Page 11 of Icing on the Cake

Eisley

The city council set a date for one final debate on the proposed law, giving opposing sides time to regroup and make their final arguments. The time lapse gives me time to show Beau the facts and hopefully persuade him to my line of reasoning.

I planned to arm myself with facts and figures and take Beau on a tour of local farmer’s markets and pop-up stands to help him that cottage industries add to the richness of the community, but a last-minute client request derailed my plans.

“Are you sure you don’t mind pitching in to help?” I glance over my shoulder at Beau’s handsome face, missing the door lock with my key.

“Not at all.” His grin glistens clear up to his eyes, turning my brain to mush. I’ll be lucky to remember how to turn on the oven at this point. “I’m looking forward to seeing your setup.”

My little kitchen’s tight and cramped but efficient. I hope Beau can keep an open mind when he sees it. I haven’t seen Sapphire Bakehouse’s kitchen but worked in restaurant and bakery kitchens for many years. Unlike my space, there’s plenty of room to spread out without constantly rearranging things at each step of the baking process. As nice as more space would be, I’m stuck with my ordinary apartment kitchen.

After several attempts at unlocking the door and several stolen glances at Beau’s rugged good looks, I welcome him into my home. I’m a bit of a neat freak, so my place is pretty clean, but I still have a moment of panic when Beau steps inside. He’s here to scrutinize every nuance of my humble kitchen so the butterflies I’m getting accustomed to take flight in my tummy once again.

“Do you like smooth jazz?” I find a little background noise helpful when I’m working. “Or something else?”

“Jazz is fine. Mind if I wash up?” Beau hesitates before entering my kitchen. He’s a seasoned chef, likely territorial about his own workspace.

“Help yourself. Apron’s in the pantry, fresh towels in the drawer beside the sink.”

I request a station from my smart device and head into the kitchen to join Beau for our impromptu dress rehearsal. I snicker to myself at the term. I’d much rather have an undressed rehearsal that doesn’t include six dozen gender-reveal cupcakes.

Beau washes up at the sink with a frilly apron draped across his front. My already too-small kitchen shrinks with Beau in it but having him here gives me a case of the warm fuzzies. I don’t mind my single status, but I’m open to the thought of changing that one day. Having a companion in the kitchen, at the dinner table, and in my bed is a sobering thought but one I don’t mind entertaining.

“Lilac and ruffles suit you,” I muse, pumping soap into my palm.

“Brings out my eyes, doesn’t it?” Beau waggles his brows, and my tummy somersaults.

The man certainly ticks off all the boxes–well, all but one. If today goes well and he sees how much care I take in the kitchen, he’ll have to come around to my reasoning.

I dry my hands and loop the apron overhead. Beau moves behind me and tugs at the waist ties. I overplay his ploy and bump against his chest. Baking together will test more than my kitchen skills. It’s already testing my will to resist Beau’s not-so-subtle flirtation.

He cinches the tie into a loose bow, then places his hands on my hips. “What else can I do with my hands?”

His sultry breath wafts over my neck, and my body erupts in goosebumps. A fiery ball bursts at my core and licks up my spine. Electricity pops and crackles, ramping up the tension that’s been building between us since our first kiss. My heart pounds against my chest, and the last thing I want to think about is cupcakes and buttercream icing.

“If you’re trying to distract me, it’s working.” I lean my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. He doesn’t hesitate to indulge me and peppers my neck with kisses. “I don’t think the health inspector would approve.”

“Mm...I don’t care.” Beau rests a flattened palm on my stomach and nuzzles my neck, melting me from the inside out. He draws a deep breath and steps aside, leaving my body reeling. “But, if you’re going to be a taskmaster, I’ll be your dutiful sous-chef and keep my hands to myself.”

We quickly fall into a rhythm, mixing batches of batter, whipping up buttercream frosting, filling icing tubes, and cleaning counters between every step of the process. Quiet settles between us as music lilts through the room. Somewhere along the way, I forget about licensing laws, baking police, and health inspectors. I marvel at Beau’s prowess in the kitchen, his hands moving with a grace and precision that speaks to his experience in the industry.

“I bet you didn’t think six-dozen cupcakes would take this long, did you?” I glance at the clock, and it’s later than I thought.

The time has flown by, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed every minute, humming along to the music and the occasional hip bump. I can’t say those were unintentional in the least. I’m drawn to Beau like a moth to flame.

“Can’t complain. Company’s good and I’m hoping the boss will allow me a little sweet treat for my good behavior.” Beau winks.

“So, you want a taste of my cupcakes, fancy restaurant man?” I bat my lashes like a lovesick fool.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Beau licks his lips.

“If you’re lucky,” I quip back, thinking I’m the lucky one. How has Beau stayed single so long?

I burp the lid on a dozen cooled cupcakes and open the refrigerator door. Beau sidles up behind me and wraps his arms around me as I rearrange the fridge to accommodate the container. He nuzzles my neck, sending another wave of electrifying chills through my body.

I could get used to the two of us like this–working side by side toward a common goal. The only thing sexier than a man who bakes is one who cleans up after himself, too. That’s what I call the icing on the cake.

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