An hour later I’d had a tour of the bakery and still couldn’t get over the fact that I was here. I’d started the mental catalog of what I needed to look up when I got home. I wanted this engagement party weekend over, so I could start already.
“These are killer. Avery’s still testing them out to add to the menu.” Max handed me a mini lemon blueberry cupcake.
“After the long weekend, I’ll be here whenever you need me.” The bright citrus flavor complemented the vanilla cake so well. It was only one bite, but damn, I wanted more. Like, that whole damn tray of them. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how I’d ended up with the name Gigantic Jules back in middle school.
“Partying it up before school starts?” Avery pushed the big baking trays out of the way.
“I wish. It’s my sister’s engagement party.”
“That’s not a happy face.” Avery rested her elbows on the butcher’s block counter.
“Understatement of the month. She looked like she said she’d be putting her hand in the garbage disposal.”
Was I that transparent? Shit, I’ve lost my touch. I’d have to work on getting my game face back for this weekend.
“Nothing wrong. There’s a lot to get done before the semester starts, and my mother can be…demanding.”
“I.e., a total bitch. We hear you loud and clear, Jules. Don’t worry, we’re not prima donnas here. Other than Preggo My Eggo over here when she’s pushing herself too hard.” Max licked the icing off her fingers.
Avery whipped a towel at Max’s head, which she ducked like she had spider sense.
“As you can tell, I could use some non-smart ass company around here, and I’d love you to bring in some of your own recipes, if you’re up for it. We can call them Jules’ Specials.”
“Yes, absolutely, I can do that.” Or I’d kill myself trying. Having something I made showcased at Bread & Butter was insane.
“Yeah, don’t screw this up, Jules,” Max said through her mouthful of even more cupcakes. And I officially hated her a little bit. She was chowing down on mini cupcakes like they were cucumbers and could rock the skinny chick, ‘I can walk into any store and buy off the rack’ look, while I’d be on the pole for an hour tonight to make sure that mini cupcake didn’t go straight to my already gigantic ass.
I mean, to my well-rounded and strong ass. There, are you happy Dr. Schuller?
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Max.”
Max turned, her face completely serious. “We’ve got all the confidence in you. If I didn’t think you could do it, I’d have run you out of Avery’s office in five minutes flat. You’ve got this.”
A compliment from Max was something I didn’t think happened too often. In the short amount of time since I’d met her, that comment meant the world to me.
“I won’t let you down. Either of you.” I looked at both Avery and Max.
They gave me reassuring smiles and sent me home with a bag piled high with donuts, cupcakes, and croissants. I was still in shock in the taxi on the way back to campus.
As I grabbed my phone to text Elle, it vibrated in my hand.
BERK: When can I taste your frosting again?
I tried not to blush and failed hard. For some reason writing all the things I’d written him in letters was fine, but by text, real live text where he knew who I was, that was a hell no. He was a flirt. I don’t even know if he knew he was doing it.
ME: On my way home now. And I have extra treats.
BERK: Eagerly awaiting your arrival.
The taxi pulled up and my door opened before I could gather up all the boxes on the seat beside me. I yelped.
Berk shoved his head into the back of the taxi. “You said extra treats? I’m starving.” He had a twizzler dangling out of the side of his mouth.
“How can you be starving? You’re actively chewing.” I nudged him out of the way with my feet.
“This was just so I didn’t start gnawing on the planks of your porch. Let me take those.” He plucked the boxes out of my hands and nudged at the half-open lid.
I smacked my hand down over it. “Do not pilfer the goods. They’re not all for you.”
An offended gasp shot from his mouth. “Who else have you been giving away your treats to?”
A deeper level-five blush set into my cheeks. We climbed the steps. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I called over my shoulder as I opened the door.
“I sure as hell would. The only reason I’m looking forward to study sessions this semester is because you always baked for them.” He slid the boxes onto the kitchen table.
My head shot up. “I didn’t know we had classes together this semester.”
“Ethics, remember? A late switch for me into Buchanan’s class.”
“You willingly switched into his class? I only took it because I needed one last ethics class and his was the only one that fit into my schedule.” I grabbed a couple plates from the dish rack.
“Same.” He brushed sprinkles off the side of his mouth.
“Berk!”
“What?” His big-eyed innocent look did nothing to remove the splotch of chocolate on the side of his mouth.
I grabbed a napkin and wiped at the spot. “Next time, be better at hiding the evidence.” I laughed and opened the boxes.
“What’s all this from? It’s not your usual baking.”
“My
new internship.”
“It’s at Bread & Butter?”
I nodded. “I need to step up my game. Are you willing to be a taste tester? I’ve got some dough chilling in the fridge.”
“I’d taste your dough any day of the week, Jules.”
His words rolled down my skin like chocolate syrup. He was way too good at the flirting. Way too good. It almost made me feel like I was special. I cringed, wanting to bury my head in the sand or maybe break my leg to have an excuse not to go to the engagement party. And after this weekend, I could only hope the way he saw me didn’t change.
6
Berk
The driving bass of the club killed the cookie buzz I’d had on the way over. My after practice ritual of grabbing something sweet from Jules’ place had been interrupted by yet another text from Alexis.
After the edict from LJ not to bring her back to the house, I’d sleep at her place. I hadn’t even realized it was almost eleven when I got Alexis’ call at Jules’ until I saw the time. Hours melted away when I was watching Jules do her thing. And she did it so well. Every time I walked in the door there was always a huge smile and that warm glowing feeling in my chest.
But vanilla, sugar, and chocolate had been replaced with sweat, beer, and too-sweet mixers.
A head above most people in the club, at least I had an easier time spotting Alexis. Dancing on a table in the roped off VIP area—typical. And slipping off it and falling into one of the couches lined up against the back wall.
I charged through the crowd, not afraid to throw in a few shoulder hits to the people sloshing their drinks all over me. A wet stickiness seeped into my shoes. Reece would probably hold a Viking funeral for them if he found out.
